Monday, January 31, 2005

The Last One



Arrgh, those tree branches at the top bug me. Why do I never notice these things when actually composing the shot?

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Not Going to Happen

I think I'll just give up hoping for the big storm this year, and accept that our northern and more southward neighbors are going to be the lucky ones. We had a little ice storm last night, about 5 minutes of snow this morning, and that appears to be it. It's so comparatively mild out that the ice is cracking off the trees and the birds are flying around our back yard, laughing in the face of this winter.

Speaking of birds, we had the Fattest Bird Ever in our back yard yesterday. Why didn't take a picture? There's no way to comprehend it otherwise. He looked like a blowfish permanently stuck on "blow." Seriously, I thought he was going to pop. How does a bird get so fat? Maybe it's all the chicken wings the people in my district are so fond of leaving scattered in the street. Or maybe it's fried worms!

Sunday



Did you go to church today? I sure didn't. Yep, totally going to hell.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

There She Is Again


Friday, January 28, 2005

Hey Mikey, She Likes It!

Pets are like children sometimes, in that you can spend all the money in the world on some new fancy toy for them, and when it comes down to it, the only thing they're interested in is your used Q-Tips. Or something.

When Nabby was 90% ears and 10% the rest of her, we got tons of things to make her assimilation into this household to go as smoothly as possible. One of them was a lovely little fleece bed. It was so white and fluffy, and hell, I totally would have curled up in it if it were a little bigger. Nabby, however, wasn't impressed. She only wanted to chew it and show it who was boss, and now it serves as the whitest, fluffiest toy holder in all of dog kingdom.

A few years later, she still had no official pet bed. Then we noticed that in the winter months, she would go sleep in her crate. I took it as a sign and said to the Mr., "See?! She needs a real bed now. She's ready!" But he said no, and would remind me of what happened to the original bed.

Several weeks ago, I noticed her sleeping on a pile of the Mr.'s dirty laundry. I told him about it and said, "See?! She wants a pet bed." No, he said, she does not. And besides, she has her crate, he said.

Then, a couple weeks ago, the Mr. found her cuddled up on a pile of blankets in the guest room. He told me about it, and again, I made my plea. "She wants a BED!" Finally, he cracked. "OK...you can get her one."

So, I went to Target and got her a nice one. It's big and fluffy and pretty. I brought it home, and said to her, "You'd better like this or your dad is going to KILL me." I took it out, and while she watched, I curled up on top of it and said, "Mmmm...it's SO NICE! I love it! The perfect thing for a cold night, wouldn't you agree?" She was like, "What the hell is your problem, lady? You have that regular big bed, and you want to sleep on this thing?"

I picked her up and put her on her new bed. "Isn't that GREAT?!" I shrieked. She could probably hear the desperation in my voice and, thus, was tempted to toy with me a little. After I rubbed her belly for a few minutes, to give her a positive association with the new bed, she walked off, clearly unimpressed, and went downstairs.

But then, last night, after she was done laying on our bed and I put her on the floor, she meandered over to her new bed, turned around two times and went to sleep.

Man, thank GOD!

Looks Desolate, Huh?


Last week, we had some amazingly dramatic skies. Not much snow, but at least we got skies. So, that was nice. I have a few more pics, so in honor of the snow forecast for Sunday (90% suckas!), it will be a Weekend O' Dramatic Skies.

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Call Your Hero


I can't figure this sign out, but I like it anyway.

It's A Small World After All

Sometimes there isn't any other option to name a post other than the name you chose for it. Despite the fact that sometimes a title will give you flashbacks about the time you and your stepbrother were riding "It's a Small World" at Disneyland and someone went nuts with letting the boats out and there was a major logjam and you weren't going anywhere. And then stepbro, realizing we're going to be there for awhile, whips out a copy of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" from his fluorescent green fanny pack (this was the 80s) and starts reading and you're just sitting there, in international can-can dancing hell listening to that annoying song over and over and over. An hour later, you still haven't gone anywhere and you don't know where you are anymore, because 30 minutes earlier, you went insane. But one thing led to another, and you had to climb out of the boat and go behind the scenes to escape the cheerfulness. And you are scarred for life.

But the thing I came here to post today isn't about that. I'd like to get off that subject as quickly as possible. I don't like to discuss it, really. I have seen things. Let's just leave it at that.

