Do You Watch Jon & Kate?

Okay... I stand by my statement that celebrities are real people, with real families, and that's why I hate celebrity gossip. But... BUT --- Jon Gosselin is on my left nerve. Seriously. Stop living out your divorce in the limelight. It will have an impact on your kids. Do you think they're immune to all of the terrible things written about her in the media? My word.

This is one of those things I really don't get... WHY would anyone want to be a celebrity? I mean, yeah ... there's that whole money thing, but I would so much rather have anonymity, or at least some semblance of privacy. I cannot imagine having paparazzi follow my toddler around. I can only imagine the terrible parenting they might see.

Of course, I'm pretty sure I'm getting sick and I'm on my third cup of coffee. So, what do I know?

Pet Peeve Thursday #1

So, I had a happy-go-lucky, sunshine and rainbows post (in my head) ready to go. But then, I went to work. Now, this isn't inherently bad as my job is super fun and sometimes, on occasion, I get to use a portion of my brain - that part that hasn't been killed by sleep deprivation. But today, so much stuff is getting on my left nerve, I can't even tell you. Sometimes you just have to rant.

• Reliving Dan Uggla's THREE errors in the All Star Game. Why-oh-why does the National League insist on giving the game away every year? C'mon, I even rooted for Cub players.
• The copy machine insists on eating everything I give to it. Maybe it's really hungry, or related to me?
• Magic's absolute need to chase Mystic around at both 2:00 am and 10:00. These times are "Shhhh!! Baby is actually sleeping!" times.
• Meetings that could be over in 30 minutes that take two hours. Yeah, [this afternoon's meeting], I'm talking about you!
• Summer weather when the words "Heat Index" are thrown around.
• Reading articles, particularly those showcased on MSN, that have comments sections. Despite the ignorance of many of the comments, I can't stop reading them.

If you feel the need to rant, please feel free to join me.

On My TV ...

... and on my left nerve.

Showing Your Class

This is an odd post to follow the "Omigosh, I am SO nice!" post. But - grrrr - what an annoying way to start the day.

I stopped into Dunkin' Donuts this morning to get my milk and croissant. When I was walking out of the door, this super "classy" woman had just pulled into the parking lot. How classy was she, you ask. WOW. She was the kind of classy that lets you know she was a hella lot more important than you or I could ever hope to be. Allow me to demonstrate.

Obviously-Important-Lady-at-Dunkin'-Donuts' How to be Classy List:

• Drive a pretty, brand-spanking-new, black Lexus (This is just jealousy on my part because I will never be able to afford a car that costs that much.)
• Parallel park said Lexus across three (!!!) perpendicular parking spots
• Wear a Michael Vick jersey

You're awesome, lady.

(*EDIT* I think I'm still sleeping. The number of typos in this post keeps multiplying.)

TiVo? Did You Betray Me?

Um... Was this week's America's Next Top Model a clip show? That's what I saw on my TiVo. The lameness of that about killed me. They could have updated us in about 20 minutes, or I don't know, online. Why the clip show?

Or, maybe... Was there a second episode on afterward? There may have been but Medium has higher priority according to my backward older generation TiVo model. (Seriously, those of you who can record two things and watch a third... I marvel at that power! WOW!)

I feel all sorts of icky inside. TiVo is a member of my family. The cats are scolded when they touch the TiVo box or get in the way of its remote control awesomeness. *sniff* Did TiVo fail to record a NEW EPISODE OF AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL??? I feel so let down. If I can't trust my TiVo, who can I trust?

Not That I Was a Fan Before

I was channel surfing a couple of weeks ago and stopped on the "Who Will Be the Next Pussycat Doll?" show. Omigod. Let's do the math: singing competition + TV = Marianne sitting on the couch watching her butt grow.

So, um, yeah. I watched... and watched. And hated the contestants. These were some of the most unlikable people on reality TV. WOW. I mean, I can't even tell you one PCD tune aside from that "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me" song. I think I only know that from commercials and the American Idol reject auditions.

And wouldn't you know it, the most unlikable one of the bunch took home the crown. BOO! BOOO, Asia! That's all I've got to say. It's not quite as disappointing as Max winning the role of Danny in Grease, but it still grinds my gears.

Really, it should embarrass me a bit that I actually wasted hours of my life on this show. UGH.

