Heather Goes to Hillbilly Hell

With the aftermath of the divorce, Mom still had a shit load of stuff down at the cabin. Because it was an amicable split, my stepdad was nice enough to keep her stuff stored until she could go and collect it. That time was today.

After working for 8 hours, I rode down to the lake for an additional 2 hours in the longest. Car ride. Evah! In a white minivan. I shudder just thinking of it.

When we got there, we began the task of loading up boxes. My stepdad and his new, and very insecure girlfriend, arrived a little later, and helped.

Just an aside...while no one faults Stepdad for having a girlfriend, his selection leaves people scratching their heads. She's insecure to the point that she routinely calls Mom at work to make sure she doesn't want to get back together with Stepdad. And the entire time we were at the cabin, she wouldn't let Stepdad out of her site. At one point, I thought she was going to drop trou and piss on his leg. You know, to mark her territory.

And one more thing...a 50-something year old woman with a big hickey on her neck just screams high class. I told Mom later that she probably demanded that Stepdad give it to her before today. So she can showcase the fact that they indeed have sex. And the fact that I just typed that makes me want to go bleach my brain.

But I digress...

I haven't talked to my stepdad in a year. I feel bad for not calling him. I just never knew what to say. Stepdad has been more a father to me than my actual dad. I'm a crappy stepdaughter. I'm sure his feelings were hurt, which makes me feel even more guilty. Not to mention it doesn't help that Indy likes to remind me that I haven't called him. Jackass.

Anyway, I thought we were doing fine with the loading of the boxes, until Stepdad points out the dozen or so plastic totes in the garage loft. Meaning, a second trip is in order at some point down the road, and probably with a moving truck.

A loaded van, we depart, taking a shortcut through the sticks back to the main highway.

This particular area, notorious for meth activity. You will drive through the country and find many different types of homesteads, the most popular being the mobile home. But just because you live in a trailer, doesn't mean you can't have pride in home ownership. Clean up your yard, for Godsakes!! One trailer, trash all over the yard, had the words "Stay Out!" and "Beware of Dog" spray painted on the side of their house. Spray painted. With black paint. Probably from Walmart.

I'll get a picture of it next time I go down there.

Mom and I stopped in Clinton for lunch, where we had a tenderloin sandwich so big, it needed it's own plate. As tasty as it was, it was simply too big.

The bottom half of the bun is being smothered under the tenderloin.

On the way home, we spot a night club in the middle of nowhere, painted florescent orange. It used to be white, and used to be a farmers market. They also used to sell live bait.
So, if you are ever in the middle of nowhere, and have a hankering for classic rock. The Blazing Longhorn is there for all your drinking needs.

Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliot are standing by.

(B)reak (O)ut (A)nother (T)housand

When I bought the boat, I was hoping to capture those memories I had as a kid, boating with my family. And those times I did take it out on the water, jumping waves, and the spray of fresh water in my face, I felt close to my father. It was exciting, and I loved it.

However, I've come to realize I hate actual boat ownership. Which is why I'm now putting it up for sale. It's too much of a pain in the ass to maintain. If I had a significant other that was a boat enthusiast, it might not be so bad, but to be a single female with a boat...ugh. I can't even begin to describe how much it takes just to put the thing in the water by myself.

So, here it is. A 1989 Sunbird Corsica. 4-cylinder Ford inboard/outboard motor. which was completely overhauled 3 years ago. Top speed, 35 mph. It can easily pull skis, inner tube, etc. The interior could use some work in the form of re-upholstering, but the transom is solid. The trailer is very good, and I have an extra spare tire for it.
Maybe down the road, if I have an S.O. that is another boat enthusiast, I might try owning another boat. Or maybe I will just get a waverunner. Right now, I just don't want to deal with it, and I'd hate to see it sit any longer. My stepdad would like to see me go ahead and fully restore the interior, but I just don't have the heart for it anymore.

Make an offer. You can email me, or just post your email in the comment box and I will contact you.

