Thursday, September 30, 2004

"Fantastic! It looks JUST like a beak!"

I overheard one of the kids proclaiming that at the Lego table situated in one corner of our new waiting area the other day. His gleeful look of victory reminded me of one of the little cuties I used to have at the elementary school a couple of years ago. That dude loved Buffy as much as I did, and he was so well-mannered and cute, I often thought I'd love to take him home with me. Of course, legal issues notwithstanding, I'd have a lot of 'splaining to do at the homestead. That kid is now in the sixth grade. Christmas morning, I'm getting old!

Riley must be really tired. I am openly snacking on some Cheesy Poofs, and she's not even trying to beg. Not even a little.

So, I was at Wal-Mart the other day. In fact, I was there the evening after the whole sandwich debacle. As I was in a semi-Office Space mood that day, I elected to wear jeans and a t-shirt along with my white and pink Reeboks.

Now, I'm not sure if I told you guys this or not, but I wore those same shoes to PMS, and one of the kids proclaimed that I must be in a gang because I was wearing those shoes. Yeah, right. I asked the kid if there was some gang in south St. Pete whose primary color was pink, and if so, did they go from neighborhood to neighborhood, instilling fear in everyone's hearsts by styling and accesorizing the shit out of everything? He didn't get it. Of course not. But he swears that's a "gang color" now, and so do some of my colleagues. Well, crap.

Having said that, fast forward to a couple of nights ago, in the checkout at Wal-Mart. As I'm handing over my cash, the cashier peers over the edge of his stand, looks at my shoes for a good fifteen seconds, then looks at me for another ten before slowly saying, "Nice shoes."

He says this just slowly enough, and looking at me long enough, that I'm slightly uneasy, and am mentally recalling the gang conversation in my head. "Thanks," I try to say nonchalantly, as I pick up my purchases and head for the door, trying not to look like I want to book out of there.

Great, I'm thinking as I head towards the car, some craphead is going to think I'm in a gang and I'm going to get capped in the ass, Boyz N The Hood style. Friggin' fantastic! (Note the sarcasm.)

Suffice it to say, I am happy to report that I have not been capped in the ass because of my shoes. Yet.

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Wednesday, September 29, 2004

All I wanted was a friggin' sandwich.

So, I was telling Lori the tale of my search for sustenance yesterday. This ordeal occurred, of course, during the three-hour phone conversation and jackassed traffic.

I had decided at some point to forgo Arby's and indulge in a pressed roast beef Publix sub. Mmm. Pressed beef. Well, I drove past my neighborhood to the nearest Publix, and found upon turning into the shopping complex, that it was completely deserted. The windows were dark, and there were no cars parked in front of it. I figured it probably didn't have any electricity because of the storm, so I kept driving.

I proceeded east to the next closest Publix, which had lights on and many patrons milling about. I got in line for the subs, and was three people from the front. It took ten minutes for those customers to get their orders taken care of, and I finally got to the counter. I asked for my sandwich, and the deli worker stated that they were all out of white bread, and only had wheat or wraps. Well, I was not in the mood for wraps or wheat, as I had just had a less-than-thrilling experience with, ironically enough, a wheat wrap. So, I got back into my car and headed for the next, next available Publix, which was closer to my old domicile in Oldsmar.

Knowing that the possibility of treachery being afoot was quite nigh, (What? Did that even make sense?) as I was heading into hostile territory, I entered this third and, as far as I was concerned, final, Publix, in search of my sub. I had already memorized my order: whole Publix roast beef on white bread, light mustard, honey mustard if they had it, with provolone cheese, please press the sandwich before adding the vegetables, because there's nothing more gross to me than hot lettuce, please add to the non-hot lettuce some onion, tomato, parmesan and oregano, and that's it, no combo, thank you very much.

(Yes, I realize that I am the bitch when it comes to run-on sentences!)

I reach the next available spot in line for subs, which, startlingly, is not that far from the front door. This bitch-ass line went from the sub counter, past the rest of the deli, through the bakery, further through the seasonal display, past the checkout, to the door. Swear to God, it was like the Million Man March, but in single file. Fahk.


I bet you Chris Leak wouldn't deny me my GD sandwich. See, he'd even deliver it for me, he's probably that nice!

