Wednesday, February 23, 2005

mid-afternoon

Pull The Plug On Me - Me ‘n’ Dodger Dirt

I cannot believe that Terri Schiavo is going to have to continue on living, without having an actual life.  I’ve made my wishes known to both my mom and to Leigh-Ann that if that happens to me, pull the plug as soon as it’s clear I’m not going to recover.  In fact, if just pulling the plug doesn’t work, please take me to a vet to have me “humanely euthanized”.  I don’t know why we’re allowed to make these important decisions for our pets, but not for ourselves.  I do not want to live if there isn’t any quality to my life.  And by quality, I mean talking, eating, reading, surfing the net.  I don’t mean blinking or smiling or moving a limb.

Did any of you see the ER episode with Cynthia Nixon?  Can you imagine anything worse than being fully aware of everything around you (and feeling pain!), but not being able to move or communicate with anyone?  If that happens to me, I want whatever risky measure is possible to attempt to reverse the damage.  I don’t want to be trapped in a body that is still peeing, pooping and growing unwanted hairs, if I can’t do anything about it.

Hey, has anyone ever used the internet successfully for posting their will?  Is it considered legal and binding?  Well, if anything happens to me, give Leigh-Ann the house and whatever else she wants.  Cremate me and scatter my ashes in various fun or pretty locales.  I especially want a little sprinkle of me to go on the infield at Dodger Stadium.  Me ‘n’ Dodger Dirt…reunited for the last time.  Don’t tell anyone when you do it though because if I was on the Dodgers, I would think it was pretty gross to play baseball on my ashes.  With what’s left, I want to be a part of one of those purple smiley face fireworks;  if it’s good enough for Hunter S. Thompson, it’s good enough for me.  Oh, and he didn’t say anything about smiley face fireworks.  No surprise.

Oh, and make sure to Photoshop any pictures of me that are used.  I don’t want to be remembered as a shiny forehead.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

late at night

I’m Hip-Mo-Tized - Tricia Kean’s Cleavage Winked At Me Today

I swear I was just minding my own business, watching the news, trying to keep abreast (heh) of the flooding situation at our front door when Tricia Kean’s breasts jumped out of her top.  Imagine my surprise.  Seriously, I don’t recall her ever dressing like that before—she’s supposed to be our attractive, yet non-threatening consumer affairs reporter.  This anchor position has had an augmenting effect on her appearance, I guess.  Anyway, I suddenly noticed myself staring at her breasts.  I don’t even particularly care about breasts, much less Tricia Kean’s, but I was mesmerized.  Hey, how embarrassing would it be if she read this?  Local Las Vegas lesbian notices Tricia Kean’s breasts.  Update at 11.

And seriously, could it just stop raining?  RIGHT.  NOW.  Our street keeps flooding, our back yard is a lake, our kitchen window that was already leaking in one spot sprung a leak in a second spot, and we suddenly have a leak in the garage wall.  It needs to end soon or we’ll either be washed away by the rapids in front of the house or the house will get soggy and collapse.

Did you know that you can have doughnuts or pizza or KFC (or refrigerators!)  delivered to someone in the Philippines?  It’s so cool.  It’s just like going online and ordering Papa John’s to be delivered from a block away, but in.the.PHILIPPINES!  Anyway, check it out Pinas Gift.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

late afternoon

I’m Cranky

*  I have Harriet and am out of sorts.
*  The tube feedin’ cat just threw up all over the bathroom…and probably all over Leigh-Ann too.
*  It’s STILL raining.
*  I have a free sweatshirt waiting for me at the Santa Fe, but I don’t feel like going there and getting it
*  This goes with the above - I don’t feel like going there because I’m going to end up smelling like I smoked five hundred packs of cigarettes.
*  I don’t smoke.  I hate the smell of smoke.  I hate just about any strong smell.
*  I need the sun back.  Now.  Not late next week, but now.
*  Hormones are stupid.

Friday, February 18, 2005

early evening

Blech, I Don’t Feel Like Doing Anything Today

I don’t think I can take this rain much longer before I PULL all of my hair OUT.  Yesterday was fine; we went with the family to see The Harlem Globetrotters at the Orleans.  It was fun, even though the Globetrotters of my youth were so much better than these guys.  More impressive basketball tricks, funnier with the crowd, etc.  Once again, the soft pretzels & cheese came through for the arena.  I left a happy girl.

But today, today I’m cranky (and crampy) and it’s raining.  Picture me saying that with tears in my eyes…because that’s how it is.  Our back yard is flooded again.  The ground is starting to smell moldy.  We are NOT Oregon.  We’re not even Hawaii.  It’s supposed to be dry here, goddammit, dry.

I signed the refinancing papers (in the rain), then we went to Borders, where I looked for some glass etching books, but they were all out of stock or special order.  I soothed the pain in my soul with two wee rubber duckies - one yellow, one purple.  They cheered me a bit. 

I have so much to do, but I’m so tired and lifeless.  I need a kick in the pants…or a few days of sleep.  Or maybe a good run of idiots of the day. 

Monday, February 14, 2005

lunch time

Idiot of the Day - Kanye West

Conceited jerk.  And as far as I can tell regarding his rapping talent, he’s nothing special.  I hope his fifteen minutes are up soon.