I Thought Only Young, Newlywed Wives Did This Sort Of Thing

Originally uploaded by snarkwife.

I’m so proud…only took six years for me to totally make a piece of Capt. Uberhusband’s clothing unwearable…well, unwearable for an adult.

American Idol is always good for some lively conversation…

Stacy
8:06 PM OMG…what was that “dirt off the shoulder” thing? They bleeped Paula and her mouth was too covered up for me to see!

Rose
8:06 PMI think she said, “It means f*&k off.”

Stacy
8:07 PM ahhhhh
8:07 PM okay
8:07 PM i figured that
8:07 PM thank yewwww
8:08 PM i liked that jack osborne guy

Rose
8:08 PM I was just going to say that!

Stacy
8:08 PM !!!!!

Rose
8:08 PM I liked him very much.
8:08 PM and
8:08 PM WHY
8:08 PM DOES EVERY SEASON
8:08 PM HAVE TO HAVE
8:08 PM DUMB BLONDE HILLBILLY GIRL WHO CAN MOSTLY SING

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I’ve been thinking a lot about CU’s deployment today. First, when I was at the gym this morning…it brought back really strange, surreal memories of “this time last January.” This time last January, I was beginning my big project to lose ten pounds before he got home (I did it, and kept it all off…till my knee went out and then I sprained my toe and workouts weren’t gonna happen…anyhoo…) and was going to the gym every morning after he and I got off the phone.

This morning, I woke up alone, talked to CU and then went to the gym…I think the temperature was about the same as it was this time last year, too. Deja vu. When I was at the gym, a song started playing on my Shuffle that I listened to a lot when CU was gone. It’s a pretty inocuous song usually now, but with him not being here, and me being at the gym…and eating alone and sleeping alone…well, Snarkwife got a little melancholy. It was strange. I almost choked up at the gym…for no other reason except how much I was missing him this time last year unexpectedly punched me in the gut.

Then when I got home and CU called me from the St. Louis, then Atlanta airports…all was well again.

On top of all that, I have a couple of blog friends right now who are dancing the deployment dance with their husbands, and my heart just aches for them because I can both sympathize and empathize. I get all practical and clinical and pragmatic when I talk about it to (or with) them and always feel so funky about it all.

I never understood how military wives could make it a month, 3 months, 6 months or a year without their husbands…until I did it myself. The experience is liberating, and empowering…but it also alternates between 10 different kinds of sucky and 7 different kinds of miserable.

Then one day, you take a look at the calendar and you’re simply amazed it’s been nearly 22 months since you found out he was leaving. Time’s a strange, strange thing. The stranger (although not totally unsurprising) thing…it only took 21 months for the Army to process his 3 resignation requests. Ha!

And…now that he’s been back for 8 months…I guess that’s all I’m going to have to say on that.

As I mentioned yesterday, now that I’m back at the gym in the mornings I get to inform myself on the issues of the day which avail themselves to folks who are usually at home in the mornings watching morning news shows; specifically, how to tackle those flabby arms, how to properly nap, and how to help your child when someone is bullying them at school.

One of this morning’s segments on the Today show…and I swear, this topic is covered about every three weeks, was on school bullies and more specifically, why the parents of said bullies have absolutely no shame and take no accountability for their children’s behavior.

Now, I grew up in the olden days, where you were bullied…and you just dealt with it. Raise your hand if you weren’t ganged up on by a group of at least two people at least half a dozen times somewhere between kindergarten and your senior year of high school. Capt. Uberhusband…yes, even him…has all sorts of fun stories.

Elementary school was misery for me, especially when I skipped the third grade and wound up in the fourth grade with a whole new set of classmates. Some bullied me because I was younger. Some bullied me because they sensed my fear and apprehension about being with a whole new group of kids. Still others bullied me because my mom bought my clothes at KMart and the clothes they got at the mall were way cooler and hence, so were they. The other smart kids saw me as a threat. Or at least, this is what my parents would tell me. Not that I was a huge victim…I did have some great friends. But even if only a couple…or a few kids are “against” you, sometimes it feels like everyone is.

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Can I tell you how time-consuming it is to select/copy/paste all of my old blogposts in here?

