Hey, I am going to Alaska next weekend, and I will be needing LOTS of reading material -- for the plane trip, and for the long quiet days at the cabin with no TV or internet to sustain me. Anyone have any recommendations? I have a book on order from Amazon.com, but I'm not certain it will get here in time. Any good sarcastic semi-autobiographical material along the lines of David Sedaris, novels with a good witty edge to them a la Ben Elton, or any good books on film. Or just anything that's good, basically. Apparently "good" is the lowest common denominator there. Read any good books lately?

So, about two blocks up the street from me, across from the elementary school, I used to pass by this house that always had a white early '90s Tercel parked out front that looked like Stan, my old car. I'd drive by on my way home and say, "There's Stan's twin." Friday night I drove by and sure enough -- there is now an exact replica of Miss Kubelik parked there. It's freakish. It's like there's a parallel universe me, living only two blocks away.

In this article in the New York Post, Bill Cosby goes off on MTV's hit show The Osbournes and sounds generally full of sour grapes that some other family could be as big a hit as his own.

Excerpt: "I'm telling you that [the show] is a sad thing - it's like laughing at Tiny Tim," Cosby says, alluding to the late, falsetto-voiced singer.

Actually, I'm pretty sure he's alluding to Tiny Tim, the little crippled boy in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, but you can't really expect the editors of the New York Post to be familiar with such a long-forgotten literary work such as that. Oh, except for the fact that there's been about TWENTY MOVIE VERSIONS OF IT.

Hell, EVERYONE laughs at Tiny Tim the singer. I'll bet even the Cos gets a chuckle out of that Tiny Tim every now and again.

Forgot to mention that one of the cats peed on the carpet. This was earlier, before I left to get my perm, which means they did it while I was home, sitting in the other room. I have no idea which one of them did it, although when I stood in the middle of the living room and demanded in a loud voice, "WHO PEED ON THE RUG??" Buster came running up to me as if I'd said, "WHO WANTS A KISS?"

I suspect it was Rimsey, but I don't know why I suspect that -- just a feeling. As it stands now, it's an isolated incident and I'm going to treat it as such. Since I don't know who the culprit is, I can't punish either of them anyway. Could be a sign that it's time to clean out the litterbox.

Just got back from getting a perm (since next week I will be in a cabin in the wilds of Alaska and I need some "low maintenance" hair). It was really quiet at Fantastic Sam's, and while my perm was setting I got to pretend to read as I eavesdropped on the hairstylists gossiping about their weekends and so forth. Nothing too earth-shattering, unfortunately, but the woman they called "Cooper" told a funny story about her introduction to Jell-O shots. Apparently she was at a garage sale browsing around, and the folks having the sale had set out these little Jell-O cubes to entice people to hang around. Cooper apparently just loves Jell-O, and she claims she wolfed down a whole ton of them. Then, all of a sudden, Cooper began to feel a little ill. Happy, she said, but kind of sick. "I think that Jell-O is spoiled," she told her friend. "You dumbass," her friend told her, "those are Jell-O shots."

Little else of note. It was a very uneventful trip to Fantastic Sam's. One time I saw a customer bitch out his stylist because he didn't want the clippers used on his hair. That was pretty damn exciting.

Well, maybe you had to be there.

Testing out the webcam and I managed to capture this.

I have my first sponsor for the Blogathon! I'm trying to think of some nice little chotchke I can send all my sponsors. Maybe I will burn Lux Radio Theatre and Smothers Brothers CD's for everybody. Until I come up with something good, though, I'd like to publicly thank LilyG for her sponsorship. Thanks, Lily! I won't let ya down.

Good news, gang. I have an answer to this whole "under God" thing. This is a fair and equitable compromise that should make both sides (or all million sides) happy.

Simply change the words "under God" to "underdog." One nation, underdog. It's perfect. We are a nation of underdogs -- even though globally we're the richest and most powerful nation in the world, we were founded on the principles of underdogism. What, after all, is the great American dream? That someone who was born in poverty, to a single-parent household, without a decent supply of brains, or with other significant disadvantages, can rise to greatness and even become even President some day. That is the underdog.

Look at our blockbusting films. The biggest-selling movies of our generation (and generations before) have always been the David vs. Goliath stories. Rocky. The Bad News Bears. Hell, even Independence Day -- ragtag bunch of regular Americans take on way-more-powerful aliens, using less-advanced technology and good ol' American know-how, and kick their asses.

We go nuts for the underdog in this country. That's why we hate the Yankees so much. That's why every time the Mariners win more than two games in a row Dave Niehaus starts going on and on about Cinderella stories. We love the underdog. We root for him, because we identify with him. Because a little over 200 years ago, we WERE him, and we sort of hang onto that in this country.

And that's not even getting into the whole superhero aspect. Underdog was probably the single greatest cartoon superhero we ever had. Who else could take on Simon Bar Sinister week after week and continually rescue Polly Purebred from the railroad tracks? Not Shoeshine Boy, I'll tell you that much.

One nation, Underdog. It's easy to say, it fits the meter, and it sums us up rather well, I think. Write your congressman (or woman).

CNN.com - Bush to have colonoscopy under anesthesia - June 28, 2002

"It is the third such procedure I've had," said the president. "The doctors recommended I have another because the last time they found some benign polyps."

I can't think of any information that I wanted to know less than this. Bush's anal polyps. I need a nap. And a long, hot shower.

My mom writes in my guestbook:

31 Date: 2002-06-28 05:59:01
Mom (marilynl@xxxx.xxx/no homepage) wrote:

noone loves you like your Mother :)

Isn't she great? And chances are she happened on my weblog, where recently I used the "F" word very prominently. Sorry you had to see that, Mom. But y'know... Star Trek and everything.

Peter Noone loves me like my mother.

It's The Friday Five!

When was the last time you...

1. ...sent a handwritten letter? I wrote a handwritten letter to my stepfather and sent it with his Father's Day card. Before that, though, it was probably a very long time. Too long. Occasionally I'll send friends or family little packages in the mail and I always try to stick note in there with it. But most of the time I type it out because my handwriting is so atrocious.

2. ...baked something from scratch or made something by hand? Yikes. At Christmas time I helped my mom bake Christmas cookies from scratch -- does that count? She did most of the work.

3. ...camped in a tent? The last time I camped was in Alaska in September 2000, but that was in a cabin. The last time in a tent was... gosh, it must have been when Mish and I went to eastern Washington for a long weekend, and I guess that was back in 1995 or so.

4. ...volunteered your time to church, school, or community? Let's see... I don't suppose the Bellingham Theatre Guild counts, does it? That's part of the community! And it's in an old converted church. At any rate, that was at least six years ago. I did a Walkathon for the American Cancer Society in... 1996, I think. When I was a kid I was in Youth Fellowship at my church and we did a lot of volunteering, including a week in Maine for Habitat for Humanity. That was in 1987. I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

5. ...helped a stranger? I gave that swami three bucks. That's enough for him to get a bagel and coffee at least. I don't know if I could say that's really helping him, though. I'm not sure what constitutes helping a stranger -- I hold doors open for people all the time, I've helped people carry packages that they seem to be having trouble with, etc. I think within the last six months or so I've offered the use of my jumper cables to someone. It's not really the kind of thing I keep track of, though.

Please ignore me while I geek out, but FUCK YEAH.