I took these three failed attempts at obtaining my uber-sandwich as a sign from God. Obviously, after all this driving and frustration, God did not want me to have a sandwich, because if He/She did, my happy ass would be on my way home with it and a bag of cheesy poofs. Word. I gave up on the friggin' sandwich.

God, however, is merciful, and did see fit to let me have the cheesy poofs, sorbet, and root beer, as I managed to purchase those items with considerable ease.

So, what's the point of the story, you may be asking? Fuck if I know. I'm just pissed off that I didn't get my sandwich. But boy howdy, are cheesy poofs ever good when you need 'em!

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Tuesday, September 28, 2004

"Wipe that face off your head!"

Nothing would give me greater joy than to subject some of my snottier clients to the occassional "Air Raid" in the middle of session once in a while. Alas, it cannot be. So, I will have to be satisfied with giving the little bastards really difficult puzzles and brain teasers to make their little arrogant heads explode. Hah!

So I heard somewhere that there was a bit of FSU-bashing on this evening's episode of Father of the Pride. I have not had the chance to watch this show as of yet, and am not sure if I am going to invest any time in it. (I missed tonight's episode because I was too busy half-watching another girl with fake boobs from Tampa embarrass herself on national television (again) and hearing about the various degrees of homosexuality there are on the "gay spectrum" (WTF?) on The Real World: Philadelphia. Christ, remind me to refrain from such ridiculousness in the future, unless one of those weekend-long marathons is on.)

Anyway, back to Father of the Pride. Apparently, one of the lion characters was talking about his girlfriend, and said something to the effect of "She's easier to get into than Florida State."

Rad. And Chris Rix still sucks. Did you hear he got injured during the game last weekend? Yeah, and they totally started kicking ass after he left the game! Something about a sprained ankle or some crap. Hey, maybe he can finally use those handicapped spots on FSU's campus for their intended purpose this year!

I know, I'm horrible. But he really, really sucks.

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Monday, September 27, 2004

"I want those sweet days back again!"

Since the cable went out yesterday during the wrath of Hurricane Jeanne, I managed to finish off the other 3/4 of Season 3 of Alias. Yes, Riley and I decided to spend the day laying about and catching up on espionage and intrigue whilst wind and rain whipped around the house. Hell, we had nothing better to do, since there was no cable, and hence no cable modem, and Riles couldn't exactly go out to pee in such inclement weather (did I happen to mention she was a champ, and held her bladder for almost 20 hours?). Needless to say, I'm probably going to go into Alias withdrawal until January.
Anyhoo, watching all this hot Jennifer Garner action made me nostalgic. Yes, I think you know what I'm talking about...


Time of Your Life, motherscratchers!!!

Ah, to go back to the days when Love was a girl we knew as Sarah Reeves Merrin, who often burst into song at all the right moments. The days when Johnathan Schaech redeemed himself for sporting the ridiculous haircut and horrid eyebrows in That Thing You Do!. The days when Jennifer Garner was Sarah's roommate, Romy Sullivan, who got it on with hot Diego "For the Last Time, My Name Isn't Fucking Pedro" Serrano (how about if one time, when this guy is supposed to be onscreen, Pedro Serrano shows up? Now that would make for quality television!), and the name "Sydney Bristow" was still far from being in the national pop culture vernacular? You know, before Love and Jennifer Garner did photo shoots for FHM and the like, and came away with, uh, interesting shots like this?


I can only imagine what the listing for this guy's job looked like in the Sunday Classifieds!

Anyway, it got me to thinking that even though Time of Your Life was not necessarily loved by all when it spun off of Party of Five, it was still Love's series, and it had a lot of cool shit in it. I loved it as one can only love such a guilty pleasure. They'd better put that shit on DVD, or else they're going to have one pissed off little Asian on their hands. I want a Jen and Jen reunion, damn it!


"Reunited, and it feels so good!" (Yeah, I said it!) Pictured here at the 2004 Golden Globes, Jennifer and Love conspire to take over the world. And as for you over there in the back, no offhand comments about these two and "Golden Globes!" It's already been done to death today!

Please, PTB (Powers That Be), hear my plea: Bring my girls back!

P.S. Extra points to anyone who can identify the source of the reference given in the title of this entry! Prove your geekdom to me!