When Erin showed me the way to blog salvation via the Wayback Machine I thought, “Hallelujah! My posts from 2004 & 2005 aren’t gone, after all.”

Now I’m thinking, “Didn’t I do anything else but blog during September of 2004?” More specifically, I’m thinking, “Where did all that political fight and might go?” Then again, I was watching and recapping North Shore every week, so ‘fight and might’ might be stretching it. Oh, the sweet insanity.

I’m trying to get a month of blog posts converted over each day…figured that wouldn’t be too tough with CU off gallavanting around the Eastern seaboard on business. Same naivete I had when he was in Iraq…LOL.

I watched last Thursday’s Grey’s Anatomy again, because last season I watched every episode six times and this season…well this season, I only watch them once. I’m realizing I’m missing out on so much.

Like, for example, the huge pink-elephant-in-the-room reason why Callie can not possibly accept George’s marriage proposal: if she chose to relinquish her maiden name, she would be Callie O’Malley. By galley.

That just can’t happen. It’s all way too Julia Guglia.

Three more days to join!

In the celebrity gossip world, sexually based stunts are considered especially noteworthy. In Fafaland, the dedicated players who investigate these rewarding stunts are members of a elite league known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

Click here to sign up!

We have four folks who have summoned up the courage and spirit of friendly competition…but more is always merrier!

And…here’s an incentive…if you play, and you win…you’ll win a sweet prize!

Not that I have a track record for actually coming in 1st or anything, but if I do by chance…the prize will be awarded to the 2nd place contestant. Just doesn’t seem right to offer a prize, then give it to myself. That’s sort of like the Grey’s Anatomy Fan Club giving the cast of Grey’s an award for Favorite Show. And, I already have the book.

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Leave it to SAG award winner Chandra Wilson to up the ante on her list of memorable quotes. Along the now-classic Baileyisms of “Quit looking at my VA-JAY-JAY” and “Where. Are. My. Suckups?”, we now have this to add to our arsenal:

“It’s about those 10 cast members sitting over there and the other one in rehab. Y’all just hold me together.”

The other one in rehab. Heh. Note she didn’t say “Isaiah Washington”…it was “the other one in rehab.” Would have been great had she said, “It’s about those 10 cast members sitting over there and the other one, who will be a ‘ripped from the headlines’ storyline for May sweeps. Expect Dr. Burke to ‘out’ Nurse Syph while tending to disaster victims after a freak sharp downburst wind breaks the Space Needle in half.”

In other SAG awards news…color me giddy to see The Office win for best comedy ensemble and Grey’s Anatomy for best drama ensemble. My only true disappointment is the fact that neither Forrest Whitaker nor Helen Mirren are listed on Fafarazzi. How am I supposed to get points for their inevitable Oscar nods if they’re not on the list? Seriously.

Betty mentioned this last week, but the story finally popped up here locally.

Last July, a group of military wives banded together during Blogathon ‘06, and raised money for the Intrepid Heroes Fallen Fund. One of their projects was the Center for the Intrepid, a $50 million high-tech rehabilitation center at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio.

Tomorrow, this center will open. For all of you out who pledged to our efforts last July, thank you so much, because your efforts and generosity helped immensely with this endeavor…and so many soldiers and their families will benefit from those efforts and generosity.

Although I’m no longer an active duty wife (and technically, no longer an Army wife at all, since CU received his honorable discharge papers in the mail Friday), the year I spent actively among military wives will always be one of the proudest times of my life, as I learned to appreciate the military life and the challenges and sacrifices that go along with it.

After American Idol, we watched Friday Night Lights. I just love how the layers of this show and the town are beginning to reveal themselves…like an onion which, before it makes you cry, makes your nose itchy.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but our stereotypical ballbusting Texas small-town mayor is apparently involved in an “ahlternative lahfstyle” and paws at (on? towards?) her partner in front of Coach & Mrs. Coach Taylor during a dinner party; I assume, trying to gauge the reaction of Mrs. Coach before recruiting her into the mayor’s re-election campaign. Subtle. Family values! Education! Support the children of Dillon! Pay no attention to the woman sitting next to me! Hey, look over there…Smash is injecting steroids!

