Just Another Day

What is the most expensive thing you have ever bought for yourself?

Why is it that my son only has a volume range that goes from "ear-splittingly loud" to "ears-bleeding loud?" Why do I feel guilty when I force myself to throw out the little drawings and doodles that my son makes? Why won't Al Gore run? Why won't Hillary just go away? Why won't Dubya just go away, for that matter? Why does eb keep harassing me about my opinions about modern art? Why do little boys have a magnetic attraction to dirt, especially mud? Why are the Yankees losing so badly? Why does my husband not know which clothes are "good clothes" and send the boy out to play in them? In the mud. Why do plastic ice cubes taste so wrong in a drink? Why can't we just all drive electric cars and be done with it? Why does the nail polish I buy never look the same on my nails as it does in the bottle? Why, despite all evidence to the contrary, do people still think that being tan is better than being pale? Why do people still care about Britney

I volunteered to have my lovely and talented bloggy friend Liz ask me some questions, and I am happy to answer them. 1) Do you have any allergies? You know, my entire life I have been told that I am allergic to penicillin, but I read not too long ago that there are a bunch of people walking around that think they are allergic to penicillin, but really aren't. I bet you I am one of those. But, I don't think I'll be volunteering to find out any time soon. 2) If you could afford one decadent luxury that would improve your daily life, what would it be? To me, a decadent luxury would be a housekeeper. I am actually salivating at the thought of having someone else scrub the floors and fold the laundry. And listen, I wouldn't be one of those people like my sister that "cleans up" before she gets there. I'm paying good money, so she gets to do it all! 3) When you were a little girl, what did you want to be when you grew up? I distinctly remember wanting to b

For some reason, this long weekend has totally sapped me of any writing ability. My mind, people, is a complete blank. And no, smart ass, that isn't it's usual state. Anyhoo, courtesy of Threadless T-shirts , which I just found, here are some of the most awesome T-shirt graphics I've ever seen. And the titles make them even more awesome, if that's possible. Defend the Kingdom Eclipse In Case of a Zombie Attack Nothing Rhymes with Orange Haikus are Easy Loch Ness Impostor Homework Evidence In Case of Fire Robot Dance Contest And, if Mr. P doesn't shape up soon, he's going to find himself wearing this:

I would like to take the opportunity that Memorial Day presents to thank all the people who are serving and who have ever served in any of the military branches. Especially those that have made the ultimate sacrifice. And I don't feel unpatriotic at all to say that I feel that in the past few years, too many have given that sacrifice for a Commander-in-Chief who doesn't deserve their loyalty. I had the privilege of working on a study being done by the Pentagon a few years back, and hopefully I am not breaking the confidentiality clause I signed by stating that we were talking to veterans of the first Gulf War. I was impressed by their humility and sincerity, and overall, their acceptance of their mission to serve the United States, no matter what the personal cost. Ladies and gentlemen, it was an honor, and you honor me and everyone else with your service.

No, the title isn't a euphemism, it really is new music. I am posting this on a Friday night because I know that not too many people will like this song. However, I am completely blown away by it. It is not a "normal" song with a chorus and a bridge and all that type of stuff. So if you don't like experimental music, I would just move on. And, because I am lamer than lame when it comes to these types of things, the best I can do is link you to the Audiofile page on Salon, which is where I found this artist, and the legal MP3 download. There is something about this song that affects me profoundly, and I am either pregnant or PMS'ing big time, because I played it today and it made me cry. Oh, and the louder this song is, the better. Audiofile - Salon Ack! As Ortizzle pointed out, the link just now sends you to a page with a list of songs, and it is Cortney Tidwell, Eyes are at the Billions . But, it looks like you have to watch the ad to get into the site, so

How much are you shelling out for a gallon of gas?

Me: (purring) So, you know what's happening tonight, right? Hubba-hubba: Oh yeah, I'm pretty excited. Me: Good, I'm glad to hear you say that. I'm excited too. Him: But, I think I'd like to take a shower first. Me: Feel free, but just don't be late, ok? Him: Oh, I'd never be late for something like this. 20 minutes later. Me: Are you ready? Him: No, no, not quite, let me fix the lighting in here. It's too bright. Me: Yes, it is much better with the lights lower, isn't it? Him: Comfortable? Me: Yes. Him: How's that? Me: It's a little low, it needs to be higher. Him: Better? Me: Much. I can actually hear the tv now. Shhhhh, Jack is on.

