Because I love you.

This is for anyone who grew up east of the Edwards Plateau in the mid- to late-eighties.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rf0UQz8g0HA

It's The Judy's.

You're welcome.

My glamourous, glamourous* life.

*I also spell catalogue like that.

In the past 48 hours I have...

...cleaned up cat barf.

...cleaned up toddler pee off the kitchen chair. (It's not made of a permeable material, so it was an easy clean up. But still...)

...scooped the litter box.

...cleaned out my pantry and discovered things in there that expired in 2004.

...plucked my chin hairs.

...put away the messy DVD stack that had taken up semi-permanent residence on top of my entertainment center and discovered that I own at least 9 movies I've never seen.

...pulled weeds. Oh, correction: Pulled yard. That's right folks: my entire yard--save a few square feet--is weeds.

--spent $48 dollars online shopping for shit I absolutely do not need.

--lost about $4,500 in the stock market.

--realized that, holyfuckingshit, tomorrow it's already March.

--cleaned toddler pee off of my only living room chair. And this chair, my friends, is made of permeable/non-cleanable material.

--had to call my mother to talk me down off the ledge after I discovered toddler pee on my only living room chair.

--spent the last of my iTunes gift certificate I got for my birthday on shit like The Eagles and The Mamas and the Papas. (Thanks again, Jimmy!)

--fantasized about the perfect martini.

--gotten pissed off about concerts that friends are getting to go to that I'm not (The Police, The Shins, Justin Timberlake)

And right now:

--eating leftover tuna salad right out of the bowl on melba toast.

--blogging while eating said tuna salad.

It doesn't get much sexier than Karla May (tm). (Yep, I'm going to trade mark that. T-shirts will soon be available here. Stay tuned!!)

Weird work.

I have a fun, stressful, wonderful job. It's sort of hard to explain what it is I do, so I'm not going to bore you with trying to do so. But I will say that I've worked at this company for nearly 7 1/2 years, but I've never had as bizarre and fun a day at work as I had yesterday.

I spent yesterday afternoon in a recording studio, recording a jingle that I wrote for an online class we're producing. It's a long story to get you to how this whole thing came to be, but what it boils down to is that we're a small team with a lot of creativity and a very tiny budget. We couldn't afford to hire "real" people to do this for us, so we just did it ourselves. And can I just say that it turned out just like we'd hoped? Because it did. I really think I may have a second career brewing, because this jingle-writing shit? Easy as pie.

Then today I literally had back-to-back scheduled meetings, etc. starting at 9:30 and ending at 3:30. What the hell? I mean, today freakin' flew by. And tomorrow I have nothing scheduled (but shitloads to do). You see, I'm taking Friday off to have a spa day!!! That's right: I'm finally getting to use the gift certificate I got LAST MOTHER'S DAY, and I'm going to have an hour-and-a-half hot stone massage, this hour long avocado body moisturizing mask thing that includes a scalp moisturizing treatment and massage, and a spa pedicure. After that, La Turista and I are going to a movie. And then I'm going home to a toddler-free environment because my mom is taking The Geej for the night. Hallelujah. I need a break, people.

Let's see...what else...

I gave up fried food for Lent (not because I'm religious, just because I wanted to see if I could do it), and so far, so good. I have, however, fallen off the wagon with chewing gum. I'm not chewing it as frequently as I used to, but I am chewing it. The minute I start to feel all TMJ-ey again, I'll stop. I swear.

Oh, and I have a new online obsession: www.zillow.com Don't go there unless you've got HOURS to kill.

You've been warned.

Some random shizz.

I'm watching The Oscars right now. I'm not sure why, really. I mean, I think I've seen one of the movies that's nominated for stuff (Dreamgirls). Back in the day, I would've seen at least 80% of these films. Now I'm lucky if I see 5 movies at the theater in any given year. One thing I have noticed tonight is that there are a LOT of women on this show in neutral colored dresses. And there's the whole long hair over one shoulder thing. Other things I've realized:

• That segment/montage that the did about the foriegn language films that have won the Oscar in the past made me realize that there are a LOT of foriegn films I need to see.
• Why is Jack Nicholson totally bald?
• I'm still hot for Robert Downey, Jr.
• That "look who died this year" montage that they always do always makes me teary-eyed AND it always makes me go, "Really? I didn't know he/she was dead!" This year's surprise: Jack Ward.
• Mark Wahlberg is a hottie, despite the Boston accent.
• George Clooney really is one of the best looking men I've ever seen.
• Reese Whitherspoon looks better than she ever has. She makes me want to get bangs cut.
• I used to hate Leonardo DiCaprio, but I'm kind of a fan now.
• Forest Whitaker (who is from LONGVIEW, I might add) TOTALLY deserved best actor. I haven't seen The Last King of Scotland, but he was amazing in "Ghost Dog, Way of the Samurai," which is a great movie. Plus his acceptance speech was beautiful and heartfelt.
• I've heard enough good things about The Departed (and Scorsese just won best director), that I should probably see it. And man, he's short.
• Diane Keeton looks fucking amazing. As does Helen Miren. I need to figure out how to look like that when I'm their age.