***(No eyebrows, tattooed men, faux fur vests, tastefully elegant cream-colored formal gowns, or girls named Jennifer were harmed in the making of this post, to the best of our knowledge.)***

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"You'd better **knot** mention that again!"

I had one of those long-awaited, highly-anticipated phone conversations with Jaz today. You know, one that spans about three hours with intermittent interruptions by other callers, dropped cell phone signals, and jackassed traffic. I've come to regard these monthly conversations connecting Clearwater and Cleveland as happy occasions to hone witty repartee and get yelled at. Or yell at someone. Either way.

Partway through this conversation, Jaz decided to stop at Arby's to get some food. I told her that Arby's sounded good, because I'd gone all day without eating anything, and would probably head to get something to eat after I got out of the hour of traffic that lay ahead of me. Right before placing her order, she gets back on the phone and says, "Hey, do you want anything?" Funny. The girl is just funny.



What's going to be even funnier is when a brown envelope full of Arby's and Horsey Sauce packets show up at her door for no apparent reason six months from now. But you didn't hear that from me. And crap, she's a grad student. She has no time for extracurricular exploits such as reading blogs. Hah! Victory shall yet be mine!

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Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Just one more reason to love "Alias."

The following is dialogue from the last episode of Alias I watched as part of my crazy "Catch up on all three seasons of Alias before the fourth season starts in January" plan:

Sydney: What were you saying to those guards?
Marshall: I-I think I said "I-I-I can smell you from here," in Ewok.
Sydney: Ewok.
Marshall: Official language of the indigenous creatures on the planet Endor.

That alone is enough to make me keep watching, four episodes at a time. Oh yeah, and there's also this:


And this:


Back to it, then!

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Sunday, September 19, 2004

How did this happen?

I go away for a couple of days to get out of town and unwind, and I think I effectively did that. So how come I am so friggin' exhausted after a weekend of not doing much of anything at all?

I think I'm going to lie down for a while. Perhaps someone doped my Sierra Mist.

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Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Julian McMahon is Hottt.

This is what I get for talking to the Johnsonian about Nip/Tuck. For serious. I'm all over this shit!


The serious, pissed-off Australian shot:


And, of course, the new standard for female freshmen dorm rooms everywhere:


Off to watch a crapload of Alias now. Toodles.

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Monday, September 13, 2004

OMG!

You actually wind Mao!"

This is the realization I came to earlier this evening on the phone with Dave. I went to dinner with him on Saturday night, and during dinner, he decided that he no longer wanted his way-cool watch, and he was going to give it to me, since I was so amused with it.

Now, let me tell you about this watch. Dave went to China for vacay a few months back, and brought this watch as a kitschy souvenir. Simple, black leather band, but it has a picture of General Mao on it, and not only is the second hand a red star, but General Mao is constantly waving his arm. Oh, if only you could see it in action! Tell me why I should not love this watch!

Ever grateful, I took the watch home, then noticed the next morning that it was behind in time. I popped the crown and reset the time. Later, I noticed the watch stopped completely, and Ol' Mao was resting his arm. Gah. I figured I'd have to bring him into Sears today to replace the battery. Then I thought, wait: David just went to China a few months ago. Crap-ass Chinese craftsmanship!

So, the trip to Sears never came to fruition because I was stuck at work all day. I ended up talking to Dave on the phone, and asked him if the watch ever just stops. And he mentioned it did sometimes. I told him I'd see if they could fix it when I brought it in to replace the battery, since the watch stopped and wouldn't re-start again.

"But, didn't you try winding it first?" he asked, incredulously.

"What the shit are you talking about?" I said, my voice the tone of a helplessly confused person. "Wind Mao?"

"Yes," he said, "It doesn't have a battery. You wind it to keep time."

"Oh. Right."

Well, shit. He just saved my ass a trip to Sears.

Or not. Damned thing still can't keep time for shit.

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Sunday, September 12, 2004

I still love this.

This puppy totally kicked some ass! Even though this story was published a few days ago, I still tell it to everyone I know! Follow the link below to learn more...

Puppy Shoots Man

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Saturday, September 11, 2004

All I'm going to say.

I'm not about to get political or anything. I'm not going to do a "Where were you when..."

