Thursday, December 31, 2009

Hasta La Vista, Asswipe 2009

Greetings, holiday goers. I trust you had a wonderful holiday, safe and sound, full of commercialism and travel. The wife and I survived quite nicely, despite the ice storm start. We made it to/from the Cheddarlands two times in four days and the family was able to get to us on Christmas Day without incident. (Going home, so I hear, was a bit dicey, but they did get home and all is well.)

BTW, have you ever read the words to Auld Lang Syne?
Woof. Now, that's a strange song. You really should google the lyrics. Make sure to read the lyrics from our era, not the original lyrics of the 1700's.

I started to look back at the year via the blog, then decided I really didn't want to read about not going to Mexico, not being successfully "saved," not losing the new-found weight, not talking about the place of which I do not speak. Actually, I am quite relieved to say adios to 2009. In fact, I have an urge to scream, "DON'T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU IN THE ASS on your way out, 2009." I am so happy about 2010 I want to weep.

Don't get me wrong--there were wonderful, fabulous, awesome things that happened in 2009.

I will say that spending my morning in a pile of snow was the perfect ending for this year. Summed it up just fine. The photo doesn't do justice to how stuck I was. That's all ice under there and I managed to dig quite the rut with my front wheel drive. The ice was shoved under the entire front of my car.

....I was on the way to see my Beloved Lady Chiropractor one last time this year and was unable to stop as I slid down the hill to the driveway. I left the car and walked to the appointment, only to find out My Beloved Lady Chiropractor wasn't there!!!!! I was distraught. I still got my adjustment, just not from her. Sigh. Another sad moment on the last day of the year.

For blogging purposes (and, as means of cheap therapy), I decided I would distract myself by reflecting on my ever-so-favorite New Year's Eve party, called "No Shoes, No Booze" of 1995 (or, do you say 1996, as that is the year it was becoming?) instead of reflecting on 2009. The wife feels otherwise about this blessed event, as she was not entertained about me throwing a bowling ball off the deck, so she may rather think about 2009. To each their own.

I have written about No Shoes, No Booze party before but I've never featured photos, so I have to write about it again. I scanned this puppies in quickly while no one was looking at the place of which I do not speak. (I will deny everything.) I did get kinda freaked out when thinking about how long ago it was we had this party, but I'm over it now.

The concept was simple: you had to take your shoes off and there was no alcohol at the party. Lest you think it was a lame bust, I assure you we had plenty of party goers, as evidenced by the pile of shoes displayed at the front door. I tend to think the highlight of the party was me wrapping my bowling ball in tin foil and then launching it off the back porch. I did it to pretend we had our own New Year's ball dropping, like they do in Times Square. Okay, okay--I admit that was a stupid thing to do--it's hard to safely shot put a 14 pound bowling ball over one's head and into the night and I think I ripped about 12 different muscles, but it sure looked cool and was mighty fun and it's something no one will forget.

There will be no bowling ball launch this year.

We will be ringing in the new year with Cheeseball neighbor, her gaywad gal pal and Brown Dog, plus their closest 5000 friends. They are featuring a "no shoes" theme, but I'm pretty sure there will be alcohol.

....We don't have to drive, so I won't be stuck in any snow banks as the new year arrives. Hasta La Vista, 2009. Happy New Year, beloved Addiverse visitors!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

T minus three hours: The Iceman Cometh, Part II

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

...actually, it was more frightful inside than outside, once we figured out the power was off.

Merry Christmas Eve Morning, by the way. Isn't this a beautiful photo? Well, besides the problem the ice causes. I love the way the neighbor's light shines off the icy trees. Fire on ice!

We probably wouldn't have known the power was out until later in the morning had Lucy not been licking. It's a horribly annoying habit she has and it wakes up the wife....so, Lucy's licking led to the wife getting out of bed to whack her....which led to the wife spying Freckles in the corner shaking like a leaf. I considered Freckles behavior and knew that something had happened--she's a smart cookie who "talks" to us via her neurotic behaviors. It dawned on me: when our power goes out, all the little smoke detectors give off a quick "beep" sound and I am here to tell you Freckles is terrified of that little beep sound. When the wife mentioned something was wrong with Freckles and I opened an eye to peek about, I realized that indeed something was wrong: it was too dark and too quiet.

I got my sorry ass out of bed and took a gander--not a light to be seen. We had no power.