Okay, it's freakin' 11:15. The Departed just won Best Picture. I'm tired. I swear I'm going to write more this week. I've just been swamped.

Yes.

I'm still here.

Just too busy and tired to write anything. So how's about a photo?

The Geej and her babies, all lined up behind the shower curtain for some reason. She did this while I was getting ready for work and then proclaimed, "You can't see us!!"

A real post soon. I swear.

I've got three things to say, then I'm going to bed:

1) THIS is why it's called the Pine Curtain, people. So pretty, isn't it? This particular photo was taken on an unusually crisp morning right outside of Mr. Wonderful's dad's lakehouse. And here's another shot, just cuz I like you.

2) Want a hardcore lesson in sexual frustration? Go for a weekender with your long-distance boyfriend (who you only get to see every 6 to 8 weeks or so as it is) and your (very clingy) toddler and his two kids and his dad and his dad's two cats and Mr. Wonderful's brother and sister-in-law and their two teenagers and three dogs and rabbit. And also factor in that about half of this cast of characters (humans only and including your boyfriend) is sick with some sort of hacking, wheezing ailment, and then you might begin to get what I'm talking about.

3) Pile on top of this that you found out, somewhat causally, that your stepsister has alerted your mother to the fact that you have blog--a fact that you've held near and dear to your heart, as a means of no-holds-barred self expression for YEARS now, and that--now that they know about it and are surely reading it--you're going to have to either quit blogging completely or migrate elsewhere so that you can have anonymity you crave.

Fuck, Internets.

If I do this, I will be the 3rd of my blogger bitches who's had to do this recently because they've been "found out." This sucks. I mean, it really, really does.

Fuck. (Yeah Mom, I said "Fuck" again. It's one of my most favorite words. Keep reading. Please...)

Sigh.

This wasn't a very good weekend.

I've got three things to say, then I'm going to bed:

1) THIS is why it's called the Pine Curtain, people. So pretty, isn't it? This particular photo was taken on an unusually crisp morning right outside of Mr. Wonderful's dad's lakehouse. And here's another shot, just cuz I like you.

2) Want a hardcore lesson in sexual frustration? Go for a weekender with your long-distance boyfriend (who you only get to see every 6 to 8 weeks or so as it is) and your (very clingy) toddler and his two kids and his dad and his dad's two cats and Mr. Wonderful's brother and sister-in-law and their two teenagers and three dogs and rabbit. And also factor in that about half of this cast of characters (humans only and including your boyfriend) is sick with some sort of hacking, wheezing ailment, and then you might begin to get what I'm talking about.

3) Pile on top of this that you found out, somewhat causally, that your stepsister has alerted your mother to the fact that you have blog--a fact that you've held near and dear to your heart, as a means of no-holds-barred self expression for YEARS now, and that--now that they know about it and are surely reading it--you're going to have to either quit blogging completely or migrate elsewhere so that you can have anonymity you crave.

Fuck, Internets.

If I do this, I will be the 3rd of my blogger bitches who's had to do this recently because they've been "found out." This sucks. I mean, it really, really does.


Fuck. (Yeah Mom, I said "Fuck" again. It's one of my most favorite words. Keep reading. Please...)


Sigh.

This wasn't a very good weekend.

Pine Curtain, Here I Come!

That's right, my little monkeys. Dah, The Geej and I are packing up the Nissan and heading to Longview tomorrow. There I will be rendezvousing with Mr. Wonderful, his two boys and a whole other assortment of family members--his and mine. Wow. I haven't been up there since May 2005, and it will be the first time I've been since Mom's moved. I mean, I'm going to be going "home" but don't have a home to go to. Weird, weird stuff.

At any rate, I've got a gazillion things to do before I'm ready to hit the road. But I'm packing the camera, and I'm sure I'll have lots of stories to tell upon my return. Check with me on Sunday evening.

But before I go, I have to comment on something:
Last night, I got in bed and decided to channel surf for a few minutes. When I landed on each of the "news" channels (MSNBC, CNN, FauxNews, etc.) each and every one of them were featuring Anna Nicole Smith coverage. This simple fact is nauseating enough but out of all of them, Nancy Grace was the most putrid. I swear that she was practically having multiple orgasms over all of the tragedy and scandal. I didn't even know who Nancy Grace was when I first saw Amy Poehler do a dead on (if not funny) impersonation of her on SNL. But now that I've seen this bitch? Amy P. was MUCH too kind in her portrayal. What a whacked out waste of genetic material this woman is. How the FUCK did she get her own show? Who watches this crazy crisis junkie? I really, really, REALLY want to punch her in the mouth anywhere that might require that she get her jaw wired shut for, oh I don't know, a few years. What if she were your mother?! Gawd.

