Just Another Day

So let me begin by saying that I really like animals. Animals of all kinds, from dogs to snakes to gerbils. You notice I didn't mention cats. It isn't that I don't like cats. I do. Cats usually like me as well, and there are a few cats that I harbor fond memories of. Except for my neighbor's cat. In this neighborhood, when we bought it, the realtor touted that there are no roaming cats due to the population of coyotes that dwell in the wild park down below our house. People tend to not let their pet cats wander around the neighborhood for fear of their cats getting eaten. Which to me is a quite valid reason. And it made me happy not to have strays prowling around. I in no way miss those 2am earsplitting mating calls that happened at my parent's house on occasion. But for whatever odd reason, my neighbor has seen fit to buck this trend, which she apparently finds too sissified for her taste. Hey, coyotes could eat her cat? Survival of the fittest is her mott

So there is a company called Claritas that has this nifty feature on their website. According to this business, "you are where you live!" All you have to do is go here , type in your zip code, and Claritas will tell you all about yourself based on your place of residence. I have written before about how out of place I feel in my town. People are very wealthy here, yet we are not. Hmmmm, let's see what they have to say about my zip code and how accurate they are. Upper Crust The nation's most exclusive address, Upper Crust is the wealthiest lifestyle in America -a haven for empty-nesting couples over 55 years old. No segment has a higher concentration of residents earning over $200,000 a year or possessing a postgraduate degree. And none has a more opulent standard of living. 2005 Statistics: US Households: 1,690,937 (1.52%) Median HH Income: $106,364 Ummmm, not even close. Lifestyle Traits Spend $3,000+ foreign travel- In my dreams! Contribute to PBS- I&

Welcome to " Pointless Points Trivia " where the facts are now double-checked and the points don't matter. That's right, the points are like drinking a Diet Coke with your pizza, they just don't matter. So I love baseball. And since the beginning of the season is imminent, my first question will deal with baseball. Most people don't realize that one of the hardest things to do in baseball is to pitch a perfect game. In fact, in the last 130 years, only 17 perfect games have occurred. (Drumroll, please...) Who was the last pitcher to pitch a perfect game? *1,000 points for the person who can give the first and last name of the pitcher.

So this past Sunday, we met some friends of ours for dinner. We went here , because it is kid-friendly without being cartoonish, the kid's meals are well priced and come with dessert! What more can you ask for in a restaurant? With all the kids, there were seven in our party. Our waitress was great, prompt with the filling of the glasses, more bread when we wanted, and even gave me a slice of birthday cake even though I admitted my birthday was at the beginning of the month. She had spotted the present our friends had nicely given me, and asked what the occasion was. All in all, good service, right? Hubba-hubba and our friend J were working out the bill and came to the question of tip. Hubba-hubba is a generous tipper, and it seems that J is not. They had a bit of a gentlemen's disagreement over the tip, and Hubba-hubba decided not to press it any further. Us gals had taken the kids out to run around the front grassy area when they came out, and Hubba-hubba whispered to

So my friends, I actually have a headache. I am actually stressing myself out about pretend points. I don't want to make anyone mad, and by doing so, you usually make everyone mad. So, Liz and Suzanne , please forgive me for taking your points away. All blame and fault is on my head, which is now hanging down to my clavicle for being so uncharacteistically sloppy with the actual answer. Amy had indeed answered correctly on the first round. Really, I am going to blame post-vacation malaise. I do really want to do this little question thing, if you all are willing to play along. I am at heart a trivia geek. So, seriously, every question from now on will have a very clear cut answer. And more importantly, I will actually know what it is before I put it up.