Boy, talk about relying on power. Can't use the land line phone, cuz there's no power. Can't use the computer, cuz there's no power for the modem/router. Can't watch the Weather Channel cuz there's no power. Can't use the cell phone too much because I didn't re-charge it before going to bed. Can't go anyway, cuz there's no power to open the garage door. Can't make coffee, so no point in getting out of bed. Can't turn the heat up because......

Can't turn the heat up....or on. That got my attention. We keep the house cold at night, which is all fine and dandy for sleeping, but when the power goes out and there is nothing to re-heat the house in the morning, well that's a different story. It was 59 degrees in the house when I got up at 4 A.M. That sounded a lot colder when I thought about how there was no heat to come back on and warm things up.

Then, I realize it's pouring out....which is never a good thing with no electricity to pump that sump pump. I tried not to fret, because there was nothing to be done about that. I contemplated a trip to Wally World to buy a generator and a car charger plug thingy for my cell phone, but who am I kidding? I know nothing about generators and I'd have to get a non-electric one and....I let that idea go. The cell phone car charger thingy could wait.

The wife began fretting about the food in the frig, but I have to say that was of little concern to me; after all, it's easy to stick the food outside or in the garage when it's winter.

I had the wife get her cell phone and Com Ed's phone number. I gave a quick call, just to make sure they knew we were sitting in the dark, wide awake, freezing. Then, we did something we almost never, ever do: we put the dogs in bed with us. They are like little heaters. I know we will pay for this later, as Lucy only takes one time to learn a bad behavior, but little heaters are very nice company when the power is out.

Suffice it to say, two hours later we heard the faintest of beeps and then....then, the sweet sound of the heater kicking in. Praise the baby Jesus and the Com Ed crew! We weren't going to freeze on Christmas Eve, after all. I quickly plugged in my cell phone, fired up the computer and started the coffee. (I also ate chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, which always makes everything that much better.)

It could have been so much worse. I am worried about the poor white birch in the front yard--only time will tell if it will make it or not. (Last time, it was the river birch that lost a huge limb and portion of the trunk.) The Mold Mobile is a giant ice cube. Can't wait for that to melt, cuz it will all pour into the car, making more mold for us to inhale. Yum!

Duty to warn: I am going to kiss the next Com Ed person I see. What a lousy night to be out. What a wonderful job well done. Wipe that ice off your face and pucker up!

Now, we are off to the Cheddarlands. Yes, we are going to set forth, bravely armed with gifts and survival supplies. (Would be robbers, stay away: Cheeseball Neighbor and Brown dog are on the prowl--they got us covered.) It will be slow going but it should be relatively okay. I'm sure there will be many fun stories to be shared.

I hope you are doing okay, that your power is on and that your computer is working. After all, I'd hate for your crops to rot on Book de la Face's farm just because you couldn't harvest them due to a lack of power.

Merry Christmas Eve. I hear Santa is in New Zealand at this moment. Happy Birthday, baby Jesus; Thank you Com ed. Ho ho ho!
*********************************************************************

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

T minus 15 hours--The Ice Storm Cometh


Before lamenting about the ice storm going on outside at this very moment, I would like to take this opportunity to profess my undying dedication to my beloved lady chiropractor. I am happy to report that Master Pastor Reiki strolled in to MBLC's office and came out all cracked up...er, adjusted, quite to her satisfaction. 

Now, Master Pastor knows her stuff, so a compliment from MPR regarding MBLC is quite the stamp of approval. My cockles just get warmed thinking about it. No, that is not MBLC, but I liked the photo, so what the heck. MBLC is much more delicious than that. 

Ah, only 15 or so hours til Christmas Eve festivities in the Cheddarlands. The problem? The weather. If it were normal, everyday winter weather (aka snow, cold, wind), it really wouldn't be a problem. But, the stuff falling from the sky--and that is literally coating the roads--is ice, and plenty of it. See that pink stuff in the picture (as afforded to me by the Channel de la Weather). There isn't much we can do about it. We can stare at the Weather Channel. We can check the road conditions. We can refresh the Road Conditions web page, but it's not going to change anything. We just have to wait. 

  If the precipitation were only as "big" as what is on this map, that wouldn't be a problem for tomorrow. If the precipitation were going anywhere but due north, that would also not be a problem. If we were only going an hour or something away, it wouldn't be as traumatic. Alas, the blob you can't see is ginormous and it's all going north like it's looking for Santa's home and we're supposed to be going three hours (on a normal day) north with the pink blob. Of course, when we get there, we have to turn around and come home. That's potentially six hours--or more--of sheer terror. 