Monday's Musings

Overall, not a bad weekend, aside from the fact that our floor was having a special on Code Browns. Little confused old people and poop do not mix. You're bound to walk in to some serious finger-painting.

People are just gross.

I came home and checked the mail that came in on Saturday. I found a letter from 98.1 KUDL. I don't listen to this station (Delilah makes me want to drown in my own vomit), so I wondered what it could possibly be. Inside, I found a gift card with a note. On my last outing with Indy, KUDL was there for part of a Sex and the City promotion. They were handing out free key chains and crap, and they had some drawings you could sign up for. Indy and I both filled out entries. I didn't know what the prizes were, but it never hurts when something is free. If it doesn't even interest you, you can always re-gift it.

Apparently, my name was drawn for $100 gift card to my most favorite restaurant. I did a little gimpy dance in the kitchen. Then, I called Indy to gloat. He was happy for my good fortune, and stated that he was also pleased that he could help me win.

Huh??

Aside from the fact that was his not-so-subtle hint at also reaping the rewards of the much celebrated gift card, I was puzzled as to how he helped. While he did give me an entry form to fill out, he didn't pay for my meal. He didn't pick me up. And he managed to piss me off at the end of the night.

"Okay," I said. "I'll treat you to dinner sometime, but you will be required to put out."

I know he'll do just about anything for fish tacos and a Long Island Iced Tea. I might actually have a chance this time.

(So, Dan, while he may have gotten the porn flick, I got the $100 gift card. And in the end, I think I made out better.)

I'm pretty happy with the gift card. Hell, I'm just happy I actually won something. I haven't won anything since I won a bicycle when I was 9.

The knee pain has gotten worse, it's depressing. I can't even do a routine trip to the grocery store without having to ice my knee down upon returning home. To make things even better, I'm going with zero pain meds, save for the ibuprofen I take. Which is the equivalent of pissing on a California forest fire. It just doesn't work.

So, I had an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon this afternoon. I called last month and this Monday was the best they could do. This is standard for specialists, especially orthopedics. You call needing an appointment for Right Now!, and Right Now! to them is about a month later. Hurry up and wait. It's the name of the medical game.

I went to my appointment, had a series of x-rays, and got to meet with my new ortho doc. I have an MRI scheduled, but he tossed out an idea of having another reconstructive surgery, to the tune of tibial osteotomy. Recovery time...three months. One month would be non-weight bearing on that leg.

Oh. Hell. No.

I told him I'd like to avoid such a procedure (because death sounds better), so for now, we'll do the MRI, probably a scope, and then go from there. Ugh. Ideally, I'd like something to do the greatest amount of good, with the least amount of recovery time. Three months does not work for me. The last time I had that kind of recovery time, I ended up depressed, crying at random country songs on the radio. And telephone commercials.

Plus there was also that issue with constipation...

Thursday Blather

This week, I went and got my hair done. As the weather gets warmer, my hair grows faster. This is problematic when the red hairs that reside on my head, were not a genetic gift from my parents. It looks rather odd to see pretty red hair, with blonde roots. People stare. If it were at-home-bleached blonde hair with black roots, people would just think "white trash" and move on. They haven't decided what to call me, other than confused.

At any rate, I went to see my girl, Kelley, who is a ball of fun and glitter. We made a game plan to get my red locks back to the natural blonde that my father passed on to me. The first step: to remove the red without giving me a chemical haircut. Red is hard to keep in hair, but once it's in, it won't leave willingly.

To make a long story short, I am now a brunette. The last time I was a brunette, I was in cosmetology school. It was not a good look for me. I looked anemic. It was horrible. I swore I would never travel down that road again.

But here I am...brown hair. I still look anemic, but not frighteningly so. The red is still peeking through when certain light hits it, but it's something I can live with until the next phase of the plan...of which I don't know when will take place.

Yesterday, I took Mom out to dinner, and it started to pour down rain on our way home. Brookside was a complete mess as the drains couldn't keep up with the rain. Somewhere on 63rd street, we hear a loud pop, and just like that, the driver side window wiper blade has disappeared. Awesome! So, I drive the rest of the way home with no wiper blade. Thankfully, there was Rain-X on the window, and I could still see somewhat.

