Sunday, puppy Sunday: Andy boy

Overnight at patti's house for Halloween party last night. Andy is a big, fluffy boy and very sweet. Can't wait for him to meet teh puppehs someday.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

She lost him at "American Beauty"

I have a love/hate thing for John Cusack. I love a few of his movies, but I find his political bombast tedious and pretentious. It's as if he's perennially spooling out the do-nothing anti-capitalist of Say Anything. *yawn*

Anyhoo, I came across this clip Friday. The tape is rolling and first thing you know, he's crammed in a couple of rack-checks before she blows the whole thing to hell with off-the-mark pre-interview banter. If you've seen any of his films, you've seen him go into that condescending mode, too-cool-for-the-room. He leans way back, levels an unkind gaze her way and rubs his nose. Is that a mafia gang sign or something? Next thing you know, that rack lost all credibility. I giggled.



Um, he doesn't even look like Kevin Spacey.

Guilt-free pleasure

Now that summer season has passed, be sure to rifle through markdowns at department and discount stores for cotton jersey sheets(t-shirt material). In my opinion, they are as cozy as flannel sheets without the cheap feeling. (no, AD, not that kind of cheap feeling.). I found some yesterday for less than $10. Woo hoo!!!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Bed, mit puppehs

NOSEDIVE KARMA

Here's to the ongoing elections.

Remember Gaye Bykers on Acid (and their alter-ego Lesbian Dopeheads on Mopeds)? I do. I liked the way their rollicking beats balanced raunchy guitars that remained still oddly melodic.



Halloweenie Weekend.
Can't wait to see who gets the tricks and who gets the treats two days later.

Does it mean I'm getting cynical if I start to feel the joke's always on us?

If Raul Julia and David Lee Roth had a love child...

...it would be this guy... He's a contestant on the UK's X Factor.


...except he totally sounds like Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music.

When it comes to Velveeta Quotient, he totally pegs the cheese meter. I love the "I just hope you have enjoyed the sound of my voice" and the part when he's walking out of the room like a beauty queen pandering to the audience. I love the leopard accents on his ensemble, and I like to imagine the fabric is deerhide wot was chewed into submission by some bedraggled squaw with low self-esteem for His Royal Sauciness to wear.

I enjoyed a honeymoon of about 24 hours last week thinking this guy is sort of adorable, and then it came out in UK tabloids that he's a sex pest, pawing on female contestants and sundry production personnel.

Um, ew. Less adorable than at first glance.

Apparently there's a campaign in England for people to vote on the show for this guy out of sheer loathing for the entertainer competition and for the Simon Cowell-fueled franchise. I'm ambivalent about such things-- but then again, such spite has legs and has even put people in the White House in our own dear Nation, so, uh, que sera, sera.

Catch the new Sherlock Holmes on BBC's Masterpiece Mystery

This is rich, rich stuff. I've been hearing about this version of the famous detective set in contemporary London, and my dear friend Kim raved about it on her blog.

The action begins when Watson comes into Holmes' life, and the exchanges in which they suss each other are cleverly scripted and brilliantly portrayed. The scene at table in the pub was worth the whole hour and 23 minutes.

Watch here. New episodes every Sunday, and I think you'll be able to watch each episode free online for a couple weeks.

"I'm not a psycopath, Anderson, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." ---Holmes

Enjoy!

Prezzies! I love prezzies!

A couple weeks ago, a customer said he was sending me a present. He sent it to the company's other office in another state. Someone brought the parcel down to me Monday, and was quite keen to know what was in the package. He hovered as I was opening it and asked what the disposition of the customer was at the conclusion of the transaction-- were they angry or happy? I said it was a very happy transaction and I hope he sent me a puppy. I wondered if he thought it was going to be something repugnant or dangerous? *shrug* To little ole me? pffft.

Turns out, it was this exquisite wood box he'd made. The craftsmanship is superb. It's so lovely that I almost didn't know what to put into it at first, but then I realized: Grandma's watch. :)

I mentioned to one of the executives that another customer-- a darling older lady-- had said she was going to send me an edible bouquet. I said I hoped it wasn't a bunch of roses made of fruit-rollup underwear. He 'bout lost it.

Anyway, I'd try my best even if people didn't send me lovely things for doing my job, but it's nice to know that sometimes someone notices the extra effort and wants to show their appreciation. I'll treasure this always. :)

On the way home this weekend...

...Himself and I were driving along a highway and a patrol car turned on its lights, but pulled over an ass-hauling Expensive Car instead. That felt really odd. I was driving, and at first I'd thought the officer was coming after me. Nope. All was well.

About 5 minutes later, another patrol officer pulled onto the roadway behind myself and some other cars and turned on the pretty, sparkly lights. OOoh! Shiny!

Ruh roh, raggy. Aw crap. This time it was my turn to be pulled over. Speed limit was 70 and I was going about 63.

Nice Officer [not from Himself's department] came up to the side as I was digging in my purse for the paper for my (effective October 1) insurance policy. I handed him my DL and my CHL. He asked if I had a gun with me and where it was, and I responded, and said I was looking for the insurance paper. He seemed nice. My passenger insists I was flustered, that I said "I know I wasn't speeding" and the officer said "your license plate lamp is out." I apologized and said I was not aware of that.

