In honor of my Blog's new name.

I finally decided on a name for my blog. I read lots of books, right? And I like funny shit, right? So, I picked from some of my favorite funny lines from books. Here are some more of my favorites:

"These books can't possibly compete with centuries of established history, especially when that history is endorsed by the ultimate best-seller of all time!" Faukman's eyes went wide. "Don't tell me Harry Potter is actually about the Holy Grail!" "I was referring to the Bible." Faukman cringed. "I knew that." -- Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code

"Inconcievable!" -- The Princess Bride, William Goldman

"I am a sick man . . . I am a wicked man. An unattractive man, I think my liver hurts." -- Notes From The Underground, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

" . . . I could easily forgive HIS pride, if he had not mortified MINE." -- Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

"I haven't got the slightest idea how to change people, but still I keep a long list of prospective candidates just in case I should ever figure it out. " -- Naked, David Sedaris


"People, generally, suck." -- Lamb, Christopher Moore

"..they hung in the air, exactly the way bricks don't." -- Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

"In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move." -- Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy


"Ah, this is obviously some strange usage of the word 'safe' that I wasn't previously aware of." -- Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

And there you go.

Oh SNAP!

I pimped out my blog! Right on.

OK...really this time.

For reals.

I mean it. I am going to update this thing. Regularly. Promise. In fact, I pinky swear it.

Here goes....

Tomorrow is election day. I super excited to get out there and vote. I like voting in person. I'll brave the lines and do it. I knew I'd be antsy tonight, so I made sure I'd have a project to keep myself busy. I pulled out my sewing machine, and made a pillowcase. Yup - a pillowcase. I have this really small travel pillow Sarah and I got on our Sacramento trip, and I actually use it every night. I guess I use it too much, cause it already fell apart. Either that or it's a piece of crap. Either way, I figured I'd sew it up, and then make a pillowcase for it to protect it. I picked out a cute doggie patterned cotton, and trimmed it with ribbon with little paws on it. Here's pictures:

So there you have it.

A Winter Morning Tale...or Starbucks, How could you???

A blustery, stormy morning hit me in the face as I stepped out of my warm house. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and headed towards my car. I clutched my precious starbucks travel mug, knowing it would be just a few short minutes until it would be filled with a steaming hot and comforting Skinnny Gingerbread Latte. My car knows the way to Sbux, so I enjoyed minimal consciousness on the way up 85. I found a parking space, and climbed out of my car and back into the wind. I almost got ran over by a Datsun.I opened the doors and entered the safe haven of my local Starbucks. Ah, the smell! I closed my eyes and breathed in the heady scent. Then I opened my eyes. Wh...? Oh my God, NOOOOOOOO!Gone were the festive decorations. Gone were the clever gift ideas. Gone were the little gift card mittens. Holiday Travel mugs were piled in a bin. The shelves were stocked with plain white mugs. Sumatra was the coffee of the week. What happened to Christmas Blend? I still wanted to send a pound to soilders overseas, and donate to needy families going without Starbucks this Holiday Season. (BTW: Great idea, Starbucks! We can't have families in America go without.)I took all of it in. I took deep breaths. I knew what was coming next. I gulped and raised my eyes. And there it was. A TAN menu. No red in sight. No gingerbread latte, skinny OR fat. The horror.I trudged up to the counter. The Barista, who, up until this terrible day, had always greeted me with a cheery "Good Morning - Venti Skinny Gingerbread Latte?", looked at me blankly. I stared back until I realized she didn't know what I wanted. I choked up. I froze. I panicked. What did I want? Oh no. Oh no. The cute Barista dude making the coffees looked over. He frowned, then his face lit up. "We have bottles of Sugar free GB syrup in the back!" He pronounced. I gasped. His coworker smiled. The clouds lifted, the sun peeked through the window and glinted off of a checker board table. Angels sang. The Barista ran into the back room, and returned in a moment, proudly setting the bottle of gold yumminess on the counter. It could be all mine for $6.95.I still need to order a drink for today. The spell had been broken, and I was able to think again. I ordered my back up, the trusty Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte. The Barista taking my order must've had some left over Christmas cheer - she gave me my coffee for free. Either that, or she felt sorry for my Starbucks dependant, pathetic, over reactive self. Regardless, I bounded out of that store and lifted my red travel mug to the sky in a salute to the Starbucks Gods. So now, I sit at work, telling my tale to you. It is a bittersweet tale, and I shall miss my SFGBL. But, there's always next year. Until then, SFGBL, until then.
No Skinny GB Lattes: my heart and soul
Replacement SFGB syrup: $6.95
FREE Starbucks: Priceless.