Driving on 63rd street + Noah's Ark conditions + no wiper blade = bad.

Tonight is the blogger meetup. I have a couple errands to run before I go, so I will be getting there late. Hopefully, Janet and Keith will save a piece of the infamous boob cake. I don't really need the nipple. I've got two of my own.

Blogoholics Meeting Tonight!

Thursday April 24th 2008

5pm at LEVEE BAR & GRILL

16 W. 43rd St., Kansas City, MO.

HAPPY HOUR

Tuesday through Friday 2-7

$2 Beer, Well Drinks & Wine

NIGHTLY SPECIALS

Thursday - $2 Red Stripe

We have the deck reserved at 5 for 20-30 people.

NOTE: Keith & Janet are bringing Boob cake in honor of Janet's Birthday & upcoming new boobs!

I'll try to see if someone will motorboat the cake...

Nurse Follies: Nyet Habla Ni-hon go!

I've always harbored a secret crush on foreign languages. English seems crude while some languages have a fluid movement that just rolls off the tongue like that Dupre whore blowing Client #9.

In high school, I spent a year studying Japanese. I learned a lot of it, and retained most of it. The only time that actually using it presented itself was a Japanese patient. Excited that I could talk to her, my excitement was short-lived as the patient had Alzheimer's, and what she spoke was neither Japanese nor English. In fact, her own kids didn't even know what it was.

My next language crush was Russian. I looked into taking some classes, picked up a couple books and tapes and would listen to them in my car as I was driving to and from work. Because Kansas City has a large Russian population, I've taken care of a couple Russian speakers, and was able to communicate on a very basic level until the real interpreter arrived...without having to pull out the picture charts.

As a nurse, the most practical second language choice would Spanish. However, I don't want to learn Spanish. Why? Because it's almost expected. It pisses me off when I get a patient who has been in the country 10+ years, and doesn't speak a lick of English, and then they get pissed off because I don't know Spanish. Fuck you, compadre! At least with the Russian and Japanese patients, they are just happy that some loud American is trying to learn their language.

Despite my love of foreign languages (Spanish and French notwithstanding), I do cringe when we get the confused ones. You can't reason with a confused patient, and it's impossible when they are nuttier than squirrel shit.

Recently, we played host to a confused Russian speaking patient who, for whatever reason, wanted to climb out of bed. Because of their condition, this was a big no-no. After 20 or so sprints to their room to put them back into bed, we were all pretty frustrated. Our only translator was someone we had to call on the phone, and the doctor's only solution was to call the translator.

At the end of the morning, Roosky decides to make another break for it. I haul ass into the room to see arms and legs everywhere, as Roosky has decided to fight. Now, I haven't retained very much of the Russian I have learned, so it surprised me even then when I blurted out, "Sit down now!" in the language of Mother Russia. As an afterthought, I added, "Please!"

I know that is what I said, because at that moment, that was the only phrase I remembered...and I checked on the internet later to make sure I didn't tell the patient he looked like RuPaul.

And it worked. The patient sat on the bed, and proceeded to give me the glare of death.

So, it looks like I will look at taking those classes again. I'm bored anyway and need a challenge.

Until then, I'll just go back to the picture charts.

Friday Feast: The Meesha Edition

Dedicated to Meesha...because he can't get enough of the Friday Feast.

Appetizer
Name a color you find soothing.
Green. It's the color of my bedroom. Soothing and sensual.

Soup
Using 20 or less words, describe your first driving experience.
Dad's too drunk to drive. A 14 year old driving an old Ford van. We get pulled over. Fun ensues.

Salad
What material is your favorite item of clothing made out of?
Thai Silk

Main Course
Who is a great singer or musician who, if they were to come to your town for a concert, you would spend the night outside waiting for tickets to see?
I'm not crazy enough about an artist to camp outside for tickets.