So it seems that we are not the only people who have mixed up the groups En Vogue and Soul II Soul. I went on iTunes to see if perhaps En Vogue did a cover of the song, but it wasn't there. I went on Amazon to see if I could find it on there, and the only group that came up with a song under that title on both sites was Soul II Soul. When MegaMom came up with DeLaSoul, my heart sank because I suddenly remembered that it wasn't En Vogue who recorded the song. Even though I found two sites, including the one linked by Liz, that claimed it was done by En Vogue, I think they are wrong. There was no album name attributed to either lyric listing, which is unusual. So then I went to this site , where the entire discography of En Vogue is listed, and no song by that name. Just goes to show that misinformation abounds on the internet. Apparently including my blog, as well. So, the points will be awarded to Suzanne , barring any other mistakes by myself. Liz, thanks for being such

So, my wholehearted apologies to Liz , but it was not the group En Vogue who sang the song "Back to Life." Thanks so much to MegaMom for pointing that overlooked but quite important fact out. Can I blame it on the fatigue I felt post-vacation? And by the way, no one has gotten it yet, although MegaMom was very close. Not a very auspicious beginning, eh? I will be sure in the future that this doesn't happen again. Game on!

So Melissa brought up a good point, how to make the question asking fair? So, I have three choices, tell me which ones sounds the best and I will go with the one with the most votes, even if it only gets two. a) Every Thursday at 12pm Pacific b) Every Thursday, random times c) You never know, any day any time Any tie breaking will be done by Hubba-hubba, a completely non-partisan entity. Just be sure not to leave any hanging chads, ok?

Even though this child has essentially no body fat, his cheeks remain!

So if you look on the sidebar there, you will see a leaderboard, currently led by Liz with a thousand points. You got a problem with that? I have decided that every Thursday, I will ask some sort of question, and the first person to answer it correctly will get a thousand points. It could be anything, from world events to music to minutiae. That's the fun, you'll never know what's next. Anyhoo, Googling is perfectly fine, and I almost gave her a couple more points for being honest and admitting that she did so. Some of these questions I'm going to ask will most likely require Googling unless you are some kind of super genius. And if that is so, then you should be off finding a cure for cancer, not reading my blog. And, at some point, to be determined at a later date, I might just send the person with the most points something cute. And cheap.

So I listen to a classical music station as I fall asleep. I am considering writing to my Congressman that a law be passed that no music be played after 11pm that contains martial themes, atonal modernism, long loud horn sections, and of course, drums. My stat counter is showing over 13,000 hits to this blog. Hubba-hubba is overjoyed! I'm considering lowering his time spent refreshing this page over and over again to only twenty minutes a day. The other day, Mr. Personality was making up different lyrics to the "Bob the Builder" theme song, in which he basically inserted an antonym or opposite description for every line. "Can he fix it?" was answered with, "No he can't!" Instead of "Time to get busy, such a lot to do" it was "He's really tired and wants to lay down." Ahhh, wordplay is such fun. My sister was at a snooty store recently, and wanted to be put on the mailing list. As the salesgirl was typing my sister's

So we are back. We left at 9:30am our time and arrived home at 4:20pm. Not too shabby for stopping three times for Mr. Personality to go pee, and once for lunch. We had what I will call an interesting time, the fact that my aunt has two large uncontrollable 70 pound dogs made me choose that particular descriptive term. Can I say that I was constantly running interference with those dogs, from trying to prevent them from knocking Mr. Personality down to making sure they didn't steal his dinner out from his very hands? While at the dinner table, which should be a fairly safe place. Except it wasn't. And I discovered I really don't like dog hair. Especially the combined dog hair of four dogs. Combine that with the fact that the air mattress I was sleeping on was making my back complain progressively louder with each passing night, and you have the makings of a three day trip rather than a four day trip. But, it was nice to see my family, we love them dearly. Despite the d

So the update on our old-fashioned family meeting is that my grandparents will move into the house next to my parents. Which I think is probably best for all involved. My mom called me that night and wondered if we were ok with them moving in there, as she had recently asked me about us wanting it. I told her that I thought them having it was best, as they are feeling lonely. And what better way not to feel lonely than to move next door to your son? Also, they have offered to arrange and pay for all of the renovations, which has always been a source of confusion for everyone in previous scenarios. They are going to do it up good, too, with granite countertops and such. If we had done it, they would have been lucky to get ceramic tile! Now, the plan just needs to be put into action. My dad needs to call an estate auctioning company that was recommended to him so that they can assist in clearing out all of the millions of tchotchkes that are in that house. We know for a fact that