It's official. I'm doing the Blogathon. If you'd like to sponsor me (proceeds go to the World Cancer Resarch Fund), please click the link the left. And thanks! Any ideas of what to blog about for 24 solid hours would be muchly appreciated, as well. The Blogathon blog is housed separately, right here. Not much to see there yet.

Cute Boy was wearing an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt today with a great big ol' number 69 on it. He makes my mouth water.

CNN.com - Lawmakers blast Pledge ruling - June 27, 2002

So why not just take "under God" out of it? Of course, that would screw me up forever and I'd never be able to say the Pledge of Allegiance again without stumbling over the words.

Do they make kids pledge allegiance to their country and flag every morning in any other country? I'm just curious about this -- I'm not saying it's a good idea or a bad idea. Do English kids, for example, have to sing "God Save the Queen" every morning at school? German kids? Botswanan kids?

Cool and a little freaky -- I thought BlogAmp just updated while I was blogging, but apparently it updates constantly as long as I'm online and listening to Winamp. It's just the slightest bit Big Brother. Now you all know what kind of crap I listen to all the time.

Check out BlogAmp, which displays a list of song titles as you're listening to them (see list to the left). Kinda cool. It was a bitch to configure, though. This whole computer thing, man. It's confusing.

This evening after work I stopped by Jack in the Box (or Jacques dans la Boite, en francais) to treat myself to a Sourdough Jack as I do once in a while. They're running a promotion right now where you get a free antenna ball with your meal. Not the standard Jack clown, though -- instead they're offering a "boys of summer" special. An antenna ball wearing the batting helmet of your local baseball team (anyone in Seattle, please take note: I could use a Mariners antenna ball).

The guy offered me an Anaheim Angels ball. I handed it back to him and said, "Have you got the Dodgers one?" He grinned and said, "You don't want this one?" I told him, "No, the Angels suck." Truth be told, the Dodgers suck too, but at least they're National League and I don't feel like a traitor. He not only got me a Dodgers ball, but I saw him in there making a big point to his manager that a customer had REFUSED the Angels ball. Apparently the manager is a big Angels fan. He declined to come over and harrass me though.

Incidentally, last night I found I had more ants -- in the bathroom this time. A little more Raid took care of them. They don't appear to have come back.

Oh, and hey -- I discovered why it's so friggin' noisy upstairs! The manager doesn't live there anymore; it's a regular old tenant, and she has a kid. As long as I know it's a little kid and he's up there playing, I have decided not to bitch about the noise. I may be a rotten aunt and a lousy daughter, but I'm a damn fine neighbor.

Ants Marching

No one's biting on the idea of blogging for dollars, huh? No one was even tempted to comment on the fact that my list is numbered "1, 3, 2"?

My entire kitchen stinks of Raid. I woke up this morning to a minor revolt by an army of ants, who were laying a seige on my sugar bowl. They're the little piss-ant (ha! unintentional) California variety of ants. In New Jersey, we had regular-sized black ants, about a centimeter long. The kind that make a satisfying crunch when you step on them. Out here they have tiny little brown ants, about the size of gnats, a couple of millimeters long I guess. They're creepy. As soon as I see one crawling around I immediately begin to imagine that I have them crawling all over me. I've been itching like crazy all day.

However, I did clean them out and they don't appear to have come back. Compared to a few of my friends in the area, I've been pretty lucky when it comes to ant infestations. I had one small invasion when I first moved in, centered around the cat dish. Poor Rimsey didn't eat for a day she was so upset. Having just moved in, I didn't have any bug spray lying around the house, but I did have some concentrated Simple Green. That stuff is a miracle in a bottle, let me tell you. Got the kitchen floors sparkling clean and got rid of the ants.

I'd happily trade for Bet's ladybugs any time.

Am I nuts? I'm thinking about doing this. A 24-hour blogathon, for charity. You pick your charity, get some sponsors, and you blog every thirty minutes on the day of the Blogathon. For me, it would start at 6 AM on Saturday, July 27th -- which in itself is a big obstacle. I can totally see myself oversleeping and not even getting out of the gate.

What happens if Blogger goes down?

Anyway, I'm kicking the idea around. It would be an excellent writing project for me -- 24 hours of solid writing. But I would need three things from you, loyal readers:

1) Some damn good topics to write about.
3) Someone to keep me awake.
2) Sponsors.


I'm certain that if I decided to do it, my charity would be the American Cancer Society. According to the website, one can sponsor a flat fee, or a certain amount per hour.

Blatant comment-begging now -- what do y'all think? Would anyone want to do it with me?

Today in the parking lot of the Vons in Woodland Hills I was stopped by a man who claimed to be a yogi and a swami. He fixed me with a piercing stare, told me he was glad to see my forehead (that's what he said!), and began reading my fortune. He told me that August is going to be a very lucky month for me, bringing health and prosperity and good fortune, and that the last two years or so hadn't been so good for me. While he was talking, he scribbled something on a tiny piece of paper and then crumpled it up and pressed it into my hand.

"I want you to name a color, any color you want, any color you see or can think of, name it." I said blue.

"Now you tell me how many family members you have." I asked for clarification, "You mean uncles, cousins, that sort of thing?" "No, no -- father, mother, brothers, sisters, just your immediate family." I said four.

He instructed me to open up my hand and look at the piece of paper, and sure enough it said "blue" and "4." Not really all that amazing. Everyone probably says blue, and I would think four or five is a pretty common answer to the family question too.

He said I had "snakey eyes" and that I can't keep a secret. I was all set to call bullshit on him right then and there, because I happen to be excellent at keeping secrets. Hell, there's stuff Paul still doesn't know about from when he was dating my best friend Mish over ten years ago. But he went on to say that I am an honest and forthright person, and that I assume that everyone else is the same way... And then I recalled what my boss was saying to me only last week, which is that I divulge way too much information to our clients. We had a snarky little argument wherein I apologized for being honest with people, and he said, "I'm not asking you to lie, or even to be dishonest, but you don't need to tell everyone EVERYTHING." So I guess there's some wisdom in the whole "snakey eyes" thing. Snakes can't keep secrets? I dunno.

Anyway, here's the really interesting part! He told me to beware of a lady in my life, a lady that wishes me harm. He says she is jealous of me (I don't know why she would be jealous; he said himself the last two years haven't been so good for me), and that she only wants bad things for me. Since 1999, he says, she has been wishing me harm and malice.

He couldn't tell me this lady's name, but he says it starts with an 'L.' Gang, I only know one woman that I have regular dealings with whose name starts with L. So Lily, I'm onto your little game, just so you know. The swami made me promise him that I wouldn't confront you or fight with you, but that I should be on my guard, because you are up to no good! Also, don't even bother inviting me to a party or to some event in the next few months, because I'm under strict orders from the swami not to accept. You want bad things for me. I know your game. I've had my heart broken before, you know -- the swami said so.

I gave him three bucks. Told him I'd check back with him in August when my ship comes in and cut him in on a little more dough.

Monday Mission 2.25 via PromoGuy.net

1. Do you wear glasses/contact lenses? If so would you consider going through Lasik surgery? (Or if you already have, please tell us about it) I wear glasses and contact lenses (lenses during the day, usually, glasses in the morning and evening). Lasik surgery creeps me out in many ways, and I know people who have had it done with little to no success. I wouldn't want to drop $4,000 or however much it is and end up no better off. On the other hand, I dream of waking up in the morning and being able to read the clock from my bed. What a luxury that would be. So it is something that I consider from time to time. Not with my current financial situation, though.