Just remember and honor those we have lost, and those who continue to try to make things right. You don't have to agree with why anyone's anywhere, just support those that were and are willing to what they do in order to protect those of us who can't or won't.

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Friday, September 10, 2004

Too tired to type...

Much more than this, anyway. I am almost too tired to change the channel to avoid possibly viewing Good Burger. But I will leave the promo for it on long enough to hear the Less Than Jake song playing in the background. Oh, bliss.

It almost makes me want to go a round of Silent Karaoke, since I haven't done that in a couple of months. But, what J.Co said is true: all this hurricane shit is absolutely draining. Being preoccupied with not being able to go where I have to because of closed roads, what supplies I need to get, are we going to get hammered this time?... it's friggin' exhausting. I haven't even had the chance to notice the things that really matter.

Like Silent Karaoke.

Oh, well. Maybe later, after I've mustered the sufficient strength needed that only large amounts of carbonated beverage can provide. Right now, I'm going to probably fall asleep while watching Planet Twelve: The Secret Life of Twelve-Year-Olds. Casualty of the job, I guess. I can't believe I still want to understand these little buggers!

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Thursday, September 09, 2004

One reason why Brian is the Diggety.

The following was taken from an IM session between myself and Brian Dobeck yesterday evening. It is merely one of many reasons I am including him in my paltry will.

Session Start (gatornation96:misysboy): Wed Sep 08 22:35:37 2004
gatornation96: damned hurricanes
misysboy: yeah, UM sucks
gatornation96:
that's my boy!
I'm telling you, that kid deserves a parade every year!

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Wednesday, September 08, 2004

This just amuses me.

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Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Grr. Arrgh.

Some weird crap has been happening here on the blog today. I tried posting earlier, and things went crazy. Needless to say, I don't have any of that brilliant shit that I wrote earlier. So, I'm a little upset. Let's see if this posts, then we'll go from there.

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Monday, September 06, 2004

No matter what...

No matter how bored I get tonight, or how desperate I get for entertainment, or even how much I love Eliza Dushku, I refuse to watch Wrong Turn during any one of its 2,000 airings this month. There, I said it.

Her hot ass be damned, there are just some lines I do not cross.

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Sunday, September 05, 2004

Hurricanes can bite my ass.

Another weekend, another storm forcing me to stay indoors with my family. I'm telling you, it almost lead to some quality shouting matches, but I managed to keep my composure long enough to ride out this storm we're having.

On this side of the state (or at least the Pinellas County area), there has been nothing but strong winds and pelting rain for the last day and a half. Riley had yet another "hurricane day" where she didn't get to eat until the evening, and her trips to pee were sporadic because of Noah and his ark going on outside. In proper fashion, Riley spent her day lazing about on my bed, contentedly chewing on her Nylabone keys and occasionally sitting upright whenever the power went off or there was a particularly noisy gust of wind whipping around the house. The rest of the family... well, I think we all basically did the same thing, minus the Nylabone keys.

I would have done some work on the computer if it weren't for the power going out a few times during the day. I was constantly afraid that I'd be in the middle of something, then the power would go off. In fact, the power did go off maybe three or four times today, mostly this morning, but for no longer than a few minutes. So, as the day progressed, and the power outages became less frequent, I decided to watch some programs saved on the DVR to kill time.

I was about halfway into the premiere episode of Hawaii, happily taking in my daily dose of mediocre television, when -zzpt!- the friggin' power went out. I'm wondering if this is some sort of omen for the new television season to come.

I'm not complaining, however. Come to think of it, I was chatting it up with LoLo earlier this evening, and we concluded that we got off light with the hurricane crap for the second time in a month. Those situated in the middle to the eastern coast of the state, however, have not been so lucky.

In fact, I'm hoping to get a check in from everyone in the affected areas, if possible. I hope everyone is doing okay and has managed to stay safe. I will be making the usual calls, and understand, of course, if I won't be able to get through to everyone right away.

Keep dry and keep your heads up, folks.

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Wednesday, September 01, 2004

This is the day that never ends...

Eight to eight workday today, and I have to be back in tomorrow at eight in the morning. Found out when I got home tonight that at the last minute, some jerkoff outbid me on eBay. Now I can't find anything even remotely like I wanted on there. Fuckers. I feel like Dan being outbid on Belly memorabilia. I'm going to bed.

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