I mentioned to Jasclo yesterday at lunch that the only thing we didn't like about the DVR was not being able to watch one channel and tape another. She was like, "Oh, yes you can!" And I was like, "No, you totally can't!" "Yes you can." "Noooo, you can't." After verifying that she wasn't nuts and she has actually done this on her machine, I wondered that in the sam hell was going on. When I got home, I called cable and asked just why my friend got a better DVR than we did. "Please verify your number and mailing address..." I did that. Then the lady on the other line repeated my address back to me in sort of a halting, choking manner. I was thinking, "Is she OK?" Well, she said: "I grew up in that house!"

Dude, no way! Isn't that nuts? We talked for a few minutes about it, and how it used to be two units. Her aunt lived upstairs and she lived downstairs. "Is it all one house now?" she asked. It sure is! It turns out she lives about 10 blocks up from us and drives around her old neighborhood from time to time. I told her to stop by the next time she did, and she said she hopes we remember her. Of course we will! That is just too crazy to forget.

We eventually got down to business with the DVR. We were given one of the old single receiver ones. She said as newer customers, we should have gotten the dual receivers like Jasclo has (and she has had her DVR for awhile now). They're a-coming tomorrow to give us our new, improved unit so we can watch twice as much TV. I may have to go full-time with it!

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Flying Leap


A sculpture I saw the other day. I have no idea who he's supposed to be. Ooh, maybe it's Ralph Macchio! It's about time someone paid tribute to that movie.

Me So Funny

I just took this quiz, and below are the results. Can't really agree with the "walking social lubricant" part, 'cause I'm your classic introvert and it takes me awhile to feel truly comfortable around most people (unless there's liquor involved, then yeah, I guess that part's true). Oh yeah, and "kind of like an episode of Arrested Development"? Please, stop! Nobody is that funny. Not even kind of. Why is this quiz trying to butter me up like that? There's no need, quiz! You had me at hello.

But man, my humor is stuck in the 80s! I hope it isn't wearing leg warmers, jelly bracelets and doing the Molly Ringwald dance to "Physical," but rather, hunkered down with a good Duran Duran album, wearing some bitchin' hoop earrings and watching John Hughes movies on loop.

Sunny/Dark: 7/10
Dry/Gross: 4/10
Traditional/Offbeat: 3/10
Active/Passive: 6/10
You are a DYT--Dark Dry Traditional. This makes you a Cynic.You're a realist. You'll take the piss out of anything, and do it with style and a skinny gray tie. You find humor in the mundane. When the mundane is thousands of working class families watching their retirement savings get snarfed by unpunished white collar bandits, that REALLY gets the larfs. You bring humor with you, and can flip over any situation to find the tender funny underbelly.

Incidentally, you're better equipped than anyone else to shake off the bad things happen to you. Mysterious lump? You've seen scarier lumps in your garlic cheesey grits. It seems like nothing makes you truly happy, but nothing really upsets you, either. Your comic sensibility was more in tune with the eighties. But cross your fingers -- another coupla years of Bush and maybe we'll work up a nice Reagan-era national bitterness again. A sardonic orange cat will once again rule the newsprint, and Springsteen'll write more righteous Jersey retro-cock-rock anthems for the progressive pols of 2024 to cold gank. What's past is prologue!

You might like David Letterman, or maybe stay up to see if Conan has another "Pierre Bernard's Recliner of Rage."Of the 9775 people who have taken this quiz, 10.8 % are this type. Your Active humor score of 6/10 means you are ju-u-ust right. You're probably pretty popular -- a walking social lubricant. You know how to take someone from on edge to relaxed, and from relaxed to larfing. You're kind of like an episode of Arrested Development. That show is good. Anyway. Rave on, funny one.

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Babies, Babies Everywhere

Yesterday morning, bright and early, Trish finally had her baby! Please welcome Aubrey Ann to the world, people. I haven't seen pictures, but I have no doubt she's gorgeous as can be: 7 lbs, 7oz., 18 inches, brown curly hair and blue eyes. Mom and Dad sounded super tired, but elated all the same. Woot!

Also yesterday, Kim told me that she is having a girl! They plan to name her Keira Avery at the moment. I really hope they keep it. It's a beautiful name! She's due in June or thereabouts.

A few weeks ago, Jane had her baby too, and I don't even think I mentioned it, did I? How lame of me. She had a boy, Ethan Hall. And I have seen photographic evidence that he is completely adorable.

I cannot wait to meet all these new little people.