I've been TAGGED!!!

I got "tagged!"

The rules:

1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3.At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Here we go:

1. I used to Rock Climb regularly, but I haven't in a long long time.

2. I hate spiders. I'm scared of them. They are creepy and have lots of legs and they scurry. Scurrying is creepy and gross.

3. I hate avocados. I don't get what people like about then so much.

4. I think I'm allergic to talking on the phone. I don't do it, even with my BFF. I'm just not a long phone conversation person.

5. I was a hooker. Don't get excited, Hooker is a position in Rugby. I played Rugby in College.

6. I own the condo I lived in with my parents when I was in High School. My Senior year, we all moved out, and ten years later, my DH bought that same exact condo.

7. I have a scar on my forehead you can only see when I cry. I got it when I was two when I fell on my Fisher Price Farm.

8. I had 51 Cabbage Patch Kids when I was little.

Those are my facts. I haven't tagged anyone yet...I have to think about that one ....

How many people does it take?

I swear to you, DH and I must have been really horrible, slimy, and dishonest contractors in a previous life. We get screwed over every single time we attempt to improve our home. Yesterday, workers were supposed to come out to install new closet doors in our bedroom and in the coat closet in our living room. I was home in the morning to take care of sending my broken Sirius radio back to Sirius (another story), and to deal with the closet guys when they got there. I was hoping to then leave them to their business, and get my ass to work.
So, I take care of going to the UPS store, and then go home to let the guys in. They come in, and all seems well. Then the dude installing the track in the living room (mind you, there were doors here before, we just hated them and wanted nicer ones), anyway the dude in there drills a nail right into a water pipe. So now my living room is flooding. we gather buckets and save the floors. The closet guy calls his boss, and then says, we're really sorry, but now we have to go to our other appointments for today. And they leave. I have water coming out of my ceiling, but whatever - they are gone.
Because the pipes are communal and affect the whole building, we have to call the HOA. HOA sends a guy out to asses what the situation is. Meanwhile, the owner of Interior Doors, Inc calls me. He says that they are not responsible and are not going to pay for repairs. WTF?!?!?!? I say, well, I have a pipe with a hole in it and I didn't poke it, so who is responsible? He says, there isn't usually a pipe there. So the #%^& what? Seriously. I don't give a flying fig newton! Have you guys ever heard of a STUD FINDER? It beeps and tells you were to put a nail in so you don't hit things like pipes. HE says, well, you're going to have to pay for it, and we'll have to argue about it later, because you're the one with water in your house. Oh. My. Frigging. Goodness. He's basically telling me I'm the one who's screwed here and I don't have a choice. I'm so furious at that point, I can't even speak. Then he says he's sending out his plumber, but we'd have to pay if we wanted it fixed.
Meanwhile, the HOA guy explains that technically it isn't their responsibility either, because we had independent contractors out, and they damaged the property. I tell him how the owner is being an ass and is refusing to pay, so HOA guy calls the owner of our management company, who also happens to be lawyer, and that guy takes pity on us, and tries calling the owner of the door company. After talking to HIM, he feels even more sorry for us, so he calls the HOA's plumbers.
Now we have two plumbers coming out and the guy from HOA out front, waiting to tell the door company's plumbers to go home.

HOA plumber shows up and begins working on pipe - meaning - cutting holes in our ceiling.