Dessert
What is the most frequent letter of the alphabet in your whole name (first, middle, maiden, last, etc.)?
E...4 times.

Channeling My Inner Diva

So today I went and had the bootwagga checked out. It was the standard P&P, and not the dreaded colp. I was worried. I hate the colp. I despise the colp. For guys who don't know what a colposcopy is...just imagine taking tiny little sharp cutting tool and cutting a tiny chunk out of the head of your penis. Then, slather something on it that looks like hot mustard to stop the bleeding.

Like I said, I hate the colp. If I had to pick between a root canal, a visit to my retina specialist, or a colp...I would chose to do the root canal and a visit to the retina specialist. In the same day.

My doctor wondered why I was slow moving around, I explained that two straight days of raking, blowing, and bagging leaves left me with a strained muscle in my upper back. Feeling sorry for me, she wrote me a prescription for Flexaril. I love my gynecologist.

(On a side note, she didn't see anything abnormal. Test results will come back in a week or so to be certain.)

After that, I called Indy and we agreed to meet at Houlihans for dinner...but he was running behind (an additional nap after 13 hours of sleep will do that to a person), so he had to shower first and all that other guy-stuff.

To kill time, I stopped by Barnes and Noble, found a cool coffee table book in the clearance section. It's all about Japan, with neat pictures and some insight into their culture. I'm a Japanophile. I admit it. I also bought The Count of Monte Cristo to read, because I'm not a huge reader of female fluff books, which apparently is the new trend with writing. I'll stick with the classics, thank you very much.

Indy and I meet at Houlihans and sit on the bar side because in order to get the happy hour specials, you have to sit on the bar side. They are currently running a promotion tied in with Sex and the City. I don't really watch this show (I've only see a few episodes), but Indy is a huge fan. He orders the Mr. Big drink, which is a big Lemon Drop type drink (sweet and sour, on then off). I think this drink is appropriate for him. He is a lot like Mr. Big, but not as tall.

I order Charlotte's drink (whatever they called it), and as mentioned by Erin, it came with a tiny lip gloss attached to the stem of the glass. At some point, a lady comes in and sets up shop in a corner. She is offering free eyebrow waxing to anyone who is interested. Or chin hair or lip waxing...whatever is needed most, I guess. I decline. The lighting in there is too dark for such a thing, especially since I have blonde eyebrows. Lord only knows what I would walk out of that restaurant looking like. Indy strongly encourages me to do it anyway. I tell him that if he gets his back hair waxed, I will get my eyebrows done.

We have appetizers for dinner, and talk about nothing important. I don't know if what happened on my birthday has made things awkward or what. He claims he doesn't remember. I'm still calling bullshit on that excuse.

After dinner, we walk around Town Center Plaza, look at clothing that's way too ugly, and way too overpriced. My knee, naturally, stiffens up because that is now what happens when I walk for too long. I can do an hour on a elliptical machine with zero problems. How is it that I can't window shop without being in excruciating pain by the time we reach Bath and Body Works????

Not only does my knee hurt, so does my back, and not one pain med in my system. I am teetering dangerously close to raging bitch. Indy makes a couple remarks about some of his other girl-friends, which make me realize he is a player and has a nurse on each floor of the hospital. I also realize I'm not as special as I had hoped I would be, and I slide into the funk of depressed and hormonal.

It was a short trip.

Limping back to the car, Indy cracks a joke about my knee and go off. I declare the date to be over, and I drop him off at his car, but not before tossing him a porno flick that was sent to me in the mail, telling him to go home and jack off to it. He laughs nervously and tells me he will call me later on this evening. My friends say that he tolerates my behavior because he loves me and is too chicken shit to face it. I say he's just a glutton for punishment.

Men...they just don't get it. Is there ever a time when they do?? Does it come upon them like a revelation where the heavens open up and angels sing?? Or does it just come upon them like farts after a beer drinking contest???

My personal life is pathetic. At least I still have the Flexaril.

Hump Day Blather

Got your taxes done?? I filed an extension last night. A rough estimate of my taxes shows I will getting back a good return this year. It's funny how people get excited about getting money back, especially since it was your money to start with.