  But, as we all know, the weather has a mind of its own. The weather has us by the balls. There is no guarantee the weather will do what it is said to be set to do. It makes fools of weathermen. It is more unpredictable than my hairdos. So, all of the wife's family are, understandably, in a tizzy. Everyone has to travel to get to the Christmas Eve festivities. Everyone has to wait to see what will transpire, but in the meantime, everyone has to get ready as if we will really be making the trip. 

While thinking for Christmas Eve morning and while waiting to see what the weather will bring, we plan on watching television (that's productive), staring out the window (to make sure no tree limbs have crashed to the ground as they did during our last ice storm), heckling Book de la Friend via status updates and watching Xena reruns on my computer (well, I'll be doing that--the wife will pass on this activity). I tried doing some walking with Leslie Sansone but I lost interest after two miles, so that' wasn't a very good distraction. My knee hurts so I have to pass on "seeing" my gal pal Jillian. It's too icy to see if MBLC has evening hours to work on my knee. I could take the new little electric snow blower outside and see how it reacts to 1/2 of ice on the driveway but that doesn't sound like a good idea. T minus 15 hours. Can't wait to see what Local on the 8's brings us tomorrow morning....

Friday, December 18, 2009

Get off the Couch: T-minus one week

Why get off the couch and go holiday shopping when there is blogging and non-productive farming to be had?
 
Here's a few photos of our backyard from the recent snow fall AND a big holiday wish from Terri Clark to you. She has nothing to do with this blog except that I really like her music and that this "card" came to my email and thus I must share it with you. I must admit that I like it better when she wears her hat but the wife finds her quite fine without it. You really should take a listen to her new album....




The owl is back!
I am way excited. While walking the dogs early this morning, I heard the hoo-hoo-hooooot of our friendly owl. Then, while getting dressed, I heard him calling from the back yard. You may not be enthralled by this, but I am. I mean, it's not like we live in the woods. He (she?) shows up every year just in time for the snow. For those of you who don't know of my owl antics (or about my love of owl poop, which is really not poop at all), please refer to (after reading this blog entry, of course!): http://addiwp.blogspot.com/2007/12/hoo-hoo-owl-poop-first-may-i-say-my-new.html


The wife scored us some Carrie Underwood tickets for late this spring. What a woman! We'll be going with Pastor Master Reiki, Blue Eyes and those gaywad neighbors. It's really interesting how they sell concert ticket these days--it's all about the "pre-sale." What a crock of owl poop! You pay to join a fan club, you get a special code, you get to buy tickets before the general public. Other concerts give you pre-sale access if you sign up for their email alerts. Seems like all the concerts do something like this now. Since we don't belong to anything special, we will not be up close and personal with Carrie's leather pants--we'll have to settle for dancing in our seats while staring at the jumbo-tron. The wife is VERY excited, to say the least. (Carrie will not be wearing a cowboy hat, unlike Terri Clark in concert.)

Being the concert whore that I am, I'm joining MJagger & her sister for a Black Eyed Peas concert in the spring. Purchasing BEP tickets also involved pre-sale nonsense, only for that one you had to have an American Express card AND join the club. Geez. What happened to standing in line waiting to buy the actual ticket? I remember waiting for Vince Gill tickets back in 1995....we waiting outside the venue, freezing our tails off...5 AM in line for tickets going on sale at 10 AM. There was no wimpy Internet ticket buying nor was there the cell phone while on the Internet tactic. Are there even actual Ticketmaster outlets anymore? Anyone remember standing in line at Colonial Village to get seats for a concert? Quarterflash, Loverboy, The Motels, Styx, REO Speedwagon, Foreigner....all tickets purchased at the mall. (Oh dear, I am really dating myself here--by the bands, not the ticket-buying part. Dare I even mention the Michael Stanley Band? Probably not. Only three or four of you--if I'm lucky--will know who the hell they were.)