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Unfortunately, I can’t hear the name “Burt Bacharach” without thinking of Austin Powers saying, “Ladies and gentlemen…Mr. Burt Bacharach!,” then breaking into “The Look of Love.” I imagine Paula would stand up and wave her arms back and forth, too.

You just knew American Idol in New York would would provide some freak-action for Simon, Paula, Randy, Joan Collins and…in an itty bitty Lionel Richie-montage blip…Olivia Newton-John? Where’d she come from? Way to go, editors. You’ve set your wayback machine on Reverse and shown us a glimpse of what I can only assume was footage from a future episode.

Kind of like The Amazing Race, I try not to get too emotionally attached to any contestants/auditioners until at least halfway through the season. Yeah, I know…not much of a struggle. Although, I did develop an affinity for Taylor Hicks early on. Up until then, they are burned into my brain with names like, “Verklempt Bronx Weirdo”, “Jersey Paris & Nicole”, “Lady Marmalade”, “Ashanti & Her Soapy Soliloquy”, “Greek Idol”, “Girl Who Could Win If They’d Simply Teach Her How To Sing” and “Man In Space Suit”.

My favorite, though…was the young woman who was supposed to, like, be at school I guess, but instead hopped a flight to NY to audition and omigodherdadisgoingtokillher if she makes it through because he’s an unsupportive jerk! This generated a collectively strange combination of “Uhhh..” and “Awww!” from the judges, who let her through because she’s got a good voice and Ryan needed to call someone on his Cingular phone before the auditions were over.

Then…as she’s bawling into the speakerphone, her dad says, “Who is this?” Classic. Aw shucks honey, we ain’t mad. Just come home safe. Funny, he didn’t sound mad…and through the magic of editing, she goes from blubbery and stuttery to hootin’ and hollerin’ in literally, two seconds.

We noticed last night’s American Idol seemed to be significantly less caustic than last week’s…either that or my head was so stuffed up and my ears were so plugged up, I just didn’t hear anything below a certain decibel level. At one point, so many people said they wanted to go to Hollywood that CU replied to the TV screen, “If you want to go to Hollywood, just buy a plane ticket!”

But, there weren’t any points when I wanted to switch channels…although during commercials we watched a really phun Dr. Phil episode, where two engaged adults (”Chuck” and “Renee”) disguised as 7-year olds competed to see who could show the most contempt towards the other while still saying “I just love him/her to death!”

It’s always strange being back home after going on vacation, but CU and I had a fantastic time. We were so happy to be able to meet up with Becky again, and I will still always marvel at how wonderful it is in Seattle…the drivers aren’t as manic as they are here, and it’s so…quiet. No screaming children. After nine years, you start to think every location on Earth has as many screaming children as North Texas but apparently, that just isn’t the case.

As a matter of fact, we had such a great time that I brought a little bit of the Pacific Northwest home with me…in the form of a cold virus. First one in…at least two years. I think.

In random celebrity news, Mischa Barton turns 21 today…meaning she can now legally drink. A round of kamikazes for everyone, and a shot of Nyquil for me.

Well, it’s our last full day of vacation (tomorrow doesn’t count - travel day) and we moved into Seattle proper yesterday afternoon. After being illness-free for nearly three years, I managed to get a cold although with the amount of drugs I’ve been ingesting, you can hardly tell. It’s there, but I’m choosing to ignore. I’m blaming all the wine tasting…it moderation it’s supposed to be good for you and promote health but after tasting 31-some odd different wines, maybe the opposite happens.

Anyhoo…we’re off to clean up and then we’re headed down to the Market to do some browsing and shopping. We might hop a ferry over to an island (I’ve always wanted to do that), or we might spend the rest of the day walking the streets, asking people how to get to Seattle Grace.

You know how sometimes you look through old photo albums, and you find a picture of yourself doing something which at the time seemed like no big deal, but now is really embarrassing?

Here’s the blogosphere’s equivalent of that. Oh what a difference a couple of years makes.

Rediscovering all of my old blog posts is a double-edged sword…I get to see all the really cool things I’d sort of forgotten I’d documented, but then I also find things like recaps of North Shore & Joe Schmo 2.

Yes…I said North Shore.

