Tuesday, Oct. 24, 2006 - 10:30 a.m.

fun with tree sap

Alrighty, I'm done with my pouty fit from yesterday - you'll have to find angsty apocalyptic schlock somewhere else. I would reccomend any username that includes the "sad, goth, emo, or republican"

Somehow I'm good at forgetting basic things about my self, such as, I'm an introvert!! Way too much time spent around people tends to make me crabby! I'm a social creature; I really enjoy spending time with my family and friends, but I need time to myself to recharge. If my calendar and memory serves me correctly, I hadn't spent more than two hours by myself for three weeks. I had a blast attending fall festivals, hiking, shopping, visiting family and friends out of town - but I think I kept it up too long given that work is more hecktic than usual.

So, last night? I spent a blissfully quiet evening at home with iTunes, my pets, and a microwavable jar of tree sap.

Mr. Hubby was away, having fun storming the castle and consuming junk food with our D&D friends when Mr. Lee called the house.
"What are you up to?"
"Gonna try to wax my legs."
"Uh . . . I'll give you a call tomorrow. . . bye!"

Having successfully scared everyone away, I inspected my $6 waxing kit; it included a small plastic jar of resin, two tounge depressors, a vial of blue oil, and instructions in four languages. What it should have included was a paper tarp, or at least a suggestion to spread newspapers around.

I thought I was stealthy smart by putting on shorts and moving all the bathroom rugs aside - nope, truly smart people pony up $40 for someone else to drip sap all over their floor and transfer little blobs of goo all over their feet, hands, pets, etc.

The actual hair removal part wasn't a big deal, bandaids are much worse. I should point out, I didn't travel north of my kneecaps, so I might be in for a nasty surprise if I'm more adventerous in the future.

Rather than resembling a healthy Wookie, I now resemble a Wookie with business-card-size bald patches. After running back and forth from the microwave to the bathroom five times and spending far too much time cleaning up drips I gave up on DIY leg waxing.

A pedicure and lots of iTunes music sorting later, I felt great. Mr. Hubby returned home in time for us to watch part of "Halloween" before our cat Mikey slayed a huge fieldmouse for our entertainment. I'll never understand why I can watch old scary movies, but can't stand the sight of a dead mouse?

Anyway, long story short (too late!) don't forget to spend some time alone, do pay someone else to wax your legs, and do remind your web-friends that they're teriffic. Thanks Nikki and Alie for your comments, that was very kind of you! I'm doing fine - just had to have a toddler-esque hissyfit about work.



Monday, Oct. 23, 2006 - 2:15pm

annoying: a definition

I created order out of scheduling chaos on someone else's behalf, and just received word that all my work was pointless. And I get to be the bearer of bad (well, irritating) news, which means that the receivers of bleh news are likely to get irritated with me, which is just what I need, thank you very little. Lord help them if they give me condescending looks, my reply "dig your own grave and die" glare is developing very nicely.

Given my knack for not being hired by people I interview with, I really need to buck up, change my attitude, just get over my own ego, and learn to be waaaaaaaay more tolerant of blips like this.

I put lots of energy into trying to maintain an upbeat attitude about my underemployment, telling myself this is temporary, I'm smarter than the average schmo, only ignorant shitheads think I can't and won't do better than this.

Most of the time, I'm alright - I grasp tightly to strings of hope and remain proud of what I've accomplished so far, what I have made of myself. Other days, my confidence is shattered - my strings are attached to helium ballons that are being sucked into a windstorm of annoyance and self doubt. Sometimes I'm left with a strand of perspective and can think to myself "good grief, this sucks!" Other times, my hands are empty, only rope-burns remain and I can only think "good grief, I suck!".

Not a fun place to be.



Friday, Oct. 20, 2006 - 10:23 a.m.

buh bye habeas corpus and hello breakdancing baby!

Good griefy, the world is a scary place.
You may or may not know that writ of habeas corpus (the ability of an imprisoned person to challenge their confinement in court) has recently been suspended. In the words of Justin Gardner (from donklephant.com ):
It’s official. Detainees don’t have the right to be determined guilty or innocent. They’re guilty until proven guilty, and what could be more American than that?