I spent yesterday afternoon in the back yard, alternating raking and blowing leaves. The wind kept kicking up and changing directions, which made for frustration on my part. I managed to bag six large bags of leaves and whatnot before I gave up and went back inside the house. Yeah, I also got a sunburn on my face and the back of my neck. A redneck!

I still have enough leaves to fill another 6 bags, but I'll wait and see if the wind dies down this afternoon. I changed my appointment with Lawn Guy for tomorrow.

Last night, I visited Vietnam Cafe with some lovely lady bloggers: M Toast, Spyder, and Well Hell Michelle. I've never eaten Vietnamese before, but I'll try most anything once. Almost anything. At any rate, the food was good and reasonably priced. I plan on Yelping about it later.

Today, I have an appointment with the doctor. A follow-up from all the crap going on with Heather's Adventure Kingdom. Still closed indefinitely. No one visits there anyway.

Wish me luck!

Timeline

I know I haven't been blogging on a regular basis.

I suck.

Deal.

I have the lawn guys coming over tomorrow to do the first application. However, I have about a million leaves to pick up before they do come over.

Thankfully, I now own a leaf blower. If operating a leaf blower sounds like fun to you, stop on by my house and you can blow leaves to your heart's content. When you are finished, make sure you put them in the brown yard bags that I will have on hand.

Friday's Feast: Low Calorie Edition

Appetizer
Lets start with a trio sampler of word association… I say,
Tear :: Rip
Hawk :: feathers
Alien :: green

Soup
If you had to pick a body of water that you have visited in your life to build a house next to, which one would it be… describe the scenery.
My first cruise, we stopped at a little island called Roatan. Certainly not the most desired island in all the Caribbean, but I fell in love right away. People were poor, but very friendly. Colors seemed more vibrant. The salty air caressed your skin like an old lover. We visited a woman there, a former nurse from the States and now ran her own dayspa. Kant and I had massages, and while she was getting hers, I had a light lunch of fresh tropical fruit, then took a nap in a hammock on the porch, overlooking the ocean. As the wind swayed my hammock, I fell asleep to the sound of the waves, the birds revealed to me that this was how island life truly felt.


Salad
Everyone is being green now-a-days, what is your favorite green initiative?
I don't really have a favorite. I don't do a lot of green stuff. I know, I'm going to hell.

Main Course
Mexican is one of my favorite foods, share the name of your favorite Mexican dish with all of us (and where to find it) … even if it is just a Taco Bell chalupa?
I'm partial to the Chimichanga at Salty Iguana.

Dessert
What was the color of your first bicycle, or the oldest toy that you remember and what fruit do you associate with that color?
My first bicycle...I got it Christmas of 1980. Denver got bitch-slapped with a huge blizzard that left the entire city at a standstill. Because Santa got stuck in a snowdrift, he left bikes for me and my brothers at my great-grandmother's house. Mine was light blue. It had a banana seat that was also light blue and had clouds on it. Do they even make bikes with banana seats now??

High on Grass!

Today, after a fun lunch with some girlfriends, I stopped by the dentist for my new, shiny, white crown to be slapped in. Thankfully, it involved no shots. I find I've become more and more hesitant with those dental shots, especially the ones that go straight up the roof of you mouth.

I got home early enough that I decided to start raking the leaves in the back yard. I raked for two straight hours before I threw in the towel. I really should invest in a leaf blower. Someone who has as many trees as I do, it should be mandatory to own one.

My back yard looks horrible, and not because of the thousands of leaves from 5 mature trees. About 25% of my yard has grass, and it's not even in one spot. My yard consists of mostly dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. Sadly, I need more dirt for various landscaping projects around the house. Surrounded by dirt, and I need more. Indy bought a truck full of dirt once, which sat in his yard in a ginormous pile for about a year. I still think he overpaid. $400 seems like a lot to spend on dirt.

I got two estimates from lawn companies, and went with the second guy because he offered me 2 free treatments that the first one didn't. When I told the first guy of my decision, he was very put-off. Well, if he had offered me 3 free treatments, then we would have had a deal. Whatever. At least he will stop calling my house every 15 minutes. Seriously. I couldn't take a dump without him calling right in the middle of it.

So, next week the Lawn Guy is supposed to come and do something to my yard. I don't know what...he was tossing out all these fancy words for grass and fertilizer. I don't really care about the technical part...just make grass grow in my back yard. I want to be able to sit on my deck in my pajamas, and look out on a green yard while sipping iced tea. Right now, I sit on my deck and gaze upon my dirt and have an overwhelming urge to go lay down on I-70. It's that depressing.

I'm very excited at the prospect of grass. I'm actually looking forward to having grass to mow. Last year, it wasn't even worth the effort to fire up the mower.

Despite having lush grass, I still don't plan on walking in it barefoot. I do have a Saint Bernard to consider.

In Case You Were Wondering...

...as to why I haven't posted anything about the Jayhawks. It's not because I'm a chronic hater, or a fair weather fan.

I really just don't give a shit.

When does football season begin???

Presenting: Hank the Tank!!!

The new arrival made his big debut at Casa de H-Train this Saturday after brother went and picked him up from a breeder in St. Joseph. Not a puppy mill, I double checked. First, he stopped by Mom's for a little show and tell. She loves her new grandson. From there, both Mom and Brother came over and deposited the furball on my bed while I was sleeping. There are worse things to be wakened by, I suppose.

Brother was originally going to name him Harley, but it turns out that every other person names their dog Harley. So, in keeping with our family's fine tradition of mediocre pet names, he decided on Hank.

What is Hank? Hank is a Saint Bernard. A real Saint Bernard with no added preservatives or fillers. Their average weight fully grown...170-200lbs. He's going to take colossal shits in the yard. Hope Brother has a durable shovel. I'm having the yard treated this season.

Sam has already assumed the roll of long-suffering elder. Hank climbs all over Sam, and Sam just lays there and rolls his eyes. It will be interesting to see what happens once Hank grows up.

For the most part, Hank is a very mild tempered puppy. Where Sam was on what appeared to be a chronic meth trip, Hank is laid back. Actually, he's a slug. You can put him anywhere, and he will just lay down and go to sleep in that spot. A couch potato in the making.

What's really fun to watch is how Brother interacts with Hank. It's like Brother has a son. He carries Hank around in his arms. Hank follows Brother around the house, and whines when he is not within his immediate eyesight.

Life should be interesting with a Saint Bernard. I can't wait until he's old enough to wear the keg.

Big News!!

We're welcoming a new addition to the household this weekend.

More details to come...and pics!!

Tales from the Scale

I did my weigh-in Thursday for my first week on Weight Watchers. I lost a grand total of 2.6lbs, which I thought was impressive considering I fell off the eat-healthy wagon at least once.

Empowered by my loss, and bored by the discussion at the meeting that I was guilted into staying for, I texted the joyous news to my friends. I got the following replies:

No-Nicknamed Friend: Yay! Good job, H-Train!
Smo: Good 4 u! I'm proud of u.
Indy: You pooped.

Can you imagine the support I would get if I was kicking a serious habit, like say, oh...meth?

I've done WW before, it always worked for me, but I always ended up quitting because I didn't like being obsessed with food, calculating points, and always thinking of what I'm going to eat for my next meal. I'm more accustomed to food as an afterthought, which stems from the crappy eating habits I developed in my formative years.

I'd skip breakfast, go to school, skip lunch because I was the poor kid that got teased, and the cafeteria was prime hunting grounds for such things. Instead, I would spend my lunch hour taking refuge in the library, and devour books instead of food. I'd go home and snarf all my calories in one sitting, and do it all over the next day. Track season was worse because I'd go to practice on a empty stomach, then I'd go home and eat anything I could get my hands on.