2. Did you ever have to wear braces? How are your teeth? (any cavities, any pulled teeth, root canals, etc.) Haven't we done the teeth thing before? I had braces for five years. After I'd had them off for six months, I dropped my retainer and dented it, but continued to wear it. As a result, my bottom teeth are a bit crooked.

3. What (if any) recent movies have moved you emotionally? Which one and how so? Recent as in "seen recently" or recent as in "made recently"? Recently made movies, none that I have seen have really moved me emotionally. Of the movies I've seen recently, the last one to move me emotionally was Shane. Can't answer the "how" question. If I could, I'd bottle and sell it to everyone in Hollywood and make a freakin' fortune.

4. Would you rather live the remainder of your golden years in a rest home, or pass away before it came to that? I don't care WHERE I spend my golden years, as long as I have all my marbles. A rest home would be fine with me, as long as it wasn't one of these run-down, state-run abominations. I don't have kids and I'm not likely to, so I won't have anyone to mooch off of in my old age anyway. It would have to be a place that lets me keep my cats, though.

5. What natural creation or phenomenon just flat-out leaves you with a sense of wonder? I was just saying on Saturday that Nat King Cole's voice was a gift from God. I don't know if that would be considered a natural phenomenon or not. Seems to me if you're born with a natural talent like that (even though you may practice and rehearse for years to refine it, the talent is natural), that seems to constitute proof of the existence of God.

6. Have you ever been in a fist fight or a situation where you had to get physically violent with someone else? How did that come about? Any consequences? In fourth grade, Robin Wolff stole my lunchbox. I punched her in the stomach, grabbed my lunchbox, and ran away. Only physical confrontation of my life. I guess you could say I won. No consequences, I don't even think she told on me.

7. Are there any recent happenings that you wish you would have handled differently? What happened and what do you wish you'd done? I would have sent Donald's package via Federal Express instead of Airborne. Generally speaking, though, I could sit here for hours and talk about the things I wish I'd done differently, even in the last week, but it gets me nowhere. I do it from time to time, I think, "Damn, if only I'd done this, or said that," etc., but what is the point? You can't change what's in the past, and agonizing over it only causes more stress and frustration. Best bet is to say, "Okay, that's screwed up. Let's figure out how to fix it." I try really hard not to dwell on past mistakes, other than to learn from them and move on.

BONUS: How far away can you go, and still be dancing with me? I won't dance. Don't ask me.

In loving memory of Audiogalaxy.

Friday I stopped by the local pet shop to pick up some food for the kitties (they're on the Iams Weight Control, and it seems to be working -- Rimsey's skin is hanging off her these days. Now she just needs a good muscle toning regiment and she'll be back to her old self), and as I usually do when I'm at the pet shop, I browsed around a little. I checked out the two little Himalayan kittens they had for sale (for $599!!!), and said hello to the store cat who hangs around. I avoided the bird aisle, naturally.

What I love to check out most of all at the pet shop is the cat furniture. These are scratching posts that have been built into little activity centers for cats. Buster and Rimsey have one like this, which I got on sale for about $40. But I dream of getting them something a little more like this one day, when I've got the scratch. And the room.

Anyway, I'm browsing there in the cat furniture aisle, checking out the different kitty condos and tunnels and trees and so forth, and I happen to notice a sign in black magic marker which reads "PLEASE DO NOT PLAY IN CAT FURNITURE. THANK YOU." And it occurred to me that in order for them to put up a sign like that, they must have had a problem with people actually playing in the cat furniture. You don't just put up a sign like that without a reason. You don't put up a sign like that unless you've had to consistently say to people over and over again, "Hey, would you please get your kid out of the cat condo? Would you tell your daughter that the cat tree is not for humans?" You have to say these things a LOT before you resort to putting up a sign.

I don't know why, but I'm constantly amazed at the number of idiots there are in the world. Almost all warning labels on products you buy in the store are the result of a lawsuit. My hair dryer has a tag on the cord (which supposedly I am not allowed to remove under penalty of law), which reads "DO NOT USE THIS ITEM IN BATH OR IN SHOWER." I've been late to work before, but never so late that I've had to resort to washing and drying my hair at the same time. I can understand a label warning people of the dangers of using an electric item near water, that's always a problem for bathroom appliances. But the wording of this one is so specific -- do not use IN BATH or IN SHOWER. Some idiot must have actually tried it! More than one, probably a whole legion of idiots!

That being said, what is the good of warning labels or signs anyway? Idiots don't read. I know this for a fact. I worked in a video store, so I know more about idiots than you'll ever encounter in your life. We instituted "half price Tuesdays" after I'd been working there for about a year, which we advertised with a HUGE banner hanging behind the counter. And without fail, every Tuesday some nimrod would, upon hearing of his total, say, "Why so cheap?"

Editing seems to have been called off for today. I went by Ernie's place and he's not there, so I left him a note. Now I have an unexpected afternoon off, so I'm going to get in some bike riding and maybe even a little writing. Happy Sunday!

God, I have nothing to blog about at all. I've already discarded two topics. I think the stuff that makes for the best blogs falls under the category of "things that piss me off," and I guess I haven't been all that pissed off lately. That's a good thing, I suppose.

I went to the beach at Ventura today and walked down the beach about a mile and then back. Then got back into my car and came home. Not a staggeringly interesting day, to be sure, but it was great day to be outside. Especially in Ventura where it was good ten degrees cooler. The water wasn't bad either, surprisingly warm for this early in the year. I just went in up to my ankles. I still have sand between my toes.

You know what's the weirdest thing about going through my old notebooks? I don't even remember studying half of the stuff that's written in there. Apparently I read something called "Evelina" when I was a junior at Western. Read it, participated in class, took the final, and got a B in the class. I have no idea what "Evelina" is, or even who wrote it. And then other stuff I remember like it was yesterday, like Gulliver's Travels. I took the best notes in History classes, but got consistent C's despite my efforts. My English notebooks are practically empty, and I got mostly A's and B's in those classes. No rhyme or reason to any of it.

Got Cute Boy's name. It's Eduardo. Apparently the people in his office call him "Elward."

The Friday Five!

1. Do you live in a house, an apartment or a condo? An apartment.

2. Do you rent or own? Rent.

3. Does anyone else live with you? Buster and Rimsey.

4. How many times have you moved in your life? Sixteen! Seattle to New Jersey, New Jersey to Bellingham, thirteen times in Bellingham, plus the move down here. That's a lot.

5. What are your plans for this weekend? Plenty of sleep. Editing Randy's movie on Sunday. I would like to get away to the beach Saturday afternoon, just for a little while.

My college notebooks are proving to be just about as much fun as my high school ones. On the first page of my Geology 101 notebook, from the first day of class (Sept. 26, 1989), the top of the page is emblazoned with this warning: "DON'T SIT IN THE GREY SEATS!!" I wonder what was wrong with them. Further down the page I note the following stunning revelation: "matter = stuff." I got a D in Geology.

On October 10th, in the same notebook, things had taken a turn for the worse. My first note from class that day: "YOU SUCK, ARONOFF!" Also on this page is a rather crude drawing of Felix the Cat. Oh yeah, and some geology notes.