You know you're old when all your friends are having kids. But it's probably nothing compared to how old I'll feel when they're graduating high school or something.

New List

OK, I put the new list in my rail ("Movies I Want to See"). I'll add to it as I think of more. There are some movies I'm ashamed not to have seen, but I'll knock them out soon enough.

Bench


Part of a bench at the park.

Monday, January 24, 2005

It Had To Be Done

This weekend, I said I was devoted to paper when it came to organizing my life. But I kept thinking of tadalist. "Go away, tadalist." I said, "I have my own notepad, which serves me well, thankyouverymuch. Get out of my head." Tadalist was like, "You are feeeeling verrrry sleeeepy. Youuu want to maaaake lisssssts." When I came to, there I was, typing a list. Ack! I need help!

It's a list of movies I want to see someday. Not a fully essential list, so if tadalist craps out on me, it won't be the end of the world like it was with the palm pilot. I'll put up a link soon.

Yes, Again


You know I can't go a full week without a picture of The Princess!

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Say It With a Card

Now, I'm not claiming that I've never been one of the obnoxious boobs with a cell phone before, but boy, I cannot wait to start handing these out. (This is a pdf file). I want to use the one where you can fill out exactly what the person was talking about!

Also, I have loved these for awhile.

All of these remind me of the cards my dad had (maybe still does) that said, "Thanks for parking so close to me. Next time leave a fucking can opener so I can get my car out." I had occasion to use it once, during my freshman year of college. I commuted by train, and had to park my car in the parking lot that was clearly designed with clown cars in mind. But still. Gimme some breathing room, will ya? As I slipped the card under the offending car's windshield wipers, my only regret was that I wasn't going to see his/her reaction. I hope it wasn't an old person, though. Dad also used one of his once, and got caught. Nice!

Effective Signage



Saturday, January 22, 2005

Ta Da!

For Christmas, Mary got me a wonderful little notepad which at the top says, "Today I will turn to do into ta-da!" On it, I write my to do list, then gleefully cross off each item as it is accomplished. And, yes, sometimes I actually do say, "Ta daaa!"

Today, I found this. They ripped off my notebook! But seeing as I didn't actually invent it (damn!), I won't get too worked up. But keeping a to do list on a computer? I'm sorry, that's not as fun and kind of impractical. There is more joy to be had in writing each task in your nicest penmanship, with a pen or pencil (depending on your resolve). While I find their other possibilities for lists intriguing, I cannot be pulled away from the paper. My palm pilot crashed a few years ago (because of extreme trauma, I can't remember the exact incident), and ever since then, I have been reluctant to keep a list or anything of import on anything but paper.

Anyway, unless you have a laptop, your ta da list ain't going anywhere. What happens if you're at Target and you can't remember if you were supposed to get that little fake birdcage or not? If your list is on your computer, you have to go home, boot it up, look at the list, then drive allll the way back to Target if you were, in fact, supposed to get the birdcage.

What a pain in the ass!

Space for Rent


A little drafty, solar-heated, some space to build.

Friday, January 21, 2005

Snow



This is a 20 second exposure taken in the middle of the night during a snow drizzle. We got another inch. Come on! More! More!

Billie Jean

A year and a half ago, my family's sweet little black lab B.J. (Billie Jean) disappeared. She was very old and frail (blind, arthritic, deaf), so we were especially worried because wherever she may have gone, she could not be doing too well. Dad suspected that she either somehow got out of the back yard or fell into the lagoon behind their house. He spent days roaming the streets and taking their boat up and down all the waterways looking for her, to no avail.

Yesterday, I spoke to dad and he told me they had found B.J. Stupidly I asked, "Was she alive??" I mean, come on, how long can a blind, deaf and arthritic dog survive out in the wild? Even the wilds of the suburbs? Not surprisingly, she wasn't. One night, a year and a half ago, she knew her time was up and she crawled deep under the house, found a nice, comfortable spot and went to sleep forever. I hope she wasn't in too much pain, and we are all relieved to finally know what happened to her and that she met a more peaceful end than we were imagining.

I'll miss you, little B.J. I'll always remember the time you broke into my Easter basket and ate every single one of my precious Creme Eggs and having to call the vet to see what to do. She told me to watch you all day to see if you acted unusual, and I did, and you never showed any sign of having ingested massive amounts of chocolate because you were a rock star and my kind of dog.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

How She Really Looks


So, our internet has been up, down, up, down ad nauseum ad infinitum for the last 3 days. I never know when it's going to crash again, so I feel like I have to hurry and write something, anything before it dies again. I may not be posting too regularly until the problem is resolved.