Door Plumber never shows. Finally Door Company owner calls and says, never mind, our plumber is busy, he can't help you. I say I figured you weren't going to be much help, I already have someone here taking care of it, and I still expect your company to be responsible. He says, I have somewhere to be, I'm not arguing with you right now, I'll call you tomorrow, and we can argue all you want then.

Okay, whatever. It gets worse.

Plumber is soldering a pipe. He burns through an electrical wire. Poof! Out goes electricity. Oh no - I think we need an electrician, he says. Now we have no water, and no power. I laughed at this point. Hee, Hee, Hee. HOA guy laughed with me. He said, Ma'am - you've got a black cloud over your head. I said, no, I've got a damn hurricane.

The sun did peek through - HOA people said to go ahead and send all bills to them, they'd pay them and deal with the Door company. Thank goodness. Also, water and electricity are fixed, but I have a hole in the ceiling still (Painting, plasterer have to come out and fix that), and no, closet doors still. They took the old ones AND the new ones away.

Oh, I never made it to work, obviously.

So, we are the only people on Earth who need:

Contractors
Plumbers
Electricians
Painters
Plasterers
Managers
and Lawyers
just to replace a closet door. ALL IN ONE DAY.

Oh, and about the Pot Pie....

Even though it was a year ago, I remember it. It was okay. I made it from scratch, and the recipe called for Dry Sherrie. I did NOT like the dry Sherrie. Ew. Other than that it was good.
I have since found a ridiculously easy Campbell's soup recipr Chicken Pot Pie, which is simple, and delicious. So forget the fancy-schmancy, and give me some chicken, a sack of frozen veggies, a can o' Cream of Chicken soup, and a pilsbury pie crust any day.

It's been over a YEAR?!?

A whole year since I posted on this darn thing? Well, it just goes to show you how boring my life is. Lesse. What has happened in a year? NOTHING. That's what. Well, we did take a couple vacations. One to Vegas, the other our annual anniversary trip over to Arizona for Giants' Spring Training. I have pictures from both, maybe I'll actually post some soon. I think I'm just going to start over instead of playing catch up.

So, my thought for today? I can only talk about one thing. THANK GOODNESS SANJAYA IS GONE. I mean, I'm sorry kid, but you just didn't belong in the same room with the other folks. I'm so thankful I don't have to listen to him next week. My poor ears have been tortured long enough. But now who goes? I'm guessing Phil is next, maybe Chris. I'm just torn between Melinda, Blake, and Jordin right now. I can't decide which is my favorite.

Oh, and one more thought - WHY, oh WHY is Grey's Anatomy new the one Thursday I won't be home to watch it? I'm going to see Smokey Joe's Cafe tonight, so I'll be Do-wopin' it up. I'll miss out on Meredith 1 millionth crying fit!

Tonight's the Night!

Tonight I attempt the Chicken Pot Pie.

I'm skerrid.

Tune in Tomorrow to see how it turns out. Will it be a soggy mess? Will it be a masterful and delicate blend of flavors that melt in your mouth?

Whichever way it turns out, I'll let you know!

Mollification...

I have been shamed.

A friend pointed out that I, indeed, forgot the ultimate Sisters. The Grand Dames of Sisters, the Holy Grail of Sisters, the Sister Messiahs, The Sister Gold Medalists, The Sisterhood of the traveling peep show...

The Hiltons.

Nuf' said,

I hang my head in shame.

Tie me up and force me to watch "One Night in Paris." Again.

El-o, El-o, El-o

VE!
El-o, El-o, El-o!

Ok, sorry, I have that Ashley Simpson song stuck in my head.

I was debating (with myself), who the most talented pair of sisters in entertainment are.
I mean, the wealth of talent that is out there right now - it boggles the mind!