CU and I made it into Seattle last night, after a rather bumpy but otherwise uneventful flight in. On our descent, it was completely cloudy, but we were able to see the majesty that is Mt. Rainier off to the left of the plane, sticking up through the clouds. We enjoyed it while we could, since we probably won’t see it again until next Tuesday morning on the way out.

When we were stuck in rush hour traffic travelling north on our way to the hotel I asked CU, “I wonder if Dr. Addison Montgomery has to sit in this traffic like everyone else?” When what to my wondering eyes should appear…on Grey’s last night, we saw Addison coming into town on the ferry. So she doesn’t have to sit in freeway traffic…she just has to sit in ferry traffic. Question answered.

We have a big day of wine tasting and relaxation planned. It is so nice to be out of Dallas…I can’t even begin to tell you.

It’s official…Charla & Mirna, Team Cha Cha Cha and Bahston Rahb & Ambuh Of Da Smokin’ Ass are coming back!

Personally, I would have preferred to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Hayden…or Kris “It’s Vibraty” and Jon…or honestly, anyone from season six.

But…not my show.

Anyone remember what I nicknamed Charla & Mirna?

7:48 p.m. update: Was it Yogi & Boo-Boo?

10:09 update: Yes, it was Yogi & Boo-Boo (thank you, Capt. UberHusband!)…and Erin confirmed it for me by actually finding an archived post from my old houseofsnarkdotcom days…proving once and for all, once something’s on the internet, it never, ever goes away. Even if you let your domain expire and ask your host to delete all the files…it never…ever…goes away.

On an unbelievable upnote…it now appears that I can rebuild my blog and…recapture the past. I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing this is for me, considering how many times over the last six months I have pulled muscles trying to kick myself for letting everything go. Hallelujah! The blog gods have answered my prayers!

I am just heartbroken right now. Poor Amy Salgado…stay at home mom, 23 years old, married to a dick of a husband who doesn’t support her…and Simon and Randy just rip her to shreds.

I have this sick feeling in my stomach…and I loathe the AI producers for giving us this story of a mom and her adoring son and her sheer nerve and will to show up for an audition, only to watch her get kicked around like a runt puppy.

This franchise has sunk to a new low…and I suspect they have also jumped the shark. While I truly believe at least 75% of what we see is pre-produced and pre-packaged…the rest of it can’t possibly be.

American Idol…ya’ll suck…and I honestly can’t bear to watch you. Good luck…maybe I’ll rejoin you in March or something.

8:22 p.m. update: I’m still watching…I’m so ashamed.

Alternate post title: Women And Girls, Rule My World

The juggernaut that is American Idol kicked off last night, with auditions in…snicker…Minniesohta.

Talent was all over the map last night…from a Glamour Shots makeup artist/hairstylist (CU was so upset she didn’t sing, “Let’s Go To The Mall…Today“), to a young lady who watches Canadian Idol, Pop Idol, Australian Idol, Duluth Idol and, apparently, if you saw her entire pre-sketch…Black Sabbath Idol, to a guy who has been singing since birth and dancing for eight years. Man, he must be tired.

We did have the requisite group of folks continuing on to Suckthesouloutofyouwood, though: the crack baby, the one-legged hypoglycemic who farts a lot, the Navy intelligence analyst (CU: “Quit showing pictures of jets. He’s not flying jets. He’s an intelligence analyst.”), the Army Reserves chick and the 16-year old kid whose family didn’t have enough money for them all to come to the audition…so here he is…sounding like Michael Buble…and if he didn’t get through, he was going to head straight over to the Mall of America to audition for Grease: You’re The One That I Want (Ooh Ooh Ooh).

Plus, we especially enjoy the post-audition reactions, especially from the people who quite obviously suck (come on, even I know all the words to “Kiss”) but even better…are the reactions from their entourage. The first girl…wasn’t any good and she started crying, which was sad…but then Mom got all…theatrical and gee, it was like she had this feeling a camera was on her, so she’d better milk her fifteen seconds. Sadly, it stretched to about 45 before we were able to cut away from that 4-person pileup.