What's new? We have our DVR, finally, yay! We got snow. Yay! But it was only an inch. That's all you got for me? Come on! One-inch snowfalls are for total wusses.

We went to a local joint last night for dinner that serves tater tots in buckets, among other things. Good things always come in buckets.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Ghost!


I overexposed Miss Liberty here (not the real thing, mind you) just for fun. She looks a little spooky.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

I Think We All Know the Answer to This One

Why is it that when you're ordering something from the cable company -- say, I dunno, a DVR -- they can be at your house before the phone hits the receiver.

But when you're having a problem with some service they offer, well, you'll just have to wait a few weeks to have that fixed.

Do they really think they're fooling anyone? I mean, just because sometimes I may believe them when they say, "I need to find my supervisor, and I'll call you back" or "We'll be there sometime between 6 a.m. and midnight" doesn't mean I am that much of a sucker.

Stand Back!


In the background, you can see one of the smaller landslides we had during the big storm last year.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Who's Got Food?


I'll bet Nabby had a major kink in her neck the next day, because this is pretty much the position she held our entire party.

Found: Motivation

So, I found some motivation last week. Is it yours? It could be mine, I have no idea. I lost it about a year and a half ago, so I kind of forgot what it looked like. I sure could have used it around the time of the wedding. I was one of those brides you always feel sorry for who actually gained weight. Not a lot, at least. My dress still fit, but I was kind of secretly hoping it would be a little loose and I'd be rocking the Beth from Little Women skinny look, without the untimely death. But it was not to be.

I hit lifetime status at Weight Watchers on September 2003, exactly 3 days before my 30th birthday. I actually tried (and succeeded) to time hitting lifetime to occur the day before Jasclo and I left to Vegas, so I could be as bad as I wanna be and then have a month to atone for my sins. I had been behaving for 6 whole weeks to get lifetime (not to mention all the time it actually took to lose the initial weight), so we had grand plans for the plane ride. We would play blackjack, and use peanut butter M&Ms as chips, for starters. I believe a bag of trail mix was involved, too, and possibly some Oreos. It was ugly, y'all. I think we were so excited about gorging ourselves again that we didn't even leave time for doing anything else in Vegas.

The schedule (portions may be exaggerated, or maybe not)
1. Eat on plane.
2. Get off plane and find a snack for while we wait for our luggage.
3. Find luggage and dig out the food we packed.
4. Get to hotel, give luggage to bell captain.
5. Go to In n' Out Burger.
6. Go back to hotel room. Raid the minibar.
7. Dinner time!
8. Try on bathing suits. Oh my god, was that a mistake. NEVER EVER try on a bathing suit after a buffet, even if it was a sushi one. Actually, you should never ever try on a bathing suit, period.
9. Dessert!
10. Drinks!

Lather, rinse, repeat.

So, anyway. I got back home and didn't want to step on the scale. My record for gaining weight in Vegas is 4 lbs, and I should have weighed in just to see if I actually outdid myself. But I didn't. And this became the pattern for several months. I started dodging my leader and coming in late and making lame excuses for why I couldn't weigh. My leader is so nice...she pretended to believe me, but I doubt she hadn't seen these shenanigans before.

Then the wedding started getting closer. My weight kept creeping up. I just could not get under control, and the specter of the wedding didn't seem to matter. Usually something like that motivates me, but not this time. Then we went on our honeymoon to Italy, and Italy=Food. And I was not going to diet in Italy and resigned myself that for the time being, I would be gaining a little more weight. Daily gelato, wine, pasta, pizza, bread. That's the only part of my months-long binge that I'm not disgusted with myself over. You would have done the same thing, my friend.

For the next several months, it was more of the same. To my credit, I've exercised regularly this entire time and it could have been worse. I didn't even lose much to begin with, but I think whether you've lost 10 or 200 lbs, that feeling of frustration and disappointment when you watch yourself destroy your hard work is the same.

But last week, on my regular day to pig out (weigh-in day: Wednesday), I didn't. I wrote everything I ate. Sure, I had a little more than usual, but I set a limit and stuck to it. And it wasn't hard. I wanted to do it. What the hell? But there you have it. I feel like I did when I first started WW in early 2002, when I was eating well because I wanted to and because I enjoyed the feeling of my clothes fitting more than I enjoyed a Vegas buffet.