November 14th: In my friend Angie's handwriting, an arrow pointing to the chair in front of me, and the words, "Look at her Roots really Attractive," and in my own handwriting, "I agree." Then a table of different rock types, and my notes below: "one schist, two schist, red schist, blue schist."

From December 2nd: Notes to my friend Bob, who sat next to me (his responses must be in his Geology 101 notebook, which I cannot share):

Bobby, are you really leaving us?
Ththpppth! [frowny face]
Are you going to be like the weasel and never write to me?
Is that bozo Jim really moving in w/ Chris?
That sucks!
Will you cut my hair for free when I'm rich 'n' famous?
You can work for me.
Bob Fuchs - hairstylist for the stars.
In ten minutes, this quarter will be over!

This is apparently around the time my friend Bob decided to quit school and move back to Tacoma. He used to cut my hair. Wonder what he's up to these days?

Incidentally, I have no idea who "the weasel" is. Obviously someone who never wrote to me.

I found one of my high school notebooks tonight, from my senior year. Judging from some of the notes I have scrawled in the margins, it appears to be from my last semester. The chem notes are scary. Nearly every page is just lyrics from songs I was digging then. One page has "NEVER ADD H2O TO ACID!!" scrawled across the top, as though I had learned a bitter lesson. Maybe I did; I don't remember. It's not really surprising that I got a D in chem.

There's some notes on "Screamin' Lord Byron" (as I called him -- I think that was from David Bowie's "Blue Jean" video) in the English section of the notebook. They are as follows:

"She Walks in Beauty"
Basically self-explanatory

"Sonnet on Chillon"
Liberty - brightest in the heart

"Darkness" -- Gothic (Dark Ages)
Incredibly depressing!!
Dog-eat-dog world
Everyone dies
No one is faithful to anyone
There is war
I think Screamin' Lord Byron had the blues

Elsewhere are some notes on a poem called "Keen, Fitful Gusts," in which I note "it's windy." And here is my summation of "To One Who Has Been Long": "No one is more happy than someone looking at nature who hasn't seen it in a long time." Deep. It's a miracle I graduated high school.

And here's something I can't decipher at all:

Greatness -- God, world, sky
Rareness -- diamond, honesty
Muchness -- stars, sand, laughter
Fewness -- Kings and queens, four-leaf clovers
Precious only endless world -- delicate, etc.
Leave the string alone! -- unless you appreciate the greatness, rareness, muchness, fewness of this precious only endless world.

The string?? WTF?

I hate to burst Mike's bubble, but my records show that my 1,000th visitor came from the domain name golden.net -- if I'm not mistaken, that's Chrispy at work. Congratulations, Chrisp! Your prize is that I will give you another two-year extension on that video tape you owe me.

I was watching Batman earlier (the '60s TV show version), and it was a scene in which the Dark Knight had to depart hastily to go fight some more crime. He made his apologies to whomever was in the room with him, blustered for the door and Batmanned out of the room. Got me thinking -- what use, really, is a superhero who has to use doors like the rest of us? I want my superheros busting through doors, or even through walls if necessary.

Stennieville is close to having 1,000 visitors. If only I had a prize to give away!

Monday Mission 2.24 via PromoGuy.net

1. What does Father's Day mean to you personally? I have two dads -- my step-dad (Pop) and my biological dad (Dad). Father's Day means I have to call both of them and send two cards. And Pop is impossible to find cards for, because it's really hard to find a card that says "Pop" on it. This year I managed it, though.

2. Was there a Father, or a Father Figure in your life as you grew up? Yes, primarily Pop. Dad lived 3,000 miles away when I was a kid -- I saw him once a year, if at all.

3. Would you like to become a parent? Would you be good at raising your own children? Not any time soon, certainly. I think I'd be a good mom, but I'm not sure I want to test that theory, to be honest.

4. With Rosie, Callista, Jodie and Camryn all raising children without Fathers, Hollywood seems to be sending a message that children do not need male role models. Do you agree? Are these "stars" sending a good message to the young adults who admire them? I don't think four people doing something constitutes "Hollywood sending a message," but I see where you're going with this. I do think it's ideal to have two parents, and possibly even ideal to have a traditional Mom & Dad as opposed to two moms or two dads, BUT I don't think there is anything wrong with a loving same-sex couple raising a child either. Let's face it, I know plenty of kids who come from good homes with a mother and father, parents never divorced, and they're the rudest most obnoxious kids on the earth. Conversely, I know kids from single-parent homes who are polite and well-behaved and no trouble at all. There's no one right way to bring up a kid, but there does seem to be an infinite number of wrong ways.

5. Do you think the absence of a loving, caring father in the life of a child could have any influence on their sexual preferences when the child grows up? Sexual preference? No. Other stuff, sure, but not sexual preference.

6. Was there ever a time when your father became "uncool." Or maybe embarrassed you? My step-dad was never "cool," -- by that I mean that my parents were not known as "the cool parents." On the other hand, I had (and still have) a very good relationship with my step-dad. The saying in my family goes, my sister takes after Mom, my brother takes after Dad, and I take after Pop. We are just cut from the same cloth. So he's always been cool with me. And no, Pop's never embarrassed me that I can remember. My Dad on the other hand -- he was the cool dad; he was always making my friends laugh and making me laugh, when I was a kid. In recent years, however... the embarrassment factor is starting to increase a good deal.

7. Are you ever too old to kiss your Dad? No.

BONUS: When you coming home, dad? I don't know when, but we'll get together then. You know we'll have a good time then.

I have this habit when I'm watching movies, particularly when I'm watching a movie for the first time, not to learn the names of the characters in the movie. When I'm discussing the movie later I'll refer to the actor's name sometimes, or I'll refer to them by the name of a character they played in some other movie. For example, right now Ragtime is on in the other room, and I'm watching a scene where Billy Bibbit from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is following around Janine from Ordinary People, who's trying to purchase something from Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride.

Father's Day. Yeah, yeah, so I forgot. Sue me. Actually, I remembered, but not until about 8 PM. That's too late to call Pop, because he's on the east coast so it's 11 PM for him. And it's too late to call Dad because... well, cocktail hour started at four. Anyway, this year I did send both of them cards, and I even sent them on time. Okay, I'm making excuses, because I'm a rotten daughter.

Worked on Randy's movie today; Ernie and I edited together a nice opening titles sequence and chopped another three minutes out of the movie. I'm not sure what's going to be kept and what's going to be vetoed, at this point. We showed a little of it to Randy and Heather and Scotty B, and then we all went to Fudrucker's for dinner. I'd never been to Fudrucker's before. Good burgers.

More reviews should be forthcoming in the next day or so. Stay tuned.

South Park me.

Make your own South Park character here.

I have a secret. It's time I came out of the closet.

I am a heterosexual.

It's true; I like boys. It's hard to say exactly when I knew I was "this way;" I've been attracted to the opposite sex for as long as I can remember. Even when I was a kid, I liked boys. As early as fourth grade, I was stealing furtive glances at boys in my class, and wondering how their last name would sound with mine. "Heidi Mazzoni," I would murmur softly to myself.

I've been mistaken for a lesbian many times. It's not all that surprising, really, just based on stereotypes -- I wear my hair short, I don't wear makeup, and I prefer to be comfy in jeans and a T-shirt rather than get all decked out and wear shoes that hurt my feet. It doesn't really bother me to be mistaken for a lesbian, because I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of, it just doesn't happen to be my thing.

What bothers me is people who insist that I really am a lesbian but I haven't admitted it to myself yet. This has happened twice to me. One time was my friend Frank in film school, who said I just hadn't met the right girl yet. Which is pretty funny, actually. The other time was my friend Kathy back in Bellingham, who'd known me for years. It bothers me because they assume that after thirty-three years, I don't know myself well enough to know whether I dig guys or girls.

It occurs to me that even choosing to blog about this topic could come off as "protesting too much."

You know what else bugs me? I don't like these movies where the plain girl with the glasses and braces and the braids, etc., only manages to land the boy of her dreams by tarting herself up and putting on really uncomfortable spike heels. Why can't the plain girl have her glasses AND the boy? Pisses me off. I'm going to write a movie where the plain girl gets the boy without having to get all dressed up like a tart.

In the movies, anything can happen.

It's the Friday Five! Special "Laundry is Pain" edition!

1. How often do you do laundry? I do a white wash once a week and a dark wash every two weeks, on average. Usually on Sunday.

2. What's in a typical wash load? Your typical t-shirts, underwear, jeans. That sort of thing.

3. Front or top loader? Powder or liquid detergent? Our washers are top loaders, and I only use liquid detergent. Powdered always leaves residue on my clothes.

4. Do you use fabric softener in the rinse cycle? No, I can never remember to go down to the laundry room twenty minutes into the cycle and put something else in there. I used to use the little Downey fabric softener ball, that you just toss in at the start of the load, but after I lost three of them, I gave up. Now I just use dryer sheets.

5. Dryer or clothesline? Dryer.

Farts.

(that was just for blamb.)

spam, eggs, sausage and spam.

My main e-mail account has suddenly erupted with spam, and I've been racking my brain trying to figure out what I registered for recently that might have triggered it. I received two this morning that I felt I should share.

The first is entitled, "Clean your credit right from your computer," and it's written in HTML with graphics, however none of the graphics are actually attached to the e-mail. So I can't read anything it says, except this part: "Your email address was obtained from a purchased list, Reference # 1320-15000." Well THANK YOU, whomever you are, for at least being HONEST about it. I'm so sick and tired of the "work from home" and "enlarge your penis" e-mails that insist that I'm receiving this information because I signed up for it, and "we NEVER send unsolicited mail!" If I have to get spam, at least be honest and admit you're a spammer. I appreciate that.

The second one! I can't reproduce it properly, you'll just have to check it out for yourself. I have no idea what it says!! The pictures down at the bottom are no help at all, either! Michelle, can you help me out with this one? I have to admit, this is an effective marketing tool -- create a sense of curiosity about your product!

Oh yeah, so I got my hair cut a few days ago and no one at work said jack about it.

Shout out to my Mom, who is sixty years old today, but seems more like forty. Happy birthday, Ma! Love you!

I brought home some kickass speakers from work today (fire sale. Okay, I stole them from stock). The speakers I'd previously been using with my computer came with my NEC back in 1996, and they were pretty good while they lasted, but their time was well up. These sound great. They're Kenwoods. Plus I think music sounds better on embezzled equipment, don't you?

The tinyblog has a post about blog commenting, and what posts garner the most comments. According to the responses, farts seem to be big comment-getters. I find that's the case in real life, too.

Did make me wonder, though, because the posts that I secretly am most proud of seem to garner no comments at all, but then I turn around and something like The Magic Robe, which I thought was on the lame side, gets four comments. Not that I'm complaining, I'm just trying to find that elusive key to getting comments. And then I wonder why that's so important to me.

The Friday Five is back online! Hurrah!

I brought the Magic Robe out of retirement this weekend.

For those of you who've never heard me wax rhapsodic about the Magic Robe, let me give you a little history. I got this bathrobe for Christmas in about 1994 or so, I think -- ordered from the J. Crew catalogue, just a standard Stewart-tartan flannel robe. I believe it got most of its magic from the Bellingham Theatre Guild, where it was in more shows than I was, I think. I first discovered the robe's secret powers during my second year of grad school, when my curriculum changed and I ended up spending most days at home writing. I discovered that when I wrote with the robe on, my output was significantly higher and less crappy than without the robe.

Sadly, though, time marched on for the Magic Robe as it does for all articles of clothing. At first it was a little hole near the pocket. Then it began to wear through at the back of the neck, where I hung it on its hook. Eventually it occurred to me that the Magic Robe was so threadbare that it was nearly translucent. So the time came, sadly, to retire it before it was too late, and induct a new robe.

I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I wasn't going to find another "Magic Robe." I would just have to be content with something that was comfy. The flannel bathrobe I bought at Robinsons-May eight months ago hasn't even managed to do that properly. Despite the many times I've told myself, "It just needs to be broken in," and "Maybe if I throw it in the laundry again," I just cannot get comfortable in that robe. I also can't deny that I haven't done a stitch of writing since I put away the Magic Robe.

I know it's a gimmick. It's like Dumbo's magic feather -- it's a trick I've played on myself, to convince myself that all of my talent is wrapped up in a ratty old flannel bathrobe, and I really should break myself of it. But Sunday I found it hanging in the closet and decided it was time for the Magic Robe to make a comeback.

PromoGuy.net presents Monday Mission 2.23

1. Do you have a side of the bed on which you prefer to sleep? Do you sleep on that side even when traveling or does it matter? I sleep on the right side (the stage left side) of my own bed, but when traveling it doesn't matter. I sleep on my side, though, on my RIGHT side, because if I try to sleep on my left side, I can hear my own heartbeat thudding in my left ear and it keeps me awake. Weird, huh?

2. What is your favorite "Theme Park?" How come and when was the last time you were there? My favorite theme park is Universal Studios Hollywood, because it contains my favorite ride (Jurassic Park -- the ride that's better than the movie), and also has the cool studio backlot tour. Every time I go on the studio backlot tour everyone around me is all jazzed about the Jaws part where the shark tries to ram you, or the King Kong section where the little tram shakes up and down, etc. -- I just get so excited to see the courthouse they used in To Kill a Mockingbird. Last time I was there... I think after my grad school graduation in 1999. It's been too long!

3. What is your most and least favorite thing about staying in hotels? Most favorite thing: BEING A SLOB! Just throw that on the floor -- they have MAIDS here! Ordering room service can be pretty cool, but expensive enough that it seems less cool when you're paying for it. Least favorite thing: the beds are always too damn hard and there's never enough water pressure in the shower.

4. Did you ever take family vacations that required looooooong car rides? Were siblings involved ("Stop touching me! Don't cross this line!)? Were the trips just unbearable or did you make up some "car ride games" to pass the time? Usually the biggest car trips my family took were to the Jersey shore, two hours max, but those seemed to last an eternity sometimes. We did all go up to Cape Cod once, and we took two cars (because my grandmother and cousin went along), which was awesome, because it meant I didn't have to sit next to my brother -- or indeed even in the same car as him. On that particular trip I seem to recall my cousin Anna constantly shouting out, "Look, Howard Johnson's!!" every time we passed a Howard Johnson's. Which was approximately every ten miles or so. Car trips were fun, I've always enjoyed them and still do. My step-sister Molly and I, during trips down to the shore, would wave hello frantically at everyone we passed to see who would wave back. Oh, and one more fun car trip thing from my youth -- the state beach we visited most often in the summer time was Long Beach Island in NJ, and just before you get there you have to cross a little bridge. There is a sign posted that says "No crabbing on bridge," which refers of course to crabs in the water. But my step-sister and I, every time we crossed that bridge, without fail, would start bitching, "Aren't we there yet? I have to go to the bathroom! She's touching me! Molly's on my side of the seat!" etc. And every year this cracked my mom up. What can I say, we are easily amused in my family.

