Friday, December 28, 2007

I have no words...

Summary haiku:
When I die, I want
all my pets to die with me.
Judge Judy outs me.



So, I was sitting here eating my dinner and reading a book, only halfway listening to the TV. But when I heard the madness going down on Judge Judy, I had to shift my focus.

This old man was suing an animal rescue owner because she wouldn't give him back a dog that he'd given up for adoption. Judge Judy put the kibash on that and here's why:

The man in question had been living with an old lady, his companion. When she died, her last wishes were to have her 17 Chihuahuas euthenized and cremated and buried with her in a pet cemetary. (Yes, she herself wanted to be buried in the pet cemetary as well.)
So, this guy did that with 9 of her dogs!

I don't know who's crazier, the dead dog lady or this moron who killed 9 pooches. Anyway, Judge Judy let him have it and I laughed.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Santa pictures? Nevermind.




Summary haiku:

My pets can't take the
input at Feeders Supply.
Chaos. Kill me now.


Holy shit. I thought that the Santa pics would be a pain (see below post), but I was totally unprepared for the scene that awaited me at the pet store. It was the last day of Santa pics, so Feeders was a freakin' madhouse.

As I was walking out the door, Archie looked so sad. He LOVES riding in the car and wanted to come along. You can guess what happened.

Taking them both -- even while wearing their Gentle Leader collars -- was too horrifying to describe. Upon being in the store for 30 seconds, I decided against the photos. I cruised about 1 1/2 aisles before we got in the car and came back home.

I dropped off Archie and took Lucy back to the store. She picked out some toys and a new jacket (for walks on freezing days, see above), as her old one is too small. It matches her paws perfectly!

On a partially related note, Archie actually loves to wear his coat, collars or any manner of adornments. He also loves to get a bath. Javacia calls him metrosexual. He probably is. I mean, look at him. This looks like a school picture pose in his favorite first-day-of-school outfit.



Happy end of the weekend to you!

Just snow already!






Summary haiku:
Brain overflowing
with sweaters, paint colors and
fresh blankets of snow.





In addition to our internet router being on the fritz, I've also been missing in action because we bought a house (above)! It's really exciting and kind of scary. We love our place, which has an upstairs and a finished basement, too. Loads of space. More that I know what to do with.
Which is probably why I've become obsessed with HGTV. In a nutshell, our house is in great shape, but every room (except the ones in the basement) are in immediate need of a non-revolting paint color. For ideas, I have been watching HGTV non-stop as I arranged our lives carefully into Office Depot boxes I liberated from work.
I guess I never cared much about that channel before, when we were renting. But I have discovered so many awesome shows, that I actually forgot to flip back over and watch "Nip/Tuck" this week and "Project Runway" last week, which is unheard of. I'm always on top of my TV schedule.

Anyway...




The new house has kept me cheery, because the winters here are so depressing! If it's going to be cold and wet out, I'd rather just see it snow. The snow is pretty, and the weather is usually warmer when there are fresh flakes. Last week, it snowed 4 or 5 in one day in my hometown of Spokane, Wash. (above). Sigh. I miss waking up to a fresh blanket of snow. It makes the world seem so clean and full of ... inspiration.






I am fascinated by the idea of having an Ugly Christmas Sweater Party. This is my goal for the 2008 holiday season.





I'm getting ready to take Lucy to Feeders Supply to pick out her Christmas toys and birthday present, which is Dec. 27. She loves choosing her own toys ... And don't tell my hubby, but they're still doing pet pictures with Santa there from noon-4 p.m. today. The money goes to the Humane Society, and Lucy loves people, so it'll be a win-win. Archie would probably eat Santa's face (he doesn't like men with beards), so he's staying home with Dad, which will also stave off any suspicion that I might be doing Santa pics in the first place. Bwahahaha!
Oh God, am I a crazy dog mom? Oh well.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Old bag


Summary haiku:


Thirty-fifth birthday.
My youth is up in smoke, like
Snoop Dogg's Philly blunt.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Advice from an image consultant



Yesterday, I interviewed a woman who works as an image consultant and got a bit of a reality check. Most of the time, I feel as though I'm fairly put together, but learned that I probably am not. Ah well, live and learn.

Anyway, here's some of the advice she gave, which actually makes a lot of sense and isn't really that difficult to achieve.

1. Every, single item in your closet should be a 'wow' piece. Meaning, it should either make a strong statement, or you should love it so much that merely laying eyes upon it gives you heart palpatations.


My source -- a wealthy woman who could probably afford to fill all the closets in her large home -- said she doesn't have many clothes at all. But she's chosen wisely, and wears them in different ways.

