Wednesday, May 29, 2002

AHHHHHHHH! That's better.

That is much better. I want to thank Andrew Hoshkiw, the author of this template, for making one so much easier to customize than any one I have tried so far. Its called "Bold Lines" and everything is marked well, and easy to follow. I am not sure if he would appreciate me changing it arround, but if you don't tell him neither will I.

I think next time I will try a whole Canadian theme, but right now I think I will quit while I am ahead.

Please pass the dramamine!

This template is making me nauseous. I thought it was cool at first with all the changing colors, but a few of these colors are really getting to me. Time for a change, although I wish it were easier to do that with blogs. And it is if you don't customize your blog at all. That's what I get for being creative.

Tuesday, May 28, 2002

I am so lame!

Just spent the better part of a day reading blogs. I don't know how healthy that was considering I only proved to myself how lame I am. Some people write in their blogs every single day.

If I did that, I would bore myself to tears. I write in mine when I have something I need to get off my chest. Then if I think it might be interesting, or it makes some kind of sense, I publish it. Usually this means that I blog about once per week. Most of the shit that comes out of my head is just that, shit, and never makes it to print.

When I was 16, my mother bought me a diary for my birthday, I wrote in it every day for about a year.

What made me stop? I went back and read it, that was enough for me. The weird thing is....I still have it, 20 years later. And its still shit. I don't know why I kept it, but I put it in a trunk full of my son's things so he can read it someday.

Maybe someday when he is feeling like an idiot, I will show it to him and say, "Its not your fault son, being an idiot is in your genes."

Friday, May 24, 2002

It's getting down to the wire.

My first and last attempt at planning and executing a bridal shower. The fiasco shower is on Sunday, and I have no idea who is coming for sure or if anyone is bringing any food, (apparently I was supposed to ask people to do so) I don't know if I have enough, chairs, food, cups, plates, napkins, prizes.......the list goes on and on.

This should be a lesson to me.

"Keep your big mouth shut, Evel!"

You see if I had done that...I would be a mere participant in the festivities instead of the organizer. Way back when, Mariea wasn't going to even have a maid of honor, just her daughters standing for her. Apparently she was under the impression that she would have to pay for the maid of honors dress. She was trying to keep expenses down, since she was paying for the wedding herself, so she was going to forgo the maid of honor and best man. And idiotic me (I was reading a wedding book) said " says here that the maid of honor pays for her own dress, shoes etc....." So, she turned around and asked me to stand for her.

All that was going through my head was "I am going to have to buy a new outfit anyway, sure I'll do it". Then a few weeks later (reading the same book) I find out I am in charge of the shower and the bachelorette party. I had already told her I was giving her the invitations as a wedding present, so I was deep out of pocket by this time, add to that the dress, shoes etc, now a shower and bachelorette party. It wouldn't have been so bad, but my car picks this time to break down, not once, but twice. I feel a tension headache coming on. God? would be a good time to let me win the lottery.

So, the shower is this Sunday, I am sure Mariea is expecting a lot.........boy is she going to be disappointed. Glad I haven't bought the dress yet, after Sunday, I may not need it.

Thursday, May 23, 2002


I let it sneak up on me. The season finales. Now what? All the shows are done, TV is once again a vast wasteland.

Thank God I got a satellite dish this year. I have some hope of seeing original programming over the summer. But what of those poor souls that have only those programs that the networks dole out. I am sure the studios have hundreds and hundreds of pilots sitting around on shelves that they could air. But they don't. They want us so desperately sick of reruns that come fall we will watch just about anything.

And sadly, even though anyone with half a brain knows this is how it works, we don't have the balls to boycott. They have us, we concede.

Sunday, May 19, 2002

The hills are alive........with the scent of Pine Sol.

I just finished cleaning my house. If you knew me, this would be cause for concern.

"Is she sick? Is she dying? Am I dying? What have you heard?"

I am a slob. I love being a slob. Ok, its not so much that I love being a slob as it is my love of inactivity.

Don't get me wrong, I like the house when its clean, but I don't feel the need to do it myself. I usually get someone else to do it for me. But once in a very long while, when the house is quiet, like now, I get started and can't stop. It is a satisfying feeling, but not as satisfying as watching someone else do it. Or better still, coming home from work and its already done.

I guess I got inspired when the girl came to do the dishes. She moped the floor and the house was filled with the scent of Pine Sol. Something about that scent makes you want to keep it going as long as possible. Maybe that is why it is that scent, a conspiracy, like the tobacco companies, make the scent addictive so people will keep buying it. I don't know, might be taking it a bit far, it never seems to affect me for too long. I guess I am more addicted to having someone else do it for me.

I might someday kick the smoking habit, but I will never get rid of my addiction to inactivity.

Saturday, May 18, 2002

It's night three of my vacation from motherhood.

My son pulled a fit Wednesday night and said he was going to live with his father.....I packed him a bag, called his stepmother and she picked him up Thursday. You don't realize how much you missed the quiet, or how much you have missed being able to sleep in.

My son is gone till Monday night, since there is no school because of the holiday. (For those Yanks reading this, Monday is the queens birthday, kind of like a Presidents day.)

Speaking of school, there was a big hoopla the other day about an eight year old wanting to wear his ceremonial dagger in school. Apparently he went to court over it, saying it was his right because it was part of his religion. He won.

Hmmmmm, kids can't say the lords prayer in school, but this kid can have a knife. Who makes these rules? What the hell are they thinking? I don't see the logic. When they say no religion in school, that means no religion, right? Well seems to me that what they really mean is nothing Catholic in school. (or is the lords prayer just catholic?) I don't know.