What, who said that?

I think if this is your motivation, I'm keeping it, suckaaaah.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Insanity

My latest insane scheme for this house is...drumroll...a built-in bookshelf in the guest room! Get in line, bookshelf. Yes, right there behind the slate patio for the back yard and the 2-story deck.

Seriously, though. It really doesn't seem that hard. I've read some instructions on sites. It's not the same as doing, I know that. But none of them said, "You are insane if you attempt this," so I'm assuming I might actually be able to pull it off. I just need some fancy tools and saws, then I measure twice, cut once, don't saw my hand off and before you know it, an entire wall for books and assorted other things.

You're going to kidnap me in the middle of the night and make me check into a mental hospital now, aren't you?

The Shadow Knows


Nabby, looking all lurkey and stuff.

Saturday, January 15, 2005

We All Needa Biscuit Sometimes, Don't We?


The first thing that always strikes me about this ad isn't its weathered appearance or the fact that this is from a time whence Nabisco was still calling itself National Biscuit Company, but the 5 cents. Does anything cost 5 cents anymore? Especially anything you can buy in a package? You know this thing is old.

Friday, January 14, 2005

So, Um

Dearly beloved, we have gathered today to celebrate this thing called resolutions. Namely, the resolution to not spend so much time on the computer. Ah, computer resolution...we hardly knew ye.

It only took 14 days for it to be officially declared dead. But I think it had been in a very deep coma for at least a week.

RIP, you dumb resolution.

Escape


For some reason, I like fire escapes. They seem so quintessentially "city."

Thursday, January 13, 2005

I'm Not An Addict (Maybe That's a Lie)

In high school, I worked as a hostess in a restaurant (which is another entry entirely). I became legendary -- not for the fair and even way in which I sat customers around the restaurant or for the way I bitched them out for moving from a two-top to a four-top on a Friday freaking night -- but for my ability to down Diet Cokes like Coke had discontinued it and we had the last tub of syrup. My record in a single afternoon shift (11 a.m.-3 p.m.) was 14 Diet Cokes. I probably could have downed even more if actual work hadn't gotten in the way. My boss, Susan, started introducing me as, "This is Nabbalicious. She can drink 14 Diet Cokes in one shift. I tell you, I've never seen anything like it! This girl is NUTS!"

I've had waiters get so sick of running back and forth to get me refills that they just bring me a giant pitcher. Those waiters get massive tips. And believe me, I'll polish that off, too. It is a sin in the Catholic church to let Diet Coke go to waste, you know. I think Luke said it or something.

Last night, Mr. "2 Liter of Coke" Nabbalicious said I shouldn't drink coffee as is my wont every morning, because caffeine is bay-ud, mmkay? I told a little white lie and said I don't drink that much, because it was 3 a.m., and if we were going to continue the discussion, I would need some caffeine right then for a little stamina. And now, the truth comes out. Sorry for the fib, honeybuns!

During my most recent physical, my doctor did the breast exam and exclaimed, "You consume a LOT of caffeine!"
"Whoa. How can you tell?"
"Your breasts are really lumpy!" WELL! "You should think about cutting back."

Hold up right there, doc. I'm not giving up squat. Don't try to appeal to my vanity, either, lady. I see you working. Like I care if my boobs are a little lumpy. Caffeine is my vice and my friend and it loves me, OK? Caffeine has gotten me through finals and sleepless nights. Caffeine has been with me since I was in the womb, when mom kept me a happy, jumpy little fetus with hundreds of bottles of Tab daily. I have a family history and legacy to uphold. I cannot just up and abandon the caffeine. It wouldn't be right.

If I can't have unlimited chocolate or wine or cigarettes or fries or any number of other things that will eventually kill you or make you fat, dammit, you are going to have to pry the Diet Coke from my cold, dead, caffeinated fingers.

Mmmkay?

One Way


Another one from New Year's Eve.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Bad Service

Last night, Mary had dinner with some cousins and to hear her tell it, their waitress had a lobotomy before coming in to work. Then it occurred to me: the good thing about bad service is that everyone loves a bad waiter story, and as Mary pointed out, someone can always top yours. Our next party should be a "Bring Your Bad Waiter Story" party, 'cause it would go way later than 4 a.m., folks.