5. With all the drilled peep-holes and spy-cams we hear about on the news, have you ever felt self-conscious about taking off your clothes in a hotel bathroom? Has wondering if someone was on the other side of that mirror on the wall above the dresser made you think twice about "gettin' busy?" I never really thought about this before. Until now. Thanks, Promo.

6. Describe the most romantic vacation you have ever taken or if that does not apply, tell me about the worst vacation you have ever taken. Here's the thing about most of the vacations I've taken in my life -- they've almost ALL been to visit family members. With only two exceptions, I think -- the Reno trip for New Year's 2000 (which was AWESOME), and my road trip to California with Paul. Most of the road trip with Paul was great fun, but we ended up coming home two days early because he ran out of money and a sense of humor. Still, the first five days of that trip were wonderful, so I don't even think that can count as the worst. And I've never had a romantic vacation. Poor me.

7. (continued) After a full tummy and four days of sleep, I'd say I've never felt better. Since it is nearly noon, how about you come over and we'll hang out on the deck. I have a pool, hot tub and lotsa eats and drink. But feel free to bring whatever else you think we need! How should we spend this fine afternoon at the pool? Well, if we have a few people over, a rousing game of Marco Polo might be in order. We definitely need tunes by the pool -- Beach Boys is good poolside music, don't you agree? And let's barbecue!! Do you have chicken and Lea & Perrin's Barbecue Sauce?

BONUS: Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often? Yes, no, none of your beeswax. :-)

My friend Scotty B went to Paris and I got was his blog. I was going to say "crummy blog" like all those tourist t-shirts that were so popular in the late '70s/early '80s, but I'm reading it right now and it's quite good. Do check it out.

I worked with Randy's editor Ernie today, starting our daunting task of editing Randy's movie The Second Degree from its rough cut length of two hours down to Randy's goal of one hour, twenty minutes. We only had four hours to work today, so for the first two hours we watched the rough cut (and duped it to VHS so I can study it at home), and then got to work on the first twenty-six minutes. We managed to chop out two and half minutes from that first 26, so I think we're making good progress.

Incidentally, Randy's movie? Fuckin' funny shit. I had been feeling guilty all along that I wasn't really available to help him during production, but now I'm kind of glad that I have a fresh perspective on it. Ernie and Scotty B and Randy have all been working on it for so long that they're not even sure what's funny anymore. So I get to come in after all the real work's done and have the outsider's view.

I was around for a couple days of shooting, including one day wherein Randy convinced me to play a waitress. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Adam, the cinematographer, for shooting me from below so everyone could get a really good look at my double chin. Thanks, Adam! And by the way, my song was left out of the rough cut entirely. The only reason I agreed to take the part was because of the song ("Me and Bobby McGee"). So now I not only have to cut forty minutes out of the movie, I have to cut out about forty-two so I can put my song back in.

After the editing session, Scotty B and I went to have dinner at the Market Street Cafe in Burbank and got caught up. And now I have gotten home too late to pop in a movie, because Ragtime starts in a half hour and the VCR will be occupied. TCM is showing Chaplin's Mutual shorts. As I am blogging, my mother is forwarding me tons of "jokes" that aren't funny, that her friend Salmon Ass has already sent me. A quiet Sunday evening at home.

Reminder for tomorrow, since naturally I forgot today: buy Mom's birthday card and all those damn Father's Day cards.

So this morning Buster woke me up scratching around on top of my dresser, fiddling around with a little wicker basket that sits up there. This is his favorite off-limits thing in the house -- the little wicker basket and the contents thereof (just little knick-knacks -- mini sewing kits, address labels, etc.). I warned him to get down, but he didn't pay any attention. So I reached for the watergun... aimed it ever so carefully... and squeezed the trigger.

It didn't go off! It was stuck! Buster gave me a smirk and went back to the forbidden wicker basket. I kept frantically trying to shoot at him, shaking the water pistol, banging it against my bedside table -- all to no avail. Finally in desperation I threw the gun at him, just like the guys do in Westerns when they run out of bullets. It did the trick. I didn't hit him, but came close enough to shoo him off the dresser. Also the gun broke when it hit the wall and I think some of the water splashed onto Buster, so mission accomplished.

So began the peaceful morning. Last night I was chagrined to discover that BOTH of our dryers in the laundry room are out of order (and of course I had no way or discovering this information without first having to test them and see for myself). So this morning I took my wet clothes to the laundromat and popped them in a dryer there while I ran a few errands. By the way -- I hate the local laundromat. It's nasty and dirty and full of more idiots than the Wal-Mart. To quote Moe, "Laundry is pain."

Reminder to self: Buy a birthday card for Mom today, and Father's Day cards for Dad, Pop and Rob.

It's sad that the Mendham Little League has a cooler site than my old high school.

God, my high school's website sucks.

I have discovered a number of nasty little bug bites over the last few weeks -- on my ankles, my arms, and other various extremities. Now, it could be spiders, it could be mosquitoes, or it could be any number of little vermin, but with the two cats, I'm willing to lay odds that it's fleas. So today I busted out the Frontline and applied it to two furry little necks while the cats napped. Both of them woke up and gave me the same approximate look, a sort of, "Wha --? Hey, what the -- what did you just do to me?"

I'm actually a little nervous about using the Frontline again. The last time I used it on Rimsey (over a year ago) was a really bad week for her -- my other cat Splinky had just been killed by a car, so she'd lost her little playmate. Then I gave her a bath, because she really was having a nasty flea problem. To top it all off, I brought this little ruffian Buster into the house. Then the Frontline treatment. All of it wound up upsetting her so much that she completely stopped eating.

Rimsey is a big cat. Despite her size, she's never been a big eater -- she's just leads a sedentary life (not unlike her owner) and would rather sleep than exercise (much like her owner). So at first when she stopped eating, I didn't think it was a big deal. She could stand to lose a few pounds, I figured. After about the fifth day, though, I got pretty worried and called my vet (Dr. McFarland, by the way, who gets a mention here because she is freaking AWESOME and the best vet I have ever known). Dr. McFarland told me it was important to get Rimsey to start eating again, because overweight cats who stop eating suddenly are subject to all kinds of disorders, among them fatty liver disease.

It still seems so ridiculous that I had to beg and plead my 18-lb. cat to take just a BITE from her Fancy Feast Savory Salmon Feast, and then praise her with a half hour of "Ohhhhh, what a good kitty!!!" when she managed to choke down half a can. She eventually got back to her regular food schedule (it was at least a month or more before she would touch solid food again).