As mentioned a few blogs ago, I went on line and bought us a new snow blower. I think I neglected to mention that it is a teeny, weeny electric snow blower. I wish you could've seen the wife's face when she took it out of the box. She muttered something about the tires looking like something for toys (which is actually an accurate description of said wheels). I have to tell you, though--that puppy plowed through that last snow blast. As noted, the photos depicted here are from our first major snow storm faced by the snow blower. If it can make it through eight inches of wet snow, I think it can make it through the season--as long as I don't run over the electric cord. It's light weight, it doesn't need a mix of gas/oil, I don't smell like a diesel truck when I'm done and it cleans the drive way better than the big, smelly snow blower did. Go figure. For those of you who enjoyed the "I sucked the neighbors' Christmas lights into the new snow blower" story, be sure to 'flashback' to that blog entry. It's such a great story, I might have to "run" it again (I should probably make it an annual event); but, for now you can check it out via link: http://addiwp.blogspot.com/2006/12/friendly-neighbor-with-snow-blower.html

Finally, for no known reason, I am closing this blog entry with this precious diddy (below), for no reason other than it made me laugh. I know, I know, it's gross. At least we know it's not owl poop.

T-minus one week, people! Get out there with me tomorrow and shop!

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Bear Down, Chicago Bears!

Be warned, men: there is WAY too much information included in this blog. You squeamish guys who don't want to hear about certain womanly issues should turn away now, no matter how much you love the Bears.

Well, the Bears may have lost to Green Bay last Sunday but it didn't stop me from having a great time at Soldier Field. The wife was in her glory with a Packer win, but I'm not sure she had as much fun as I did--worrying about your team takes its toll. That's the beauty about cheering for the Bears--they suck, so you don't really expect them to win. You just bitch about them losing and call it a day.

In preparation for my first trip to Soldier Field, we went on a shopping spree only a hunter or a outdoor sportsman could love. I found an awesome pair of winter boots at Gander-at-that-Mountain, home of the snow-boot-for-25-degrees-below-zero-weather; although they cost more than I wanted to spend, I knew they would keep my tootsies toasty and was glad that they were not camouflage. I also bought some new socks, some of those hand-warmer thingies and a new orange and blue hat. Yummy!

My second line of defense would be layers--lots of them. I had it all planned out--base layer of long-underwear; second layer of "normal" clothes (jeans and sweater); outer layer of snow pants and Bears jacket. I knew it was "scarf" day at the game, so I'd also don my new, free, orange & blue scarf. This all sounded good in theory and I was quite impressed with my planning, until......

......I woke up with a surprise. Yes, ladies---under all those layers, I would be dealing with a monthly womanly delight. Now, THERE'S some fun at a football game where you are dressed like the kid in "A Christmas Story." The thought of having to take off all those layers to go to a public bathroom made me break out in a cold sweat. So much for my planned limitation of liquid intake--it wouldn't matter, as I'd have to go to the bathroom while at the game. Might as well drink up that hot chocolate in the $6.50 commemorative cup.

Men, you cannot appreciate this. Women, feel my pain!

Armed with warm clothes, money, parking pass, tickets and tampons, we hopped in the car nice and early, as suggested by our ticket-giving neighbors. The goal, they explained to us, was to beat the traffic jam. As they are seasoned Bears-game-goers, we took their advice and got to the parking lot by 9:30 AM. (I hear many a fan has missed the beginning of the game due to being stuck in traffic.) We did indeed miss the traffic and we scored a great parking space. Unbelievably to us, the lot was filled with tail-gating football fans at this early hour. Beer flowing, bags flying, grills grilling--it was an explosion of blue and orange. Even more unbelievably, there was a ton of green and gold milling about in the Parking lot--in fact, I'd guess a fourth of the people in the lot (and, at the game) were Packer fans. And, here I was afraid the wife would be in danger due to her decision to wear her packer coat--instead, she was safely surrounded by her peeps.

Once we left the car, we were exposed to the elements. Unlike Lambeau Field, Soldier Field does not have any "indoor" areas offering shelter from the cold. Thankfully, it wasn't nearly as cold as I thought it would be--the temp hovered around 35 degrees--which is quite balmy for Chicago in December. Those new boots and all those layers kept me warm and dry.

We wandered around the tail-gate area and enjoyed the sites before entering the hallowed halls of Soldier Field. (If you click on the photo collage above, you can get a closer look at the photos.) We saw a little of everything. Everyone seemed festive and jolly, even though Chicago fans are basically bitter and angry people. Before the game, they are happy and smiling--during and after the game, it's a hate fest. The wife still can't get over that part of the event.

I'm not sure why they (whoever they are) decided to "upgrade" and make Soldier Field look like a giant space ship, but they did and it is indeed quite the site, from inside and out. It was still awe-inspiring to be at Soldier Field, home of Walter Payton, Dick Butkus, Gayle Sayers and the fifty some quarterbacks that have played for the Bears in the last ten minutes...