Today I was driving alone somewhere, an occurence that doesn't really happen all that often these days. As I toodled along, I noticed a woman, her back to me, walking along the sidewalk. She was a tall, broad shouldered woman in a long shell-pink sweater, black skirt, and black boots. In her right hand, she clutched a logo-less brown paper bag. She had hair that was unremarkable in cut and color. And although she walked with purpose, her shoulders were bent. I never saw her face, but I knew she was no longer young. I glimpsed her for a total of perhaps five seconds. Yet, my mind could not help but wonder, who was she? Where was she walking? What was in the bag? And I began to construct in my mind the story of this woman and her stooped shoulders. She was walking back from the drugstore to the motel nearby. Her husband was sick, needed medicine, but he was the only one able to drive. She had long ago let her license lapse. So, out she went in an unfamiliar city. Even though

Hot Fuzz. Go see it. *Although blog author cannot be responsible for people who lack a sense of humor and can't get past a little blood.

I was tagged by J a long time ago (sorry J for forgetting!) and then recently by Chris for a meme about the five places I like to eat. The thing with me is that although I like food, I in no way consider myself a "foodie" who is particular about the kinds of foods that they eat. In fact, if I like the atmosphere, the location, and the food is simply good, it will qualify for me as a restaurant I like to go to. And with a four year old, it has been a loooong time since I have sampled fine cuisine. Usually I require a restaurant to serve bread. If they serve some decent bread, I'm all for it. What can I say, I am a simple woman. Seriously. Ok, you can laugh. In no particular order: 1. The Daily Grill Classic American food. Hubba-hubba and I had one of our best meals EVER at their Newport Beach location not too long ago. It may have helped that we knew the waiter and for all we know, he made the chefs prepare it especially well. We had some roasted chicken which

What color dominates your clothes closet? I won't believe you if you say there isn't one color that's more prevalent. So spill it!

Hello, hello? Is this thing on? You all are having too much fun out there, I think. Anyhoo, since I seem to be spilling with over-personal information lately, I'm going to go ahead and stick with the theme. Oh, and people who have questions coming, I'll hopefully have them by this weekend. Scene: Gina's bedroom Me: We need to do it again tonight. Hubba-hubba: (groaning) Again ? Me: Listen, this procreation stuff is an inexact science, so I'm just trying to cover all my bases here. Besides, are you actually daring to complain about it? Hubba-hubba: You had to pick the worst week to do this. I'm working overtime and I'm just tired. Me: Buddy, there is no picking or any kind of choice going on here, it has to be done when it has to be done. The romance in your tone, by the way, is killing me. Hubba-hubba: You know, I never thought in a million years that I would say this, but I think it's broken. Really, I'm not sure it works anymore. Me: You are

In the fourth grade, my teacher was named Mrs. Snow. That name conjures up some sort of jollility or joviality, none of which she possessed. Mrs. Snow was a rather morose woman, who didn't seem to exactly find joy in teaching. In fact, she gave us tons of work and seemed to revel in our not very subtle complaints. Thanks to Mrs. Snow, I developed a callus on one of the fingers on my right hand, of which the vestiges are still visible to this day. Age had not been kind to Mrs. Snow, and although she probably wasn't older than 50, she seemed to bear the years in the large puffy bags under her eyes, and in the resigned attitude of one who no longer particularly cares. I wouldn't have called her an attractive woman, and she didn't seem to care much about her looks. But the biggest thing that she was known for was the curling hair that protruded from the bottom of her chin. That must have come from the not caring about the looks, or else she had very poor lighting in he

My bloggy sista J tagged me for this meme about seven things that happened to you in your teen years. 1.Something similar happened to both J and me. In grade school, I was one of the smartest and most atheletic girls in my class. I was salutatorian of my class, vice president of the student body, and on all the sports teams. I got A's and had trophies up the yin yang. Then, I got to my private high school with its admission test and pre-admission interview, and almost everyone there was brighter and prettier and more talented than me. It was humbling to realize that I was no longer the biggest fish in the pond. 2. Well, to be honest, sex happened in my teenaged years. I don't necessarily think that it was the best move on my part, but I was in a long term relationship and in my naivete, I thought I was going to marry the guy. 3. Can you believe that the first death in my family did not occur until I was a freshman in high school? My grandfather had a heart attack and pa

If you have ever read The Little Prince , you will recognize this picture: As the author explains, an adult looks at the picture and announces that it is indeed a hat. But, any child can see that it is a boa constrictor who has just swallowed an elephant. So in that vein, a thousand pointless points to whomever can correctly guess what animals these are drawings of (and there are clues, you just may not recognize them as such):

Now that my head cold has sort of migrated south, I can at least think straight. Have you ever walked around thinking that you are on one of those moving sidewalks? You know that you're moving, but it seems like it isn't under your own power? Well, that was me for the past three days. By some miracle I managed to drop Mr. P off to school, and on the way home, I wondered if he had actually walked into class or if I had just imagined it. That's how bad I was. Anyhoo, time for the big announcement. Thanks to my wonderful doctor, my TSH levels are now perfect. And after much discussion, we are going to try for a sibling for Mr. Personality. Although I did force his hand on an "end clause" meaning that we would try for six months, and then if it doesn't happen by then, it isn't gonna. In the course of those conversations, I mentioned to Hubba-hubba that since Mr. P was conceived whilst I was on the Pill, I had no clue as to how to actually plan for a p

I'll let you in on a little secret. Because I adore Sonia so much and she asked me to be her date (a la Romy and Michelle) to prom, I broke my rule about pictures of me on the internets. See if you can find me, (gasp) almost twenty years ago, since I graduated in 1989. Just don't make fun of my horrible looking hair, ok?

The lovely Beenzzz also sent me some insightful questions, and even though I have a head cold, I'm gonna do my best. 1. How did you and hubba-hubba meet and how did you know he was the one? The story of Hubba-hubba and I is a long and rather torturous one. We met when we both worked in the Recreation Division of the same city. Our first meeting occurred when I was on the phone trying to get a day off to go to a concert, and he was escorted in by somebody as the "new hire." I said, "Hey," and went back to begging for my day off. Not very auspicious, eh? As far as when I knew he was "the one" it was a couple of years later, after disliking each other intensely, that we talked one day at one of the parks. I was leaving for the night, and he was taking over my shift. Even though we had known each other for a long time, that day marked the first time we ever sat down, looked in each other's eyes and listened. He walked me to my car, I gave him

Welcome to the "state I never want to live in" edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter. That's right, just like the fact that it isn't supposed to be frickin' 95 degrees here in May, they just don't matter! In which US state could you legally take your road kill home to cook and eat?

I have received two sets of interview questions, and the ones from J beat out the ones from Beenzzz by a mere 19 minutes, but I technically got them first, so I will do J's first. Could you give up your cell phone for a month? Absolutely. I only recently got it, so perhaps it is still a pain in the butt for me to remember to take it anywhere and that's why. I only really need it a few times a month, if that. The rest of the time, it's just gravy. Are you a dog person, or a cat person? I like both dogs and cats, but I'm going to say dog. And here, the cat people are going to peer down their noses at me, because for some reason a lot of cat people feel superior to dog people. Well you know what, I'm just gonna throw down on cat people right here. I mean, what is up with the supposed better qualities of cats? They say oh, it's because a cat chooses to love you and all that, but I'm not sure. They dismissively sniff, "Oh, a dog loves anybody that

What is the most treasured object that you own? I'm guessing that for most of you, monetary value has little or nothing to do with it.

When I was a young lass, you could find me doing all sorts of things that involved various permutations of height and speed. We have lots of amusement parks around here, and I was never one to shirk the experience of riding a rollercoaster that went upside down, backwards, whatever. Be on the balcony of something? Not even a second thought. But I find that as I age, I am becoming, in simple terms, a fraidy cat. I can remember the first time my mind screamed at me that my God, I was really high up and my God, I could fall and hurt myself. Possibly greatly hurt myself. Hubba-hubba and I, dating at the time, trekked to Chicago for ten days or so when we were 26. We were at the Navy Pier on Lake Michigan where they have this very large Ferris Wheel. Not only is this a very tall Ferris Wheel, but you have the added illusion of height from it being up on the Pier and seemingly much further from the water because of that. Now listen, I had at that point been on billions of Ferris Whee

Today, a driver cut me off. This happens often in the jungle that is the greater LA freeway system, but this one was a doozy. He decided that because the car in front of him was going too slow for his taste, that he should insert himself directly in front of me in the approximate two car length space I had from the former-car-in-front-of-me. I am not a patient driver, that is well known by anyone that knows me. But seriously, I do not cut other drivers off. I hate it when it happens to me, and I'm just nice like that. But today, for some reason, I became frustrated with this particular driver. Did I flip him off? Did I shake my fist and scream? No, I simply lifted my hand up off the steering wheel in a "what the heck?" kind of manner. You can picture it, I know you can. Then, this cutter decides to get angry and honk his horn at me as I get out of the lane and pass him. I didn't get in front of him, I merely went in the other lane on my own merry way. Like

Sonia is hosting a blog prom, wherein she is celebrating everything prom. We've already gone over prom songs, and today is the day for stories! Go check it out! In honor of that, I am going to tell you my senior prom story. It will actually mark the first time in which I have ever spoken at length about my first boyfriend, whom I dated from ages 16 to almost 20. He was three years older than me, six feet four inches tall, and had very fair skin and red hair. Thus, he will be dubbed Big Red. Big Red and I had already been dating for a year and a half when my senior prom came around, so I was glad not to have to worry about finding a date and all that. We had gone to Homecoming together, so I knew there was no way he was thinking he was too old to go to prom with me. I got my dress, a white strapless Jessica McClintock (how 80's of me, I know!) number, pressed on my pink nails since as an athelete I just didn't do big nails for more than one day, and sort of did my hair