I've had some crap service in my lifetime, but the absolute worst service story I have ever heard comes from my mother. She and my stepdad were out with a friend of theirs, Gary. This restaurant is one they frequent often, and they had had their waitress before, so they realized pretty quickly that she was off her game. When she was out of earshot, they started discussing it and wondering what was going on with her. She came back and blew up at them. "You know, if you have a problem with me, why don't you just say it to my face?!" She looked at my stepdad and said, "I don't have a problem with you. You're nice." She turned to his friend, "But YOU. You're always bossing me around and you're so demanding. I'm your server. Not your servant."

She stormed off. I wish I could say that next, mom jumped up, grabbed a pool cue and gave her a good whack across the head, but the truth is that they all sat there, stunned. My stepdad kept saying, "Unbelievable!" and shaking his head. "Unbelievable!"

Round Two. SHE COMES BACK! "Oh, would you just shut up!? Unbelievable! Unbelievable!" My poor stepdad still couldn't form a complete sentence and just said it again, "Unbelievable!" I think at this point the waitress's head probably exploded.

Long and very mental story short, if memory serves, the waitress was a bit of a lush and it wasn't long before she either quit or was fired.

So, you think you're gonna top that one, do you?

Standing Guard


This is one of my favorite houses around town, and one of my favorite features about it. Interestingly, the owners have a really nasty giant schnauzer and no dog resembling these two.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Brrrr


Hey, remember when winter was cold?

Monday, January 10, 2005

Cameraphone



Step Up!

So, I sent a letter to our neighborhood newsletter, railing about the problem of dogs being allowed to roam off-leash. I'm so tired of seeing some massive dog charging toward me and Nabby when we're out on our walks, and wondering if this dog is friendly or going to attack. Most of the dogs are cool, but a couple of them have been vicious. Nabby came away from one encounter with wet fur, and I'm not sure if this dog tried to bite her or was just slobbering. What is wrong with people?

Anyway, I didn't know the newsletter was going to do this, but they published my e-mail address. There was a moment of terror there, and I was picturing getting tons of hate mail, but then I thought, you know what? If someone wants to throw down with me over the issue, I'll take them on. I am glad I spoke up, even if nothing changes. I'm tired of it, and I suspect other people are, too. Is anyone really going to argue against common courtesy, or the law, for that matter? Wait...don't answer that.

So far, my inbox is flame-free. I shall keep you posted.

Sunday, January 09, 2005

24 Hour Party People

The party train has come and gone. We had a terrific time, though. The last guests left at 4 a.m., and I don't know about them, but I could have danced to New Order and Depeche Mode all night. The appletinis were the hit of the evening, I do believe. There were even had some otherwise manly men drinking them. Don't worry, Mike, I won't tell anyone your secret! Uh-oh, did I just do that?

This officially brings to a close the Holiday "Eat With Abandon, Gain 10 lbs Without Much Guilt and Wake Up With a Hangover Once a Week or So" season. Thank you, and good night!

Snugglebug


Awww.

Friday, January 07, 2005

Curious

Why does bleach get rid of everything but the pit stains? How does it know? Sometimes I wonder if the bleach is just taunting me.

The Best Historical Marker Ever



Thursday, January 06, 2005

Sale


Some of the swag we got during the after-Christmas sales.

Sucky Music For Cheap!

As I write, I'm organizing our CD collection. We have reached the last frontier of our relationship: the merging of the CDs. They will be alphabetized in one giant mine/his/ours blob. Duplicates will be traded in for cash (except for my copy of Pearl Jam's "vs." on CD, which I got before they officially named it "vs." and thus has no title on it. I love to brag about that one.). There's no turning back now, folks. Joy Division will be intermingling with the Best of Journey. Tori Amos and Archers of Loaf...on the same shelf. This is a big step. Probably on par with marriage. Maybe we need a cake for this. And an open bar.

As I'm going through the CDs, though, I'm thinking that I have had some pretty serious lapses in musical taste. I cringe at some of this junk. Like, what the hell was I thinking when I bought Reigndance? I'm really asking you. Don't tell me you don't remember who that is: it's the band belonging to Andre from the first season of The Real World. You know it's bad when you take it to the record store to get cash for them and even the guy behind the counter doesn't want them and is probably even considering making you pay the store just for bringing it in and contaminating the World of Cool. I've had CDs I've been trying to get rid of for years. I wonder if they'll take them for free? They don't even have to pay me. I won't stoop to paying them, though. I've suffered enough.