So in a perfect world, she said, nobody would go to their closet and groan, "What should I wear today?" They would instead approach their closet, and, overwhelmed by their exciting, tasteful choices, exclaim with joy: "Wow! What should I WEAR today?"

(That's a fine theory. And sometimes, I do exactly that. But more often, I'm afraid I'm 'wow'ing for the wrong reasons.

As in:

"Wow! I wonder how long it will take for the wrinkles to fall out of that shirt, which I refuse to iron because ironing is a tedious, soul-sucking activity!"

"Wow! I used to fit into these jeans. What the hell happened?"

I need to work on this.)


2. Don't save it for a special occasion. Wear it whenever you want.


What are you waiting for? You only live once and you might as well go about your days wearing something that makes you feel awesome and pretty.



Finally! Validation for wearing my electric purple or gold shimmer eyeshadow during the day!

3. First impressions do count.


According to her, a person makes a judgment about another person in 1/48 of a second and it's based on their clothes, because that's usually the first thing you notice when someone is headed in your direction. In that split second, they can decide what your personality is like, whether they'd want to be friends with you, your intelligence, your social and economic status, etc.

It may not be the right thing to do, she said, but that's what happens. I guess I we all know this on some level, but it's nice to be reminded.

Anyhoo, just food for thought.

I might actually iron something tonight just for kicks. And while I should probably kick my smorgasbord of awesome Smashbox and MAC eyeshadows to the curb, well, that's just not gonna happen quite yet.

Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Thank God for TV news

Summary haiku:
Thank you, TV news.
For without you, I'd never
be so well informed.




All day today, a local TV news station has been airing teasers for one of its big stories for the day: "Do you know where your clothes go once you dump them into the donation box? We investigate!"

So I'm thinking, Oh my God! Are my too-small tops from Express funding terrorists? Are my faded INC jeans being used to strangle puppies? Is someone using my out-of-date Nine West heels to bludgeon grannies as they tend to their shrubbery?

You know what I found out? The company, U'SAgain, which claims on its boxes in bold print to recycle textiles for various uses actually -- drum roll, please -- recycles the textiles for various uses!!!!! Can you fucking believe it?

This enlightening revelation required a two-minute story (an eternity in TV time) and even warranted a live shot conducted from the deserted parking lot in which one of the boxes is located.

The intrepid reporter spoke to a guy from the Salvation Army to find out if these boxes were lessening the amount of donations they were receiving. His answer: No, not at all.

So to recap: The company does exactly what it claims to, and local non-profits aren't losing donations because of it.

Never in a million years did I expect to think, "I'm missing 'The Real World' for this?" while watching the news.

But I stand corrected. And that's what I get for being too lazy to retrieve the remote from the chair across the room.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Shit!

Summary haiku:

Car wash demolished
by unsavvy parking spot
and accurate birds.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

A place to call home

Summary haiku:
Is it possible
to find the perfect house on
the first weekend? (Shrug)



The hubby and I have resigned ourselves to the fact that we're going to be in Louisville for a while. (Don't get me wrong -- we like it here. But we hoped we'd be moving back to the West Coast after putting in a few years in the Ville. I just feel a desperate need to be near oceans and mountains. I don't enjoy the middle.)

So, anyway, we're buying a house. We took our first jaunt with our buying agent today and saw 4 different places. It's our first time buying a home, so I was really surprised at how things went down. We'd looked at them all online, and were pleasantly (and not so pleasantly) surprised.

In person, we really liked one that we only felt so-so about prior to our visit. It was really open and clean, had tons of space and updated in every way. Brand new windows, awesome kitchen and bathrooms, large 2 1/2 car garage and a fantastic back yard. Even a basketball hoop for Kyle. It was the very first one we looked at and we were both like, "I could totally see us living here."

And then the house we thought we'd love, we didn't. The inside was really awesome and current and cute. But the yard was jacked up and small, and the house smelled musty. (And a bit like cats and baby diapers -- yum!) I could smell it on myself for a long time after leaving and it was gross.

Even worse, while we were there, Kyle saw somebody he knows from his job who lives in the 'hood. She told us all these great things about it -- it's quiet and clean, she'd lived there for years and loves it. But then she slipped in that within the past year, a woman had been beaten and raped on that very street at 6:30 a.m.

Now, that could happen in any neighborhood, I suppose, but it just turned both of us off. I actually felt like I was going to throw up on the spot.

So, the search continues. But we found one today that will definitely be in the running, and that's a pretty cool feeling.