He handed the CHL back to me and took the other docs to his car. He came back and handed me a receipt-like paper, and I thought I kind of caught him grinning, but I can't be sure. He said he was going to give me a warning and that I need to get that light business seen to right away. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

So we drove away and Himself was grinning like a possum. [full-of-crap moment dead-ahead] He said "you talked yourself out of that, sweetie-- he was going to give you a ticket." For a second I puffed up inside, thinking maybe the officer surmised I'm obviously a good person and frankly too sweet to give a ticket to. Wait-- I didn't try to weasel my way out of it. No, I couldn't have talked myself out of a ticket, surely not." [this thought process took about a fraction of a second ] I said "Really? You think I talked myself out of that?"

He was smiling big. Too big.

I felt compelled to ask probing questions. Finally I came around to the should-have-been obvious question-- "did you know that guy???"
Himself coyly rejoindered "I may have seen him before..."
"uh, when was the last time you may have seen him?"
"Thursday."

Rascal. He then went on to say that he only leaned out and made eye contact with the officer after the officer said he was just going to issue a warning. I know this to be a load of crap, because an officer pulling someone over is going to look at all a vehicle's occupants right off the bat and suss the situation and potential threat level-- am I right or am I right?

My suspicion is that before the officer even locked on my bright blue eyes, the soul-sucking Cthulu-stache was waggling menacingly from the passenger-side, pulling focus, and then he saw who was attached to it. I'll bet they even winked at each other.

Brats.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday

Praline is a goer-- she'd


rather be running around like a banshee than pretty much anything else. That makes it all the more cute the way she obviously adores having her neck scratched. Sweet little furball.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

In which my big brother was catch of the day...

Some guy out kayak fishing on a lake snagged my big brother's thumb with a pretty heavy duty lure. Went clean to the bone.

The fisher of men posted about it over here on his fishing report. Sez he:

...Hooked a boater this AM. Hooked em good in the tip of his thumb deep past the barb. He was around 200lbs and pulled hard for a few seconds then started hollerin & shortly after gave up...

I loved the formal report-style of the catch's stats and particulars. Apparently the angling kayaker made big brother a peace offering of some fish and all fences were properly mended. My brother thanked him and said "we'll have to hook up again sometime."

Yes, there's a deep, deep vein of corn running plumb through my gene pool.

What really freaks me out about this whole story is that two weeks ago, the day be fore my birthday, I bought myself a hat nearly identical to the one he's wearing. Mine is dark brown leather with real fur, but, anyway, funny coincidence. Great minds... My shoe collection is way cuter than his, though.

Whoopsie! [accidental gun pR0n???]

Uh.

I was talking on the phone this week several times with someone in another branch of the company. We discussed guns we liked, and a volley of emails ensued. I mentioned a rifle that I want, and said that in truth, the vast majority of my practice has been with handguns because most of my early shooting was done in Dallas at a pistol club where rifles weren't allowed. The tradeoff was worthwhile, I said, because while that aspect was limiting, it was a club which likewise limited membership and where I knew I could safely go alone without worrying about rubbing elbows with thugs or gangbangers.

Nothing really objectionable about that, right?

I got a notice immediately that my outgoing email had been quarantined for profanity. I went back through and scanned what I'd written, all the while enjoying that sinking feeling where you wonder if something with no nefarious intentions could get you called on the carpet or worse with an employer.

Anyway, I hope there won't be any echoes of unpleasantness resulting from my (now I realize) poor choice of words. I thought the term "gangbanger" had entered into the vernacular as a common reference to lowbrow no-account gang-affiliated ne'er-do-wells, so it just didn't occur to me to think of this in the context of something which might be considered sexual in nature.

I got an auto-response email from the head of the IT department after the initial gotcha email. Monday my boss emailed me a picture of him with his .50 caliber, so I'm hopeful he'll turn a blind eye...

I will give you plankton.

Every once in a while I come across something that is unto me as squirrelses am unto Praline.

Tuts My Barreh is just such a thing. I can't stop thinking about it. BeeGees, plankton, wrestling and cheese references all in one song? Why haven't I heard of Mariah Carey before now???





I'm in ecstasies.

SKWIRL!!!

Good idea - rather than throwing the bums out (who's left?) let's reward some good behaviour for a change.

On the subject of shoeses....

Yes, old picture-- and you should see the fabulous sparkly blue-green my toenails are now, but I digress-- but I needed to illustrate the Gladiatrix Space Hooker shoes featured in today's post.

Of late, several older men at work seem to be noticing my shoes more than I would have expected. Leaving work Friday night, one of them remarked to me "what would you do if you had to run for your life in those shoes?" I quipped "I'd have to dig my heels in, stand my ground and just shoot back."

Sitting on my yoga ball Monday in cute top, skirt and these strappy affairs, another fellow kept coming by and remarking on my shoes. He said he sensed the yoga ball was frightened, fearing for its life in proximity to the needlesome little spikes. I said oh no, that ball knew what it was getting into when it came home with me and that it likes my shoes. Is in fact, quivering with delight.

Lucky ball.