Among the possible causes for her sudden anorexia that Dr. McFarland and I discussed, I worried that the Frontline just had a bad reaction with her (even though we'd used it before with no side effects). More than likely it was a combination of the week's events, but I was still wary enough of the Frontline as to put it away for a year. And being a nervous Mom, I had scoured the internet at the time for horror stories about how "Frontline killed my puppy!" and "Frontline turned my cat into a vicious killer!" and whatnot. That all made me feel a lot better about myself.

So why am I using it again? There are many reasons. Among them is this great big-ass flea bite on my neck.

The Friday Five (no point in linking it) now appears to be gone forever, even the archives, so I guess we're Fiveless from now on. However, snooping around the web, hungry for a little questionnaire that would make my blogging easier, I did come across the following Blogger Survey from tinyblog:

blogger pride! the blogger survey

Ethics/Personal Life:

Has a blog post ever got you into trouble? Not yet. There have been a few posts that I decided to trash for fear of who might come across them (family, mostly).

How many people do you know face-to-face who read your weblog? Two or three, maybe.

Have you met any of your regional (or even remote) bloggers? I'm not sure what this question means. Who are my regional and remote bloggers? Do you mean have I met Bet? Yes, I've met Bet!

Do you modify or delete posts? How often? Why? Haven't deleted any. Rarely modify a post, unless I find a spelling error.

How much is your weblog a part of your personal identity? Do you feel like people who don't know about your blog don't really know you? No, the stuff in my blog is basically the same stuff I would spout off in public most of the time.

How has blogging changed your life? Well, I don't watch as much television as I used to.

Technical/Design:

Do you know how to code at all? Did you learn how to code by blogging? I know a little bit of coding, but what little I know, I knew before I started blogging. I still hate that word, incidentally.

What weblogging tool do you use and why? Blogger. Because it was what Pete recommended, and so far it's been very simple and user-friendly.

Does the design seem like something that is just something that has to be dispensed with in order to be able to write publicly, or is your design an integral part of your writing and presentation? It's a means to an end. My only concern was getting it to match the rest of my site, which took a little doing.

How many times have you changed your weblog design entirely (or nearly so)? Never. I've modified little bits and pieces here and there, but not so anyone would even notice.

Readership/Motivation:

How many people would you guess (educated guess based on hit counts/logfiles) read your weblog on a weekly basis at least? I don't know.. about six or seven?

What have you done to get more people to look at your site? I've said to them, "Hey, look at my site!" And some of them do and never come back, and others don't bother to look at all, and others look and come back occasionally. And a few select pals check it daily.

What one or two characteristics make a blog really popular? Are there things that you could do to have more people read your weblog that you conciously do not do? Why? Geez, now you've got me all wondering about how I can get my blog in with the "in" crowd. The blogs that I know of that are popular are PromoGuy's and Wil Wheaton's. So I guess two sure-fire ways of having a popular blog is to be a former child star, or run a popular feature such as the Monday Mission.

What really popular weblog do you think most deserves it...and/or least deserves it? Wil Wheaton's deserves it, he really is very funny. I was surprised and delighted to find his site and see how much fun he has with his Wesley Crusher persona. I think PromoGuy's blog is good fun, too, and I read it daily, not just for the Monday Mission. I don't know of any popular blogs that aren't deserving.

How do you feel about your readership? What makes for a quality readership to you? My readership is the best damn readership in the whole wide world.

Influence of Other Bloggers:

What other blogger is most responsible for you starting your own weblog. ThePete.

Who was the first other blogger (that you know of) who put you on their sidebar, and how did you feel? How did it influence your blogging? I think it was Bet, and I felt happy. It did not influence my blogging. However -- Blamb linked back to my site when I dropped him an e-mail after browsing his site, and since I've never met him, that felt particularly special. And it did influence my blogging -- I believe my exact words were "I'm famous."

What other blogger do you most admire for her writing skills? The lovely and talented Bet.

What other blogger do you most admire for her design skills? The frame-happy Michelle. Also I admire Lily because she codes by hand. I don't know where she gets the patience.
edited to add:For some reason, I was just choosing out of the blogs of my pals -- I also think PromoGuy's site is well-designed, as well as Ain't Too Proud to Blog.

Who is a blogger that you think is really good but doesn't get nearly the attention they are worthy of? The self-doubting Chrispy.

Do you feel obligated to have people on your link lists/sidebars that you never read? Not really.

What one or two characteristics define a really quality blog (in your humble opinion, of course)? Funny. Color scheme that doesn't hurt my eyes. Updated regularly.

Bonus Question:

Do you fear The Booge? No. Should I?

Today at work I was explaining to Moe my problem about laundry (because I seriously cannot let it GO), and he said something very deep and profound: "Laundry is pain."

Now, Moe is originally from Iran, so he has a little problem with modifiers. He says things like "Laundry is pain" when he means "Laundry is a pain." And instead of saying, "Can you give this to Bruce?" he says, "Can you give this to The Bruce?" "Are you in the Quickbook?" instead of "are you in Quickbooks?" Et cetera. And while it's not nice to mock his trouble with the English language, it's still a little bit funny. Besides, he's pretty good natured about it.

Still, "Laundry is pain." That's so much more profound without the "a" in there, isn't it? And somehow there's more truth and honesty to it than just plain old "laundry is a pain." I mean, we all know laundry's a pain. But LAUNDRY IS PAIN. That should be on a bumper sticker. THAT'S how truthful it is!

No Friday Five tomorrow. What will I do??

I don't understand it. And I don't mean that in a flippant, playing-dumb-for-the-sake-of-writing-a-witty-blog kind of way, either -- because I don't know if you know it, but I have a reputation for being a wiseass, apparently. This is something I really, really don't get. This is an Honest-to-God mystery to me.

No matter how much laundry I do, I always seem to have two loads left.

Always. Without exception. This morning before work I took a look in my laundry basket(s) and did a quick eye measure: two loads. I'm doing one load right now. Yet in the bedroom even as I type this, there are two loads left. Now, I was never very good at math, but doesn't two minus one equal one? How did I get back to two loads? I didn't dirty up a whole load of laundry today; it's not possible.

My two loads of unwashed laundry always contains the same kinds of items. Seasonal clothing (right now, for example, there's a pile of sweatshirts that I know I won't need for months) and towels. I have about twelve bath towels. I use TWO of them on a regular basis, and rotate them out (because they are my best towels). Yet somehow the other ten are always in need of laundering, even though I never seem to use them.

I recently bought a set of hunter green towels (to match my bathroom, because I'm trying to be a grownup) at K-Mart (the same day, incidentally, that I bought the lamp, and we all remember what a fiasco that turned out to be). These are bona fide Martha Stewart endorsed towels, lovingly hand-crafted by four-year-old girls in Chile. One trip through the laundry, and they are practically threadbare. Let this be a lesson to you all: sometimes cheaper is not better, even if Martha Stewart's name is on the item. Sometimes it's just worth it to go to Bed Bath & Beyond.

I keep forgetting to take my daily vitamin. I realize that makes me sound like a twelve-year-old, but we were never a vitamin-taking family, and I'm finding it hard to work into my morning routine. But damn it, I spent about $30 on those damn Centrum tablets, and I'm going to take them if it kills me.

This is all kind of random, isn't it? I have no ability to gather my thoughts today. Sorry for the stream-of-consciousness theme today.

I'd like to take a quick moment to give a shout-out to my old pal Mish in Bellingham. Happy Birthday, Mish!