Hooray!

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Your breath smells delicious!



Summary haiku:
Clean teeth are even
more important on dogs, even
though they don't smile.






When we first got Archie in June, he wasn't in the greatest of shape.

He'd been dumped out of a car, was missing all the fur on his tail, wasn't neutered, showed signs of possible abuse and had the most disgusting brown, tartar-caked teeth I'd ever seen on a dog -- and he was only 4, which seemed too young for such dental peril.

We hooked him up with love, health care and toys and most of his issues have been fixed. And after a few months of chewing rawhides and Nylabones, his teeth have gotten so much better.



Even so, his breath could still peel the paint from the side of a school bus.

But in order not to give him a complex(and to try and trick myself into thinking it wasn't so offensive), I'd compliment him daily, comparing his stench to things that made me happy. I made sure to use different comparisons each time.

"Oh Archie, your breath smells delicious. It smells like pumpkin pie and fresh spring showers!"

"It smells like banana bread and barbecue!"

"It smells like tandoori chicken and buttermilk pancakes!"

"It smells like freshly brewed coffee and peppermint sticks!"

But then one day, I had to face the facts: His breath smelled like a sack of wet, dirty socks and cooking broccoli.

So today, he had his teeth cleaned. They are sparkling white, and guess what? His breath -- it smells like Thankgiving dinner and Nag Champa incense.

For real, this time.















(Disclaimer: The first picture is not Archie's mouth -- he's too grouchy from his vet visit to be doing all that to his face right now -- but it that fresh and clean.)

Monday, October 29, 2007

America's Next Top Dildos


Summary haiku:

New York is "famous"
for dating Flava Flav. And
that is your prize. Ew.




Chaos broke out at the "I Love New York 2" house tonight. Oh, what a delightful evening of trashy television!

There was grabbing, pushing and one contestant even hucked a giant loogie at another guy. As usual, nothing but class. Although I am torn as to what is more disgusting: the loogie, or watching New York allow random losers to suck her nasty-ass feet and groaning with pleasure as she makes out them each week.

Seriously. Who are these losers that want to date her?

Then again, even though she's a hooch and possibly a he-she, why would she want to date any of these ridiculous asshats that have been cast? And therein, lies the entertainment value.

Anyway, I know lose IQ points every time I tune in, but I can't help it. I will redeem myself at 10 p.m., when I watch the bright, intelligent "Weeds" on Showtime.

To close, a quote from New York, who was mortified that one of her dates included a mud bath: "It's not a place where a woman who wears a weave and fine jewelry should go."

John Deere, the babysitter

Summary haiku:
Sometimes, I wish I'd
used a rubber. So I use
lawnmower nanny.








Far be it from me to judge someone's parenting skills, especially when I have no children of my own. However, today I saw a scene that struck me as, well, pretty fucking ridiculous. And dangerous.

I was out walking the dogs, working on the stuff we learned at dog class this morning. We rounded the corner to a loud motor, a yapping canine and squeals of delight.

I look down the street and see this: A little girl, who couldn't have been older than 9 years old, driving a John Deere riding lawnmower at a speed that I didn't even know lawnmowers would reach. She was weaving in and out of her yard, going down the middle of the street, then pulling a quick u-turn and going back the other direction and over the humps of her yard.

Three smaller kids -- maybe ranging in age from 3 to 5 -- were in a red wagon which was tied with a rope to the back of the lawnmower and careening around behind it. The younger tots were laughing and giggling as the wagon bucked and swayed during its travels over cement surfaces and grassy declines.

As if this isn't disturbing enough a scene, there was a Jack Russell terrier (no leash, of course) rabidly circling the mower, barking its head off. The erratic child driver almost hit the pooch numerous times in the process. She was so close to running him over, I fully expected to see a Jack Russell pancake by the time we reached the end of the block.

And all I could think was WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOUR PARENTS?

"If it has shoes the cover, I know you'll read it."

Summary haiku:
Am I really that
shallow, or does my husband
just pay attention?





Yesterday, Kyle was on his way out the door, on his way to a library clearance sale where they were getting rid of extra books: Everything you can fit in one (giant) box for $10.

He said he'd try and find some stuff for me, too, but he wasn't entirely sure what I'd like to read. Then, after a pause, he said, "I'll just look for anything with a shoe on the cover. If it's got that, I know you'll read it."

I laughed really hard at his joke -- but mostly because it's true. I guess that's what happens when you're with someone for more that 7 years. Two of my favorite reads are "In Her Shoes" by Jennifer Weiner and the (somewhat horrifying) fairy tale, "The Red Shoes" by Hans Christian Andersen.

So Kyle called me after he was done and said he'd scored about 15 books.

"Did you get any that weren't about sports or being a black man in America?," I asked. And he starting cracking up. Because you know what? I know his reading habits, too.

In the end, he also knows my passion for fiction and true crime novels, so he did pick me up a few offerings -- none with footwear on the front. But if they're no good, well, they were only $1.25 a piece.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

My closet runneth over

Summary haiku:
Accessories have
the power to raise me from
coma. Hellz to the yeah.



I was super tired earlier -- too tired to write -- but I just got this spurt of energy, to which I credit two recent purchases.

I just got two really awesome things. Things that have improved my life times one million.


These boots were only $36, and I love, love, love them! They're from a great local store, General Eccentric. They're man-made leather, but seriously... why pay $200 for leather pewter boots that are more novelty than everyday shoe? And in person, they look really expensive. Our fashion director at work thought they came from some chi-chi boutique. Score! Can't you see Prince romping around stage in these?



My other purchase was this gorgeous Michael Kors mega-bag, which I won last week on eBay. It retails for around $370, and I got it for less than $100. Brand new, still had tags on it and it smells delightfully of fresh leather.
I sold a bunch of stuff on eBay (a pair of shoes, a Puma jacket, a Wilson's Leather organizer/briefcase) in order to buy it, and it was so worth it! I got rid of stuff I probably would have just given to Goodwill, and got a gorgeous bag in return. Every time I look at it, my heart skips a beat. It goes with everything and it's so well made.

Oh happy day!

Happy Halloween weekend!

Summary haiku:
What happened to smart
costumes? Anyone can
do the sexy nurse.





Archie and Lucy wish you a very spooky day!









Halloween is my second favorite holiday, so it is with great sadness that I'm sitting it out this year. I had every intention of dressing up. I'd even talked Kyle into doing a couples costume -- we were to go as Dog the Bounty Hunter, and his wife, Beth.



But we procrastinated getting costumes together, and then The Dog Incident (Dog, as in Archie, our Jack Russell Terrier, not Chapman, the bounty hunter) happened. (More on that later.) That made it virtually impossible to get it together in time.

Instead I reflected on some of the fine (and not so fine) Halloween costumes I've had over the years. I wish I had pictures of them all, but memories are powerful enough to get me by.





Wonder Woman. Not the Lynda Carter bustier-plus-panties outfit, but the appropriate-for-a-six-year-old version that my grandmother made by hand. It was a fabulous white top with red trim, worn with a blue skirt covered in white stars. Of course, she also handmade awesome bullet deflecting bracelets and a headband. Grammy was an amazing seamstress.




Raspberry Tart. Another masterpiece by Grammy, except this one was an exact replica of the real thing. It was fantastic!











A school of sperm. This was an ill-fated idea we had in college. Four of us dressed up in white tights, white shoes and white garbage bags. We used another white garbage bag to cover our heads (except for the face, obviously) and we shredded more bags to create flagella, which trailed from all of our butts. We all wore a sign that said "Seminal Swim Team." But it didn't really work once we all got seperated at the party. People would see one of us and go, "What the fuck was that about?"




A Smurf. One year, my friend Michelle and I rented costumes. She was Smurfette and I was a Smurf. The costumes were head-to-toe and hot as hell. The heads were enormous and made it impossible to drink any beer, which is the point of dressing up as an adult, isn't it?

We were out with a group, and of course, ended up at different parties. Drunken chaos ensued. At Michelle's party, a crowd on the dance floor played volleyball with the Smurfette head. The next day, with a hangover, we spent some time trying to unravel her blonde dreadlocks before returning her to the costume shop. The blue tights had runs in them. Ergh.

But more importantly, that was the year we learned that heads and masks were a terrible idea.

A cavewoman. This costume was actually pretty awesome. Comfy, tough, functional. I wore camel colored, knee-length dress with a jagged bottom and animal print trim. I ratted up my hair like crazy and put white plastic bones all inside the 'do. Also, I grunted a lot and carried a plastic club. Having a prop is fun, as long as it does not impede your ability to drink, which this did not. (Somwhere, I have a picture of myself clubbing a 6'5" man dressed as a nun, but I can't find it.)



Powerpuff Girls. This is probably my favorite costume I've done as an adult. It wasn't my idea, but I went along with it when it was suggested by Danielle. We made the outfits ourselves and they turned out pretty freakin' great, I think!

I'm baaack

When I promised myself I'd be religious about flexing my writerly muscle on this blog, I fully expected to follow through. However, weird and long hours at work, playing tug-of-war with the pets and watching crap like "I Love New York 2" and "America's Next Top Model" easily distracted me.

Besides, only a few people know about this blog, so there aren't many people to hold me accountable.

Anyway, I'm trying it again. And hopefully, it goes better than my repeated attempts at establishing a regular workout routine, which also seem to ebb and flow despite the daily glimpses of flab I see each time I pass by the mirror.

Unfortunately, I'm too fried to post anything of substance at the moment. A 6 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. shift will do that to a girl. But tomorrow is a brand new day... and I have plenty of random thoughts about house hunting, The Dog Incident and what I will wear with my new pewter boots.

For now, off to bed to dream about giant goblets of expensive red wine and when we will finally get a king sized bed that comfortably accomodates me, Kyle and the pets.

Friday, October 12, 2007

I beg you, think before you send

Summary haiku:
If your email
is longer than this, please
don't send me that shit.


So, I just had a lovely week. I was off work for a 7 days, my mom was in town and we ate, drank and shopped. It was relaxing and fantastic and great to see mi madre.

But how quickly the serenity wears off. I only worked Wednesday-Friday, but it felt like a week. Probably because it took me that long to filter through all the email. Not just the spam. But the email from people I know. Friends, family members, even.

PEOPLE WHO FORWARD TONS OF ASININE EMAILS ARE ASSHOLES. I mean, who really does that, right? A lot of motherfuckers, as it turns out. Forward or not, I am constantly surprised at the things people send out to multiple recipients. When I open my email, I should not have 23 messages from the same person, sent on the same day.

But can you really block these people from your email if you're related to them, or they're your friends?

Here is a list of things I'm interested in having forwarded to me: Pictures of cute shoes. Mullet haikus. Links to your online vaction photos (I like to live vicariously). And the periodic dirty, grimy joke. BUT -- and this is of the upmost importance -- these emails must be short. If they can't be read without scrolling down, please keep that shit to yourself.

I never want to see any of this again: Forwards about Jesus, abortion, the $25 that Bill Gates is supposedly giving away (it's a hoax, people!!!!). Ghetto prom pictures, terrorists, rednecks (except, again, the mullet haikus... send those), etc.; inspirational quotes and long-ass narrative stories that end up being about God. (I don't have anything against religion, but I'm just sayin': I don't need 35 messages a day about it.)

Also, please do not send messages that include any of the following: "It's girlfriends week! Thank you for being a wonderful girlfriend," "Please forward this to the person who sent it to you and ten other people," "I'm a walnut tree, what are you?"

Sure, pressing the delete button is easy. But I sure wish I didn't have to. If I'm really a wonderful girlfriend, send me a card in the mail. I'll put it on my mantle and cherish it.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Rhetorical questions...

Things I can't wrap my head around today:

How I lived so long without a monster-sized sunroof (it opens over the front AND back seat!) in my car.

Why commercials insist "You're thinking Arby's," when really, you're thinking about the time Arby's gave you food poisoning and you ruined everyone's outing to the drive-in movie.

How a pair of flat shoes can be more uncomfortable than my favorite heels.

Why neither of my dogs have the instinct to catch popcorn out of the air, and instead let it ricochet off their foreheads.

How I'm going to have the time/motivation to finish my super-cleaning project before my mom arrives on Wednesday.

The best way to squirrel away enough money to buy a really fantastic handbag... the kind that goes with everything and lasts forever. The kind that costs around $300. I have several decent ones, but I just need/crave one one fabulous "Investment Bag."

Why I have been in the top five every single year at the Pick 'Em Football Pool against a stable full of sports-loving and sports reporter men -- usually around 35 people -- but so far this year, I'm in 14th place out of only 17 players. Sigh.

Why my neighbor insists on using a riding lawnmower on his small yard -- and does so shirtless, with a stogie dangling from his mouth. It's entertaining, sure, but also ridiculous.

Ah well. Back to dusting the blinds and scrubbing the shower with a toothbrush...

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Crystal necklaces and color block dresses make a girl tired




I'm a born shopper. Probably picked it up from my mom, who A) loves shopping and B) has a great sense of style. (Still, at 61, she's one of the best-dressed people I know.)


My mom, looking totally cute. Me, not a good fashion day. 2005.

So it probably seems like fantastic news that I'm now getting paid to shop for work. The fruits of my labors will run weekly in our revamped Scene section, and four times a year in a new glossy magazine we're putting out.