The good-ish news? The suspension only applies to foreign nationals captured here and beyond our borders, and resident aliens within the United States.

Honkeys and head-in-sand-ers breathe a sigh of relief.
Only “foreigners” have reason to freak out.


Until a few months ago, my own father was a resident alien. . . . a law-abiding, green card carrying, not worthy of his day in court, tax-paying resident from a “friendly” country.


I’m not going to pretend to be a political analyst, I’m probably more politically aware than the average shmo, but that’s not saying a much. Sometimes I think I’m doing a dis-service to my country by not getting involved, but I know I’m protecting my liver and my sanity by remaining on the sidelines, occasionally writing a “thank you” or a “shame on you” letter to politicians I helped vote into office or tried to keep out of office.

I don’t expect you to do any further research into the topic, but I hope I’ve compelled you to stay informed. I also reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally hope I haven’t bored you to tears.

For a short video clip, please visit youtube.com, and if necessary, type in the search term Olberman habeas corpus .

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Breakdancing baby is a fantastic way to regain a more positive outlook on life, skip the political schlock and watch!!



Thursday, Oct. 19, 2006 - 10:00 a.m.

sleep talking: her master's voice

welcome to another day in the jungle:

Early this morning, I was woken up by the sound of Mr. Hubby snoring. I wasn't entirely surprised that Suki was wedged between us, although she's supposed to sleep in her kennel (a large cat carrier) through most of the night. She feels safe and secure in her kennel, it is padded by folded towels and also serves as her toy box. When it is likely to be cold out, we drape blankets over the top so she stays toasty warm. In short, it is a small space, but her puppy palace is certainly not a bad place to be.

Because I usually go to bed before Mr. Hubby does, I don't have to endure the pitiful faces Suki makes when she isn't allowed back "up in big bed" after her last "go potty outside" of the evening. Apparently she gives some Oscar-worthy performances, because lately she's had quite a kennel-less run. You wouldn't think it'd be so bad to let one more 13-ish pound animal up into the bed, she has this knack for starting out comfortably balled up in the crook of my knees. However, unlike the cats, at some point, she splays herself diagonally across the center of the bed, driving Mr. Hubby and I to opposite corners. I have shared my bed with pets since I was 5 years old, so I've learned a couple lessons over the past 23 years - the first being it is your bed, you own it. Mr. Hubby hasn't quite figured out that pets don't really mind being moved in their sleep, and instead he will contort himself to Suki's puppydog will.

In seems, that even in sleep, Suki and Mr. Hubby share a bond of mutual admiration. Out of nowhere, while sleeping this morning, Mr. Hubby paused from snoring and clearly spoke in a conversational tone; "Well, the fact of the matter is . . ."

And Suki immediately woke from her own dead sleep to raise her head and perk up her ears, eyes locked on Mr. Hubby, waiting for "Daddy's" decree. When it was apparent that the end of the sentence was trapped in dreamland, Suki lowered her head, sighed, nuzzled into "Daddy" and promptly fell asleep again.

I left the lovebirds to their slumber party headed off to shower with my kitty bathroom attendants. Nothing like species-confused male housecats cheering on a bleary-eyed, bed-headed, stumbly striptease to get your morning started . . .



Wednesday, Oct. 18, 2006 - 9:05 a.m.

Elvis Wednesday / Little Cactus sporting his costume

The good folks at Shop Elvis Australia offer up the solution to
"How do I tell the world I'm an Elvis fan?"

"The King" can dance on the bumper of your car.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

You may be asking yourself, "what's with the lame Elvis edition, Betti?"

My answer?

It's just a ploy to get you to visit Rude Cactus to find out whadahell "Little Cactus sporting his costume" is a reference to. It's worth your time. And also happens to make me seem like a more sane individual.
Peh. FINE, if you're rushed for time, scroll down a bit to "the sticker incident"

Perhaps Mr. Hubby should be releived that I'm likely to spend Halloween with my sister . . .

Ever wondered how Elvis would fare as a ballerina?
Bravo to Nikki!



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