So I admit, I can be a cowardly commenter. I don't know exactly why, but there are some blogs where I am intimidated to comment, even though nobody on that blog is particularly intimidating. I should know, too, as a blogger that unless you are trashing the author, comments are almost always appreciated. I always get a secret thrill when reading the comments people are nice enough to leave. You like me, you really like me! So what gives? I am not what I would call shy, so it isn't that. Sometimes on the larger blogs, people have already kind of said pretty much everything there is to say about the post. My comment would just be sort of a "Yeah, what they just said!" type, which I dislike to do unless I know the person. Or perhaps I put too much pressure on myself to be witty and engaging in my comments. I really do try to be entertaining, and sometimes if I can't be, then I just consider discretion to be the better part of valor. Is that a bad thing? Perhap

As seen at Angry Pregnant Lawyer ... Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING. I swear I didn't cheat once, it is rather scary! How does the world see me? I Got You, Vitamin C Well, I guess I'm screwed then. Will I have a happy life? Hit, The Sugarcubes Well, the title doesn't sound so hot, but the song is about falling in love so it's 50/50. What do my friends really think of me? Turn Me Loose, Loverboy That could be depressing if I dwell on it. Do people secretly lust after me? Institutionalized, Suicidal Tendencies I take that as a no. How can I make myself happy? Hold on Loosely, 38 Special Bwaahaahaaa What should I do with my life? Photograph, Def Leppard Well, what community college does not offer photography courses? Perhaps I should enroll this next semester. What's the worst that could happen, I start taking good pictures? What

So I am pretty much through packing. I think I should write a book on the art of packing using Ziploc baggies. They are so very handy. Actually, I use them for pretty much anything. But, for packing, nothing else will do to put my toiletries and such in. Believe me, I have more than once, not then knowing the power of the Ziploc, opened my luggage to see clothes oozing with facial cleaner or body lotion. They even work beautifully for the smaller pieces of clothing, especially Mr. Personalty's stuff. That way, I can overpack even more! I am a serial overpacker. Only one trip did I not overpack, and I regretted it the entire trip. It was when Hubba-hubba faked me out and instead of taking me to Vegas, took me to San Francisco instead. He was planning on proposing, and it was very sweet that he tried to pull a switcheroo on me, but yet a little annoying at the same time. I found out the night before or something like that, so only had inappropriate clothes that were clean.

So I recently made my pilgrimage to Sephora, gift card in my sweaty palms. I walk through the doors, and I am greeted perfunctorily by a young woman who is simultaneously carrying on a conversation into her little headset. I know exactly what I am looking for, and head right to the LORAC display. Crap, they have every mascara color except for black. As headset woman is the nearest employee, I go up to her and ask if they are out, or if they might have more. I know that with the power of the headset, she may be able to speak with the people in "the back" to double-check supplies. Based on her reaction, that was a big mistake on my part. She looked annoyed with me, and huffily walked over, checked the same part of the display I did, and declared them to be out. Ok, I then asked about a comparable mascara, as they NEVER seem to have the black LORAC in stock whenever I go and I am getting rather sick of it. She is talking, although I am not sure to me, another employee on t

So yesterday, we spent a lovely morning with Amy and her beautiful children, Isaac and Vivian . Now this was our second meet-up, so it was nice not to have the jitters of meeting a new person while I was getting ready. I already knew that Amy doesn't consider me a freak, because I am assuming if that was so, a second meeting would probably not have been forthcoming. This time it was so much more fun because we met at a park, and the kids were able to play independently for long stretches of time while we chatted. Last time we met at a mall, and it just seemed like there wasn't quite enough to keep the children occupied. We were able to get in about two sentences at a time before we had to deal with Mr. Personality not eating his chicken or other such distractions. Amy is still the lovely, kind person I remember. Isaac is still his cutie self, and Vivian remains adorable. The kids all got along wonderfully, and I think there was only one semi-disagreement the entire time.