After snarfing down a pizza (God, I love Chicago for its pizza) and after finding the wife a hot dog (which basically sucked, per her report-- it wasn't a true Chicago hot dog and so she was very disappointed but ate it anyways--she said she had paid too much to throw it away), we found our way to our seats. We were able to see everything from our perch--it was awesome. Man, we love our neighbors!

The wife was lucky enough to be seated next to a Bears fan who just happened to have four Packer players on his fantasy football team; hence, he found himself cheering for both teams. (Fantasy football sure makes football-watching that much more interesting, if you ask me. The wife feels otherwise.)

While the pre-game antics were in full gear, I kept putting out the thought that there would be an Air Force fly-by at the end of the Star Spangled Banner. I mean, come on: is there any better way to start a football game than with the roar of fighter jets? We stood, sang, put our hats back on....damn, no fly by. Just as I was about to sit down for the start of the game, I heard them---the jets were coming! Better a few seconds late than never. They swooped in from the south, gave the crowd a thrill and roared off to the north, finishing their fly-by with a criss-cross move. NOW the game could begin!

I must admit, the most entertaining part of the game was when a very drunk man (sitting two people to my right) managed to fall over into the row in front of him, falling directly on some small woman--who promptly let out a blood-curdling scream.....the guy ended up with his feet literally in the air, his head on the cement between the rows. He kept yelling, "I'm all right!" while his feet flayed in the air. He was not able to get up on his own--he required help from several fans to right himself. Thankfully, the smooshed woman was no worse for the wear. Once it was determined she was fine, the ribbing began. That man didn't hear the end of it for the remainder of the game, deservedly so.

As for the rest of the crowd, there was a lot of yelling, moaning, bitching, whining, spewing, threatening. Chicago fans are serious about their sports and they do not take kindly to losing teams, losing coaches, losing seasons. The wife was quite enthralled--she'd never experienced anything like it. If I were Lovie, I'd need therapy. Everyone wants him fired or worse. Like I said, Chicago fans are brutal. (It was rumored there were so many Packer fans at this game because the season ticket holders were boycotting and thus sold their tickets.)

Anyone who knows me knows that we didn't stay for the end of the game. I'm so predictable. We left so I could get out of the lot without incident and so I could get to a bathroom sooner than later. Hey, I drive a stick shift car and I had my period--no need to make things more stressful than they might be. Have you ever been in stop-and-go Chicago traffic in an automatic? We zipped out of there and were back on the expressway before the wife could even get the game tuned in on the A.M. dial.....

....we listened as the Bears lost....again (or, the Packers won, depending on your point of view). Oh well--in the words of Cubs fans, "there's always next year."

I can't wait to use my commemorative cup.....maybe when the wife's family visits.....
***********************************************************

Friday, December 11, 2009

Ahoy, Matey! Is that a Pirate by the Copy Machine?


I've been snookered! Hustled! Fooled!

Many, I hate when that happens. I consider myself a savvy consumer.....

Although I do not write about the place of which I work, I cannot pass up the chance to talk about
"Toner Pirates." I want the world to be on the look out for these very naughty scammers.

We were out of toner for the copier, so I called our Office manager, as she is in charge of such things. As we were also having problems with the copier, she set up a visit from the fabulous copy machine technician as well as put in an order for toner.

Later that day, I get a call from the Copier Company. The guy asks for me by name, then confirms I just ordered toner. As I have just done that, I agree that I have ordered toner. He confirms the model of the machine--I don't tell him, he tells me what copier I have--he is correct, so I confirm this. He asks if he can ship out the toner; of course I agree. For crying out loud, I just asked for toner, didn't I? He tells me my address--he is right. I am assured my toner is being sent out as ordered.

I go back to my work and think nothing more of this.

Later that day, I see Mr. Copy Man but pay no attention to him. He fixes the machine and leaves. I don't ask him any questions, don't see any boxes, don't think anything about it. I'm just happy the machine works.

A day or two later, the toner arrives. There is no invoice, but I don't think anything of it. I just unwrap the cartridge, remove the old cartridge, put in the new cartridge. Problem solved, world turns, work continues.

Today--ten days later--I go to my mailbox and find an bill. It's from some company I have never heard of.....it's for the toner. I take the bill to my office so I can type up a purchase order....I start the PO, look at the bill for the price.....