I immediately thought of The Simpsons, Ashley and Jessica. Jessica is Queen of blond hair extensions, and of strutting her stuff in TV ads. Ashley's singing voice is similar only to that of an angel. Right? And they were also tied for third on oft-quoted celebrity-fashion critic Mr. Blackwell's list of the worst-dressed celebrities of 2004. Blackwell wrote that "from gaudy to grim to downright frenetic these two prove that bad taste is positively genetic". How could he?

"No!" I told myself, "You're wrong!"

I had forgotten the mini moguls themselves, MK and Ashley Olsen. From their very first appearance, how can anyone have doubted that these two would grow up to be the pair of very finest actresses that they are? And they remain role models for our youth! How do they do it? Even Rapper Eminem can't deny their star appeal, they are mentioned, and insulted (Oh, the horror!), in his 2005 song, "Ass Like That".

Then myself got angry. "Oh hells no!" I sneered.

Britney and Jamie Lynn Spears - Hello? Ah, you didn't know Jamie Lynn acted? Well, duh! Jamie Lynn stars in Zoey 101, on Nickelodeon. Her big sis even wrote the theme song, and Jamie Lynn performs it. How's them apples? That's sisterly love. And Britney continues her career, becoming a role model to all working moms, by snorting down her trademark Cheetos, and doing cool stuff. Like protecting her baby by zooming around in the car with him on her lap. Bah! Who needs old fashioned stuff like car seats when some paprazzi asshat might *gasp* snap a picture of little Sean Preston.

Then I bitch-slapped myself. "Snap out of it!" "Don't you know anything? Stupid self."

"It's a tie."

Holy Wow! An update!

I think I need to change the title of my blog. Because, from the frequency of my posts (read: 2), I obviously do NOT know how to use said blog. I promise to be better. I'm not good at promises, but still.

So, what's new with me? Not much. Gearing up for Spring Training. The Hubster and I leave in just 9 days for the presumably warmer Scottsdale, Arizona, where we will once again, fall under the spell America's favorite pastime. Ah, Baseball is back, folks. This year will be different, however.

Enter the first ever World Baseball Classic. We've scored tickets to a couple of games to the TRUE World Championship. As opposed to the World Series,where the only part of the "world" that competes is the US, but I digress. Unfortunately, two of the three teams I am most interested in aren't playing in Scottsdale. The US looks like they have a stellar line up, but at a glance, I'd put my money on the Dominicans. And of course, I'm just dying to check out the Cubans. Being Cuban myself, I want to know if we've got what it takes.

You see, baseball is life to most Cuban boys. There is a passion for the sport in Cuba, that goes beyond what we Americans feel for our National Pastime. In Cuba, the fans are honest. At SBC Park, were my beloved, if not so talented Giants play, the so-called fans are there to be seen. They wander the park, they talk on their cell phones. I see women at games, in heels and miniskirts. On Friday nights. In the cold. The conversations are more about whether to grab a Martini at Momo's or a glass of Cab in North Beach, than about our aging outfield. In Cuba, they come to watch a baseball game. The kids take a break from heckling players to smile and wave at a "cameraman" holding a cardboard TV camera, but then it's back to the game.

But, Aalas, only USA, Canada, and Mexico play in the First round in Scottsdale. With Gange not even on the mound for Canada, we're taking our chances with USA vs. Mexico. Rah! Rah!

Next Stop, Arizona!

And I'm Baaaa-aaaack!

Yes, after months of not posting, I am back! And better than ever. Not really, but who wants to read a bunch of sniveling complaints?

Anywho - Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Along with what seems like the entire population of Santa Clara County I have been making daily visits to the local grocer's. Why is it I can't remember everything the FIRST time? Entering a grocery store this time of year is like going into war. A messy war. A war with casualties. Me being one of them. Well, I'm not dead, but I might as well be. There's junk EVERYWHERE. I walked in, and was immediately face to face with a tower of chicken broth. As I gazed up into the fluorescent lighting, trying to see if there was, indeed, a top to this tower of salty goodness, I wondered exactly how I was supposed to remove one for purchase. I located a can on the outside edge and tapped it,trying to slide it out sideways. I was a wicked good jenga player, but the skills I obtained in my youth were no help to me now. The can remained, but the tower began a slow lean. I looked on in horror, then decided to run for it. I escaped between the Post cereal and the Nutrigrain bars. I was casually examining the Fat content in Strawberry Yogurt breakfast bars when I heard a the crash. I tsked tsked for the benefit of the lady next to me and moved on.