So as I was opening my birthday gifts from my family this weekend, I realized something. I am a hypocrite. And yet somehow, I'm ok with that. You see, I got some extremely rockin' gifts, and my squeals of delight could most likely be heard down the block. I got an awesome Brighton wallet/purse thingy that is so cute I could just hang it up on the wall and never use it. I got a rather large (for me, anyway) check. I almost swooned upon viewing the Sephora gift card, visions of spending hours at those yummy displays dancing in my head. I know you are asking yourself, did Gina not, like three posts ago, complain about the rampant consumerism of Americans? That we are too obsessed with things? That we buy things to make us happy, thinking that they actually have that ability? I'll answer that for you. I certainly did. But less than two hours ago, I was feverishly looking at the Sephora website for new products in anticipation of my planned visit tomorrow. I was actually

So I think the feminist debate should forget the Mommy Wars and go after the burgeoning popularity of vaginal and labial plastic surgery. I can honestly say that never thought I would ever in my life write a sentence like that! A story in the LA Times today wrote about women who have various surgeries to "enhance" the look of their uh, outer and inner sexual areas. From tightening of the vagina to "tucking" the labia, these women take a look at porn stars and think there is something wrong with them. That they aren't attractive enough. Down there. And apparently they want it fixed. There are quotes from two women saying that after their surgeries, they felt more sexually confident. That they could now turn on the lights when being intimate with their partners. Now I have a body that is far from perfection, but even I don't demand a total black out. I am going to venture to say that perhaps the problems go a bit deeper than if your labia majora is sucked

So I just have to start off with the fact that if you Google "Gina is hot" I am #2! No, I did not Google this myself, someone else did it and found my blog that way. But still, not bad for a thirty five year old, eh? Some stupid Survivor contestant named Gina is apparently hot as well, so because she was on tv, she gets to be first. Whatever, beeyotch. Some of the concerts I have been to in the past have been rolling around in my head lately, and I thought I would compile some of them into one post. Thus the title. I am fully aware the title is not all that great, but it contains alliteration, so I am inordinately proud of myself. How many concerts I have attended: Probably over 50, if we are counting all types of strictly musical concerts. And since I am making this up as I go along, we are, as a matter of fact. The concert I am most embarassed to admit I attended: Toss up between Paula Abdul and Sinead O' Connor. Neither of them was my idea. I swear. The most

So it is beginning. I was hoping against all prudent and logical hope, that we as a family would not have to deal with this type of situation. My grandparents are getting old. I mean, they have always been “old” but now with my grandfather nearing 90 and my grandmother beginning to lose her bearings on daily life, we are going to have to step in. My father and my uncle should actually be thanking their lucky stars that intervention is required only at this very late stage of their lives. Many people have had to deal with much worse much earlier. My sister and I are agreed that perhaps a good old fashioned family meeting should be held, giving everyone the ability to voice their opinion. In fact, this Saturday, my grandmother requested one, telling me that she cannot seem to make my father believe that they need help. They want to move closer to other members of the family, as the nearest one of us is 40 minutes away. They want to downsize, get a plan in place when the inevitable

So tonight at the stroke of midnight, I turn into a pumpkin. Not just any pumpkin, mind you, but an instantly old, unhip, and unimportant pumpkin. At least according to Madison Avenue. Yes, I'll turn 35. No longer will I get to check the little box on the surveys for the 18-34 age group. I'm out. I'm lumped in with the 50 year olds at this point. Although that isn't necessarily a bad thing, I just need some time to readjust. I'm sure come tomorrow, I'll be scratching my head at the commercials and wondering what the fuss is over the Black-Eyed Peas. Well, actually I'm there already, so I'm apparently way past my prime. Am I now officially too old to have hair that goes down to my mid-back? How about pony tails? Even in my 20's, I was all about comfort over fashion, so my penchant for wearing only comfortable shoes except to weddings, job interviews, and funerals will suddenly match my age status. Do I even get any status? I think 35 is an age t