The great thing about the early audition shows is you watch them and sort of wonder, “Gee, will that be the ultimate winner?” We didn’t have any of those moments last night…and sadly, the one thing we really wanted to see, we didn’t: Army Reserves chick singing “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira.

And…we had Jewel…who is very funny…and kind of like Paula used to be before she, you know (mimic drinking motion).

Once again, the weather powers that be totally overestimated the Ice Storm Of The Year’s impact on the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. Just to be on the safe side (since gee, we were told we’d get about a foot of ice beginning Friday night), CU and I stocked up on food, beer and wine at the store Friday after work, then hunkered down. It rained a lot, but while I can’t say as much for our neighbors to the north, we dodged the proverbial bullet.

Don’t get me wrong…it’s unbelivably cold…25 degrees with a wind chill of 11 (I remember when it was eight degrees this time last year…ah…good times) but if there’s no ice or snow…eh. It’s just cold. No biggie.

Actually, it was sort of nice making the conscious decision to do little to nothing this past weekend. CU and I like to say we’re going to just have a relaxing weekend of nothing but…that usually doesn’t work out. We always wind up doing something, even if it’s as seemingly uninteresting as updating all the electrical outlet covers. The past couple of days though…we literally did nothing but watch TV and read.

When I was watching the news this morning, listening to folks talk about how things on the road could/would have been a lot worse had it not been the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday…it reminded me of the 1994 Northridge earthquake, and how things could/would have been a lot worse had more people been out on the roads.

Other than the unbelievable fright of sitting in my bed while all the contents of my bedroom moved around me, I always remember that day, because that was when I decided to get out of Southern California. I’m not a fan of the world quite literally, moving independently of me.

Did anyone else see that during the game? Surely we can’t be the only folks who backed up our DVR half a dozen times to make sure we actually saw what will certainly be the biggest FCC offense since Janet “Miss Nip Slip If You’re Nasty” Jackson’s Super Bowl incident.

1/14 update: I saw an op-ed blogpiece over at the Washington Post’s website, and there are people insisting her shirt said “Pluck Da Eagles,” but her ample breastitude “created a fold” which would lead us foul-thinkers to believe otherwise. Yeah, okay.

I read someplace that one sure-fire way to ensure you keep a New Year’s resolution is to publicly state it out loud. I guess this is so people can throw things at you and chastise you and exile you from their world if you don’t keep it.

With that…

I did have a couple moments of clarity last year before shutting down houseofsnarkdotcom. One of those moments led to printing out my favorite Amazing recaps of yesteryear…back when recapping those buggers was the highlight of my blog endeavors. They say you can’t recapture yesteryear, but you can sure as heck reinvent the future and there’s nothing like a little retro snark to rev up the creative engines.

By the by…I was doing some research on The Amazing Race: All-Stars a couple of weeks ago, and stumbled upon this bit of information:

Reality TV Magazine has the exclusive on a new reality TV baby. Amazing Race’s Jonathan Baker & Victoria Fuller are the proud parents of a new baby girl. Trease Alynette Baker was born on October 6, 2006. She weighed 6.6 pound and measured 19 inches.

So, when will Nanny Jo be visiting their house? I’m sure somehow if you rearrange the letters in “Trease Alynette Baker” you’ll get, “You left my backpack behind!!!!!!!!”

More importantly though, I wonder how much effort it would take to rig up a Fafarazzi-like system for scoring the stupid things our All-Star teams do and say during the course of the season? Say, 1 point for wearing matching t-shirts with a dumb saying…2 points for calling your teammate an “idiot” and…5 points for hooking up with someone from another team? 4 poins for mauling Phil at the Phinish Line…ooh…this could be fun…

Thursday nights are busy, busy, busy when it comes to TV…and unfortunately, with the way I have our DVR set up and the fact that I was particularly chatty last night, which meant we had to pause quite a bit…we missed the last three minutes of The Office. So Apple, looks like you’ll be getting more of my money today.

One show that grows on me more and more with each passing week is My Name Is Earl. Last night’s mini-vignettes (”My Name Is Randy”, “My Name Is Joy”, “My Name Is…Uh…Crabman”) were hilarious, as we meandered through the story of how Earl tries to get a set of Civil War-era “C is for” silverware back to the Camden County Library/Historical Museum. If Jaime Pressly isn’t the funniest white-trash woman since Roseanne Connor, I don’t know who is. My favorite line? When Earl is talking about theh poor homeless guy whose face was all blue-n up: “Don’t worry, he’s on my list.”