Yes, It Looks Different, Don't It?

I got rid of the crazy dots, which were looking a little busy. And yep, that there's a new flag, with a very not-moody-looking Nabby gracing the left side. Maybe I will tinker with some other things later, but right now, The Stubby-Legged Monster is demanding food. And while that is nothing new, it actually is her dinner time, so she has some leverage here.

This Reminds Me...


Of the scene in Tommy Boy where Chris Farley is talking into the fan. "Luke, I am your faaatherrrr."

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Bat in the Cave

I really hate it when you're talking to someone and they have a booger hanging out of their nose. Especially when it's someone you don't know well enough to say, "Yo, bat in the cave, homes!" It's even worse when you're sitting down and they're standing up, so you have the full straight-up-the-nostril view and it absolutely cannot be avoided.

I find myself struggling to maintain eye contact, yet my eyes keep drifting down to the booger. Then I'm reminded of how gross it is, and also, people can tell when you aren't making direct eye contact, and they're probably thinking, "Oh, no. Do I have a booger in my nose? Why is she looking at my nose? Why doesn't she just tell me if I have a booger?" And I'm thinking, "Please go away and look in a mirror. Pleeease, just go away and look in a mirror."

Pool


Posted by Hello

Monday, January 03, 2005

Nothing

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Nerves of Steel


Taken New Year's Eve Posted by Hello

Sunday, January 02, 2005

Kissy Kissy!


A drunk and raucous crowd rings in the new year, while one couple seems blissfully unaware. Posted by Hello

Saturday, January 01, 2005

Nabby Say...


Happy New Year and all that, but will this guy get up and feed me now? What's with the sleeping in? Posted by Hello

An Open Letter

Dear People Who Populate My Gym,

Most of you are normal and considerate, and I thank you for being that way. The rest of you annoy me so much that some days I am tempted to rip off my own arm and beat you over the head with it, just to get you to stop doing whatever it is you're doing that seriously annoys the hell out of me and others. See, if you weren't so involved in the general Act of Being Annoying, you'd notice the stares and darts being aimed in your direction.

Singer Guy: Hey, I know that's a really nice song you've got on your walkman, but must you warble along with it? And how come you types always seem to be the ones who couldn't carry a tune if it came with handles? If you had a little talent, maybe it wouldn't grate so much. Oh, wait. Yes it would. STOP IT. Stop it, or I will cram your walkman into your mouth.

Grunter Guy: Boy, what strength you have! Can I feel your biceps, you big hunk of man? You must be ALL MAN, mister, because no sissy boy would grunt like that when he's clearly lifting too much damn weight.

Stinky Guy (and sometimes, Girl): No one is requesting that you actually shower before coming to the gym, but a stick of deodorant thoughtfully applied to your armpits would be, well, thoughtful. And you needn't spend a lot of money on workout clothes, so is it too much to ask that you not wear the same ones two or three days in a row? If you have to ask if you smell, you likely do. Oh, and I also have noticed that some of you men have a problem with doing your laundry. No good can come of leaving your wet clothes in the washer for a week. It leaves a telltale stink. Run 'em through again before drying them, fool.

Cell Phone Guy: Cell phones in the gym don't bug me, per se, as long as the person using it isn't making a big show. I've had people right next to me using a cell phone, and I barely knew it because they were keeping it down. Those people, I thank. The person I do not thank is the 7 foot guy with the booming voice who makes phone call after phone call after phone call for his entire workout, which can last more than an hour. He's caught people shooting him the stink eye, but does he care? No. He just makes another phone call. Probably because he doesn't care about the rest of us. We're pygmies next to him. He might be related to Shaq. The joke's on him, though. How many calories can he really be burning if he's able to run his mouth like that?

Unsolicited Advice Guy (also known as I've Been Coming Here a Week and Now I Know Everything Guy): Hey, I've been working out regularly for 14 years and I can and will crush you with my thighs, jerk. And then I will use my smooth kickboxing moves on your head. The last person I need advice from (the specific advice was, "Hey, you don't need to work your calves. You should spend more time on your abs.") is you, you flabby little man, who probably only joined the gym as a New Year's Resolution (and I applaud people who do this in general, but the statistics show that most of these people disappear after about a month). And here's some unsolicited advice for you: I only see you working your upper body. You're going to look real funny in about six months. Joke's on you, suckah!

Happy New Year!

In love and PMS,
Nabbalicious