So sometimes I feel sorry for Hubba-hubba. What must it be like to live with someone such as myself? Someone, that is, who is always right? It must take some serious self-esteem building to survive as long as he has. I don't know how he does it. Perhpas he does a Stuart Smalley number on himself when I am not looking, but I have to give him credit. He has a degree and all, but what is a simple piece of paper compared to a woman who is right at least ninety percent of the time? And really, I am being hard on myself with that figure. Pefectly predicting his mother's behavior? Check. Knowing that white car is going to cut us off? Yup. The correct definition, spelling, and pronunciation of a word? Uh-huh. That the 2-for-1 sale is over and don't bother asking the clerk? Correctamundo. The proper way to make oatmeal so Mr. Personality will eat it? Ayup. The exact location of the Philips screwdriver at all times? Of course. When and where traffic will hit? Yessiree. That it is

So Hubba-hubba, lucky for me, is very into money. When I say that, I mean that he is into the particulars of money. Stock markets, bonds, savings accounts, interest rates, investments, all the different ways that money can be used. This works to my advantage, because I just let him do most of the work when it comes to making our money work. His reading rubs off on me once in a while, and I rather lazily glanced at a website he had recently visited. What it said shocked and surprised me, although I really should have been neither. It said that the savings rate for America has dropped to a -.4%! Do you know what that means? It means that since the first time since the Great Depression, people are either dipping into their savings or spending money they don't have just to live on a daily basis! The economy has been driven largely by consumer spending in the last 4 or so years, perhaps even longer. If it were not for consumer spending, the economy of the United States would m

So last week at the park, we met a vey nice woman and her granddaughter, who is only six months older than Mr. Personality. All four of us got along smashingly together, and we found ourselves talking about all sorts of personal issues after knowing each other for all of ten minutes. I don't know how we got on the subject of reading, perhaps because the park is directly across the street from the library. It turns out that she is an avid reader, and even though I used to be a bit more avid, we had a shared love of books. Isn't it amazing how much you feel you have in common with a fellow reader? We discussed some of our favorite literature, with the choices being fairly different as there is probably at least a twenty year difference in our ages. Then she made an offhand comment that two out of her three children did not grow up to be readers. I expressed surprise, and she ventured the theory that it was sort of an inborn thing. Either you liked to read from the get-go, or

So I was tagged by one of the only blogging men in my life, Anvilcloud over at Raindrops . If you have never stopped by his place, definitely swing by. His photography is beautiful, and his recipe for Sweet Potato Soup is still up. 1: Black and White or Color; how do you prefer your movies? Alas, spoiled child of Technicolor that I am, I have never really seen many b&w movies. I think I romanticize b&w movies for some reason, even though I haven't seen all that many. One of the only ones that comes to mind is "It Happened One Night" which I was forced to watch in a film appreciation class I took in college. And yes, I did learn some things in college, thank you. 2: What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death? Algebra. I was forced to take Algebra I and Algebra II in high school, and I don't think the glassy expression ever left my eyes once I entered the room. All those numbers, just sort of whirling around with no proper sense of direct

Dear Mr./Mrs. Winnie-the-Pooh Umbrella Thief, Yes, I am calling you that because it is exactly what you are. I don't care if it was lying on the ground or the floor of the train or where ever it was that Hubba-hubba was so unwise to drop it without noticing. I thought the phrase "finders keepers, losers weepers" was something that we grow out of, oh, sometime during middle school. Oh yes, Umbrella Thief, even though you stole it on Monday, I have waited until today to inform the public of the crime. Because I try to be an optimist. I try to be a glass half full kind of gal. Thanks very much for just shattering the glass with a baseball bat. Look, I know it is an awesome umbrella. I know that people love it, and they actually comment to you about it because it is so cute. Yes, about an umbrella, it nevers fails to amaze me. But did you ever think, as you were picking it up and looking it over, that it was predicted to rain in less than three hours, and perhaps the ri