And then, there is the light in my late week viewing which is The Office. Every single week, we learn more about these characters…like:

**Angela does smile.
**Phyllis isn’t quite as dim as she appears…although my jaw did drop when I first glimpsed her and Karen after their “makeovers”.
**Dwight and Jim make one fierce sales team.
**Kelly and Ryan are apparently, the baseline for office relationships.

Watching everyone pair up for sales calls was just great…especially when Stanley tossed a stunned Ryan to the salivating lions. And, the ease with Dwight and Jim…for as much as they bicker and spar…the combination of Dwight handing their client his business card (”Here’s my work number, my cell number, my home number, and my other cell number.”) and Jim getting, “Dunder Mifflin Customer Service, this is Kelly. OMIGOD, HI JIM!” on the phone in rapid-fire time…those two together are sheer brilliance. Then again, Jim is sheer brilliance no matter who he’s paired up with.

And…CU giggled just as hard as Michael Scott when his computer voice said, “boobs”. Heh. Boys.

I remember during the pilot for Friday Night Lights, I just would not shut up about how hokey I thought the show was, and how the writers were trying too hard…and now, I’m a convert. I was the same way with Grey’s Anatomy at the beginning and, same as I relented with Grey’s Anatomy, FNL has gotten better with time and has me hooked.

To loosely quote one of the Television Without Pity recaps on the show…Coach Taylor can either be my dad, or my boyfriend. He can’t be both. Well, not in most states, anyway. Coach Taylor is that tough, but firm and loving dad who gets his daughter is growing up - and is fighting it, but isn’t mean or cruel about it. By the same token, the way he engages in marital scuffles with his wife is just so darn endearing and sexy…and then he gets out on the football field and orders players around…whoooooweeeeee…move my suburban self to Dillon, pronto!

Just kidding about that last part. I told CU that Dillon, Texas reminded me of the town in The Last Picture Show, only in color…and with a better car dealership…and probable broadband internet access. There’s just nothing going on there, which is why everyone is itching to get out and play for a big college team, marry a guy playing for a big college team, or just move to “the big city.”

Speaking of car dealerships…in a roundabout sort of way…I am very glad Matt Saracen basically ordered his dad back to Iraq. Matt’s father being around really showed why Matt was never QB1 - if you’ve got a dad with no faith in you who runs you down all the time, how are you supposed to have the goods to become the best player you can and lead your team? Our boy is becoming a man.

Tuna Girl’s mention of middle school science fairs got me to thinking…now I’m laughing when I think about the sad excuses for submissions I had for my middle school science fairs.

The one I had in the 8th grade was examining the effect of carbonated beverages on the cement they used to attach braces to teeth. My orthodontist told me if I drank soda, it would basically disintegrate the cement and the brackets would fall off. As I was 12 at the time, I had this intense fear that if I drank soda, my braces would fall off, my parents would have to pay to have them re-attached and…well…let’s just say I would have had to pay, as well.

As such, I did not touch soda for 18 months - except I think I had a Pepsi on my birthday as a special treat and then rinsed my mouth out for ten minutes afterwards…you know, in case there were any residual bubbles.

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This week is International De-Lurking Week…so if you hang out here often, or on occasion…or if this is your first visit because you Googled “I don’t give a shit if you’re giving birth” and wound up here…say hello!

I don’t bite.

If you join my Fafarazzi league though…I can make no guarantees…

YAY! I’m famous! Er…well…sort of.

So, now that I have this Fafarazzi thing figured out…they’re changing everything up on January 29, so the fact I have it figured out now will be totally irrelevant in three weeks. With that, I think it’s time to branch out and start my own league.

The season will run 5 weeks - and the cost is $2.99 to join. If you come out on top at the end of the season, you’ll get a cool prize from Snarkwife and (yeah, no kidding…there’s more?) you’ll be entered to win a fine prize awarded at random to league winners from around Fafaland every month!