Over at the gazm.org board, Nasser posed the following question: In our extreme technological time, has everything that can be done already been done? Has everything that needs to be said already been said? There is a difference between can be and needs to be. Even if yet another movie script has yet to be put on paper, does that mean it should be? Just a thought...

Good heavens, Nasser man, NO! Where is my flying car? Where is my TRANSPORTER BEAM, dude? All these technological advances and I still have to sit through almost two hours of traffic a day? I want my transporter, and I want it within the next five years. Let's get those JPL guys to work on this pronto, now that their little Mars remote control car project seems to be over.

Seriously, those JPL guys are all huge Star Trek fans, you know that, right? I saw a documentary on them on teevee, so I know it to be true. If that's the case, surely they must realize what a boon the transporter beam would be to our society. Look at the time it would save, not to mention reduction of air pollution and the fact that it would save hundreds of thousands of lives per year. And no more DUIs!

I wonder if it would become illegal to drink and beam, though. Imagine the embarrassment of beaming yourself to the wrong place when schnockered. Robert Downey, Jr. would find himself in the bedrooms of small children around the world, as opposed to just those within staggering distance.

And once the transporter is perfected, let's get to work on that replicator. I can't wait to grab myself some "tea, Earl Grey, hot" without having to lift a finger.

PS: Silly me, I very nearly charged JBL, the company that manufactures audio speakers, with the Herculean task of taking on the transporter beam. Lucky thing I decided to look it up before publishing. I might have really embarrassed myself. Of course, here I am confessing it, so I guess I'm not really sparing myself embarrassment.

All right, Stennieville.com has been officially launched. I just smashed a big ol' bottle of champagne over my monitor to commemorate the occasion. Okay, not really.

Dude, Spiderman is a cereal whore -- which I guess is better than being a serial whore. Last night I went grocery shopping and saw Spidey's face on no less than SEVEN separate brands of cold cereal, including his very own "Spiderman Cereal"! I guess you know you've made it when you make seven cereal boxes in the same week. That wimp Tiger Woods is only on ONE box (Wheaties, natch). Springsteen thought he was such hot stuff for making Time and Newsweek in the same week -- The Boss had nothin' on Spiderman, dude.

PromoGuy's Monday Mission

1. Who or where do you go to when you need help for web-related problems? Either my pal Mike or someone from work, like Todd or Ted.

2. There is a big mess of gossip going on in the world of blogging due to revelations about a very popular Blogger. I got very caught up in reading all the links to links about it until I stopped myself realizing it was none of my buisiness. Do you ever get caught up in gossip, either speading it or listening to it? How does it make you feel? Or have you ever been the subject of gossip? Hmm, I don't know anything about this gossip you're talking about, but I don't think I want to. I try to keep away from gossip when I can, because I don't like what it does to people. Occasionally, though, I get caught up in it. It's hard not to. We're all human. There's something very evil about human nature that makes us delight in the hardship and misfortunes of others. The Germans call it "schadenfreude."

3. In a relationship, when your other takes a dig at you (read: a fight), do you go for the jugular and get "in their face" or try to peacefully smooth things out and have a calm discussion? Neither. I clam up and get all passive-aggressive. Mature, aren't I?

4. A friend once told me "You can tell when someone is bored with what you are saying to them when they reply with 'That's interesting.'" And I have found this to be pretty dang true. How do you know when someone has lost interest in what you are saying? When they yawn, or avoid eye contact. Or fall asleep in the middle of my sentence.

5. Ever get jealous of the popularity other Blogs? No.

6. What is your favorite dirty word? (those who don't curse can pick your favorite happy word) "cocksucker."

7. (the continuing story...) OK, we are definitely doing that again. But seeing as it is nearly 6am now, how about breakfast? Anywhere you'd like to go or should we fix our own? What do you like? Or is there something else we need to do first? We have two choices today: we can go get breakfast at the Harbor Cafe in Blaine, WA, right on the waterfront, where the waitresses call you "honey" and the coffee is out of this world. OR, if you're really good, I'll make you my famous French Toast.

BONUS: What have I done to deserve this? You left me, just when I needed you most.

Something semi-interesting almost happened yesterday and I forgot to blog about it. As I was leaving the apartment yesterday afternoon, on my way to go shopping I think, I noticed there was a Santa Clarita Sheriff's Dept. officer talking to one of the little girls in my building (who, ironically, was holding a big-ass super-soaker water pistol. It just made for an interesting picture). He was just finishing up with her as I passed them on the way to the parking lot, and then he turned to the girl's father and started to talk to him.

I have no idea what was going on. There were about four kids playing in the pool, including this little girl the cop was questioning. There were two more adults on the opposite side of the pool watching their kids and shooting glances at the cop, but no one seemed to be distraught or upset. By the time I got back, about 45 minutes later, the cop was gone.

All the exciting stuff happens when I'm gone. I wonder if the cop arrested the little girl.

It reminded me of a time when I lived in Bellingham -- at about 1:30 in the morning or so, my friend Suzie was driving me home. We approached my apartment, which was at the end of a dead-end street, and found it was blocked by a police car. We pulled up and rolled down the window. A cop came over and told us we had to leave. "But I live here," I said, pointing at my apartment building. "Can my friend just drop me off?"

"No," the cop said. "We can't let anyone down here right now. Come back in ten minutes."

"Well, what's going on?" I asked, feeling a little nervous now.

"I can't really tell you that."

"I mean, I live here. Is it anything I should know about?"

"No. Just come back in about ten minutes."

So we drove around town for about ten minutes, talking about what the hell it could possibly be about. We came back ten minutes later and sure enough, the cops were gone. I never did find out what the hell they were doing there.

What a lousy funeral. I mean, I realize funerals aren't meant to be a fun-filled occasion, but as funerals go, Jackie's blew. It was dull, long, and barely about Jackie at all. And the only music was two crappy hymns.

She was barely mentioned at all, except in vague "she was such a beautiful person" terms. The minister put far more emphasis on the church of Jehovah's Witnesses, and even seemed to be trying to do a sales pitch. The eulogy was given by a family member, who chose to read a letter of condolence sent by a friend rather than tell personal anecdotes. It was weird. It was not really how I wanted to remember her.

Having been to now a grand total of three funerals in the last year, I've started giving thought to my own funeral and how things ought to be handled. I think I've decided on karaoke. Everyone has to get up and sing a song at my funeral. If you can't sing, you have to tell a funny story about some dumbass thing I did once. Music and laughter, that's how I want my funeral to be.

To round out the day, I headed to Stevenson Ranch to do some shopping. Nothing puts me in touch with my inner misanthrope like shopping. What makes people think it's okay to plow through piles of nicely folded clothes and then just toss them back all wrinkled up? Yeah, I know Old Navy pays people to fold stuff back up, but didn't there used to exist something called common courtesy? Or did I just read about that in a book one time?

I picked this week's movie for my movie club (i.e., me and Paul). I chose King Vidor's The Crowd, which I watched only a few months ago. I was worried that Paul might not be able to find it at his video store, so I had a few on standby, but he called last night to say that he found it and was looking forward to seeing it. So today I went to rent it. MY video store doesn't have it. I must have watched it on TCM. My own movie pick and I can't watch it. Tomorrow I'll try the library.

What a fascinating and entertaining blog this must be! Sorry, dear readers.