Still, it's tiring as hell! I've been running up and down Bardstown Road and around St. Matthews boutiques since Monday. (We all cover various areas of town...) I've been lugging clothes and shoes and brass lamps and Pokerchip Girl necklaces and ironing boards (don't ask) to and from stores, to my car, to the photo studio and back again. Between that and some scheduled interviews and tons of deadlines, my past five days have been a whirlwind.

Anyhoo, I think it's only proper to share some of the fun things I've stumbled across while out and about. Stuff that may not end up in stories right away, but it's out there and you should know about it.

Highlights from this week:

1. The new, revamped INC department at Macy's. It's huge, and they now appear to carry the whole INC line.

2. Dot Fox has these great items by Pokerchip Girl. The designer makes necklaces, money clips, belt buckles, etc., out of vintage poker chips from the turn of the (20th) century and jazzes them up with a few well-placed Swarovski crystals. They're really fun.

3. General Eccentric just got in a ton of really cute stuff for fall. I can't fit into any of the ridiculously tiny clothes there, of course, but their accessories are funky and inexpensive. They also have a new Louisville location at 2400 Lime Kiln Lane.

4. For that matter, the Cherry Bomb people opened a new store as well. I don't have the address handy, but it's directly across the street from Dot Fox.

5. Red Tree has a lot of really cool, classy home stuff, but they also have these hilarious penny banks for $10. They're shaped like a Band Aid tin and have prudish, 50s-type pictures on them, but say things like, "I'm saving for valium" or "I'm saving for some good weed" or "I'm saving for a new pair of jeans." They'd make a good secret Santa gift.

6. Regalo has some fun tote bags for $12 or $16, I can't remember. Either side of the bag's exterior is an old-school (upside down) cassette tape. The handles are brown, and come out of the top of the bagso its looks like the tape is being yanked out. You have the see them in person, but they were cute and cheap. I might have to get one for my upcoming Philly trip.

7. Moving on to the area of things I can't afford, but really would love to have, I saw this dynamite necklace by a local artist at Clodhoppers. It big and chunky with multiple and different green strands (African glass beads, jade and something else I can't remember). It was $300 bucks, but man, it was beautiful.

8. At the Three Dog Bakery, they sell suede collars ($80) and leashes ($70) that are embedded with giant Swarovski crystals. I actually wouldn't like to have this. The collars actually have a tag on them that say (I'm paraphrasing here), These are not to be used for going for walks or rough-housing. Your pet should sit quietly in the corner at your New Year's party while wearing this work of art.

So, it's an $80 collar and my dog can't even wear it unless she's been tranquilized? I think I'll pass. We're happy with our $8 Feeders Supply collars. See?




Lucy, smiling.


Archie, intense, as usual.

In closing, I will be visiting tons of stores around town every week, so if you're looking for something specific, let me know. I'll keep my eyes peeled.

Monday, September 10, 2007

"The hide their crack in the cupboard, behind the cans."

Last night, I worked a metro shift in the news department. I covered a couple of events, and then spent the rest of the time listening to the police scanner to keep track of Louisville's Sunday-night goings on.

At first, I was sad that I was missing the MTV awards, Rock of Love and the first day of the NFL season. But the scanner can help wile away the time, too. Here are a couple of highlights.




1. "A caller just reported that a guy was road-raging her on Dixie Highway." Road-rage as a verb. I like it.






2. "There's an intoxicated man on the walking trail wearing a red t-shirt and a weird white mask." Great. Michael Myers IS real.



3. "An old man with a ponytail is sitting in an Oldsmobile in the middle of the street. He's swearing at and flipping off anyone who asks him to move."




4. Somewhere on the south end, a mother and son were partaking in wholesome family activity of smoking crack together. "The son is wearing a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt, the mother is wearing jeans and a top with roses on it. The complainant said they store their crack in the kitchen cupboard, behind the canned foods."

Aside from their drug problems, which are not to be ridiculed, this report made me laugh for a couple of reasons. Now, maybe I've watched too many "Cops" episodes, but when I first heard the situation unfolding, I totally pictured the son being shirtless. Second, I love that whoever called the police were hanging out there long enough to note, in detail, their wardrobe and where they stashed the rocks.

Luckily, nothing major happened, which was not only good for me, but good for the public at large.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Nathaniel Arnold Sr. was probably a very interesting man

Maybe I got this from my dearly departed grandpa, Pop-Pop. Or maybe it's because I spent some time writing obituaries when I worked at the newspaper in Spokane. But no matter where I live, I always peruse the obits in each day's paper.