Are you in? If interested, either post in the comments or send a note to stacyatsnarkwifedotcom…and I’ll send you an invite. I’ve already recruited Rose, and she likes to talk smack on the league discussion boards…so we already have a troublemaker for everyone to scuffle with.

This is my moment of chocolate-dipped zennerific karma.

I wonder if I could deduct an iPhone as a required business expense…if I only use it for work…and…Fafarazzi.

Almost forgot about this…

ice cream, tiny bits
kayla, much worse than nora
big brothers, watch out

bree’s tiny waist gone
hiding behind large mirrors
pound cake, delicious

back from the not-dead
funny thing, “alma” means hope
stick it to susan

stay good, fair julie
he is getting it elsewhere
van de tramp, awesome!

scotch out on the deck
just like denny and alan
gaby and carlos

breakfast in the clink
orange you glad to see me, mike?
small world, indeed

After I finished my last post, I decided to take a break and take Miss Daisy out for a walk. Seems like I can’t take that poor dog for a walk without some sort of disaster happening…no wonder she gets all excited when I pull out the leash, then turns into psycho dog once she actually figures out what we’re doing.

Long-time readers will remember what happened back in February of ‘05…I tripped, fell…and Daisy went running into the street while dumbass drivers honked and whizzed around her. That’ll scar her (and me, literally) for awhile.

There’s a house about a half block away from us…they have this dog…we’ll call her Cujo. She’s always running around the neighborhood, and I’ve called both animal control and our homeowner’s association because her clueless owner just doesn’t get it. A couple of years ago, I was out one evening walking both dogs…and Cujo came after us.

I scooped up both Cookie and Daisy (that was fun)…and then I went and pounded on the owner’s front door. She pooh-pooh’d the whole situation…”Oh, Cujo doesn’t bite.” “Yeah, well, Cookie does.” I believe I also told her to get her act together because I saw her dog running around all the time. I called both animal control and our homeowner’s association that day…don’t know what happened, but at least I felt like I was protecting myself.

So I take her out today - and I walk past this same house. I hear the dogs literally, climbing the windows but…they’re inside so I don’t care how much they’re flipping out.

All of a sudden…out of freaking NOWHERE come Cujo and a big black cocker spaniel running straight at us. I scoop Daisy up as fast as I can and the damn dogs are jumping on us and barking. I successfully extricate myself and Daisy from the dogs (who have quite the vertical leap), go up to the house and POUND on the front door for about ten seconds until someone answers. Yay…it’s Clueless Woman. That’s the great thing about my neighborhood…generally, someone’s at home at every house during the day.

Snarkwife: HEY…YOUR DOGS JUST ATTACKED ME AND MY DOG.
Clueless Woman: I’m on a conference call.

Seriously?

Snarkwife: I don’t give a shit if you’re giving birth, your dogs just attacked us.

She just stands there…kind of looking around…like she’s afraid I’m making a scene.

Snarkwife: You know, I’d like to be able to walk around my neighborhood without the fear of being attacked by your dogs.
Clueless Woman: This has happened before?
Snarkwife: Duh - uh…yeah! And I see that one {pointing at the brown dog} out running around all the time. We’ve spoken before, and I’ve told you this before.
Clueless Woman: Well, I haven’t been here for the last six months.

At that point, I would have liked to have kneeled down and just pounded my head into her front sidewalk. How many people confront her about her dogs…so many that she can’t remember the last time we spoke? I remember every conversation I have on my front sidewalk…and would certainly remember the face of someone my dogs chased down the street. Maybe she got a lobotomy six months ago. Who knows.

Snarkwife {pointing to the end of the street}: That dog - her name is Cujo, right?
Clueless Woman: Uh huh.
Snarkwife: Then we’ve spoken. Get it together…and I’m reporting you to the homeowner’s association and animal control…again. Seems like the three times a year I walk my dogs, I get attacked by your dogs.

And with that, I have to carry Daisy the rest of the way home because Cujo is still wandering the streets. No wonder Daisy we hates going on walks.

I’ve read some folks go through a bit of a depression after the holidays, because there’s just so much go-go-go and festivity and songs and commercials and freaking joy so, when it’s all over…it’s like someone taking away your fistful of sparklers on the Fourth of July. Or, like someone cancelling The O.C.