.....and see I just purchased a cartridge of copier toner for $459.00.

I re-read it, thinking the decimal must be misplaced....but, no it's $459.00. I find this to be really absurd, but I've never paid for toner before--the invoice has always gone directly to the Office Manager. This gets me thinking--hey, why DID I get this bill, anyways? I finish the PO and decide it's time to drive to the office and talk to the person who can answer the questions: Queen of the Office Supplies (QoOS).

I hand the PO and bill to QoOS, explain that I got it today and that I found it crazy that toner costs $459.00. She has this look on her face that suggests I have lost my mind and am no longer speaking English. Clear as day she says: "We don't pay for toner. It's part of our copier agreement."

Huh?

She takes a closer look at the bill. I explain that I got a call from the company on the same day she ordered the toner, that they knew what kind of machine I had, knew my mailing info and my name, knew that I had ordered toner. I do not understand any if this. QoOS grabs the phone and calls our copier company.

It is confirmed: I am the victim of Toner Pirates!!


Who the hell thinks of these things and how the hell did they know all that information? I have NEVER heard of a toner pirate until this very minute.

In case you think this is a random thing, be assured this is quite the elaborate scam and is not at all unusual. These guys are masters--the copier company assured us that it is quite the business racket: "....operated a classic "toner pirate" scheme, sometimes called "toner hustlers" or "toner phoners." Toner pirates call churches, charities, day-care centers, nursing homes and small businesses and use carefully worded scripts to trick victims into thinking the call is coming from the victim's regular office supply company". (http://www.iowa.gov/government/ag/consumer/press_releases/toner.html)

While standing there with QoOS, it hits me: not only have I been snookered, I have replaced a perfectly good cartridge with the $459 one.....I learn that the copier guy had replaced the toner when he was on site and left no trace....so, me not knowing this, thought he just fixed the copier and was waiting for the toner to be delivered as usual, figuring I'd change out the cartridge when it came in the mail.

Making things worse: even though this all transpired ten days ago, I hadn't thrown away any of the packaging or the toner cartridge.....until literally yesterday afternoon. Of course, the cleaning company came last night and removed the garbage...and, of course the garbage trucks came and emptied the dumpster by the time I figure this all out. A perfectly good toner cartridge gone with the wind.

For the record, those puppies are heavy. I didn't shake it or weigh it or anything. It's not like I replace copier cartridges every day. I wouldn't know if it was full or empty....

Thankfully, QoOS finds this all very humorous, as does my boss (of which I do not speak but since I am employed, I obviously have a boss and thus it's no surprise I have a boss). Seems they have both been snookered about office supplies in the past, too. Who knew there was such a big business about screwing companies through such simple schemes?

I don't want any of you getting scammed by such naughty people. We are all on the lookout for the credit card scams and on-line scams but who thinks of office supply scams? I am here to educate and save you beloved readers in the Addiverse! For more information, check out sites such as http://www.integratedofficesolutions.com/TonerPirates.html, who write:

"As in the days of the real pirates, the "Toner Pirate" many times pretends to be someone they are not. They will claim to be from "your normal supplier", "the warehouse that ships the toner for your supplier", and in some cases they will even use the name of the dealer where you purchased your equipment....Toner Pirates usually work in groups and may use a three call approach....The first call is innocuous enough to an unsuspecting individual, they call "to verify the make and model" of your copier/printer.....For those who have fallen prey, what they get is a big surprise. The price can be four to five times the normal price and in some instances the amount of toner in the cartridge is half what it is supposed to be."

Shiver me timbers! A pirate's life is not for me.


QoOS is sending the cartridge back and assures me we will not be charged for this. Don't ask; just know that it's covered and if anyone can rectify this situation, it's her. she's also going to follow through with legal avenues. Don't be messing with QoOS, damn pirates! You know not who you are messing with.

As for you, readers of the Addiverse--if a toner pirate or toner phoner fools you as they did me, I'll stand proudly next to you and even wear an eye patch and a parrot if it will make you feel any better. Just don't open the box and don't replace the full toner. Arrrg! *********************************************************

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

I'm too old for this

I forgot one of my cardinal rules: I am of an age that demands a four or more star-rated hotel room.

In a game-time decision, I decided to stay in a hotel during this week's business outing. I could have easily stayed with my parents, but no--I went with the "just down the street hotel," for my winter weather convenience.

