Wednesday, July 06, 2005


Ok, so I totally think that the finale to Dancing With the Stars was fixed. I mean, Kelly Monaco is on a soap that airs on ABC, so it would have been a no-brainer to promote their station with her win. A perfect score for that last dance? I don't think so.

Why is it nature's cruel trick to make grey hairs come in the very front and top of your head first? Why can't they begin in the back, underside of your hair? That way you could be blissfully unaware of them for at least a year.

I kept Mr. Personality up way past his bedtime for the 4th so that he could watch fireworks. I had him on my lap, and my sister asked how he was holding up. I told her that he was a little on the zombied out side. Then she said, "Well wasn't that the whole point of the 4th when we were kids? To be all tired and whacked out, staying up past our bedtime, snuggling with a parent while watching the fireworks?" And I thought of how true that was.

I cannot find Bob the Builder underpants anywhere.

No, they are not for my husband. But I bet he would dig some Star Wars ones.

There have been teenagers screeching in the park below every night so far this week after dark. I waver between being furious with them for possibly waking Mr. Personality up, and indulgent because everybody does crazy dumb things when they are a teenager. But, if they do wake him up, I'm callin' the cops.

Hubba-hubba is considering a career change. He emailed a person who is considered an expert in the field, asking him for some advice about a certain certificate program, and any other advice the guy would care to give a novice. The man was a pompous, egomaniacal ass in his reply. Why, when certain people reach a degree of success, they become so full of themselves that they can't see the clouds for their big heads?

A rather well known blogger recently put down other bloggers who assign what I assume she meant were "cutesy" monikers for our husbands. Well, I don't want to use his real name, and I don't want to refer to him constantly as "my husband" or "the man I married" or "the guy who snores beside me in bed" or any other variation upon that. So, it is my blog and I will do what I want. If it bothers you, or if you think it is the written equivalent of me rubbing noses with him whilst calling him "Snookums," feel free to let the door hit your ass on the way out.

And, in closing, I would like to say that being an American means that it is your right, nay, your patriotic duty to question your government at every turn. We are exhorted in the Declaration of Independence itself to rise up against our government if it becomes unresponsive to the wishes of the people it represents. It is our gaurantee of freedom of speech that allows us to demand accountability from our government. Anyone who says otherwise should themselves relocate to another country where blind allegiance is required. I'm feeling a little rebellious myself, anybody else?


Cuppa said...

My, you are feeling feisty this morning aren't you? You go girl!

Thanks for the words of encouragement you left on my blog about our move. I am starting to get sooooo excited about this wonderful new chapter in my life. I will miss our garden, but I won't miss the work of trying to whip it back into shape after we have been away for a month. I think I am going to love Townhouse living.

Angry Pregnant Lawyer said...

Hmmm, I missed the cute-name bashing. I think I just may start referring to my husband as "Schmoopie" now, a la that Seinfeld episode....

Suzanne said...

I think I read the anti-"Hubster" post you mentioned. Hmmph! Reading the words "Hubba Hubba" makes me smile.

I found B the Builder underpants at Target. Do you have a Target near you? Of course, these underpants have not been the least bit effective in enticing my son to go diaper-free, but I haven't abandoned hope yet!