I'd fill you in on my Turkey selection process, but then I'd have to kill you. Suffice it to say, I got one. A fine bird. And I only came out of it with 15 stitches! A new record! Damn, those electric scooter carts pack a lot of punch. I do not recommend standing in the path of an old lady on one. Especially after pilfering the young Turkey out of her basket. Nope, that I DO NOT recommend.

Navigation in a crowded, pre-Thanksgiving store is yet another challenge. Do not attempt this without special preparation and safety equipment. A properly maintained cart is first and foremost. Make sure your cart is not resting on three wheels, with the fourth spinning endlessly, and never touching ground. Make sure that fourth wheel is not a sticky one, making that horrible screeching sound as it drags along the linoleum, leaving black marks and marking your path. (This would be disaster in above mentioned broth-escape. Imagine!) Once I secure an appropriate cart, I check my pre-drawn map. I know this store. I've shopped here on several occasions. But those were times of peace. This was a time of war. I headed towards the bread aisle. I had a mission: Obtain little breads you bake in the oven that my Uncle Paul likes. If I do not, said Uncle Paul will undoubtedly pronounce Thanksgiving a failure due to the missing foodstuffs. Back to my mission. I approach rows and rows of crusty bakery goods. I zero in on the bottom row, where the little rolls normally call home. I squint. I squat. I look again. I move a misplaced loaf of pre-made Columbo Garlic bread. The rolls are MIA! May Day! May Day! Standing up, I bump my head on my cart. I stumble along the aisle, dazed and disappointed. Can this Thanksgiving be saved?

I check the next item on my list, and consult the map again. Stuffing mix (What- you think I make that stuff myself? Stove Top is THA BOMB!) Okay, Aisle 5, next to the Complete box meals. (With CHICKEN!) I head off to Aisle 5. Apparently, this is a Nuclear war, because there is just a large crater where the Stove Top once was. There are three other soldiers (aka hapless Thanksgiving hostesses) standing and staring open-mouthed. We glance at each other - and then out of nowhere, a crazed man careens by - "I know where it is!", he yells. And we take off after him. Hell, he may be nuts, but he's got the Stove Top. Sure enough, there's a display by the meat locker. Mission Accomplished. I throw away my map, though. Times of war cause mass confusion. Obviously, my plans dreamt up in quieter times are no good here.
I finish my shopping, passing many other wounded, struggling customers. We nod at each other as we pass. We are comrades, we are sisters and brothers. We share in this pain. As I steer my loaded cart into a line that stretches for about a half mile, I rest my head on my arms. I am tired. I have no little breads that you bake in the oven that my Uncle Paul likes so much. I mourn the loss. I inch forward in line. I look up. I can't believe my eyes. There, at the end of the chip row, are hundreds of packages of little breads! All there! Hallelujah! Mine for the baking! I grab a package. I grab another. Soon, package after package is tumbling into my cart. I'm a bread fiend! My arms fly out of control. I emptied the entire shelf. Enough bread to last Four Thanksgivings!

But it's okay.

The war is over.

Until tomorrow. Tomorrow I cook.

9.28.05

First post on this blog...Nothing to say today. Just trying to get through another day at work. We're changing the layout of our building, so who knows where I'll be after the next couple weeks. Also getting a new Database system. I like the old one, hopefully the new one will be as functional, not holding my breath, though.
Going over to Heather's tonight to hang out, have dinner, and veg in front of the TV. Probably we'll end up watching a chick flick we've seen a thousand times. Gotta rush home from work, hit the grocery store, and cook some dinner for the husband first, though.
Well, that's all you get for now.

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