Inspired to Utter Many Four-Letter Words

I'm having some issues accessing my blog - or any Blogger blogs - from home. My blogging, which I use purely as an avoidance tactic for my dissertation, is being hindered, God Bless It! So frustrated. As such, my blogging (and reading all of your wonderful blogs *cry*) will be limited for the next however-the-heck-long it will take to get this straightened out.

And also? Tomorrow is The Targo's 30th birthday. HAhAHAHAHAAHhaHA! When were at his family's Easter, everyone asked me if I was turning 30 in a year or 3. Hahaha! The only reason I like my chubby cheeks... they make me look younger than The Targo. Why do I care? I don't know. Maybe because I'm jealous of his long skinny legs.

Tomorrow, I think we're going to Grotto on State. We're Midwesterners. We likes our moo cow. Well, I love steak. The Targo always orders chicken and then mooches off of me. But, I'll let you all know how it goes. I heart food.

On a completely unrelated note: It's April 11th and it's snowing in Chicago. I don't mean flurries, where it looks like we're a cute little hamlet residing in a snow globe. No, I mean it's those big ole honkin' fat flakes that require you to wear protective eye gear.

Lastly, just because one blog entry cannot have the word "blog" in it too many times: BLOGGGG!

I'm a Cheating Cheater

I cheated on my chiropractor. I KNOW. It's terrible.

So like, I've got this back issue. Which I've whined about mentioned too many times to count. God. Here's the thing, I thought I'd be all smart and take care if it in the non-American way, meaning SLOOOOOOW. I've been seeing my chiropractor for the past year and a half and there have been times when my back has felt blissfully better - like, rainbows and unicorns better. There have been other times, like the last three weeks, where it's felt like someone wearing a stiletto has been kicking me in the right shoulder blade every time I say the word "Like." Which I say a lot. Or worse? Every time I punctuate something improperly. Again, quite frequent.

So, I thought I could persevere. I'm pretty tough. Right? No, I'm not that tough. Today, I went to one of the best rehabilitation programs in the country and sought a second opinion. I had hoped thought that they would give me a quick fix: "Here you go! Five days of the most powerful steroid on the market! Have a great time!" Again, I am denied. The physiatrist and his resident made me take my shoes off, examined me, and totally did not offer me a lollipop. Essentially they said that I need six weeks of physical therapy and an occupational therapist to evaluate my work environment. You know, unless there's an ergonomics specialist at my company! Bwahahahaahahaha *snort* hahahaha. Hooo-boy... I'm crying. Yeah.

That's where I'm at. I guess this same-old-same-old is better than something very bad. It's just frustrating. And maybe? I'm a big baby.

The Chair that I've Yet to Sit in

You all remember that chair, right? The one we were so proud to have bought. Well, I have yet to sit in it. Really. We've had it a month and still... No. I sit in the broken, uncomfortable papasan or lie on the futon. Not the worst of options really. And a girl has got to have her TV.

Why haven't I sat in the chair, you ask? Or maybe you didn't. But, here's why:


The sacrifices one makes.

There's also the little issue of the BATTLE FOR THE CHAIR!

Holy schmokes do these cats fight over this thing. The winner is decided by whichever one lies on his/her back first. New Cat outweighs Mystic by three pounds. That's like, a lot, in the cat-to-people ratio. So, if he gets the chair, it's all over: There's no way she can push him off. When that happens, I'm evil, and just move him. Yeah, I've obviously got a favorite. You see, New Cat is really affectionate but has really bad breath. And Mystic? Well, she's just not that into me. Which would you pick?

Origins and Legacies

My friend Colleen once asked what "my left nerve" meant. I couldn't just give her a short "oh you know, it's a play on words..." answer. I had to give her the whole background. And, of course, you're getting it too. Muhaha!

Anyone have one of those slightly off-kilter relatives who would be considered eccentric if he was rich? Well, that's how my uncle, Wolfy, is. He's always got some random declaration or some turn of phrase that catches you so off guard you feel the need to snatch it up and keep it forever. I remember when I was a little kid, the grandest compliment he would give was "Smart as a whip!" Sometimes, he'd mix it up and say "Smart as a tack!" I liked that one.

Someone - and really, he's that crotchety that it could have been anyone - was totally annoying him. He turned to whomever and said "You're getting on my left nerve!" Of course, we all exploded! "What about your right one, Wolfy?" Chortle, snort!

It just stuck. The whole family uses it. I plan on passing it down to my children.