Okay. I feel better now that I've gotten that off of my chest.

I'll check back with you after my Pine Curtain adventure!

Pictures (because I'm too tired to actually write anything).

I'm suffering from severe brain mush syndrome. Work's cranked up to mach 5, and The Geej is wearing me out too. I guess this last birthday really did a number on me, because Internets, I'm feeling OLD and worn the hell out.

So in lieu of actually posting something that might make me have to string together actual words that make a wee bit of sense, my I humbly submit a few images, including some Me/Not Me stuff I forgot to include the first time around.

Enjoy. I'm going to shave my legs and hit the hay.

An absolutely stunning cake that The Geej decorated during our Sunday playdate with the Malcontentettes. It was jolly fun. You gotta hand it to Mama M., she's way more homemakerly than I could ever be. I mean, you should've SEEN the selection of sprinkles this gal had on hand.

A fashion statement made by The Geej. Apparently she did this during the last 30 minutes of school, and wanted to keep it this way so I could see it. Then she wanted me to keep it this way so Earl and all of her babies could see it. And while we were talking to my mom on the phone, she was saying, "Look, Dah! See my chirt?" Man was she ever proud of this innovation.

Speaking of The Geej, I took her to the doctor yesterday due to this persistent cough she's had that suddenly stopped responding altogether to any kind of cough meds, and they weighed her. She still weighs less than 26 lbs. The girl's a wisp.

Okay, now to the me/not me hooey.

Me:

Not me:

Yep:

Nope:

Always:

Never:

Nodding in approval:

Shaking head in disgust:

Oh yes:

Hell no:

Dear Aunt Jew-wee,

Thank you for the coffee maker you sent to me. Even though my mommy doesn't like coffee, I sure like making it. And this morning, I brought at least 3 cups of freshly brewed Jo to her in bed...you know, to wake her up.

Also, thank you for Mommy's book you sent to her. She loves it. Like most people (male AND female) that she knows, Mommy has a big ol' crush on Amy Sedaris. The little glimpse into Amy's mind (and the AWEsome photos and recipes that "I Like You: Hosting Under the Influence" provide), will make Mommy happy for some time to come.

Finally, the bubble wrap. God bless you, Aunt Jew-wee!! I'd never experienced bubble wrap before--especially the kind with the BIG bubbles!

While mommy was cleaning up my bathroom after my bath tonight, I single-handedly created "Bubble Lane," and started marching down it and demanded that Mommy and Earl march down it too. It was a blast. We marched and marched until all of the bubbles were popped. The Pixies were playing in the background. They make great marching music, by the way.

You freakin' rule Aunt Jew-wee!

Love,

The Geej

Cuteoverload.com: Eat your heart out.

Crank up the volume to get the full effect...

What part of "Go the fuck away!!" don't you understand?

During the months leading up to November's election, I had a LOT of random people ringing my doorbell at all hours of the day, wanting to know my opinion about this candidate or that candidate. Also, since moving into this neighborhood, I've had more than my fair share of kids selling magazines/candy, smelly hippies wanting me to sign environmental petitions (a.k.a. donate to their cause), religious freaks trying to push their god stuff on my heathen soul, etc. ad nauseum.


Finally, I'd fucking had enough. I went to Lowe's (which I HATE) and looked for a small, professional looking "No Soliciting" sign to hang on or near my door. They were out, so I made them order me one and call me when it came in.


The understated but seemingly unambiguous result** was this:

Nice, right? See how it's carefully positioned right above the doorbell so that pushy motherfuckers HAVE to see it before they ring the bell?

Yeah well, in the past 2 weeks I've had three--yes, THREE--"solicitors" ring my bell at 7:30 pm or later. When that happens, know what I want to do? Open the door, sucker punch them in the nose or throat or some other hyper-sensitive area, and slam the door in their faces. And then watch through my peephole as they walk away crying and bloody.

Violent? Maybe. But the sign says "NO SOLICITING!!!!!!!!" [The eight exclamation points are what I consider editorial license.--ed.] So unless you're collecting money for the blind and/or severely dyslexic and are yourself, in fact, blind or dyslexic, then what could POSSIBLY be your excuse for ringing my goddamned bell?