Pop-Pop used to do this, but mostly it was so that he could feel triumphant. He'd scan the page, see a name he recognized, and exclaim, "I outlived another son of a bitch!" Then he'd proceed to offer a brief description of the acquaintance as he swelled with pride that he was still kicking.

So I thought of Pop-Pop today when I saw this name on the obit page: Nathaniel "Hot Sausage" Arnold, Sr., 80. Oh, how I wished I knew how the Sausage got his nickname! At 80, did people still call him that? If so, I think that's pretty awesome. I wonder how many of his friends that Hot Sausage outlived. His obit was quite basic and didn't give much detail about his life, other than that he was an Army veteran and a member of Hill Street Baptist Church. But his obit -- that moniker -- screams from the page, and even though I don't know him, I think that's what he would have wanted.

I hope by the time I'm old, I have a magnificent (perhaps inappropriate) nickname that will accompany my name in the paper and make people wonder: Where the hell did she pick up that name? She must have had a fun life.

Sadly, Pop-Pop's ultimate goal was to outlive Ronald Reagan, who shared PP's Feb. 6 birthday. Pop-Pop abhored Republicans, but especially, for some reason, Reagan. Probably had a lot to do with birthday-sharing.

Anyway, Pop-Pop passed away June 2, 2004. And can you believe it? Reagan died three days later.

Almost, Pop-Pop. Almost.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Sorry, muscles. Better luck next time.

SUMMARY HAIKU:

Dog walks don't do shit
for muscle tone. Back to gym.
Arms and abs on fire.


Here's how Kyle described his pain after using my favorite (and simultaneously least favorite) abdominal machine at the Y for the first time: "I feel like someone just ripped my guts out."

Precisely. This is why I have such a love/hate relationship with the thing.

After about four months of ignoring the gym, I finally made my way back there this week. Once Lucy and Archie arrived on the scene, I was (and am) walking them every day. Briskly. Often twice. But I stopped working out at the Y because it was hard to work it in -- and hey, I was still exercising, right? Eh, not really.

I haven't gained any weight in that time, but my muscle tone and definition started to wither. So I made my first foray back there on Monday and did 45 minutes of cardio. Then I weight trained my arms, legs, abs and back -- all in one day.

What a dumbass.

Of course, I soon felt like I got hit by a truck. Yesterday, I could barely even straighten my legs out because my hamstrings felt as though someone had shortened them by about 8 inches each. Every time I stretched backwards, my abs screamed out like an 8-pound dog when someone rings the doorbell. And let's not even talk about my arms, which I wanted to cut off with a butcher knife but couldn't muster the strength to grip a blade.

Today was better, and I'm going back tomorrow. And at least four days a week from here on out. I hate, hate, hate it. But I've got to do it.

Some people try to motivate with the old cliche, "No pain, no gain." But I think that shit only works on meatheads who enjoy committing to fitness. I'm just doing this to look a little better in my jeans and continue eating at the Shalimar Indian buffet from time to time.

Monday, August 27, 2007

A case of the Mondays

SUMMARY HAIKU:

Rob Zombie was late.
Bored at two hour meeting.
Brutal cramps. Monday.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

The Onion makes me cry ... from laughing.

SUMMARY HAIKU:
No words can really
do The Onion justice. I
strive to write that well.


It's hard to say how I got sidetracked from visiting The Onion's website.

But suddenly, I returned to the fictional news website week and I'm hooked again. It helps take the edge off work stress and real-life depressing news. But the real draw is the sharp wit with which every story and column are written.

Take this commentary on fashion: This Gap Sweater is Fucking Awesome

Or this story: Future of Genteel Town In Jeopardy After Doily Factory Goes Out of Business

And of course, the always-entertaining columns by Herbert Kornfield, the gangsta accounts receivable supervisor at Midstate Office Supply, who hooked me 10 years ago with his column, Keep Your Fucking Shit Off My Desk.

Man, I love the Onion.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

6 steps is a really long way to walk

SUMMARY HAIKU:
Bitch, the cart corral
is right there. Are you fucking
blind, or an idiot?


When it comes to everyday pleasures in life, few things are more fulfilling than having a kitchen full of groceries. Red grapes and flat iron steak and Honey Nut Cheerios. Yum. But getting the food from the store to the to the cupboard sucks.

Going to the grocery is one of my least favorite chores in the world, ranking about the same as mowing the lawn and cleaning the bathroom. For one, I know that I'm going to drop at least $100 every time I go to Kroger. Second, I never have time to shop during the week, so I always end up there on Saturday with every other human being on Earth. It takes forever.

Anyway, I was there today, loading my stuff into my car. The car that I love almost as much as my hubby and pets. The new car that I just bought in March. And this woman, who is parked across from me, puts her three little bags in her trunk. Then she wheels her cart in between the front of her car and my ride, leaving it to roll toward my dope-ass vehicle.

WE WERE PARKED RIGHT NEXT TO THE CART CORRAL! In fact, it probably took her more steps and more manuevering to walk it to the center than it would have to simply place it in the corral, which was about four steps from the back end of her car.

I know people leave carts whereever they want all the time, and they always strike me as lazy assholes. But I've never actually seen anyone who is parked so close to the receptacle go to so much trouble not to use it. Plus, she didn't even give a shit that the cart was rolling into my ride, even with me standing right there.

Is it really that hard to steer it to the proper area in order not to fuck up other people's vehicles? No matter where you are parked in a lot, they're never more than about 15 steps away.

In the end, the cart didn't scratch my dear Carlos, and I didn't say anything to her because I didn't want to seem like a crazy person. But I wanted to tell her she was, perhaps, the stupidest fucking person I'd ever seen, and that she was lucky I didn't break her legs. She just drove off, totally oblivious.

Luckily, my irritation was soon culled by a nice, fat bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I was going to save it for after dinner, but that's the benefit of having a house full of food. I could have another one later, if I wanted. And I did.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Thank you, Queen Latifah

A SUMMARY HAIKU:
Enhancing your good
points never killed anyone.
Plus, eyeshadow rules.



So, as I mentioned below, I've spend about a decade trying to find my perfect, inexpensive mascara. Mascara and lip gloss -- don't leave home without 'em.

For the record, Lancome Defincils is, in my opinion, the best mascara. It's also $23. In an effort to be more fiscally responsible, I've been trying to hoard my beauty slush fund dollars for hair cuts and coloring, and cut back in other places.

Beauty mags always rave about Maybelline Great Lash, which was, until last week, what I used. But I was always looking to break up with it, because it gets clumpy sometimes, it dries out quickly and I always want a new tube every 3 weeks.

Then I see the lovely Queen Latifah on that Cover Girl commercial and her eyelashes look awesome! And for some reason, I trust the Queen, even though I know she's a paid spokesperson. Anyway, long story short: The LashExact she's hawking? It's really good.

It really does separate and thicken. And it's not all gloppy and gross. The applicator brush really is magical, like Hermione Granger conjured it up at Hogwarts. Plus, it comes in a really pretty purple tube. I think I may have found my soulmate!

I've spent a whole lot of money finding the best products over the years. Here are some other things I highly recommend.

BRONZER: Hoola by Benefit ($28). Use a light dusting or a lot. In certain spots or all over. It looks like you spent an afternoon in the sun, and it doesn't have all those annoying sparkly things that make you look like a disco ball in the sunlight. Lightweight, too, so no pore clogging. Bonus: Benefit is totally generous with samples, so whenever you buy something, you walk away with a whole bunch of free shit.

(Problem is, the samples are all so good that you always want to go back and buy them, too.)

EYESHADOW: Expensive: Lancome or MAC. Cheap: Loreal HIP. All have millions lovely hues that stay put all day long. Get some real brushes, because sponge applicators don't really work for shit.

LIP GLOSS: For color, Lipglass by MAC. For clear shine, C.O. Bigelow Ultra Mentha Lip Shine, which you can get at Bath and Body Works. I recently discovered it, and I'll never use another clear gloss again.

HAIR PRODUCTS: Oh God, there are so many great ones. Rusk Blofoam mousse. Aveda volumizing tonic and control granules. Pantene spray wax (for texturzing your ends) works awesome and is 1/4 of the price of the stuff I used to buy. Matrix sleek.look protectant spray, which will keep your hair from turning into a hay bale if you regularly use a flat iron. I go back and forth on hair spray because I don't really use it much. Pantene works fine for me.

HERE'S WHAT I'M STILL LOOKING FOR: The best face moisturizer, and the best body lotion. Any suggestions?

So, what's going on here?


At work, I write what they tell me to. And that often doesn't include things I really want to discuss, such as my eternal quest for the perfect drugstore mascara, crappy television shows like "Rock of Love" with Bret Michaels, and how cute my cat, Miles, is since getting his first hair cut.

So I'm gonna do those kinds of things here.

In time, I may have more of a theme for this blog. But for now, it's kind of the "Seinfeld" of thoughts. It's about nothing. And everything. But mostly, it's a place to dispose of all the random junk floating around in my brain so that I can (finally) get cracking on my novel, which is currently stuck at page 31.

Cheers!