Paging Martha Stewart...

Whew!

So, The Man and I had the big sit-down conversation today. He is changing jobs- possibly. Going from something that is salaried to something that is all about commission is giving me the heebie jeebies, but I have faith in him.

However, I am activating the JUST IN CASE scenario. So as of right now, I am looking for another job, preferably full-time....because you know, the mortgage has to be paid.

In the meantime, we are battening down the hatches, just in case things get hairy for a little while. I am scaling back on grocery shopping, which means that the dogs are getting the Costco-brand chow instead of the Iams, and The Man's Tillamook cheese is in dire jepoardy.

Also, instead of redoing stuff in the house completely, I am re-vamping instead, and completing projects that have been overdue for quite some time. Hence, the new curtain that is now hanging in the front window- I made it myself!

My charming Neighbor assures me that he can no longer glimpse me running to and fro, which means it will be much easier to avoid those pesky door-to-door vacuum salespeople. (Tip- Cut them off, tell them you have a Dyson. They'll literally throw up their hands and walk away.)

But, yes. More curtains are in the works for in the den, kitchen, living room, and our bedroom and then tomorrow heralds a new era- the living room will be primed (over the re-texturing I ended up doing myself). We've had the paint, unopened, for almost two years, people. I have been waiting for The Man to do it, all this time. Craaaaazy!

And the picture frames I have been collecting? Will be filled with pictures of actual friends and family members, instead of the generic couple that we don't know. And they will be HUNG ON THE WALL in our living room in an artful grouping for all to see.

Also on the agenda- instead of re-facing the kitchen cabinets, I am going to try a whitewash technique and switch out the hardware. We have the materials for every single one of these projects, and dammit, I am getting it DONE!
I found hardware on Ebay that I really like, and I decided to bypass the original stuff that I loved.

When all was said and done, the total for everything we needed to change out from our current hardware to the opulent Moroccan glass was about $250, and I couldn't rationalize it...and I felt that they might not be easy to clean, or stand up well to the wear and tear in my kitchen. So I went for the $40 eBay solution. I will probably break down and order the fancy stuff later for our hall and master baths- hey, 6 knobs are a lot more reasonable than the 23 knobs and 7 pulls I had to order for the kitchen!

The Man has been informed that there will be crown moldings going up eventually, and also that their are wooden boxed pelmets in the works for our window treatments. Yes, he is afraid. But he is also afraid of the idea of me using power tools unsupervised. I think it's crossed his mind that I may decide to make my own skylight or something at this point.

Can you guys tell I spent the day watching HGTV?

What the hell?

If you go into Cost Plus and get the checker who bears a striking resemblance to Pat...Seriously, RUN THE OTHER WAY.

Me: Hello!

Pat: *dour expression, wordlessly starts running my stuff through the register.*

Me: Ooooooooookay.

Pat:*holds up bracelet and sighs audibly* I need you to get me another one of these, this one has no price on it.

Me: Uh.....sure.

I come back with the bracelet. She's staring at the rest of my bagged purchases. She takes the bracelet from me and scans it, puts it into the bag.

Pat: Thirty three oh four.

I give her the money. She gives me a receipt.

Me: Thanks.

NO RESPONSE. She doesn't look at me or even hand me my bags.

Me: (again)Thanks. *pause* YOU'RE WELCOME, Goodbye!

I finally grabbed my bags off the counter and left. What the hell? She didn't even ask for my zip code, and you know, the peeps at Cost Plus live for that.

YES!!!!

OK. So, maybe uploading some chicken soup into my iPod wasn't a realistic solution.

However, I found the next best thing if you ever happen to acquire a sick iPod.

I tried it, and my little iPod is up and running once more! Woooohooooo!

arrrrgh!

My iPod is sick.

It turns on, and I can scroll and select, but nothing will play on it.

It is on the older side- a third generation. I love it to pieces, and it is killing me to think I may have to send it to the glue factory (not to mention I priced the new ones, and it's 400 bucks for a stinkin' replacement.)

What does one do with a sick iPod? Are they fixable? Do I just upload some chicken soup and hope for the best?

What the hell?!!!

I am AWAKE. I have been awake since 3AM. Crap. I am guessing that this is The Universe's way of telling me to clean the kitchen.

To which I say, "Screw you, Universe! I am watching some seriously BAD TV instead."

Slightly more uplifting!

Sorry, I know that last one was a downer. But it did help me to write about it.

In the spirit of the season, I'd like to return to my usual topics- the unbridled joy of aquisition, and my bizarre family dynamics.

I have (for now, at least- ask me again next week) mended the fences with my Mother-In-Law. On the condition that I am hosting a Christmas Eve get-together next year at our house, just for their family. It's official, I have sold out and am becoming a grown-up. She loved the scarf I had made for her, as well as the blown-glass angel ornaments I brought her back from France. It's a Festivus miracle!!!!!

Christmas Eve meant a nice dinner out with my family (as detailed earlier) and then The Man's brother and his wife showed up to hang out. The four of us exchanged presents, and I was thrilled to see my long-awaited CrockPot!

I also distributed gifts from France- Angora hats and matching pashmina shawls for my sister-in-laws, and a coffee mug with the Paris Metro map on it and a big Chocolate Euro for my brother-in-law. We guzzled champagne and took the opportunity to RELAX, which was much needed. The Man and I didn't get to bed until after one AM. Christmas morning was there before I knew it.

This was the first year my entire immediate family wasn't together for the holiday. My little brother (the one who is getting married) celebrated with his fiancee's family this year. I got a forlorn message from him half-way through the afternoon, which read: "&*^%!, I miss you guys! Hope you're having fun...without ME."

My extended family is also fragmenting- aunts and uncles were off with their married children and their grandchildren, so a gathering of around 25 was whittled down to...5 people.

Then at the last minute, my parents friends and their kids were deprived of their Christmas destination when Grandma caught the flu- and then the same thing happened to my aunt and uncle when my cousin succumbed as well. Poor Mom- 5 people turned into 11 overnight, and all the stores were closed! However, she'd done cooking on the Armenian scale, so we were all stuffed anyway.

The Man had to work. Everyone was saying how awful it was, and I just headed them off by saying, "I'm just thankful that he's on U.S. soil this year." I took our stockings over to Mom and Dad's, so I wouldn't have to open things all by myself Christmas morning.

We opened family presents- I had knit my mother a scarf per her request, and I had used recycled silk- she loved it, which was a relief. She also got an address book. Dad got three sets of John Wayne DVD's from me, and my sister got a silver bracelet with multicolored stones (brought back from Paris) and the new Madonna CD.

I got a RoadTrip for my iPod, another CrockPot (so I have to wend my way back to Macy's), white Bath Sheets, Vanilla Sugar lotion, sparkle, and shower gel, and some gorgeous "old world" glass ornaments, which I collect- among my favorites were a leopard (of course), a puffin, and a pickle. I don't care if it's a real tradition or not, i like the idea!

The stockings were stuffed to the gills too- I got a ton of double pointed knitting needles, some 80's CD's (including The Best of Dramarama), and some very large sunglasses.

Then I got to go home to clean up and change, and I couldn't resist getting into the stockings for the pets. Bear and Bosco rec'd a squeaking squirrel, a football on a rope, and a squeaky rubber high heel and a similar wingtip shoe. Bear managed to get both the football and the squirrel into his mouth simultaneously. The cat got treats and catnip mice and kitty toys, and the bird got treats and a crazy Lucite toy.

When The Man got home (exhausted- our Christmas Eve get together had gone really late!) we opened our gifts together. I got him four dress shirts and matching ties, which he'd really wanted. Then I opened my big box, and found a teeny box inside-



I am so excited! I love it. I wanted something simple that I could wear every day, and this totally fits the bill.

Then The Man put on a festive new red shirt, and I threw on some glitz and headed over to my parents place for dinner. We could both barely keep our eyes open.

Then this morning I was rudely awakened with the demand that I needed to WAKE up so we could visit his parents. MORE gifts...MORE food. Oh God!

I was blown away. My In-law's gift to me was a generous contribution to my Spinning Wheel Fund. So I went on eBay tonight and found:


I also got something that I have been asking for te last couple of years- a massaging foot soak tub. Hooray!

I feel so blessed and lucky- this has been a fantastic year, and I am sorry to see it ending. I love the fact that my family is doing well, that The Man's latest business ventures are starting to take root, that I am a sane person again without a soul-sucking job to make me crazy. I have a lot to be thankful for.

Did I mention this Christmas is still not over? We're supposed to travel to Sacramento to see my brother sometime this week. Oy!

I remember...

One the first day of kindergarten, they took roll call. I felt heartened- the guy on the list before me had an even harder-to-pronounce last name than I did. I found out later that it was a Basque name (same as mine) and those Basques seem to delight in putting together some bizarre letter combinations.

Anyway. I was 4 years old, the youngest kid in the class. Somehow, realizing that the teacher couldn't pronounce his name either made him feel like an ally. Most of my friends on the block were boys, but they were fair and freckled and seemed like a completely different species.

This kid was dark- black hair and eyes, with beautiful olive skin and rosy cheeks and a slightly crooked smile that lit up the room- when he smiled, which was a lot. I remember admiring his outfit- he had on corduroys and a red and blue plaid shirt.

Needless to say, this is the first time I can remember ever having a crush on someone. But I was a shy little girl- I just remember sort of watching him from afar as he roughhoused with the other little boys. But Mike was always different somehow.
I just remember his smile, his friendliness- there was a certain sweetness that just seemed to exude from him.

I changed schools after the third grade, and lost track of him- but somehow, in high school, I ran into him again- he was in my art class.

Aside from the obvious changes, Mike was into music like Guns and Roses, and I was in Academic Decathlon. Completely opposite ends of the spectrum. And yet, he was still adorable, and I still had a crush on him, to the point where it was almost crippling, which he was cheerfully oblivious to.

I think Art was his favorite subject, and he spent most of the time immersed in whatever project he was working on. He was really talented, and I specifically remember envying the realism of his drawings.

The last time I saw Mike, I was in college- probably a sophomore at Davis, and I was at a party with my friends in Fresno. I didn't know anyone else there. But my friends still lived in Fresno, and they were circulating and having a great time, and they'd just sort of forgotten about me.

Then this guy comes up to me- long dark wavy hair, which sort of threw me, but then there was that same smile. He greeted me, gave me a huge hug, and we caught up with what was going on in our lives- how he was going to City College, and really getting into his music. He introduced me around and made sure I was comfortable. At a college party where everyone's wasted, this isn't the norm. But that's just how Mike was.

Three days before I left for Paris, my mom called me to say that Mike was dead. She said there'd been some kind of accident in Tahoe.

To say that I was upset would be an understatement. To make matters worse, I would miss the memorial service. I looked at his obituary online, and saw posts from several of my former classmates- they all remembered Mike the same way that I did. They talked about his talents as a musician and as an artist.

Then last night, I asked my father about the details of the accident. Dad looked at me and said, "Mike committed suicide. He threw himself in front of an oncoming car.
There were four witnesses."

I held it together until The Man and I got in the car, and then I just....dissolved.

Ho ho ho!

So....Santa visited me last night, and I am willing to bet that you were all good little boys and girls this year, so I hope he was good to you too.

Here's some Christmas entertainment for you guys- feel the love!

I went out to dinner with The Man, my sister, and parents last night.

Scene: At an Italian Restaurant. "Feliz Navidad" comes on.

Me: *does the Cabbage Patch*

Sis: *holds up an imaginary lighter*

Dad: (to me) Now I know what you remind me of! I stayed at a hotel last week, and they have these incredibly elaborate Christmas decorations, and there was an animatronic Christmas figure out on my balcony.

Sis: I thought you said it was a Druid?!!!!!

*Hysterical laughter*

Me: A Druid who does the Cabbage Patch? Oh yeah, baby, that's me.

Dad: That's not what I meant!

Me: OK, Dad. I'll remember you later when I'm sacrificing the goat in my stone circle.

Dad:*mutters something about the claws coming out*

Mom:(out of nowhere) Jenna, what did you make for the get together tonight?

Me: Uuuuh- mint brownies, holly wreath cookies, spiced cider....

Sis: That must have taken forever!

Me: No, not too long. Now wait, I lied- I slaved all day over my DRUID FIRE!

*More hysterical laughter*

Dad: Yeah, HA HA, Merry Christmas...you ungrateful little cretins!

Fa lalalalalalalalalalallalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

It's Christmas Eve, people!

I am actually not out thwere shopping like a madwoman (I am inside, cleaning like a madwoman- although I may be forced to venture out to pick up some bird food and a few token desserts)

Anyway. Guys, Happy shopping (cause I know you're all out there today panicking.)

Here's to a super duper Merry Christmas!

My gift to you- 'cause a good giggle is almost as good as some heavily spiked eggnog:

The Bunnies present- A Christmas Story.

Woof woof woof, peep peep peep, meow meow meow meow meeeeooooowww.....

That's "Jingle Bells", kids. Well, at least at my house, it's Jingle Bells.

So- I went to Sephora today with my sister-in-law.

For me, Sephora is like The Promised Land. Wall to wall cosmetics, perfume, hair products.....*drool*

For her, it's like having bamboo shoots shoved under her fingernails. So she asked me to please, please be her spiritual guide and go with her.

Holy crap. Fashion Fair was freaking insane, yo.

AND Sephora? Out of everything on my Mother In Law's list. Bastards. Although there was an adorable little salesclerk who asked me where I got my necklace and who was wearing about the same amount of eyeliner as I was. He (not a typo) was hilarious, and a master of the eye-rolling to boot.

Still- I looked at all the SUV's and demon strollers, and congratulated myself on pretty much ordering all my Christmas presents online this year. I'm much too happy to have to deal with the crazy ghetto people who inhabit Fashion Fair mall. Especially at holiday time, when all their yuppie relatives come to visit.

Also, *insert evil laugh here* Alan's dad? For Christmas? Asked for ammunition. I swear.

I was aghast, but The Man said, "Oh, I'll just go to WalMart and pick that up on the way home from work tomorrow."

I didn't say, "You're going to WalMart? The day before Christmas Eve? You must be insaaaaaaane." I just gave him a pretty little smile and kept my trap shut. Hahahahahahahaaaaaa....I can't wait 'til he gets home to hear how that went. Although, I'm thinkin', big huge tall guy buying ammo at the Wal-Mart while wearing military uniform...people will probably just get out of his way.

Meanwhile, there's nobody I am mad enough at this year to use my "DIY escargot kit" idea on. But if there's anyone you know who deserves a box of live snails this holiday season, please feel free to use the idea yourself.

Baby pictures!

THIS reminds me.

I just got a picture of my brother's new puppy (actually, the new pup he got for his fiance) in my email yesterday.

Are you ready for this?



I defy you not to say "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" when you see this picture.

How to tell when you're in a really, really, really good mood.

Dude.

"Maniac" came on the radio, and I just did the little dance.

That's right, THE little dance.

No, not the one with the shower. (thank God, 'cause it would have really messed up the carpet)

The other one. The off-the-shoulder-ripped-sweatshirt and leg-warmers one. (Jennifer Beals was wearing these, not me!)

What the hell?

Have aliens taken over my body!!!??

Actually, as a footnote, I think Jack 105.9 is channeling its inner stripper. After Maniac, they played Magic Man by Heart.

No, I didn't dance to it. Mainly because there is no stripper pole in my living room.

Hello, My Name is Secret Squirrel

Otherwise known as the individual formerly known as "my buddy". I'll let y'all know what Secret Squirrel thinks of her new name.

I know I have been quiet. I have been baking cookies and cleaning the house. And I am definitely going to knitting tonight.

Stop laughing!

*sulk*

I actually cleaned out my makeup archives today. I filled an entire freaking grocery bag, people. The big paper kind. I actually unearthed product which dates back into the mid-nineties, including all that horrible Dermablend "bridal spackle" I wore for the big day (seriously, I felt like I had to apply it with a caulking gun)- all pitched!

So Neighbor, if you see any drag queens dumpster diving over here, you'll know why.

My makeup case is the only place where makeup is now stored. Granted, the makeup case is one of those "train case" deals, and it's roughly the size of a Buick. (Only half full, I swear!) But it still counts as cleaning. Dammit.

And I am going somewhere instead of watching the new Project Runway. I shall have The Man record it, since we still live in the Dark Ages and don't have a TiVo.

Random advice: When you order Sesame Chicken from the Chinese take-out place, eat it all then. Leftovers are not adviseable. Bleah!

Making Cookies

That's right, beeeeeyotches. I'm making cookies.

Although in my head, it sounds like an SNL sketch- "Maaaking Coooookies...the Cookiemeister." Aren't you glad I shared that with you? Try to get it out of your head now. HA!

We'll see how many of the little suckers survive to see Christmas Eve......

In other news, I have been selected to help Santa fill stockings this year. My brother is spending the holiday with the family of his fiancee, and she just realized that that means- ONE stocking left.

So in the interest of making Santa's life easier, my stocking (yes, and The Man's, as well) are travelling over to Mom and Dad's house.

Forget the medal- give me a halo!

Overheard at Mom & Dad's

Yes, I was a good little girl today, and helped my parents to take the gi-normous fake Christmas tree out of the attic- and helped decorate it. I so deserve a medal. (OK, they took The Man and I to a movie- and bought us dinner. Medal not necessary.)

Mom: Did you get my Christmas list yet?

Me: Um- No.

Mom: Well, Dad said he would send it. He put it into his blueberry.

Me: What?!

Mom: Wait, that's the wrong color....

Me: His Blackberry?!

Mom: Yeah, that's it.

Dad: Um, actually, it's a Treo.

Later on....

Dad: Well, I want to see King Kong.

Mom: *makes face* What about Walk The Line?

Dad: What about you Jen?

Me: Um- I could go either way. I 'm the swing vote, so I'm holding out for a bribe.

Dad: Such as...?

Me: A pony and some real estate.

Conversations with my TV

Victoria's Secret Commercial: "Give me everything I want...and nothing I need..."

Me: Because we all know that underwear is optional....but being a stupid whore is forever.

The Man: Bhahaha! You better blog that.


Coincidentally, this is post #100! (And I still haven't blogged Paris- Day 3- I know, I am sitting around, slacking and mocking underwear commercials. Muuahahahaaaa!)

Kill Santino. (And Adam Corrolla, while you're at it.)

So, I get all freakin' domesticated yesterday. And then The Man happened to mention that what his mom wants for X-mas is a...handknitted scarf. So I started on that- and then....Project Runway came on.

Ooooooh, how I loves me some Project Runway! The inflated egos. The backstabbing. The designs that are great when they're good, but are somehow even better when they're hideous. And...the hissyfits. Hearing a grown man scream "Where the hell is my CHIFFON????!!!!!" in falsetto agony is...well, hilarious.

Time stops when Project Runway is on- ask The Man. I gave him The Hand and shushed him, just for trying to talk to me. Yeah, I know I need to chill.

Um- Paris, Day Three will be posted later today. I swear!

Paris: Day Two

IMG_0520
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Crazy busy day. It was a Sunday, so admission was free to the Louvre. We woke up early and headed first over to Notre Dame, where we were excited to see the Christmas decor and hear part of mass.

Of course, it was early and still dark, so many of my pics are dark and I couldn't use a flash. The staned glass wasn't lit, so it was hard to see, but for that, the pictures of St. Chapelle later on will more than make up for it.

On the way to Notre Dame, we passed this bizarre courtyard Christmas display featuring some igloos (if you're looking at the pics and wondering what the heck was going on.)

Notre Dame was beautiful. We had a mamorable exchange outside with a guy who only spoke French, and when he asked us if we were Catholic, I said, (unthinkingly)"No, we're Americans." This cracked us all up.

There's a gorgeous Nativity scene within Notre Dame that I got a picture of- there were already parishoners there, so I couldn't take flash pictures, so there are very few pics of this place.

We were disappointed to see that the baby Jesus had been removed from the manger, and outside, people had stripped the ornaments from the Christmas tree as high as they could reach, despite barricades placed around it.

We finished up after hearing the introductory Mass and the beautiful, ethereal organ music. Then we headed to a cafe for breakfast.

French breakfast (petit dejuner) is basically the same every day. The meal consists of- croissant, tartine (a slim baguette) served with cream cheese or butter with jam, cafe au lait or hot chocolate, and orange juice. Needless to say, it's Dr. Atkins' worst nightmare. I loved it.

Off to the Louvre!

The pictures don't do the place justice. I should say (in my defense) that the rooms were HUGE, it was still dark out, and a lot of my pictures are incredibly dark. We were also prohibited from using flash or even taking photographs in a lot of areas- including those with the Mona Lisa.

So my photographic documentation of the Louvre is a lot of the outer areas, the Egyptian exhibits and the sculpture. But like I said, it's dark.

We had a truly vile concoction in the Louvre, known as a Croque Monsieur, which would probably have been decent if it hadn't been previously frozen and then partially reheated. This was during our break halfway through- the Louvre took most of the day to see everything.

We nibbled at our nasty sandwiches and I filled out postcards to send to the addresses that I could remember off the top of my head. Thus fortified, we went off to see the rest.

Around four, we ended up back at the hotel with our feet killing us, and we actually took a nap. Reviving around 8PM for dinner, we headed out to the Eiffel Tower at night to take the elevator to the top.

I should say (for those of you who don't understand the blurry photos) that I am an amateur photog, at best. And surrounding all the Parisian attractions there are- well, people. Tourists, regular Parisians, and-

Well, I am guessing the people who were rioting a few weeks back. While I was trying to snap the nighttime shots of the Eiffel Tower, there was literally a guy behind me in the bushes, who was (from the sound of things)peeing.

The rest of these random people were pretty agressive, trying to sell souvenirs to the obvious tourists among us (of which, I was one).

If you stopped for a minute, there would be a guy accosting you and trying to sell you a light-up eiffel tower or keychains, saying things like "Lady, Lady! Wait- You are American yes? Look- Il s'illume! ("It lights up!")Look- Bling bling!"

Yes, I swear to god, they said bling-bling. I got a lot of mileage out of pretending to be blind and deaf and saying, "Non, merci, je ne comprend pas", which neans no, thanks, I don't understand.

I have to admit, I was definitely underwhelmed by the journey to the top of the Eiffel tower. It probably would have been better during the day, although seeing the lights of the city at night were impressive- but at night, it was freezing cold and windy, and full of incredibly rude tourists.

Would you believe me if I said that someone literally used her four-year-old child as a battering ram to clock my Buddy upside the head and take her spot? Because that actually happened!

We were exhasted at the end of the night. Pictures to document the day's adventures are here.

What a long day.....but we had to build up our strength, because the Next Day- DISNEYLAND. Paris style!

Paris- Day One

IMG_0469
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Oh MAN.

We got off the plane at 8 AM, exhausted and generally suffering from big-time culture shock.

Once we stashed the bags at our hotel, we were told that we couldn't get into our room until after noon- so we grabbed the camera and did some sight-seeing, and had brunch at a nearby brasserie- a cheese omelette. It was seriously one of the best things I have ever tasted!

That's one thing I should definitely mention- we had only one bad food experience, and we ate in a different place every single meal of every single day. In Paris, the restaurants are everywhere, and they cannot survive unless the food is sublime, or if they'll cater to the tastes of tourists.

We learned (after the one bad experience) that if there were hot dogs or hamburgers prominently displayed (in English) on the menu, we probably shouldn't even go in.

The first place that we went to explore was Cimetière du Père Lachaise, which is evidently the most fashionable final resting place in all of France.

Many major French artists are there, as well as Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison. We couldn't locate the Lizard King's grave- however, judging by the graffiti on the monuments nearby, we came pretty close.

I had a hard time shaking the insane feeling that we were in some kind of a macabre Disneyland. Everything in Paris is beautiful, with a stunning attention to detail, and an awe-inspiring patina of age.

Here in the U.S., it's a big deal if real estate is 100 years old. There- well, everything is at least that old, or significantly older.

At noon on the dot, we headed back to the hotel and crashed with a resounding thud. We were dead to the world until about 5PM, when we awoke and decided to check out the Eiffel Tower (our hotel was very nearby) and walk around and search out the place for dinner.

You've already heard a little about out dinner the first night. In any case, a French restaurant that can mess up both steak & frites and a creme brulee is seriously in over its head.

We were too late to take the elevator up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but we got some fantastic photographs from the ground. The little white lights are actually twinkle lights- they sparkle for ten minutes at the hour, and it's absolutely breathtaking to watch.

You know all those things that you hear about the snotty French people?

I admit, in some cases, they are right on the money. Here though, is an example of something that would never happen here in the U.S.- at least not in a city the size of Paris.

My buddy and I got out a map as we were walking through a park on the way back to the hotel. Some guy in his 30's was walking by with his wife, and he asked if we were lost.

We said no, but he came over and checked the map, made sure we were going in the right direction, and even said that we could follow he and his wife to their car, which was near the hotel, and they'd point us from there. Then he mentioned that it was so near- they'd be happy to give us a ride. (!)

We didn't accept, but thanked them for their help. I was completely blown away. I will say, the younger people were generally much more friendly than the older ones- and were so openly shocked and pleased when I would attempt to communicate with the high school French.

Most of the French I encountered could speak English quite well- we had no trouble making ourselves understood pretty much everywhere we went. So we ended our first day feeling pretty confident!

If you'd like to sight-see along with us in Paris, the pictures I took on our first day are here. Enjoy!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

Wow.

I got back late last night. In a bizarre twist, the odd hours that I keep while syncing with The Man's schedule worked perfectly with the time difference from France. NO jet lag! Which is a good thing, since I am one of the unlucky few who cannot sleep on airplanes.

France is beautiful. The people are, for the most part, great, although I would like to round up about 10% of the Parisians, bind them up in their fur coats, gag them with their berets, and throw them in the Seine. But I digress.

I had a wonderful time, which I will go into detail about later. I am downloading photos as I type. But it's so good to be back in the good old USA. I had to override a strong urge to kiss the tarmac after we disembarked in Washington DC. (This may have had something to do with the French family who sat behind us- the shrieking one-year-old and the seat-kicking three-year old were uh, an experience.)

Coming home was wonderful. There are no words for it. I missed my husband, my home and the animal crew, my friends and family, more than I could ever have believed possible.

I got to the Fresno airport at about 9:30 after 14 hours in airplanes (not to mention layover time!), and the sight of The Man in white pickup truck was one of the most fantastic things I have ever seen.

Then I came home, and realized that he had actually not trashed the house- but he had CLEANED the garage and office, thrown away any and all incriminating pizza boxes (although, I noticed some Weinerschnitzel napkins lurking about) and put up my pointsettia wreath on the door.

Then I got into the kitchen, and realized that my NEW STOVE has arrived and been installed. My cup runneth over!

I am currently baking banana bread in said stove, listeing to Brian Setzer sing Christmas carols, and unpacking Christmas paraphanalia in preparation for decorating the house interior and trimming the tree.

I had lots of fun. But it's SO good to be back!

Hello, My name is ______________

So.

My Buddy (the one I am going to France with) wants a new name on the 'ol blog. "Buddy" is evidently not doing it for her.

I suggested "Fedora Puffypants", but we agreed that's actually what we call her ex-husband, and is therefore inappropriate. Or, at least, inaccurate.

Perhaps something will reveal itelf when we are both in la belle France?

Of course, you guys are also welcome to make suggestions.

Chick, Interrupted

How the hell do we have so much laundry?

I seriously don't understand it.

The Man: What did you do all day?

Me: I did laundry.

TM: Oh good, I am almost out of uniforms.

Me: What uniforms?! I washed everything in the hamper and the sorter!

TM: I don't think they're in the hamper or the sorter.

Me: Well, where the hell are they? Maybe up your ass?!

Ok, this didn't happen word-for-word. (The Man is reading this over my shoulder- just play along, OK?)

Anyway. Yes. I definitely need a vacation.

I love Paris een zee Springtime...

So, I should tell you that the weather in Paris is, uh, scaring me. Highs are going to be in the 40's when we are there. I hate being cold. What the hell were we thinking?

We should have just cut out the middlemen and gone on a dogsled expedition through the arctic tundra.

I am still excited, though. Eskimo chic is a good look for me. Although, I am thinking that all of my cute shoes are not going to fly. Everything I have is sparkly and open-toed, made out of suede, or has 4 inch heels. I did however, manage to score some Doc-Martinesque (actually 9 West) waffle-stomper combat boots. Good lord, those are going to take up a lot of room in the 'ol suitcase....

I know I have not been posting- I am trying to ensure that The Man does not starve while I am gone, and am packing and stocking up on sweaters and knitting up a storm, and have I done any holday shopping yet? NO.

Because....NOBODY HAS GIVEN ME THE DAMN LISTS!!! WTF, people?

I leave at the crack of dawn on Friday morning, leopard luggage and horrible passport photo in hand. Can you tell I am excited?! And that I have no attention span?

stream of consciousness

Me: How's San Mateo?

Her: Well, the driving sucks. These people seem to have the mentality that NOBODY is getting into the same lane as their car.

Me: If you were in a convertible going 90 miles an hour with the top down, they'd get out of your way. Seriously- I've tried it.

Her: Maybe that's it. They take one look at my mini-SUV and think, "Screw you lady! I'm not letting you in- you don't even have a roof-rack!"

Me: You know, not having a roof-rack automatically makes you a Communist.

Her: That's right- I'm a pinko communist non-roof-rack-having affront to society.

Me: A shining example of everything that is wrong with America today. You are going to SUV Hell if you don't buy a roof-rack.

(We crack up)

Me: What were we talking about? I can't remember.

Her: Are you going to Breakfast Club on Thursday? You know, we leave for Paris at 4 AM.

Me: I am going. Wild horses couldn't stop me.

Her: I am going to pass...even though Judd Nelson was my naughty boyfriend.

Me: Was? He is still naughty, dammit- albeit in a much more Republican way.

Her: Republicans can still be naughty!

Me: Did I say he wasn't naughty?! NO!

Her: Why are we arguing?

Me: Beats the hell out of me.
_________

The conincidence is staggering- Today is actually Judd Nelson's birthday. Happy birthday Judd! I had a huge crush on you when I was about 12- until my sister pointed out the habitual flaring of your gigantic nostrils.

No more TURKEY!

Good lord, people. What is the deal with the turkey?

I know I am not alone here. I am all about the side dishes, I could give a rat's hiney about the stupid turkey.

I know. Blasphemy! But now I no longer have to suffer in silence.

OK, so Thanksgiving was great, although there was a minor incident involving the unbaked, and therefore liquid, pumpkin pie filling (Fuck you Whirlpool and your back-ordered oven parts!)and me screeching around a corner in my (previously unbesmirched by squash products) beloved car.

We all know what happened next, right? Because you know, this is me, and evidently, I didn't put the lid on tightly enough.

I actually drove to my parent's, where I broke the news and my brother hosed out the car. (Bless him.) The I actually drove back home and made MORE pumpkin pie filling, and the pie was pronounced "perfect" by those who consumed it.

I also managed to create a new family hit- this recipe for the sweet potatoes is THE BOMB. Granted, it has roasted garlic, parmesan, rosemary, and enough butter to kill a small goat, so I hardly see how it could go over badly.

And now that I have mentioned the killing of livestock, I am going to take a break. Buddy and I are going out to lunch- we shall discuss the upcoming France trip! Of course, it will rain and snow the whole time we are there, but it's French rain and French snow, which will make it OK, even though it will still make my American hair as frizzy as hell. More later.

Deep thoughts by ...well, me.

If the thought that springs into your head is:

"Damn it's hot in here! Hotter than Satan's panties!"

You're probably a little loopy.

You're probably a little loopier if the next thought is:

"Well- scratch that. Satan probably goes commando."

"Mah colors are Blush and Bashful."

Dear Lord, have mercy on me.

I am making Grandma's sacred recipe for pumpkin pie. This, by itself, may require divine intervention.

However, the issue that I covered in this post was definitely tragic foreshadowing. And no, not the MIL thang (I still haven't apologized- Thanksgiving with the in-laws isn't happening. Boo Frickin HOO!)

As of this evening, my future sister-in-law has officially asked me to be a bridesmaid in the wedding. So I ate a Hershey bar (the result of blind panic) to set off the Thanksgiving Rebellion, and as of Friday, I am going to become one of those boring people who watches what they eat and goes to the gym more than once every six months.

Tomorrow, I'll eat a slice of my birthday cake and the stuffing and the Armenian food and the whole shebang, but on Friday it's- well, pardon the pun, but the phrase "cold turkey" comes to mind.

I know. I feel like I'm selling out, too. But I am really tired of taking photographs and finding new and creative ways to disguise my double chin, not to mention not even wanting to deal with the full-length shots.

So- I have until the end of September to lose...50 lbs. That would put me at a place where I feel much more comfortable, and while I still will likely be the biggest girl in the lineup, I will at least not equal two of anyone. And bless her heart, the future bride wants the dresses to be either sapphire blue or a deep red, with an A-line skirt, so it will at least be flattering. (Note- after looking at bridesmaid dresses online, it looks like they all have jewel names for colors this year. So it would be "sapphire" or "ruby" bridesmaid dresses. I don't know why I felt the need to share, but there you go.)

I can do this- I've done it before, I can do it again. Now, off to make pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes. The irony is killing me.

Frito Toecheese-er-son (AKA Shouty McGee), Hacky McPhlegm, and The Giggler

Ok- so last night, The Man and I decide to go see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Yes, again! I love it THAT much!) before we go out to dinner.

We were actually going to see Walk the Line, but the timing didn't work out well for us.

So we go into the theatre, which is pretty full for 6PM on a school night, and find a decent place with nobody sitting directly ahead of us, or behind us. I remember looking apprehensively at the families nearby with the three and five year olds, but they seemed to be handling everything well.

At some point during the previews, the three most annoying people in Fresno (if not the entire world) sat directly behind us. Because we are Those People, evidently.

Hacky McPhlegm: COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*hack*WHEEZE*

OK. The guy is directly behind me, he sounds like he has serious bronchitis and/or pneumonia, and he is not covering his mouth in any way. Do not ask me how I know this. Yeah. EW.

The Giggler: Honey, are you OK?

Hacky: *COUGH*rattle*WHEEZE*hack*hack*

At this point, The Man looks over at me, and I give him a pained smile. Ok, it's a pact- we are freebasing the AirBorne as soon as we get home. The trailer for Happy Feet comes on.

Shouty McGee/Frito: Dude, Fuckin' PENGUINS, Man!

The Giggler: *giggle*giggle*whisper*whisper*

Hacky: Cough*COUGH*cough*snarfle*COUGH*

At this point, the glares from the surrounding audience, most with small children in their custody, were definitely detectable. This is also where I realize that there is some stank ass odor in our general vicinity. I look at The Man again, and he indicates the large pair of UNSHOD feet protruding though the seats next to his head.

So yeah, we moved up three rows. And really really enjoyed the rest of the movie. And then we came home and took really hot showers, and I washed my hair. Twice.

It's official!

I'm 21! (again)

I was dealing with a two-day migraine last night, and was sort of dreading feeling like crap again today, so I convinced the long-suffering Man to take me to Starbucks as a last resort.

The Man: Can't we just make coffee here?

Me: Can you make a Grande Nonfat Peppermint Latte?

The Man: Ok- hold on. I think I have something that will make you feel better.

I stay put, waiting for the sexual innuendo. Instead, The Man comes in with a ridiculously huge box from Bombay Co.

Me: EeeEEEeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeeeeee!



I love this thing. It's like the dollhouse I never had as a kid- but for all my jewelry. The Man gave me a home for all my sparklies- and they all moved in last night. Even the fake stuff(which means, about 99% of the jewelry I own) seems to be very comfy in there. Crap- I've got a ton of earrings!

We are now going to Claim Jumpers for lunch.

Yes, I feel very, very lucky- keep in mind that he's making up for missing my last birthday, and the one before, he was leaving for Q'atar in two days, so it was pretty subdued. I freely admit that I am milking this one for all it's worth!

Update #1-

I actually got a new item for the jewelry chest from my splendiferous pal, Desi- thanks lady!:



Update #2-

Shortly after returning from Claim Jumpers (soup & salad, mmMMMmmmmmmm) these showed up:



Yes, I am getting spoiled. The man is actually physically restraining me from doing laundry, which is surreal.

Stay tuned for periodic b-day updates (at least, until I get too drunk to type.)

The Sorting Hat says...

The sorting hat says that I belong in Gryffindor!

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those with brave deeds to their name."

Students of Gryffindor are typically brave, daring, and chivalrous.
Famous members include Harry, Ron, Hermione, Albus Dumbledore (head of Hogwarts), and Minerva McGonagall (head of Gryffindor).

Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

Give a Hoot..Don't Pollute

What the feep is the deal with Hooters?

Maybe I have covered this before, maybe I haven't.

I dislike Hooters, not so much because OK. Hooters is skanky, (It just IS!) but because of the whole stupid double entendre with the owl. Those of you who know me have probably heard this before. But it makes me want to go out and start a rival restaurant called "Peckers". Our mascot will be a woodpecker with a three-foot long beak, and the servers will all be attractive, male, and wearing really tight pants to show off the goods.

Anyway. The Indian restaurant that Buddy and I go to (Masala- really really good, and if you live in Fresno, I strongly suggest that you go and have some chicken tikka masala) is unfortunately located a few doors down from the local Hooters. On more than one occasion, we've passed women outside the Hooters (I assume they are wait staff) who are evidently hula-hooping in their underwear. Okay. Yeah- it's all about the owls!

So. Buddy and I leave Masala, and aside from the general dregs of maledom who are lurking around the general vicinity, there's a bunch of random middle-aged guys who are congregated, with chairs, and are sitting in the middle of the parking lot- right outside the Hooters.

This is a crowded, busy lot, with lots of traffic. My friend's car is parked right behind these guys. We start to back out, and we come pretty close to them evidently, because one of them suddenly jumps up and pounds repeatedly, really hard, on the back window of my friend's car and screams a bunch of abusive language at us.

Naturally this scares the bejeezus out of both of us, and since, quite frankly, these morons could be hanging out in the Hooters with the hot wings and the double D's, it pisses us both off. So my buddy throws some profanity back out the window and we drive off.

In the meantime, I whip out my cell phone and dial information to get ahold of Hooters. I figure that they should know that they have some potentially drunk idiots who are sitting in the middle of the lot out front for no apparrent reason.

After speaking with a very confused-sounding girl named Naomi, the guys out front were the manager of Hooters and a patron of the restaurant who had fallen (inside the restaurant?!) and were out waiting in the parking lot for an ambulance.

Since there is plenty of outdoor seating and a large patio area with benches where they could wait...I guess it just seemed like a good idea to sit in the middle of the parking lot. Because if the guy wasn't hurt and going to sue the restaurant anyway, why not challenge fate and wait for a passing car to put him out of his misery?

Frankly, I just don't get it. But then, it's Hooters- it doesn't have to make sense.

Impending doom...

Random 18 year Old Chick on Train: Um....how old are you?

Me: Uh....thirty. I turn 31 in a week or so.

R18YOCOT: Woah. I thought you were like, 23 or something.

Me: Um....thanks? I think.

OK, this may have been because I was wearing a brown stretch hoodie with "Baby" spelled out in rhinestones in the region of my right boob. (My sister and I spent the weekend trying to come up with names for the other boob.) Hey, I only wear it as a manifestation of my ironic nature- plus, I like it 'cause it's sparkly.

Several days later...

Random 22 Year Old Chick In Cafe: Um...don't take this the wrong way- but how old are you?

Me: I'm thirty. I turn 31 next Tuesday.

R22YOCIC: God- I thought you were like, 24.

Me: Nope. Definitely 30.

The mind boggles. I wasn't even wearing the "baby" hoodie that time. I guess it's good to know that zits are good for something!

But yes, I will soon be turning thirty-one, which is somehow slightly more traumatic than the big three-oh. People keep telling me that "Thirty is the new Twenty." Uh-huh.

So, if we accept the statement that 30=20, we would have to agree that
30 + 1 = 21.

Yeah! I turn 21 next Tuesday! Maybe this time around I'll be sober enough to appreciate it.

So- who's buyin'? ;)

hehe

Him: *watching preview to Chronicles of Narnia*

Mrs. McCreedy: "...There will be no running, no noise, and no touching of the historical artifacts.."

Me: "And no snorting of the cocaine!"

Him : *GLARE*

Me: "Hahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa....."

Yes. It's official. I am lame, but I crack myself up.

Ugh.

This really, really, REALLY bothers me.

My husband argues that it's the same as McDonald's being able to refuse to sell you a hamburger if you don't have your shoes on. I completely disagree- the ability to be a slob in public isn't necessarily considered a civil right, while the wherewithal to fill your prescriptions most definitely is.

Target pharmacist: "Oh- you were raped last night? And you had to go to the doctor and submit to the indignity of getting screened for chlamydia and all the other biggies- although you'll have to wait a few weeks for the AIDS test. You got this prescription for plan B? Well, that sucks. Are you sure you didn't deserve it? Because I am afraid that my special relationship with the Lord entitles me to decide whether or not you can take the pill which prevents you from ovulating and therefore potentially getting stuck with a child that you didn't want to have."

16 year old: "I can't have a kid. I was just excited that I went out with the captain of the football team. He seemed so nice, until he slipped a roofie in my drink. I can't even remember what happened! I was going to college! This isn't supposed to happen!"

Target pharmacist: "Did I mention that Jesus loves you? I hope that makes it better- remember that when the kid wakes you up at 2 in the morning when you are working double-shifts at McDonald's and have a final exam the next day."

This is standard practice now at Target, WalMart, Walgreens, and RiteAid. For something that is available OVER the COUNTER in Canada. I feel sick.

Dude. Seriously. No, DUDE! SERIOUSLY!!

OK. If you want good Italian food, go to Bella Pasta.

One of the waiters there is my new SBF (Secret Boyfriend) and if you go there, he will ensure that you eat the unhealthiest things on the menu.

Seriously.

I went there, and I was leaning towards the gnocchi with the marinara sauce, (I swear) he made me get the alfredo sauce instead. With CREAM, people. I only ate half, and sacked the rest up for later...and he came back and clucked at me disapprovingly.

And then hubby and I decided to split a piece of tiramisu, and he brought out two anyway, saying, "It's pretty light..." and only charged us for one.

Oh, and he's tall and darkhaired with big blue eyes.

/end of fairytale

(But amazingly, all true!)

Pain and suffering on the Amtrak

San Francisco was wonderful. The sis and I had fun, did much chatting and shopping and the drinking of the dirty martinis.

However, the train back to Fresno, full of the whiny little old ladies and drunken uncouth Raiders fans, is not something you should attempt with a hangover.

Suprisingly, (and thankfully) nobody was killed. Not the kid behind me who kept kicking my seat. Not the stringy little old ladies who were making rude comments about everyone else in their vicinity (except me, I have to admit. For some scary reason, I seemed to meet with their deranged approval.) Not even the 500 lb. guy in the Jerry Rice jersey with GO RAIDERS painted across his face, who kept asking me questions about the scarf I was painting and staring at me creepily in the reflection of the train window.

I think this reflects admirable restraint on my part.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

I really, really, really hate automated phone response systems.

I'm not sure which ones are the worst- the automated response ones, where they use voice recognition technology (which doesn't work) or the ones where you eventually get directed to actual people who still don't seem to comprehend what's going on.

Have you guys guessed yet that I am still not getting my oven?

I called for the bajillionth time yesterday, and they told me it was finally in, after we ordered it in September. I spent today emptying out the kitchen in the vicinity of the old stove, and planned my whole day around the delivery of this long-awaited appliance.

Then the delivery/installer guy calls me (around the time we were supposed to get the stove) and says, "Uh...it's not there. I went to pick it up, and they said your stove is on indefinite back-order."

I called Sears- the phone number that was listed on my receipt. The phone rang and rang and rang and RANG. I was beginning to suspect that my phone call was also on indefinite backorder. Finally-

"Sears, Televisions."
"Hi, I need to speak with somebody in your Oven/Range Department."
"Ok, Hold on."
Ring...ring ring ring ring......
"Sears, Televisions."
"I just talked to you- I need to speak with someone about my oven."
"Oh- they must be backed up. Let me get someone."

"Chains of Love" comes on. I hear that song in its entirety, and then most of "ManEater."
Then...Ring ring ring...
"Sears, Major appliances."
"Hi I'm-"
"I'm sorry, can you hold?" Click. Then "Maniac" came on, which seemed vaguely appropriate. I listened to most of this before I was mysteriously cut off.

I called back, and savagely jabbed the "0" until I got the (poor, unfortunate, INNOCENT) operator.

"Sears, this is Jason. How may I direct your call?"

"I don't know. I've been transferred all over the place, put on infinite hold, and hung up on. I am just trying to figure out WHEN they are going to deliver my oven. You tell me."

"I'm getting you a manager. I'll stay with you 'tel I get someone- Just a moment, please."

God bless you, Jason! Ring ring ring ring....

"Hi, this is Chris."

"Hi Chris. I'm having some issues with a backordered oven."

"Ok. I need your name and salescheck number."

"My name is Jenna, J-E-N-

CLICK. Ring ring ring....

"Thanks for holding. We are now transferring you to the Sears Home office. Please be patient."

"Home office, this is-"

In case you were wondering, this is where I lost it.

"I was JUST talking to someone about my OVEN and I got randomly transferred in mid sentence- no offense but I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!!!!!"

"Ah- OK- this must be him right here." Click.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Chris. I'm sorry, the line just went dead."

"You transferred me to the Home Office!" (I know you pressed the button, fucker!)

"I'm sorry. How can I help you?"

"Ok. Chris. What department do you work in?"

We established that Chris is in fact a manager. I shared with him the saga of my oven. I gave him the info on my receipt. He said he'd call me right back.

"Ok- and your name is Chris, right?" (HA! So you know I'm writing it down!)

Chris did call back. Chris did not have good news. The parts to make the stove we need are backordered from an overseas source. They can't make the stove if they don't have the parts. Even I have to admit this.

I can get another (more expensive, he emphasized) stove for the same price. Sounds good, but the problem here is that the stove will not fit into our counter. Instead of the standard 30" stove, ours is 28 1/2. Goddamn those scam artists at Whirlpool. So we'd have to cut the counter and do some excavating. (And in the interim. I have measured, and we don't even have the room to do that. The INCH AND A HALF just ain't there. *&%$!!!!!!!!)

Or, we can wait another month. December 3rd. So I am effectively totally screwed for Thanksgiving, and of course, that date is during my trip to France. Maybe that's actually a good thing. I don't know if I want to be there when this is going down. I asked Chris if he was SURE and he said, vaguely- "The manufacturer feels really good about December 3rd."

Somehow, I am totally not convinced, but I really don't have much choice in the matter. I made Chris promise me that he would call them, and that I would get updates. I'm not holding my breath.

GrrrrrRRRRrrRRRRrRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I am so damn frustrated. Screw this, I am going shopping.

Squeeee!

20 days until Paris...

A week until the new Harry Potter movie opens in theatres....

Two days 'til I leave for San Francisco...

And tomorrow, I get my new oven.


Woo! My cup runneth ovah!

There can be only one....but we have two.

Help us decide!

We're having a Christmas Card Photo Dilemma. (Come on- it's almost like those "Choose your Own Adventure books!)

Do you like Picture #1:


Or Picture #2: (Now with extra CHEESE! Who knew The Man actually had teeth?)


Of course, you know that this is just my sneaky way of getting you all to leave comments...Muuahahahaaaaaa!

Photo Phobia

couple 006
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

So, umm...I hate having my picture taken. Hate it. Haaaaaate it. I usually only photograph allright when I am somewhat intoxicated. Evidently "Drunk-Ass Bimbo" is a good look for me.

But The Man and I went in and got haircuts today, and he must have slipped the stylist a fifty or something, because all of a sudden, instead of the pretty, sleek blowout I usually get, my stylist whipped out the diffuser and just went to town.

A DIFFUSER, people. Like Alyssa Milano used circa "Who's The Boss."

Anyway, if you've never seen one, it looks kinda like you're blow-drying your hair with a megaphone.

While it did take some self-styling afterwards, the guy somehow re-created my high school hairstyle, and at least I don't look too much like a poodle. Woo!

So it's a few hours later. We came back from a yummy dinner at Claim Jumpers, and I am just sitting there on the couch, in my lounging sweatshirt thingie, and we've just finished watching "Girl With a Pearl Earring" (which we really enjoyed, by the way.)

Evidently, the curly hair has made The Man insane, because he started gazing at me and saying things about my "mischevious little nose" and then busted out the digital camera.

AAAAaAAAaaAaaaaaaa!

I froze. I sulked. I made faces. I threw pillows at him. I finally begged him to PLEASE allow me to cover up the chin zits, at least.

Anyway, I finally relaxed enough to take pictures where I don't look stunned, pissed off, or laminated.

Wish me luck- I have a sneaking suspicion that the Christmas photos are happening tomorrow.

If you want to see the rest of the photo session, they are HERE. You can tell that I finally loosened up and started to have fun. Yeeeehaw!

Cruelty to animals

couple 010
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Yes, we got a little crazy with the digital camera. I am NOT strangling him, I swear- please don't report us to PETA.

The photo of him not standing still is HERE.

Grrrrr

Dear Netflix,

You suck. You triple dog suck.

I feel that we are nearing the end of our relationship. Let's face it, it was a marriage of convenience, and it's just not convenient anymore.

At first, I was enamored with you. I got overnight service, dammit. I told everyone how happy I was with you. However, lately, you've become more and more distant. You're beginning to ignore me, and the longer I stay with you, the more blatant it becomes. Is this some passive-aggressive way of getting me to break up with you?

I sent back three movies last Wednesday, you didn't even notify that they are rec'd until first thing this morning... that's FIVE days. Do you think I'm stupid? You could have called, at least. I dislike having my emotions toyed with in this cavalier manner.

Then, you notify me (at the last possible second, in the late late afternoon) that you have sent out two DVD's for delivery tomorrow.

WTF, people?! Where the hell is the third one?! What kind of voodoo dolls do I have to buy??!!

OK, most women would probably be happy with two. However, I am definitely not most women, and I cannot believe that it is this hard to uh, mail something. Hello?!!!!

Fuckers. Did I mention that you suck?

Sincerely,

Jenna

Overheard chez moi/ Mood swings

Cat: Meow...meeeeoooooowwwwww, meeeooooowwwww
Bird: Meow. Meoweoweoweoweow...MEOW!
Me: Do you hear that cat? He's mocking you for being a whiny bitch.
Me: hehehehe
Bird: Hehehehehe...whee!
Me: Dammit, I will not be mocked by poultry.
Bird: Silly Silly bird! La la la la laaaaaaaaaa la...Goodbye!

This weekend: I was pleasantly surprised by Neighbor and Ferret, who came on ovah to take me out on a whirlwind Red Robin/Wheatgrass juice adventure. We also had drinkies of the alcoholic variety, and much fun was had by all.

Yesterday, went to see the parents, and my sister, who was here for a spur-of-the-moment visit. Considering that I am going to go visit her this Friday (San Francisco! Yeah!) , and then we're going to see each other for Thanksgiving...
We always have a good time together, though- I am glad I get to see her a lot.

I have a ton of errarnds to run today- one of which makes me want to rip out all my hair, because of course, the first Christmas presents (mentioned a few days ago) contains shirts that are ALL too short in the SLEEVES. 36"-37" sleeves, people. I suppose that's what I get for marrying a mutant.

Oh, and we're almost out of toilet paper. And Tofutti Cuties. Seriously, that's like a national emergency.

My stove comes tomorrow! Woohooo!

I also have a dentist appointment, but I am trying not to think about that right now.

Buddy wants me to go with her to yoga tonight. I have never taken a yoga class. Somehow, I think that yoga and wheatgrass all in the same week might be overdoing it. Plus, I don't know if I can get behind an activity that doesn't require shoes.

My eyeballs hurt.

So yeah, the guy is guilty. I think we deliberated for less than 12 minutes, voted unanimously, and spent the rest of the time discussing how one of the attorneys looked sort of like like a younger, much taller, Randy Travis.

Another random observation- I am breaking out like crazy. I turn THIRTY ONE in a few weeks, people. WTF?! Stop the insanity!! (Zit fairy, please chill out.)

Speaking of squirrel fornication...

Anyone been to Courthouse Park lately? (How's that for a segueway?)

Watch those squirrels. Seriously, those bitches are fearless. They will carjack you and remove your kidneys and sell them on the black market for hickory smoked almonds and crack cocaine. While humping your leg. Hey, I'm just sayin'.

I had jury duty today. My first ever summons. BOOOOOO!

Evidently, I appear to be a. easily influenced, b. a productive member of society, and c. a sentient being (well, sort of). Because you're looking at the immortal words of she who is now known as "Juror Number One."

Say it with me now: "CRAP!" I KNEW I should have worn the bone in my nose and the "I Heart Satan" T-shirt!

I can't talk about the case, (which is just as well, because I know you're all reading this at work and you'd be snoring within mere seconds and wake up drooling with the Q from your keyboard implanted in your forehead). The saving grace is that it's only a two day trial. I am the youngest person on the jury by at least a decade or so, and it's definitely some serious culture shock.

A few notable moments: I almost fell asleep during the closing arguements today. Oh and then I started watching the judge and inwardly amusing myself with his facial expressions. They are indescribable. No I mean it, but I may try to detail them tomorrow just for the hell of it.

Eh- I also went and blew some $$$ on my first Christmas gift of the season. I actually better wrap and hide before the man comes home, since it's for him.

Oh, and the guy I asked for his male input in the store said to tell Alan that his Christmas gift is "approved by a Marine Drill Instructor." That's right- it don't get much more butch than that, kids. Unless he was like, a green beret/mule skinner or something. Do they still make those? (Uh- did they ever make those?)

In the interest of shameless self-flattery, he also complimented me on my great taste in gifts and my fashionable shoes (Knee-high square toed black leather boots with three inch heels, baby! I mean, who wouldn't love those?)

Ok. Well, Angela calls them my "drag queen boots." But I think that the drag queen factor just magnifies their infinite fabulosity. Besides, they are not platform (well not much), and they totally lack sequins. So there. You're just jealous, ho!

Welcome to the suck.

So, I am upset- mostly about stuff that I have no control over. But anyway...allow me to share some of this crap with you.

My husband informs me that we are uninvited to his family holidays, because his mother feels that I slighted her in some imaginary way three years ago. Evidently we had just been assuming that we were invited to family functions for the last couple of years, since every one else in the family would just let us know.

They had this conversation when I was in Disneyland, and she apparently stated that while she agreed both of us were at fault, she wanted an apology from me, and since that was unlikely to happen, we were cordially dis-invited from all holidays from now until the end of time.

The bone of contention? When Alan was leaving to go overseas three days after Thanksgiving, three years ago, I had a chat with her about the upcoming holiday.

Jenna: "I'd like to spend time with both families- we traditionally celebrate my birthday on Thanksgiving, and everyone wants to see Alan before he goes."

MIL: "Well, if that's the case, why don't you just spend the whole day there, and we just won't see him!"

Jenna: "Uh- well, I was thinking, Alan said you'd be having a dinner for Thanksgiving, and my family usually has a lunch. You guys only live 10 minutes away from each other. We thought we'd go to my family's until the early afternoon, and then spend the rest of the day with you."

In my memory, she agreed to this readily. I asked Alan if he remembers it this way, and yes, he agrees that my version is what he heard at the time, and that I am not going crazy.

Her version? That I lied to her. Somehow she latched onto "spend the rest of the day with you" and turned that into, "Oh yes, well then, we will spend the entire day with your family, and not see Jenna's family at all, because we agree with your asessment that they are baby-eating Satanists who fornicate with squirrels."

OK, so I would apologize just to shut her up. The problem? I am not making up anything to apologize for. I am not going to tell a lie to sanctify her insane notion of the truth. There is just a limit to the craziness, y'all. I have tried repeatedly to make this woman happy, and have been rebuffed and insulted at every turn.

I even invited my father in law to a clandestine lunch when my husband was overseas to discuss "The Thanksgiving Incident" and any means I might take to reduce the fallout. He admitted that it had been totally blown out of proportion, and then added sheepishly that he likes me and was glad I was part of the family, and then swore me to secrecy that the meeting had ever taken place.

I have just come to the conclusion (after much angst and upset howling of "what the hell am I supposed to do?!" to my husband, who just shrugs helplessly) that I intimidate her, and she doesn't want me around, because my presence reminds her of things that happened before I was born or thought of.

The gist of that sordid story is that evidently her in-laws (who were, by all accounts, a lot like my parents) didn't want her as a part of the family and treated her like crap.

She talks about how horrible they were to her all the time. The fact that she's treating me just as badly had evidently escaped her notice completely. And may also be the reason that when she met my parents, she was so defensive that she immediately verbally attacked my father.

Yet, I still feel bad that we don't get along. I love my husband, his family is important to him, and hell, I love them too. I don't know- should I just lie, and make her happy?

The worst part? Alan says that one of her techniques is to come up to you, magnanimously and out of the blue, and say, "I forgive you". For something that she has imagined in her CRAZY BRAIN.

I swear to god, that better not happen to me. I just might lose all control and punch her in the face. That'd be a Christmas to remember!

In other news- I went on the treadmill today and yesterday, and aside from a minor skirmish with some renegade potato chips, I am doing well. AND...I am working on the book. Seriously.

AND- I have decided how we are going to finish our courtyard, AND what colors we are painting the rooms in our house.

And...there's a hideous chance that I am going to be a bridesmaid in September. Or would I be a bridesmatron? (ICK.)In any case, I would probably be in a line-up with a bunch of 23 year-old physically perfect sorority girls AND my darling little sister. In strapless dresses. Oh, and be obliged to walk down the aisle with a frat boy who just might be half my age and have hair like an electrocuted hedgehog. So, on one level I am flattered and thrilled, and on another, deeper darker more nefarious level, I fear that the sheer terror of this nightmarish juxtaposition may cause me to vomit uncontrollably at intervals until then. (The horrible thought I just had? Involuntary bulemia might actually be a plus.)True, I could say no- but that's just dumb and selfish, not to mention chicken.

Oh, AND?! (This is the best part, although if you've read this far, I feel for you) When she (my brother's sweet fiancee) asked my mom if she thought my sister and I would like to be bridesmaids, Mom thoughtfully gave me an out. What out did she give me, ladies and gentlemen? "Well, Jen's thinking about starting a family....so that might be a complication."

Do I need to say that the pressure is officially ON?! Oh god, I am going to be a humongous, knocked up, frat-boy fraternizing, satin-clad beachball. In elbow length gloves and matching Dyeables. Eat your heart out, John Waters. (And no, I'm not pregnant, I just have an evil imagination- in case you haven't figured that out by now.)

I'm sorry. I may need to find a deserted closet and have a good cry.

It's all about the 'ween...

halloween 017
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Last night was most definitely fun- Cinderella and Batman were definitely the most popular costumes of the night, although my favorites were the pint-size Dracula and the incredibly shy little girl who was dressed in a leopard outfit.

We ran out of candy at 8:30 PM. Much fun was had by all.

In other news, spent the last weekend in Disneyland- which was, well, still Disneyland. On Saturday night, we went to go see Bauhaus, which was AMAZING.

I saw Peter Murphy more than 10 years ago when he came to Fresno, and it was good, but this was wonderful. I am glad we went to see them live. For a bunch of old guys, they kept it together and rocked pretty damn hard.

OK, I am being paged- more later.

Who knew it was raspberry jam?

Movie theatre conversation #1:

Outside the theatre- watching zillions of pasty-faced guys roaming unchecked through the parking lot. Mr. Phancy approaches.

Me: Thank god you're here. It's feepin' freezing, and I am one of approximately three women here.

Mr. Phancy: I don't think any of these guys have seen an actual woman in awhile.

Me: I don't think they think of me as a woman- I think I would be designated as a "female entity."

Movie Theatre Conversation #2

The part where they are hauling Princess Vespa's 8 piece luggage set, complete with matching steamer trunk, through the desert.

Bill Pullman: (OK, I'm paraphrasing) "What on earth is in this trunk?!" *Pulls out enormous hairdryer* "GAH!!"

Mr. Phancy: This so reminds me of you. I can totally see you insisting on hauling matched luggage through the desert.

Me: Thanks a lot!

Mr. Phancy: ...except your trunk would contain several hundred pairs of sparkly platform shoes.

What can I say- the man has known me since we were fourteen years old.

Funny, you don't look Druish.

Yes, my few and loyal readers, it is almost 7PM, and I am getting ready to go to Clovis (Clovis! Clovis! Land where the rednecks roam free and drive their Chevy pickup trucks and drink Budweiser with much enthusiasm!) to go see Spaceballs on the big screen.

Feel free to envy me.

I am considering wearing Wranglers. Not only would this be an ironic gesture, it may also reduce the likelihood that the good people of Clovis will try to burn me as a witch.

Now, where did I put that NRA bumper sticker?

Overheard, Chez Moi

"Pretty Biiiiird....Good Boy Good BOY! HellooooooOOoOooooo! What? Huh? Oh. Wheeeee! Wheeeee! Peep peep peep. Kitty kittykitty...C'mere! Woooo! Wahoooooo! *SCREECH* Oh NO!Hahahahahaaaaaa...cluck cluck cluck...*kissy noises*Meeeeow, mew mew, gooooood Boooooooooy....."

Repeat, ad infinitum, until I LOSE MY MIND.

24 hours until Disneyland. Then I have jury duty on Monday. Hopefully, they'll balance each other out.

Chair Dancing Unlimited...

So, today I found 005:Out of 5- Themed Mixes. 10 different people take a theme= this week's is dance music- and they pick their fave song in that category, and thus a mix is born.

The best part? You can download it, although I am actually streaming as I type. Fun stuff!

Tonight is Stitch N' Bitch, and so I am gearing up. I've taken a few days off from knitting,and I am currently an active sufferer of SSS, which is "Second Sock Syundrome" for those of you out there who are "Knuggles" (That's a non-knitter). I knit the first sock- however, finishing its twin is an insurmountable task that just might cause me to go blind with irritation.

I actually got lunch at Mimi's with hubby and a friend today, and I think I am officially sick of the place. Let's face it, I probably go there at least once a week- it's nearby, and whatever mood I am in, they have something. Although- WTF is up with them putting Craisins and those yucky pink tomatoes on everything?

Craisins are the frooo-it of the de-ville. Seriously. I have proof. I admit it- am not a dried fruit aficianado. I do occasionally use dried apricots in my lentil soup recipe, but they re-hydrate duting the cooking process, and then basically dissolve, so I feel that they don't count. At this point, importation and refrigeration techniques having advanced as they have, dried fruit is now an unnecessary abomination, and should be done away with. Come on people- Prunes. Why is this necessary?!

I also got a good dose of common sense about the joys and sorrows of being fat. Which is something I really needed to hear, especially after the infamous Baskin Robbins incident.

I could add a couple positives: I've had people tell me (more than once) that I was wonderful to hug. Of course, that could be because of the boobs, but hey, they're part of the deal. Then of course there was the whole "Goddess" episode (see Fat Flashback #2 in here somewhere).

The negatives- The link mentions people assuming that you're pregnant- I have never gotten that one (luckily). The one that I have gotten that wasn't mentioned- Men approaching me at clubs/the gym/grocery shopping, and when I turned them down for one reason or another-(Usually sheer aggressiveness or unbridled obnoxiousness) calling me a "fat bitch". Like that's the worst thing they can possibly say. My general response was usually, "That's right- Fat bitch who TURNED YOU DOWN." Then they would slink off into the underbrush like a wounded hyena.

So- I feel that I should clarify. While the weight battle goes on, I am going to continue being healthy about it, and "getting skinny" isn't really part of the equation. Thank God.

It's tracksuit time!

Officially. Those of you who know me, this is your warning. Anyone who makes a reference to J-Lo will be shot without mercy. I will be wearing the green one, the turquoise one, the red one, the black one, the navy one, and yes, the orchid-colored one. Possibly even the magenta one. Fortunately, not all at the same time.

And yes, Dave, I will wear them with heels.

And no, none of them say "Juicy" across the ass. I feel a. My ass needs to ornamentation- it can stand on its own, and b. If you're going to stitch "Juicy" on your ass, you may as well tattoo "Hooker" or "Desperate for Attention from Random Lech- Really, I'm not Kidding- no seriously, Try me, I'm FREE" on your forehead.

There is a very cranky green bird on my shoulder, who is trying to test my pain and annoyance levels by alternately biting me on the ear, and then retreating either to that spot on my back that I can't reach, or the top of my head, where he gets tangled in my hair. When I finally grab him, he takes off flapping onto the floor, which luckily scares the bejeezus out of the cat. (Who is either a pacifist, a wuss, or just really, really lazy). Then I try putting the bird back in his cage and he screams and screams and screams.

I keep thinking,"This is what motherhood must be like..." However. I didn't have to incubate him for 9 months, and he's probably never going to wreck my car or bring home trampy obnoxious girlfriends wearing plasic miniskirts. Hm. On the other hand, while he will probably outlive me, he's certainly not going to be able to support me and stick me in a nursing home in my declining years.

Actually, I'm not sure if that's a negative, either.

Yawn...

It's been a lazy Friday- mostly cleaning. I am excited that I got some new movies today from Netflix- and also bummed, because they haven't posted the movie that I returned yesterday. They are slacking. Bastards.

In other news, I am still putting together the new entertainment center, and cataloguing all the nicks and scratches that I am going to need to touch up on that sucker. Bah!

It's a busy couple of weeks coming up- I think I mentioned that I finally did submit my passport paperwork, ironically on the last possible day before I would have to pay the extra 60 bucks or so to get it expedited.

In this picture, I don't look laminated- I look puffy, royally pissed off, and possibly drunk. The puffy was because I hadn't slept the night before. The pissed is due to my erstwhile Postal Employee Photographer's insistence that I pull my hair back to expose my ears.

My naturally poofy hair doesn't do that without being restrained in a ponytail- seriously. I tried tucking it behind my ears twice, and then beeyotch snapped the photo- like, 1/4 of one ear is showing, and just to be truly evil, she lowered the camera below my chin level, because my face is not round enough already. God, I hate the post office. ROWR!

Anyway, I am just relieved that's off my plate.

I am going to a Halloween party tomorrow night, Disneyland an a Bauhaus concert next weekend, and then I have a couple weeks to hang before the visit to my sister in S.F. And then my birthday, Thanksgiving, and PARIS- I leave eeeeeeeeeearly on Dec. 2nd.

I have been knitting a ton, lately, and I am wanting to cook and bake almost constantly. I want my new oven! It should be here in another week or so. Hopefully. Oh lordie, looking at the paragraph above- I am going to need to start shopping for the holidays ASAP.

File under WTF?

Upon reviewing the hits I got in the last week or so-

Evidently, my blog is the second thing that comes up on MSN if you search for "doing housework nude".

Hey, I think that's hilarious. Talk amongst yourselves!

Compliments and other random happenings

It was a good day today. Or yesterday as it happens...it's around 3AM right now, and I think it's safe to say that my sleep schedule is officially messed up.

I spent last night rearranging our copious collection of DVD's and VHS tapes (yup, still got those) into our newly acquired entertainment center. They are alphabetized and everything- we'll see how long it lasts. Yes, I am amazed that we had room for all of them! There are 263 DVD's at last count, and I haven't tallied the VHS tapes yet- an educated guess would be close to 500 movies.

Can you tell both Alan and I are media-philes? This goes without mentioning the obscene amount of books and music we also have. However- surprisingly little overlap when we got married and merged our lives and our collections.

The movies- I have a ton of 80's john-hughes kinda stuff, classics (Gone With The Wind et al), comedies (romantic and otherwise) musicals, some chick flicks, and a bunch of foreign films. He has anything to do with action/adventure, sci-fi, war, or the mafia. Plus My Best Friend's Wedding. ( I was stunned when I saw that one, I can tell you- sandwiched right between Men In Black and Platoon.)

Music- I like rock from the fifties, swing from the forties to present, Industrial, Dance/Techno, Alt-rock, and New Wave. He likes pop, country, and classical. We're both into soundtracks and compilations, for reasons that should be obvious by now.

Although, I am noticing that some of my edgier CD's have been mysteriously making their way into his truck, and that the Mariah Carey CD's have mysteriously disappeared, so I suspect that I am a good influence.

Like I mentioned, tonight was good. Met up with my buddy, discussed the inexplicable fact that we've known one another half our lives and that it was my good fortune to be one of the first people he met when he'd just arrived with his family from Canada. By some miracle, he ended up sitting in front of me in freshman English.

I just remember my 14-year-old incredulity when he told me that his family didn't have a television- they'd made a deal where they went out to the movies as a family once a week instead.

So- that was nice. And I wore my new coat/jacket/sweater for the first time, and got complimented by the waitress and by my buddy- so I got to say "Thanks...I made it myself!!"

He also had work-related tale of woe that was similar to mine- and is now lucky enough to be happily working in the family business.

The longer I am around, the more I realize that the more competent you are, the more you get dumped on- and the more likely it is that the slackers and brownnosers get promoted above you, so they can recline on their bed of slack and delegate even more crap down to you until you eventually have to quit or eat your own head to keep from exploding in a cloud of wrath. It's kinda sad, really.

So! We had salads, then went to Bev-mo and checked out the wide variety of exotic sodas and British candy selection. Does it get anymore freaking wholesome than that?

We make great pets...

Testing, 1,2,3.....

Since I already have a parrot, two dogs, and an enormously fat feline....

I obviously needed a purple hedgehog. Voila- Hermione! (What a perfect little hedgie name...) If you click on her, she will jump and do tricks (also, she is mercifully silent!)

adopt your own virtual pet!

Here's some pictures of the real-life aminals that share our household:

Vegas,
Tiramisu,
Bear & Bosco

Oh- and did I mention? We bought our midnight showing Harry Potter tickets, people!

Yes, I am a dork. But surrounded by other dorks, it's not as noticeable.

Ohmigod ohmigod...

S'been a week. What can I say?

I got in touch with an old friend a few days ago, so I am currently in negotiations as to when we get to have dinner and catch up. It's been a year or so, which is entirely my fault, and I have been missing him a great deal.

Besides, it'll be great to give the waitress at Masala, my fave Indian restaurant, something to talk about. So far I've gone there with at least three guy friends, not to mention my usual female partner in crime. Alan, the hubby, has yet to make an appearance. Since he works swings, and I only eat dinner there- well. Do the math.

My insane green parrot and I are currently listening to a "new" radio station for the Fresno area- Jack, 105.9. While it's nothing like the old station that was there when I was in high school (The EDGE! FOREVER!) it's on heavy rotation chez moi. Nice blend of rock, with some pop and an occasional disco song. They've played Billy Idol, the Divinyls, Rod Stewart, and a bunch of newer stuff in the last hour.

Anyway, Vegas (the parrot) definitely likes it- he's going "Wooooo! WoOOOOOOOOoooOooooOOoo!" and swinging on his favorite toy with the bell on the end. Yes, it's hilarious.

I spent tonight with my family. My sister was in town for her high school reunion, and we dragged out her old yearbooks and looked at all the insane stuff that was written in there. Dad made spaghetti, and we just hung out.

It was great. They were all determined to go to Baskin Robbins, so my mom, sister and I ended up going. They all got sundaes, and I was fairly good, and got a one scoop Daiquiri Ice.

Here's where I need to say, I hate buying and eating ice cream in a public place. Something wretched always seems to happen to me. I can get a junior scoop of sugar-free vanilla, and seriously, some moron will emerge from the woodwork and make some comment about my weight, I swear to god.

Anyway, we're standing there waiting to pay, and what I am assuming is a family walks in. A dad, his teenage daughter, and two boys who looked to be about 15- prime idiot age. I am guessing they're his son and a friend. One (the son)has his arm in a sling.

So they're crowding in behind me. I am literally squeezed up against the ice cream counter, trying to give them more room, but they keep pushing. The dad asks his kid, one of the boys, "What are you getting?" And then heads to the other side of the counter to check out the other flavors.

The kid is standing right up near me, and says, "I don't know yet" in a loud voice, and then mutters to his buddy, "Because this b*tch's fat ass is blocking my view." They dissolve into giggles.

OK, so I am there with my family. They haven't heard it. I don't think I was meant to hear it either. I can tell their older sister has though, and to give her credit, she looks ashamed, and goes off to stand with her dad, who isn't exactly svelte either, by the way.

There have been a lot of times when I just wouldn't say anything. I know the little idiot was just showing off for his friend, but I just saw red, and I snapped.

I deliberately turned around and gave them the hairy eyeball until they stopped laughing, then hissed, "Fuck off, or me and my fat ass will break your other arm for you."

Hostile and wrong? Yes. I sort of feel guilty about it. But! They immediately shut up and went over to the other side of the ice cream store. So maybe it was worth it. The punchline is that my mom and sister didn't know what was going on until we got back into the car.

Don't even think about it....

spraycan2
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

*SNAP* Too late! Thanks, Dave. The moment is now captured on film. No make up, irritated expression, threatening posture. (Still, it's kinda funny.)

Actually, it's pretty cool, because I basically painted 90 percent of a humongoid entertainment center alll by myself today. Hubby did the heavy lifting, and tried to keep me from freaking out when the wind blew dust or the tarp right into my wet paint.

The project took allllll daaaaay. I still have dark brown paint on my arms, which doesn't appear to be coming off anytime soon. But, the living room now looks fabbity fab (pictures forthcoming- I say that a lot, don't I?) And the biggie- there will soon be enough room in the garage so I can park my car insuide, and it won't be sitting outdoors getting filthy all the damn time.

Other than that- just hung out this evening, and relaxed. It's been a productive couple of days- I also fuinished re-plastering the long wall in our living room, so we'll be getting color on the walls soon- I can't wait!

Ahem. Bitterness.

So....

There's not a lot I can say here. Suffice it to say that we ended up going out to Logan's with my brother and sister-in-law. We had a great time, (I love them!) But...Yeah. I will NEVER COMPLAIN ABOUT GETTING CARDED AGAIN. Because my husband (who has gray hair, people! Gray HAIR!) and my S.I.L. got carded. I didn't.

OK, they are both younger than me. But still.

That was minor though, compared to the comment that made me realize that my in-laws have been conveniently forgetting my birthday for the last two years, but seem to remember hubby's brother's wife's birthday just fine- she mentioned that they were going over to the house to pick up her "birthday check". I haven't gotten a card from these people- for my birthday, or for that matter, for our last two anniversaries.

I didn't say anything about it, much like I didn't mention it when my S.I.L unconsciously repeated an insult re: my wedding pictures- made by my mother-in-law. Because I didn't want to make my brother and sister-in-law or my husband feel uncomfortable.

I feel selfish for letting it bother me, but...well, it's kind of upsetting.

Sleep is for the weak.

Once again, I am up at an asinine hour, playing on my computer for no good reason. The man is snoring away, and I should be cleaning in anticipation of my erstwhile Father-In-Law, who is coming to check out the new/old car tomorrow.

Instead, I am, as previously mentioned, playing. Muuahahahhaaaaaaa!

I still haven't taken Halloween pics. I still hnaven't taken knitting pics. But I did....are you ready? get my BIRTH CERTIFICATE today. So I can go get the stuff for the passport tomorrow.

I am seriously excited beyond all belief.

I also managed to get some Indian Food today. Oh, and I watched Highlander.

Is it peculiar that the waitress at the Indian restaurant freaks out when I come in with someone new? She asked about my usual Partner in Indian Food- I think she was afraid that she was eaten by wild boars or something. She actually said, "What happened to your friend?!" I indicated my new dining partner and said, "Well...um, I have more than ONE friend, you know." *cough*cough*

If I ever actually bring the hubby in there, she'll probably die of shock. In the meantime, she'll have to think that I'm having a thing with my neighbor Dave.

As for Highlander- OK, I had to see it...because of THIS. There can be Only One! (Unfortunately, I think there were two sequels..."There can be Only Three?")

So, I was under the impression that I had seen Highlander at a high-school era slumber party, but after seeing it again, I realized that I had fallen asleep from psychotic boredom 20 minutes in, and when I woke up, I probably actually caught the last half of "A Room With a View." Nude male full-frontal frolicking in the woods! Merchant & Ivory! I seem to recall a lot of giggling. And rewinding. And more giggling. Then I probably fell asleep again.

Um- anyway, Highlander is still boring. Although the fact that a French guy plays the Scottish guy, and Sean Connery plays- a Spanish Egyptian (with a Scottish accent)and that evidently the whole soundtrack was by Queen....Ah, the 80's! At one time, some producer somewhere thought the casting was a stroke of genius.

My buddy and I actually kept awake by making fun of it. (Mature commentary, like: "There can be only one!" and "I can crush a walnut with my butt!") The possibility of all of them just having a "walk-off" came up more than once. Let us not go into the whole multiple disposable blonde frizzy-haired female screamers thing. Feh.

I like the 30 second movie better. Although, my buddy assures me that the TV series was a different story and had a highly attractive (possibly less Cro-Magnon) male lead to boot who had a believable Scottish accent.Humph. How did I miss that?

Is it wrong that I want to set fire to the 8 million pounds of laundry that seems to have heaved itself up onto my living room couch?