I'm going to type out an addendum and have it laminated and nail that fucker right below the doorbell. It's going to go a little something like this:

"Dear Asshole,

If you're too stupid to understand the term 'NO SOLICITING,' please allow me to break it down for you:

The fact that I've made the effort to go out and buy/mount a "No Soliciting" sign right by my dooorbell most likely means that I am hoping you won't ring my bell or knock on my door. Chances are, I'm probably hanging out with my daughter, or if not, spending one of the three hours a day I get to myself to talk to my friends on the phone, watch a favorite t.v. program, shower, read a book, eat dinner, enjoy my pet cat, clean my house, do laundry, finish some work I didn't have time for today while actually AT work, pay bills/balance my checkbook, read a book or magazine, prepare my taxes, shave my legs, change my sheets, etc.

Do you actually have the nuts to think that I want to spend time talking to you about whatever the fuck it is that you're advocating and/or selling*? If you do, then go ahead and ring the doorbell, because when I DO open the door, I'm going to punch you as hard as I possibly can in the face or throat. I may, in fact, be brandishing a blunt object of some sort or perhaps a dirty pull-up (courtesy of my daughter) or a hand full of litter-covered cat shit (courtesy of--you guessed it, genius--my cat).

If you're willing to take that chance, then go for it motherfucker. If not, then I suggest you turn around and get the fuck off of my front porch. Pronto.

(By the way, Dickweed: Consider yourself warned. If you don't take heed and this throat-punching shit actually goes down, I guaranTEE you that this shit will hold up in a court of law unless you' happen to be blind/dyslexic. And even then, you should have someone with you who is helping you, and the fact that you don't only tells me that you're obviously such a turd that no one wants to be around you.)

Thank you and have a nice day.

--The Bitch Who Lives in this House

*This, my friends, is called "foreshadowing." Pay attention to what happens later!!

**There's this cool thing called the internet. And on it, there's this other cool thing called 'Google.' If I feel compelled to contribute to a charity OF MY CHOICE and WITHIN MY BUDGET, or support a social cause that I believe in, or back a political candidate or issue that I feel deserves it, then guess what: I CAN RESEARCH IT MYSELF AND DO IT ONLINE!! In other words, although I respect your passion and commitment, you really shouldn't ring my damn doorbell."


Feel free to steal that text and post it above your own door. I think it will be better for everyone.

Weird dreams.

So far this week, I've dreamed that I was just hanging out with Diane Keeton. You know, we were buddies. And she was utterly delightful and fun. And GORGEOUS.

I also dreamed that I ran over my ex-husband with my car. There was this split second in the dream where I had the opportunity to make the decision whether or not to run him down, and I chose to go for it. And I just kept going. Never looked back.

Last night I dreamed that my boss was having me sign some bonus paperwork that said I was getting a $100,000 bonus (with a $42,000 addition for "exceptional work"). I asked him if the figure was correct, and he was like, "Of course it is!" I was literally breathless and speechless in my dream. It was almost an anxiety attack, but in a good way.

So that makes Elmo wonder (those of you with 2 to 4 year olds know where I'm coming from): What IF I got a $142,000 bonus (which after taxes, would be reduced by about 30%, but let's just pretend the IRS didn't exist for a minute), what would I do?

In no specific order:
Pay off my car.
Pay off my MasterCard.
Pay off the smaller of my 2 home loans.
Put a healthy amount in The Geej's college account.
Put a healthy amount in my goddaughter's savings account.
Pay my mom back for some stuff.
Put a healthy amount in my ROTH IRA.
Put a healthy amount in my money market account.
Get some landscaping done, front and back.
Replace my back fence.
Install a sprinkler system (front only).
Finish putting gutters all around the house.
Get new carpet throughout.
Redo the kitchen countertops; get new appliances; re-paint; new kitchen floors.
New big girl bed for The Geej.
New desk for the office/guest room.
New tubs in both bathrooms.
Move Mr. Wonderful down here tomorrow.
Give a substantial donation to the baby home in Vladivostok where The Geej once lived.
Hire an every-other-week maid service.
Get someone to clean out my garage/storage building and sell all that shit on Craig's list or whatever.
Go to Vegas to see Prince.
Contribute more significantly to a couple of charities/NFPs that I already give regular donations to.

Me/Not Me Meme

Totally stolen from the goddess/genius who is Badger.

And might I just say: Hardest. Meme. EVAH!

Me:

Not me:

Me:

Not me:
Me:

And me:

Not me:

Me:

Not me:

Much:

Not so much:

Me:

Not me:

Me:

Not me:

Me:

Not me:

Me:

And also me:

SO not me, it's not even funny (get it? FUNNY? They're comedians!! Har har!):

Me:

Nauseatingly not me:

Me:

Not me:

Me:

(Phobically) Not me--it took a LOT for me to image search "eel":

Yes:

No:

What I hope I'm NOT:

What I'd like to be: