In Good Company

Well, the day has finally come. It's January 30, 2006 and it's a BIG day for a certain Editor I know.

Now while she may tell everyone that today marks the start of her 28th year on this earth, she is about 12 years off. So, in honor of the missing dozen, I thought I'd start the day by highlighting 12 more 2006 forty-year olds just so she'll see that she's in good company.

"It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown"

This holiday classic premiered on October 27 1966, back when The Editor still thought "big orange country" referred to a pumpkin patch in Oakfield, NY. Those of you that know the birthday girl will agree that she chose to ignore Linus' advice from this classic - " I've learned there are three things you don't discuss with people: religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin."

"Born Free"

The Editors feline facination surely began with the June 22, 1966 premiere of Born Free. Like the heroine of the film, Joy Adamson, our Editor has taken in her fair share of strays over the years and, on more than one occasion, said strays have been royal beasts!

Daylight Savings Time

On April 12, 1966 The Uniform Time Act of 1966 (15 U.S. Code Section 260a), was signed into Public Law 89-387 by President Lyndon Johnson. Now, technically, Daylight Savings Time has been observed in the US as far back as 1918 but this law standardized the start time to begin on the last Sunday of April and to end on the last Sunday of October. It's kind of like how The Editor will tell you she started 28 years ago when she REALLY started...well, you get the picture.

The Black panther Party

On October 15, 1966 African American revolutionaries Huey Newton and Bobby Seale form the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense in Oakland, California. With this controversial group, The Editor shares a penchant for activism AND her aforementioned love of kitties!

Miranda Rights

On June 13, 1966, Supreme Court Chief Justice Earl Warren delivered the opinion of the Court that set down a set of guidelines for custodial interrogations. Now referred to as one's Miranda Rights, the ruling stated:

The person in custody must, prior to interrogation, be clearly informed that he has the right to remain silent, and that anything he says will be used against him in court; he must be clearly informed that he has the right to consult with a lawyer and to have the lawyer with him during interrogation, and that, if he is indigent, a lawyer will be appointed to represent him.

The Supreme Court also made clear what had to happen if the suspect chose to exercise his rights:

If the individual indicates in any manner, at any time prior to or during questioning, that he wishes to remain silent, the interrogation must cease ... If the individual states that he wants an attorney, the interrogation must cease until an attorney is present. At that time, the individual must have an opportunity to confer with the attorney and to have him present during any subsequent questioning.

In other words, you have the right to remain silent - a right which The Editor has rarely exercised!

Star Trek

Captain's Log Star Date 0908.66 - The world was never the same after September 8, 1966 premiere of this TV icon on NBC. A new race of people known as "Trekers" was born. Finally, geeks, freaks and nerds could come together on common ground. Hmm, sounds like The Editor's birthday party!

Matt Drudge

Born October 27, 1966, Matt Drudge, the infamous found of The Drudge Report grew up in Takoma Park, Maryland. In 1989, he moved to Los Angeles where he took up residence in a small Hollywood apartment. He took a job in the gift shop of CBS studios and it was there that he was apparently privy to some inside gossip, part of the inspiration for founding the Drudge Report. Small Hollywood apartment, job that makes one privy to inside gossip, apparently The Editor has a doppleganger!

In Cold Blood

In 1966, Truman Capote published his "nonfiction novel," In Cold Blood, a chilling account of the senseless, brutal murder of a Kansas family that is widely considered his finest work. A "nonfiction novel," huh? I bet The Editor wishes a certain author would have taken a lesson from the Capote!

Pet Sounds

1966 was a good year for music. It saw the birth of some of the most influential albums and songs in history. The list includes, Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde, Simon and Garfunkle's Sounds of Silence, The Beatles' Revolver, and Elvis Presley's How Great Thou Art. But on May 16, 1966, Capitol Records released one of the most influential albums in history. And, as she lives with a fluffy shelty mix, a couch hogging pitbull and the furriest orange cat on the planet, The Editor certainly knows a thing or 2 about pet sounds.

The U.S. Patent 3,454,279 was filed on April 14, 1966 for Twister and soon there after, Milton Bradley's competitors began accusing them of selling "sex in a box" when they released the phenomenally successful action game. Twister was the first game in history to use the human body as a full-fledged playing piece. The Editor would soon create her own version called Twister Little Sister in which she would use tiny Kelvis as a full fledge playing piece of a different kind. I have scars to prove it!

First International Direct-Dial Call

The world became a little bit smaller in 1966 when the first direct-dial international call was made. Before this time, an operator was required to assist in all international calls. Isn't it funny how now, 40 years later, our communication seems to have regressed back to the typed letter? I can't remember the last time The Editor called me.

In October 1966 Betty Friedan cofounded the National Organization for Women(NOW), a civil rights group dedicated to achieving equality of opportunity for women. It's no Psyche Creative Society, but it'll have to do.

And that, my lovelys, is one dozen amazing things that sprung from the year 1966. As I am sure you will all agree, The Editor should be very happy to be a part of such an auspiciousus club!

Happy Birthday Ms. Popaleenie!!!

Two Arses don't make a right

Well, who knew that one little rant could cause such a stir? I decided to post this here rather than continue the string of comments.

Here's the thing. I am not excusing James Frey for lying. I think smart wonderful talented writers like The Editor and LA Barabbas are coming at this issue from a different perspective than I am. I work in "reality" TV. I spend my days "freying" stories to make them more interesting for the viewer. Do the people at home really think that the survivors all hike from their crappy little villages to the tribal council area to vote off their least favorite brethren? You do all know that they are driven in comfy 12 passenger vans, right? You don't really think that Amy Grant just shows up at the house of the long lost birth mother of the girl whose adopted parents were just killed in a horrible car wreck? You do know that a producer has had dozens of conversations with this woman for weeks - months - before an ENG crew arrives as planned to set up the lights and cameras and place the microphone on the woman so that when Amy "unexpectedly" knocks on the door, we can see and hear the woman's "honest" reaction. And, come on people, those idiot rednecks on Jerry Springer don't just randomly fly off the handle and pounce on their babies daddy's latest girlfriend! They are given complete instructions from a producer when and how to initiate the altercation.

As a producer, I know that Ms. Winfrey has a large staff of people who do a crap load of work behind the scenes. I actually work with people that have worked with Madame O. I also know that the Big O would never invite the author of say a diet book onto her set without talking to people about how the diet has worked for them - talking to medical professionals about the safety of the diet - there's a lot of behind the scenes talking before anyone ever speaks a word that the TV and studio audience will hear. So, as a producer, I am appalled that O Diddy didn't have her staff make a single phone call to the alleged rehab facility that Frey wrote about. She made no effort to obtain his mug shot from his alleged stay in jail. She did none of that. But I guarantee that when she has Lacey Peterson's mom on the show to talk about her book, there will be all sorts of ancillary information. There will be police detectives and lawyers and maybe even a jailhouse interview with the evil Mr. Peterson.

Say what you want about the publishers and about the author. I am neither. But I do know how TV works and for Oprah to stand on her stage and whine for an hour about how she was duped is ridiculous. She has IMMENSE power and had her staff made just a few tiny phone calls, which is their JOB, she would have had a far more interesting show than either of the Frey shows she DID have. Come on! Oprah reads a book in which a patient in a rehab facility is given 2 root canals without any sort of pain killer. She admits that she found it "unbelievable". She admits that she even asked her dentist about it. So why didn't she assign a staff member to call said facility? Really? I just think it's irresponsible. And, with that in mind, she should have just said so.

Yes, Frey lied. Yes, the publisher lied. And I am not condoning, excusing or endorsing that. I also can not condone, excuse or endorse Oprah's behavior.

The wise Cup O'Joe really summed it up for me in his comment to my last post.

One more thought to ponder, this from a quote by H.L. Mencken:

"The world always makes the assumption that the exposure of an error is identical with the discovery of truth - that the error and truth are simply opposite. They are nothing of the sort. What the world turns to, when it is cured on one error, is usually simply another error, and maybe one worse than the first one."

Now, let us burry this topic once and for all and move on to far more important things.

Kunta

I am writing to express my utter disgust in Oprah's show today. I have long respected Ms. Winfrey as a supporter of the written word and patron of creativity, but after today, I see her as a self centered megalomaniac.

I was proud of Oprah when I heard her call the Larry King show on January 11 to show her support for James Frey. I wholeheartedly agreed with her when she said that "A Million Little Pieces" " still resonates with” her and “resonates with millions of other people who have read this book."

When she retracted that statement on her show today, I found myself retracting my respect for Oprah. The hostess was clearly embarrassed by the negative attention this issue has brought her. Instead of standing up for this talented writer, she made a mockery of him.

I wonder if Ms. Winfrey would be as quick to grill Pulitzer Prize winning author Alex Haley? Some would argue that his "indiscretion" is far worse than that of James Frey. You will recall that Haley's best selling AUTOBIOGRAPHY "Roots" was found to be more fiction than fact. As reported in a 1993 Village Voice article by the investigative reporter Philip Nobile "Virtually every genealogical claim in Haley's story was false." In addition, Haley was was sued for plagiarism by the folklorist Harold Courlander. Courlander alleged that Haley had copied nearly 80 passages from his novel “The African” Despite denying any knowledge of the book, Haley quietly settled out of court—for a substantial $650,000.

True or not, “Roots” exposed million Americans to the horrors of slavery. This book helped open a dialogue and touched millions of lives. Would Oprah be as appalled with Mr. Haley.

James Frey and Alex Haley are certainly not the only writers in history that have embellished the truth to get to the heart of a story. Who didn’t learn in school that George Washington chopped down the cherry tree. We all know that is an urban legend, but do we fire every first grade teacher in America for telling a tale to teach a valuable lesson?

Yes, James Frey embellished the truth, but in doing so he opened the eyes of millions of readers to the realities of addiction. Why Oprah is so opposed to that, I will never understand.

Won't Get Fooled Again

I have suddenly become very paranoid, or, depending on how you look at it, very discerning. Many of the recent happenings have led me to feel the world is against me. Remember our water heater experience? Well, as annoying as it was, things seemed to tie up pretty nicely. Or so I thought. Within 2 days of the leak, a nice repair man came out, removed the junky old water heater and installed a shiny new one. Granted, only the water heater itself was covered by insurance and we had to pay out of pocket to retro-fit and earthquake proof the unit. But, we were happy to do it as it meant hot showers and clean laundry. This past Saturday, the "handyman" came out to look at the water damage to the ceiling and give us an estimate for the repair. He seemed really nice. We chitty chatted for a bit and discovered that our paths had crossed in former lives. He told us that the ceiling boards would have to be removed, he'd have to "tent off" the area and dry it out for a day or 2 with dehumidifiers and then put up new dry wall, tape & mud. He also pointed out that there was "Penicillium, Aspergillus" growing on the cinderblock back wall. That would have to be removed with a grinder, then the wall would be primed with a special mold killing primer. He would then paint the entire area to match the rest of the garage. It all sounded totally reasonable. At some point, LA-B very casually says "and you are a licensed and bonded contractor, right?" OH YES, OF COURSE.

Flash forward to yesterday when a new contractor shows up to look at the mess because, as it turns out dude #1 was NOT licensed or bonded. This guy looks at the space, says it's pretty dry, he just needs to put up new boards and patch it. Oh and, that isn't dangerous mold at all. Just dryer lint or something. So, that was that. What was supposed to be a BIG job, could now really be done by a monkey. You think I would be happy about this, right? But, no. It makes me question my faith in people.

Later that same night I am sitting on the couch watching American Idol when I hear what sounds like someone jingling keys in the water heater closet. I go open the door and the noise is prominent and certainly not normal. I look around and try to figure out the origin of the noise. As best I could tell, it was coming from INSIDE the unit. (Sounds like a scene from a B-horror movie, huh?) So, I call the home-warranty company and they tell me to call the water heater repair place who then tell me to call the home-warranty place. Finally, red tape, bureaucracy...someone is coming out tomorrow to look at the unit. UG.

Yesterday, same day. I received an invitation to a party that, on further investigation, it turns out I, in fact, am NOT invited to. Can I just say it sends me back to like third grade and Stacy is inviting everyone to her slumber party but me?

Today, I learn that someone I was trying to help and do something REALLY nice for has been lying to me. I mean REALLY lying.

I feel like such a sucker. It makes me want to crawl under my desk and not come back out. What is going on with this world? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Nuttin

I really don't have much of anything to say tonight. But, I noticed it had been a few days since I ranted so I thought I should post SOMETHING.

Here's what I am bugged about right now. I belong to a web-ring ( I think that is what it is called) of knitters called Stitch n' Bitch. It's a revolution of modern stitchrrrs. The very talented and wonderful matriarch of this group, Debbie Stoller, has published a couple of books full of cool patterns by members of this group. Now, all of a sudden, some pansy ass company has gone and trademarked the name Stitch & Bitch. I don't really understand all the intricacies of trademark and copyright law, but I know that Yahoo made all of the Stitch N' Bitch groups in all of the cities (and there were HUNDREDS of them) change the name of the group to SnB. It sucks. Honestly. This was a grass roots, web based community of artists who inspired and supported each other and some not so big corporate asshole comes along and rips us off. The nerve.

I am a low girl on this totem pole of information so don't look to me for any of the deets, but I urge you to boycott this company and support your local Stitch N Bitch pals. I suppose I should tell you the name of the asshole company, but I don't want to give them any extra space.

Hey, I guess I DID have something to say after all.

Try Harder

At the risk of repeating myself, I want to remind (or tell - if this is your first visit) everyone that as of Jan 3, I spend my days reading letters from and about people who have pretty shitty lives. It's my job to determine if they are needy and deserving enough to get an ultimate domestic renovation. And let me tell you straight up - these people are in full on Mark Knopflers. They are in DIRE STRAITS. Poverty, sickness, malady, tragedy, and that's on a good day. So, for me to sit here and complain about anything seems kind of King Georgian. My friend Tennessee Jed has a motto "trying hard not to make matters worse." I've always liked that - since the first time LA-B came home and told me about Jed's blog. It seemed like something I might adopt as my own motto. Lately, though, it seems I haven't been trying hard enough.

Now, 2005 was not the best year for this Valley Grrrl. I lost my Mommy in April, sat on the couch unemployed for 6 months, watched my big brubber go through a stinky divorce, said goodbye to my sister as she danced down south, and learned that my favorite job of all time was gone for good. I was pretty effen pumped for ought six, I kid you not. This year, the year of the Dog, was gonna take a bite outta grime. I was sure I would say "adios" to misfortune and "hola" to all sorts of good things.

Um, where's my golden ticket? Yes, I started a new job and it's pretty good. But on the day I was to receive my first paycheck our hot water heater burst, sending its entire contents through the floor, soaking the ceiling of the garage and landing in a puddle around the washer and dryer. Oh sure, the home owners' warranty covered the cost of the new water heater. However, the old unit seems to have been less than code-worthy. So, the kindly waterheater repair man thanked us for our $300+ check to cover the cost of the new drip pan and hoses. Another kindly contractor will be faxing us an estimate for the cost of drying out and patching the garage ceiling. While we pay our home owners' insurance each month, the cost of this repair will just amount of our deductible which means it's all out of pocket. Ok ok, it's cool. We have a home and we love it and if it means we have to shell out some dough now and then, well, it's worth it to have a roof over our heads. (Just keep telling yourself that , Kelvis).

So, tonight, after a very productive day of installing a shelf in the bathroom, doing laundry and watching Peyton Manning's SuperBowl dreams burst for another year, I decided to run out to the store to get some vitals. LA-B was in the garage cleaning up some of the remains of the waterheater incident, so the car was parked out in the driveway. Now without going into an entire land plot of the complex, just know that it's a straight away from where the car was parked, to where I had to back into a neighbor's spot to turn around and drive out of the complex. Back out straight. That's all I had to do. Did I do it? Nope. While I was looking out on the passenger side of the car and singing to myself a song that has now, thankfully, left my memory, the left side of the car was barreling toward a tree that lines the North side of the driveway. Bam. Just like that, I seared off the driver's side mirror of LA-B's car.

Sure, I can stick it back on with Duct Tape and it will serve it's purpose for now. But, COME ON. What the EFF is going on? Can we have nothing nice? Must everything be busted? Must I always EFF things up? UG. As hard as I try not to make things worse, I guess I just need to try harder.

Tag I'm It

Well, I guess I have officially arrived in the world of blogging. I was tagged. Honestly, until just now, I had no clue what that meant, and I am still not entirely sure, but it does make me feel like I got picked early for the dodgeball game. So, here goes.

Apparently I am supposed to write about my top five weird habits. And, I am supposed to include the following paragraph.

The first player of this game starts with the topic five weird habits of yourself, and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says You have been tagged (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

Here's my list:

1. I tend to be a pack rat. Now, I am not sure if this is actually weird. It certainly is common. By no means am I the only hoarder in the world and despite what my husband might say, my hoarding is actually fairly organized. Which leads to my next habit.
2. Labeling. I love to label things. Not in a "racial profiling" or "judging a book by it's cover" sort of way. No, I actually put labels on things - everything. From my bins of thread to my Christmas decorations. LA-B likes to point out that I have labeled a box of pine cones. (remember #1 above). It's amazing that I have never invested in one of those fancy p-touch labelers but, just give me time.
   
3. I am all set up and little or no execution. Please allow me to explain. I think it's bet illustrated by traveling back to my childhood. When playing with my Barbies, I would spend hours, days even, setting up. I'd make beds out of tissue boxes, chairs out of the plastic tops to hairspray cans, the list goes on and on. I would (along with my sister) set up these elaborate scenes for the dolls that rivaled any fancy storebought doll house. But, once it was all set up, that was it. I don't remember really playing with the dolls. And now, as an adult, I do that a lot. I spent months getting my "createry" all set up so I could create in here. I created a built in sewing table / fabric storage wall. I turned the walk in closet into a wonderland of shelves covered with plastic tubs filled with all of my tools and supplies (all meticulously labeled). I made this a workshop that Martha Stewart would be proud of. And now, eh, now that it's workable, I rarely actually work in here.
   
4. I write letters BEFORE deciding to whom they are written. It used to be I would just sit down with a spiral notebook and start writing. By the end of the letter I would pick someone to send it to and add some sort of personal thing so they would know it was really to them. Since the advent of e-mail, I've found I still do the same thing. The nice thing is, though, that I can use a BCC header and send my random rambling to several unsuspecting friends. This blahG, oddly enough, is sort of the legitimization of this bad habit. Now I can write to my heart's content without ever having to choose any one particular person to whom I will send my rant. YAY.
5. I am going to list this here with the very strong caveat that I do not think this is all that weird. I sleep with the TV on. I know Cup O'Joe included this habit on his list as I am sure many others will as well. To us, this seems perfectly normal. But to the weirdos who want pitch dark silence for their slumber, we are the odd ones out. The truth is my mind doesn't shut off when I lay down to go to sleep and if I don't have some televised distraction, I will just lay there and think about things. Things like the box full of wine glasses I acquired from the studio when we cleaned out the prop room (habit #1) or how I might fashion a hanging tag to go over the crystal decanters on the bar so I know which one contains dark rum and which holds the gold tequila (habit #2) or how I will frame out garden lattice with 2x4's and attach them to the walls of the patio so the cats can go outside and play and so that I can plant an herb garden and we can use the patio more effectively (habit #3) or should I write about the interview I am doing next week with a family who's daughter was beaten to a pulp by her husband, wrapped in duct tape and stuffed in a freezer (habit #4) or, if I was watching David Letterman right now, I bet I could get some freakin SLEEP.
   

So, those are my 5 weird habits. Truth be told I could probably list a whole bunch more. Now, I guess I have to tag 5 more folks to spill their innards. So, I will choose Pudgy Pigeon, CJ, Gutsy Girl, Vickie, and, in an attempt to get him to actually update his blog, my final victim shall be Allan. So, iffin any of you read this before I get a chance to e-mail you, feel free to start confessing your oddities.

Advance Directive

Ok - so, I just read this and, well, I want all my loved ones to know that this is what I expect them to do for me when I go.

Woman who died in 2003 left in front of TV

By ASSOCIATED PRESS
January 9, 2006

CINCINNATI (AP) - A dead woman dressed in white was positioned in a chair in front of a television set for 2 1/2 years because she told her caregiver that she didn't want to be buried and planned to return, the coroner said.

"Don't show my body when I'm dead," Hamilton County Coroner Dr. O'dell Owens said Monday in describing Johannas Pope's wishes. "Don't bury me. I'm coming back."

Pope, 61, died Aug. 29, 2003. Her caretaker and friend, whose name has not been released, left the woman upstairs in the home with the television and air conditioning on while the body slowly decayed and mummified, authorities said.

Some family members continued to live downstairs in the house since her death.

Police went to the house last Wednesday after a relative who hadn't seen Pope in 2 1/2 years called them. They found a staircase behind a door blocked by a basket and climbed to the second floor where they found the body.

"Standing outside, one could smell death," Owens said.

Owens said he had not determined the cause of death but found no signs of abuse or foul play.

Authorities are working to determine whether any crimes were committed, but Owens said the caretaker and family members apparently did not benefit in any way by keeping Pope

gguxlt

OK, I just want to say that I am not fond of the jumbled up letters that I am forced to type in order to post a comment on this site.

I don't think I am officially dyslexic, but I tend to be lazy or, sometimes less than observant. I think it's an impatient thing. I am always mistyping addressed into mapquest and ending up at the wrong house. I constantly dial phone numbers wrong because I just try to go to fast. So, being forced to accurately type a series of warped, misshapen letters in order to voice my thoughts is very frustrating. And, to top it all off, I do that thing where I glance at the word and assume I see something that I don't. You know, so, it's always a real word at first glance and it's always some weird word like chubby or phlegm or crescent and I start thinking of things related to that word and then, of course, I mistype the word and my comment is rejected and I have to start all over again.

Yep, that bugs the ytojbfn out of me.

Cat Therapy

Another day, another sinus headache. I woke up today much like I did Saturday. My head was pounding, I felt nauseous and HOT. I tried to stay in bed as long as I could. My theory was that if I was asleep, I wouldn't feel the pain. Trouble was I couldn't sleep anymore. I woke up around 5:30am and tossed and turned for the next 3 and a half hours. Finally at 9ish I dragged my sock monkey jammies out of bed and headed down stairs to face the day.

The cats were waiting impatiently for their breakfast and it took everything I had to stand up, pour kibbel, and make coffee. I can't tell you how LOUD that coffee grinder was. Ug.

So, as the coffee brewed, LA-B made his way downstairs to greet my grumpiness. He asked what he could do and I said "pet my head." In theory, it was a cure-all, but, in reality, it was more of an annoyance than anything. No, that would not be my miracle drug. Instead, I turned to the other end of the couch, threw a pillow over my head and blocked the world out. The next thing I remember was waking up to a strange rumbling on the back of my leg. No, I hadn't caught my sister's lower GI problem. The rumbling was the purring of my little Dynamite. He had crawled into the crook of my legs and purred my headache away.

YAY.

A Very Merry RX

Wow, so many remedies. What's a gal to do? So far I have...

1. held my head over a pot of boiling water that contained some liquid Vicks Vapo-rub (as close to Eucalyptus as I had on hand)
2. took a hot shower (what exactly is a shower puck? Is it like those things they put in urinals?)
3. snorted some Zicam (then promptly sneezed which of course sent the very expensive Zicam onto my pink kleenex tissue. And since the instructions warn not to snort more than twice a day, I was too afraid to resnort)
4. drank some cran-squirt in a sippie cup (1 part cranberry juice + 2 parts Squirt=YUM!!!)
   
5. took a nap with Basquiat and my 2 kitties. (The movie was on Showtime and the cats were on the bed)

I woke up in time to see Jean-Michel die and found myself feeling a tad bit better. There is still an ocean of snot in my right nostril, but the headache has lessoned to a dull thud. I think I'll live. Thanks for all the advice.

My Head is Full Of Crap

Ug. It seems every time I get on a plane I get sick. Sometimes it is immediate and other times it takes a few days for the little evil germs to make their way into my system. But it ALWAYS happens. This is no exception. I am currently battling a crappy nose full of snot that is just no fun at all. Last night I honestly thought I was having some sort of brain aneurysm because it felt like my head was just going to EXPLODE. I lay in bed with a pillow over my head while LA-B squeezed that pressure point between my thumb and forefinger trying to relieve some of the pressure.

As I lay there I conjured up many thoughts of how I might use my meat injector from the kitchen to squirt some sort of cleansing liquid up into my nose to flush all this yellow slimy glue from my system.

I know this isn't pleasant, but it is my day and I thought I'd share. Any tips? Any sure cures for relieving this hideous sinus pressure? Please, share before I snort this line of Draino!

Whitney at Koo Koo Roo

OK, so, I admit I am a tv junkie. I am. It probably has something to do with the fact that my parents worked for a tv manufacturer and growing up we had as many tv's as people in our house. At present, LA Barabbas and I have 4 tv's in our house. That's about 3 more than he would like I think.

Anyway, as part of my junkiedom, I watch some reality shows now and then. One of those shows that I never actually made an appointment of, but do stop to ogle when I pass it surfing, is "Being Bobby Brown." Not so much because I was a big New Edition fan or anything. But, that Whitney Houston is a nut job. Come on. If you haven't seen it, you really should do yourself a favor and check out just a few minutes of it. No matter how crazy you think you are, you will feel totally sane when you see this whacko.

So, earlier this week my friend Sweet V and I went to the Koo Koo Roo for lunch. While waiting for our order to come up I notice this tweaky lady in a black suede coat and a baseball cap standing in front of the counter looking at the food. She's moving constantly, every part of her is just twitching and jerking, but in tiny little ways. She says to the guy behind the counter, "can I try one of those wings?" Now, this is not Baskin Robbins where they have little tiny spoons for which to test ice cream flavors. This is a fast food restaurant. It's like going into McD's and asking to try a chicken nugget. But, for some reason, the dude complies and gives twitchy a wing. "While you're there, can I have one of them potatoes?" He smiles and stabs a plastic fork into a potato wedge and serves it to her.

I am glued to this scene. It's lunch time and there is a huge line and yet twitchy just walks past everyone right up to the counter and starts sampling. Where does this sense of entitlement come from? She in no way looks like a homeless woman. She's wearing a very nice suede jacket and I see that she has very nice nails. I can't see her face behind the giant sunglasses and the baseball cap. But the voice, I think, it sounds familiar.

Twitchy, baseball cap, sense of entitlement...could it be? Is it? I can't say for sure, but I think that this crazy twitchy chicken eating lady is none other than Mrs. Bobby Brown. I turn to Sweet V to alert her to my sighting and when we turn back, Twitchy is gone. She's had her samples and that was that. She twitched right out of the Koo Koo Roo.

I will never know. But, you know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and say that it was her. Because it makes a much better story. So, yep. It was Whitney getting free samples at the Koo Koo Roo.

Say WHAT?

This is Max. He is cute. Just thought I'd share.

Misery Day 1

OK - I know I am not supposed to talk about work on my blahG. I know it could get me fired. But I just have to say that today was my first day at work on a new job. I can't or won't say EXACTLY where it is that I work, but I will tell you that it involves doing something very nice for people very much in need. Sounds like I am a real do gooder, huh? Well, it also involves ratings and sponsors and the whims of network executives. So as much of a benevolent saint as I'd like to think I am, in reality, I am simply a cog in a very big wheel with very little say. But I digress.

So today was day one of sifting through letter after letter of bleeding hearts with what they think are the worst troubles in the world. Admittedly I was a bit concerned that I was going to crumble on this gig. After all, I cry at Hallmark commercials and holiday episodes of The OC. OK, I cry at EVERY episode of The OC. So how on earth was I going to be able to sit and sift through hundreds of letters detailing real peoples' real plights? Well, I am happy to say (or maybe not so happy to say) that it was a piece of cake. It turns out I am far more calloused and cynical than I ever thought. I read over a hundred letters today written by all sorts of very honest very needy people. Of the hundred plus letters I read, I promptly "filed" about 95 of them in file 13! That's right, I tossed them in the trash. And there was no second thought, or guilt or even a moment of "oh, man, maybe if I try I can persuade the powers that be to help these poor folks." Nope. Just tossed them in the very same plastic trash bin as I tossed my snotty Kleenex. In fact, there were just about as many snotty Kleenex as rejected letters. Not because I was all teary eyed over their sob stories, just because of my cold. Cold. Perhaps it's not just in my head, perhaps it has taken my heart as well.

Let's see if day 2 makes me any more or less human.

Sayonara 2005

Well, here we are in a brand new year and I couldn't be happier about it. 2005 was just a terd burgler as far as years go. But I do not want to dwell on the bad, so indulge me for a moment to let me say thank you to all of you who showed your true colors as my friends in the year that sucked. And let me say I am sorry for being such an ostrich over the past 6 or so months. I had my head burried in the sand and am only just now shaking off the tiny, itchy grains. Onward and up ward I say.

Viva 2006. May it be the year where all our dreams come true.