Politicians. They seem to make the weirdest decisions. Something as harmless as saying "Our Father", is a huge no no, but carrying something that could take out an eye? No problem. If the rest of the kids can go 6 hours without praying aloud, can't this kid go without the dagger? After all....its ceremonial, and he can't actually do the ceremony in the school.........that would mean he would have to pray. And we all know he could get arrested for that!
When it rains, it pours.

I got the car fixed, that cost me $300. So for the last week my son and I have been living on bread and water. I finally think we might just be comming out of it and my computer decides to stick it to me.

I turned it on tonight and it made some really strange noises......then there was this loud snap from the monitor and a puff of smoke came out the back.

I guess this means I should hold off on buying any lottery tickets.

Monday, May 13, 2002

A change is in the air.

Well I finally changed the layout....hope no one gets freaked out over the changing colors. Took me a few minutes to figure out I wasn't losing my mind. And another hour to figure out how to customize it, and put my links back.

Just a little bit of advice for anyone planning on changing their template......any links you have added to your template will be lost, so 'lets keep it safe out there people' and put a working copy of your old template in notepad or something till you are sure it all works. We would hate to lose all those 'pearls of wisdom'. Parish the thought!

OH! And don't forget to republish your archives with the new format.

Saturday, May 11, 2002

To buy or not to buy....that is the question.

The old girl is pretty much toast. I can have it fixed enough to drive but when the inspection is up, it will not pass. So I have to find another ride by the end of the year.

I guess when you have a clunker, you just have to know when to say when. How much is too much to sink into a car. I bought my New Yorker for $1000, and promptly put another $1000 into it in the first two months. Since then I have spent at least $2000 more on repairs in the last two years.


Now I am contemplating buying my brother-in-laws Explorer. I have always said I wanted a truck, I need a truck.

No one ever 'needs' a car, when they say they 'need' they always follow it with 'truck'. Usually to move or to move something.

Well I need one for the simple fact that I work in "Butt Fuck Nowhere", a small town just outside Middle of Nowhere. It's a dirt road full of rutts and potholes. On that road I have rattled off two mufflers, shocks, struts, and a couple of tierod ends, not to mention a half dozen ball joints.

I 'need' something a little more rugged, or I need to quit my job. Its sort of a catch 22, I need the job to pay for the repairs on the car that my job is directly responsible for. If I quit, I will save my car, but then I wouldn't need a car if I had no job. Come to think of it...I wouldn't be able to afford a car without a job.

So I guess I have to bite the bullet and buy. The problem is...I bought the New Yorker because I though the car I had at the time was on its last legs. I sold it to a kid going to college, he worked on it for a couple of days and that fuckin thing is still running. I saw it last week as I was standing on the street waiting for a drive. This time I will save myself the agrivation, I am selling the New Yorker to a junkyard for scrap.

Sweet revenge!

Tuesday, May 7, 2002


I just saw what could quite possibly be the worst Jean-Claude van Damme film ever made. And believe me I have seen them all. I make a point to see them all simply for the gratuitous butt shot that is sure to show up somewhere (however inappropriately) in the film. Well sorry girls, I was thoroughly disappointed. Apart from a couple of fleeting glimpses of bare chest and a chaste peck from the heroine at the end, there was nothing. Not even one of those splits things he seems to work into all of the story lines. Come to think of it, pretty much all his films are stinkers. But I guess I never realized it, I was too busy waiting for and admiring his bare ass.

Since there was nothing to gawk at, I had to rely on the story. Bad idea. Doesn't this man make enough money yet to be able to afford a decent script? I really couldn't tell you what it was about. It was set in Israel, something about some religious fanatics. But beyond that, I am at a loss.

However, I was really surprised to find out that pretty much every living soul in Israel is apparently a karate expert. Ya learn something new everyday. I was expecting machine guns, maybe the odd sword fight, but the karate thing threw me. And how he worked a car chase in with a shitload of camels on the streets was truly amazing.

I can't believe this film made any money for him or the studio.

Take my advice Jean, drop your drawers for the next one. A quick shot of those buns-o-steel and we could care less what the story is about. Ya might make a few bucks next time.

Sunday, May 5, 2002

The old girl is down, and quite possibly out.

The "old girl" being my car. If you looked up money pit in the dictionary, you would find a picture of a 1990 silver Chrysler New Yorker, with me standing next to it dressed in a potato sack. So far I have replaced literally every part of her except for the motor and frame. I could list them all but frankly I am embarrassed that I even know the names of some of this stuff. Women rarely know these things unless they own a clunker and spend more time at the mechanics than the beauty parlor, and I might have my membership revoked if I divulged my extensive knowledge of the anatomy of an automobile.

In the continuing saga of the money pit.....our heroine takes a road trip.

I took my son to a doctors appointment on Friday, the doctor is in a town about 40 minutes from here. Afterwards, we decided to go an additional 20 minutes so he can visit his father, not an easy decision since his father lives in the middle of Butt Fuck Nowhere. As we were leaving, I had just pulled out on the road and the "old girl" said, "That's far enough!" The rear end fell off the springs and the car now sits directly on the tires.

His father manages to get the car back into his driveway, where it still sits. Here's my do I get the car back from Butt Fuck Nowhere? Do I pay to have it towed, at a cost of about $200, only to find out it was unfixable? Or do I just set a match to it? And do I do it before or after I slit my wrists?

Decisions, decisions.