This time 6 years ago, I was slapped in the face with the reality that my wedding was only a couple of weeks around the corner. That’ll yank you out of whatever Seasonal Affective Disorder you’re in. Ever since then…when New Year’s Day is over, that’s cool…because we have an anniversary coming up…and our anniversaries are always fun.

We always try to do something unique related to the “traditional” gift for our anniversary. Two years ago, we went and bottled wine because the traditional gift was fruit. Last year’s gift was international travel to exotic destinations. I got the short end of the stick on that one.

This year, #6 is wood. Yeah, we could take the easy way out with the obvious and cheap gift (wakka wakka) but instead, we’re going to Woodinville to do some wine tasting and then spending a couple of days in Seattle.
What? What’s that you say…they make wine in Washington? You bet they do…and it’s fabulous. One of these days, we also want to take a drive over the hill to the Yakima Valley, but knowing what we know of I-90, we figured that wasn’t the best plan this go-around.

That’s so us. Normal people go to the Caribbean, or Hawaii, or Florida during the winter. We go to Seattle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

RIP The O.C., 2003-2007

CU and I are so sad at this development. We’re trying to come to terms with it all…to understand why it happened. It’s very quiet here, as we reflect on the past and ultimately, how we’ve changed for the better since being introduced to Bullet, Che and Jailbaitlyn.

If you used to watch the show but didn’t this year because Marissa was such an annoying twit…you missed out on a few fantastic, witty, clever episodes which made the show Must See again for us.

I won’t be delivering mail tomorrow, and all municipal services I would normally perform will be pushed to Friday.

For example, swimsuit season starts January 2.

No joke…the itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikinis are out in that prime “Walk in, grab a cart, look directly to your left past the food court” location.

The cover-ups are out too…which is a good thing, since it’s only 50 degrees right now. Gotta keep your fruits & veggies covered to avoid freezing…if you know what I mean.

Because I know ya’ll were curious…what was in that mysterious package from Mom…

I can’t believe it’s been a week since I last blogged…something strange happened after Christmas, and I sort of forgot to do everything I normally do. Sure, I got up and went to work - and I went to physical therapy…and got my allergy shot…and went grocery shopping…actually, now that I think about it, blogging appears to be the only thing I forgot to do. Go figure.

So…what have we been up to? Well. Christmas was great…and it was fantastic actually having CU around to celebrate it this year, instead of opening gifts and sharing the experience via Yahoo! instant messenger.

Tuesday, we avoided the malls and I experienced my very first Fafarazzi live draft. It was fun…even though we got started late and I was up until close to midnight. I get rather cranky when I’ve missed my sleep window of opportunity, so rounds 8, 9 and 10 were a little sketchy. I think I have a pretty good team though…and am confident. I really, really, really need Philip Seymour Hoffman’s girlfriend to have their baby. One place I heard it was due in November…then another was December 20, so who knows.

Other than that, we’ve just been hanging around the house. I worked, CU read…we braved the mall and experienced The Great Coach Gloves Return Caper, and also watched some movies. After sitting in our DVR for about two months, we finally watched The Aristocrats. Oh. My. God. Seriously, one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen - my cheeks hurt when we finished, because it was so damn funny. If you don’t know the premise, it’s a documentary of sorts where comics of varying ages, genders, colors and personalities share their experience with one specific joke.

The funny thing is the point of the joke is to make it as vile and disgusting and stomach-turning as possible. Let me just say…I will never look at Bob Saget the same way again, especially when combined with his guest-star appearance on Entourage. If you’re offended easily, skip it…because you aren’t the target audience. I highly recommend it though, if you have a stomach of steel and you won’t spend the next week complaining about how “inappropriate” it was.

What else happened…CU dropped a bottle of nail polish while trying to clean out all the expired drugs from our medicine cabinet, prompted by a gloom-and-doom Good Morning America segment we saw at the gym that morning. The bottle shattered all over the bathroom counter, the wall, our electric toothbrush, the garbage can, the floor, CU and the towel he had swathed around his McSteamyish hips. I swear, the funny just keeps coming around our house.

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