As I am an Internet whore, I went on line and found a cheap hotel in the area I wanted to stay AND in an area of which I was familiar. I read the reviews and found them to be rather generous for something that had been rated two stars by the website. Mind you, I've been very spoiled by recent hotel stayings--we stay at places like "W," Westin.... the "lower end" of our star chain being a Doubletree with warm chocolate chip cookies; we gave up two star hotels years and years ago. We're just too old (and waaaaay too sober) to be sleeping in gross hotel rooms with pillows that smell like beer and bedding that features cigarette burns....or, worse. Give me a pillow top mattress with big, fluffy pillows and white, fluffy robes any day.

Lest you think I'm kidding about the beer-flavored pillow, I assure you the wife and I have enjoyed such an adventure. Thankfully, we were in our 20's and didn't care or know better. The places we stayed during softball tournaments would bring a little vomit into your throat. Or, we could talk about the Jackson, Mississippi Lodge of Econo, where the cock roaches were literally looking down upon me from the headboard....and, that was during day light hours. Grand Canyon Black Toes can confirm that I am not making this up or exaggerating one bit.

I shall not mention the Six Motel in Texarkana where the softball team broke a picture window by accident because we were wearing pillowcases on our heads.....oh, never mind....

After my business training, I zipped over to the local Pan-Pan-air-ah, stuffed my face with their delicious fare, did a lap around the mall and then pulled up to the hotel. It was located exactly where I thought it would be and thus I was delighted. Once I entered the building, I felt my excitement wane. Not exactly "W" material.

The adage, "you get what you pay for" quickly and deservedly came to mind.

I focused on the really cheap price and signed in for the night. Cheap, cheap, convenient, cheap, cheap.....

Now, I can't say the room was technically gross or dirty & it probably was just about right for a two-star hotel. It just was not what I am accustomed to when staying in a hotel. Call me spoiled, call me snobbish, just don't call me for a bed bug check.

I surveyed the lands, decided to open the window (hmmmm, a hotel room with a window that opens--haven't seen that for awhile), kept my shoes on, threw the comforter on the floor (the wife taught me that's the first thing you should always do), and inspected the bed for bugs, burns and beer stains. I thought about turning around and going directly to my parents, but there is no refund when you've checked in after 6 PM on an Internet reservation. I decided to be brave and stay, just like in the olden days.....

....but first, a trip to Bull's Eye was in order.

I drove to the store and contemplated my needs. Bottled water: check. Germ wipe towelette things: Check. Lysol spray: check. Protein bar: check (need breakfast, you know). "Off" Bug spray.....hmmm--fights chiggers, fleas, mosquitoes, flies....check!

I took my purchases back to my luscious accommodations and de-germed the piss out of that room. The wife would have been so proud.

I am not ashamed to admit that I covered the pillow with some pads meant for the butts of adults with incontinence issues. (See? There is a reason I have those stupid things in my trunk. You never know when you'll have to cover a used pillow so you can sleep on it without fear.) I am not embarrassed to tell you I slept covered with a towel instead of the sheet. I won't blush when I tell you I drown that bed with Lysol or that I slept with my pajama bottom legs tucked in my socks. I kept my shoes on at all times except when in bed. I scrubbed that remote like there was no tomorrow and I sat in no chair with upholstery. I cleaned the counter and put my laptop on the hard surface, giving me distraction from my surroundings.

It was a long night, more because of the Lysol fall out cloud than anything. It turned out to be a quiet place, comfortable enough, safe. Nothing appeared to attach itself to me nor did I seem to have any unidentified bites on any of my body parts. Had I not had to pee, I probably would've slept through the night. I blame the sinus headache on the ball of Lysol I inhaled all night, not due to anything the hotel did or didn't do.

Two stars. Okay, I'll give you that.....

.....just please don't let me do that to myself again. I'm sticking with four stars or higher. This princess needs her amenities.....

Ouch! Did something just bite me?
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Saturday, December 05, 2009

Bears vs. Packers, Here we Come!

For those of you that don't know, I was born and bred in the jurisdiction of the Chicago Bears, so it's been a long (Lambeau) leap to hang out with the wife's ever-loving, all-residing Cheddar heads without guilt and shame. As evidenced in this picture, I have indeed embraced the ways of the wife, as it not only assures my place with the in-laws, it also has allowed me to attend some awesome professional football games in a town that loves football more than life itself. (It's a terrible photo of me but what the hell--I'm in the land of green and gold and I was freezing and I was pouring hot chocolate down my pants in an effort to get warm--it illustrates my dedication to the wife and her beliefs as well as illustrates my interest in attending professional football games....) I grew up in the landing pattern of O'Hare, far away from Vince Lombardi and the Frozen Tundra. I grew up eating Gene & Jude "rubber dawgs," not some brat product. In other words, deep down inside, little blobs of blue and orange blood pulse through my veins.