I was always tiny (I remember apologizing to the school nurse when she weighed me in high school and I hit 102lbs...I'd been 97lbs for a long, long time.) It wasn't until my parents divorced and my dad moved us to Nebraska that I started putting on weight. I hated living in Nebraska, particularly the town only known for being the home of that lead guy from Paul Revere and the Raiders, and that person who invented some little plastic thing for peeling hard boiled eggs.

Back to the point: my eating habits suck. I still skip meals, and load up on calories in one meal. At least with WW, I'm actually trying to eat like a normal person.

So, now I'm back in the saddle. WW came up with a new plan where I don't have to count points and be obsessed with food, which is good because I prefer to be obsessed with other things. Not to mention there are a hundred better things to talk about over breakfast instead of what I am going to have for dinner.

I'm not particularly fond of the meetings. They work for some people. I just like to get the reading material and read it on my own. That's my thing, but somehow those little old ladies that work the front desk always guilt you into staying. Okay...I'll stay, but I am NOT wearing the name tag.

This meeting, a member was freaking out because she would be travelling this weekend and she knew they would be stopping at one of those pizza buffets. The dreaded pizza buffet!! Everyone is tossing ideas: eat from the salad bar! Eat just a small piece! Stay in the car and eat a granola bar! Finally, some guy just suggested she request a pizza high in veggies and half the cheese. This conversation took a good ten minutes.

I remember going to a meeting once with Kant, and as we sat there, I had a question.

Me: If you add butter to something, it raises the point value.
WW Rep: Right!
Me: And anything that has a high fiber content, lowers the point value.
WW Rep: Correct!
Me: So, why can't someone just add a fiber additive to their food to lower the points?

WW Rep is puzzled because he clearly has no idea where I am going with this, but the lady sitting behind me does, and she gets very animated...bouncing up and down in her chair. I could just hear the wheels spinning in her head.

Lady: Ooooh!! Like adding that tasteless, colorless fiber to stuff!! To everything!!!

On the way home, I told Kant that that same lady would probably be at home that night, dipping a king sized Snickers bar in a bowl of Benefiber before each bite. A little while later, I noticed that on the WW message boards, people were talking about doing this very same thing. People are always stealing my ideas.

So, now I'm back "on plan". Thankfully, they have an option that doesn't entail points. Just a list of stuff I can eat guilt-free. The hardest part is making myself eat three times a day.

Good thing I like eggs. I rock the scrambled eggs. I'm still not touching onions.

Tales of the Homeowner: The Abandoned Car

Apparently, my next door neighbors are slugs. Not my Mom and Mr. Recommendation. The ones who live on the other side of me.

Early last year, the older guy who lived there, parked his late-model, four-door Ford POS in front of my house. I noted that the same car had been parked in front of their house initially. I don't know why they decided to move the car. I don't even know why they thought I wouldn't mind them parking it in front of my house.

So, this car sat there, front tire sitting on my grass. Eventually, the tire became so flat, the whole thing came off the rim. Tags showed they had expired back in 2004. At first, I gave the neighbors a break and figured they would move the car once the weather became favorable. But after a year of looking at it, and bitching about it to everyone else, I decided to I needed to do something about it.

The good neighbor across the street told me that the Slughorns (my name for them), are lazy homeowners. The type that drive everyone nuts. At one point, their house was such an eyesore, complaints were made to the city, who then forced the Slughorns to have their house painted. They don't mow their grass. They don't rake the leaves. They don't do anything but glare at everyone else. Neighbor lady told me that to get these people to do anything, they have to be threatened by the city.

I was perusing the city web page looking for info on bulk item pickup (for Mom, or rather, her old stove), when I saw the 311 call page for services. Clicking on that, I discovered I could make a request for abandoned car pick-up. I just filled in my address, explained the problem, and hit enter.

It was so easy!

I received an email saying that my request had been received and someone would be contacting me shortly. I figured I wouldn't hear from anyone for a week or more, because that is how city government works.

So imagine my shock when a tow truck appeared thirty minutes ago, along with a police officer driving the Ford Focus patrol car (poor guy), and said abandoned car was towed away. I watched with glee and clapped softly (as Brother is asleep in the next room) as it was loaded onto the back of the flatbed, and danced in my office as the driver pulled away. I literally danced.