Sadly, I just discovered this wasn't as witty or novel as I had hoped. Don't worry! I won't tell Wolfy!

Blogger, How You Snark Me Off!

Seriously on my left nerve. Blogger is not cooperating with me as of late. It wouldn't let me log on for three days last week. And then, I have a couple posts that I want to publish with pictures. But Blogger no likey. Damn you! (I really wish there was a fist shaking emoticon! It would look something like this...)

And? I have pictures from our fiesta! And, a lame (L-A-M-E) story about my cats and Valentine's Day.

Well, I guess I will try to update them when I get home tonight. Old news is sometimes interesting. Sometimes.

Ode to New Cat - A Haiku

Loud midnight howling

Why can't you shut the hell up?

Eviction process starts.

Seriously, New Cat started howling at 4 this morning. Yes, FOUR! I'm so bleeping tired I could cry. This makes me respect new parents even more. How on Earth do you people function on no sleep for months on end? Dear God! I wonder how our poor neighbors are functioning?

This is what I look like right now...

Because seriously, I've been trying to post on blogger for almost a week ... and either my internet provider, Blogger, or my computers have been all "Like hells you will!"

Hmph... I guess I'm up and running again... Hopefully, I can't think of something interesting to tell you.

Open Letter to My Neighbors

Dear people who live below us:

We have to apologize. At first it was just one, fairly quiet, slender feline. She didn't meow, but yes, she got the zooms at random times. Indeed, her penchant for chasing and fetching hair ties led her to bouncing off of furniture and the walls. At times, I'm sure it was very disturbing and somewhat loud.

Circumstances led us to bring another cat home. New Cat - how do I say this? - is loud beyond comprehension. I understand if you hate us because of the sounds of his floppy feet constantly above your head. I admit it must be annoying to hear him jump off of furniture from what seems like an extreme height. And yes, the sound of claws on the plaster walls must be akin to nails on a chalkboard.

In fact, we don't know how to beg your patience or tolerance with the latest series of events. Yes, that was him in our linen closet at 4:30 this morning. Yes, he did knock down several boxes, sending things scattering across the floor, likely right above your bed. Yes, we also admit that he has been up howling in thirty-minute intervals every night over the past week. We are truly sorry.

We hope that this doesn't officially make us the worst neighbors, EVER. But, we may be. Please accept our sincere apologies and offers of peace. We too are at wits' end. But, BUT, if you saw this damned cat, you would understand why we're going through this. Because, Good Lord, he's cute.

Sincerely,
Your Neighbors Above

ACH!! Here it is!!

Why, oh why, is this considered ok? DEAR GOD! And also, why do American Apparel mannequins have nipples?

It's not just American Apparel, apparently (um, jeez). I also saw a similar look at Untitled.

This is getting SO out of hand...

OK... The 1980s was not a time of haute couture. It just wasn't. From the early 80s, with its Flock of Seagulls-inspired hairdos, to the late 80s with the mallbangs... Not cute... Of course, we've recently been blessed with the reappearance of leggings and better, the mini-skirt over leggings!

As the Targo and I went for our nightly fix evening coffee run, we walked by the American Apparel store. I have yet to go into this place, although I wholeheartedly support their labor policies and, if nothing else, their t-shirts are high quality. The window displays always turn me off. I had trouble reconciling why, but last night I figured it out. Not only do they have those creepy stark-white mannequins, but they also pay supreme homage to the "fashion" of the 80s.

For example, I remember having desperate fights with my mom, as only a small child could, when in the early 1980s she would dress me in terry cloth rompers. Now, I can be a fully grown, urban woman and look ever-so-cute in one of these:

Or perhaps, this cute little number:

I also was horrified to see a reminder of 11th grade. One of the sweetest people I'd ever known in my life was this super-popular girl named Kim. She was a gymnast, cheerleader and unashamedly smart in school. No clue what happened to her. At any rate, in the 11th grade, she always wore t-shirts and jeans with this jersey/elastic belt-like thing around her waste. This may have been a trend nation wide - I don't know - but it struck me as odd. But I swear, Kim had one for everyday of the week. She was stylin'. Ladies and gentlemen, and I so wish I could find a picture, this belt-esque doohickey is apparently back! At least that's what the creepy mannequins at American Apparel tell me.

When will we admit that of any decade of fashion to bring back, the 80s is not the way to go? Sweet God.

Photos from www.americanapparel.net