Now the car is gone. I can't believe it's all gone. Holy shit! If I had known how easy and quick that was going to be, I would have reported it AGES ago.

And the funny thing...some dude looking like Larry the Cable Guy came to my house this morning and asked if the car was mine. He was apparently in the business of buying junk cars and was interested. Or maybe it was all a ruse to determine the tow driver wouldn't get shot at while collecting the car.

Regardless of whether Spanky was legit, I don't care. The car is gone! The car is gone! The car is gone!

I don't know how the Slughorns feel about this, I think they were home during the blessed event. Maybe they were happy to be rid of the thing. Maybe I did them a favor.

Or maybe they are just really, really pissed and are now plotting their revenge.

I'd better keep an eye on Sam when he's in the backyard.

Clean House!

I cleaned my house. That should last a day or two.

You know how some people have really nice houses that on any given day you could go over and it would look like they just finished a photo shoot for some home magazine. Everything is in it's perfect little place. Everything matches. And everything looks sparkling new due to non-use.

That's not my house.

My house, on any given day, looks like people live here. From the ginormous sneakers by the couch, to the half-chewed dog toys sprinkled throughout the house, to the tattoo equipment that now sits on my dining room table. My house would never be featured in any home magazine unless it paid tribute to the cluttered, casual, middle-class.

So, yesterday, I spent the day cleaning. I swept and polished the hardwood floors downstairs. Did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen. Did two loads of laundry. Vacuumed the upstairs and shampooed the carpets. Changed the linens on my bed, giving the new sheets a couple squirts of Quelques Fleur. (This could very well be my most favorite perfume of all time.)

Now, I'm sitting in my pajamas. Revelling in a clean house. I guess I could do some yard work today. I have a shit ton of leaves that won't collect themselves. But I am still tired, so I might go back to bed for an extended nap.

April Fools Convo

Me: I have something to tell you.
Indy: What?
Me: About that Friday...I'm pregnant...you're the father.
Indy: Whatever. April Fools!
Me: Oh well.
Indy: I was so drunk that night.
Me: Yeah, you wouldn't have been able to get it up if you tried.
Indy: True. I couldn't have.

I suck at this April Fools thing. I will have to try harder.

Tuesday Blather

Overall, a decent weekend. I was so tired on Sunday, that I woke up at 4 in the afternoon and thought it was Monday, and therefor, wasn't making any plans to come into work. That would have been a disaster.

When I got home, I checked my emails and favorite message boards and discovered that a beloved member of the cruising community I belong to expectantly died this weekend. Her husband went to work, and when he came home he found her dead. Apparently, a massive heart attack.

She was a really nice lady, and I don't think she ever knew a stranger...only friends she hadn't met yet. I cruised with her a couple times, and her smile was easily recognizable. It's a damn shame, and she will be missed.

Yesterday afternoon, No-Nick Named Friend came over (I really, really need to think of a nickname for her). I wish I could say to visit me, but she just came to see Brother. They are sort of dating now. I like to take credit because I introduced them. I knew that they would hit it off, and I told her this over a year ago. I have a knack for matchmaking. If I had the kind of success in my own personal relationships that I did pairing other people up, I'd be married by now.

Tweener emailed me a bunch of pics from my birthday festivities. And no, I'm not going to post any of them. That's incriminating evidence, or as one other blogger noted, "They calls it blackmail!"

Right now, I'm just chillin'. Drinking my coffee, fortified with a fiber supplement. Not that I am irregular or anything, but I'm sure my cholesterol needs the hit. I have a nasty kitchen that needs tending to. I may as well the rest of the house while I am at it. I also have to finish putting the groceries away I bought on my late-night shopping excursion last night. I also bought three frisbees in my effort to teach a not-so-old dog new tricks.

Okay, the coffee is finished. Time for the work to begin. I'm not talking about the fiber. I have dishes that won't clean themselves.