So, last night we are eating dinner with the gaybors and they ask us if we would like their Bear vs. Packers tickets for next weekend at Soldier Field. I thought I might have guacamole in my ears--I could have sworn they just ask us if we wanted their tickets so we could go to Soldier Field for a Bears/Packers game......

The look on the wife's face assured me I had heard correctly. Tickets to Soldier Field! Wow! I think I was speechless. At least, I don't remember speaking. I was too surprised and excited to think or speak. Yup, the gaybors were giving us their tickets (and parking pass!) to the game, as they have a conflicting commitment.

Is life good or what?!

I've never been to a Bears Game nor have I been to Soldier Field. I've been to a whole slew of Cubs games, I've even been to two (dear god) White Sox games (I've never admitted that til this moment), but never a Bears game. I've always wanted to go to a game there but have never made it, for one reason or another. I've driven by Soldier Field a bunch of times but have never been inside.

The thought of seeing the wife's beloved Packers playing the Bears in Soldier Field is almost enough to make my ovaries shoot out all their remaining eggs.

We are going to the Bears/Packers Game!

The wife inquired what might happen to her if she wore her Packer Paraphernalia to the game; the gaybors seemed to think it would be okay. I'm a bit more skeptical, but will go with whatever is decided. Just to be on the safe side, I'll keep the car keys--if Bears fans come crashing down on her, I can quickly (and with much cowardice) run away, jump in the car and scream down the Eisenhower, all the way professing my allegiance to Halas.

I, on the other hand, will proudly sport blue and orange, complete with my stadium length Bears coat my parents gave me many a Christmas ago. No green and gold for me. This game is all about the Monsters of the Midway, of Sweetness and of Sayers, of nasal Chicago accents and Chicago traffic jams.

It is also about dressing warmly. December in Chicago can be brutal. (Or, it can be in the 60's. One never knows.) Layers. I'll have to dress in layers. I know I'll be cold, I know I will whine, I know I will lose feeling in my feet....

....but, I also know that I will be one mighty happy Chi-caw-goan that day and know that my frozen toes are only temporary.

Note to the wife: next Sunday, I will be orange and blue and will remember what I was brought up to believe:

"I have two favorite football teams--The Bears and anyone who beats the Packers.
"

Amen.
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Wednesday, December 02, 2009

The Bitch is Back

WHAT was I thinking????

Maybe I was thinking: "My new pants don't fit and I have to do SOMETHING about it."

Maybe I was thinking: "Gee, I'm not seeing my Beloved Lady Chiropractor enough these days--maybe I should try to trash my knee for the holidays."

Or, maybe I was thinking: "It's all MJagger's fault. Her injury is prohibiting me from working out." (Blame others--a tried and true method. Why I can't walk without her while she's on the injured reserve list is beyond me.)

Maybe it was a moment of weakness...or one too many Biggest Loser Episodes....or, a moment of perimenopausal hysteria.....

Whatever I was thinking, all I can tell you is the Bitch is BACK!

While shopping on line (supposedly for the holidays and birthdays), I came upon Jillian's two "new" workout DVDs. I could have easily navigated away from the page. I could have easily redirected myself back on my task of buying gifts on line. I could have run to the frig and stuffed a bag of Dove Dark Chocolate in my mouth. I could have clicked on the Book de la Face tab and began harvesting my crops.....

But, no. No, I clicked on the reviews and read them. Hmmmm, sounds like these are good work-outs......I noticed that the DVDs were on sale, complete with free shipping. I thought about how MJagger and I haven't been able to walk and how I'm a little bored with my favorite walker DVD Leslie (no offense to Leslie--just having a moment of weakness) and how I can't walk alone after work because it's dark and.....

....the next thing I knew, Jillian's work-out DVDs were in my cart and the order had been processed and I blacked out.

I was on my way to Jillian hell.


Those of you who are regular readers know this is a bad, bad thing (well, unless you are my chiropractor--then it's a great thing). It took me HOW many months to get my knee back in working order after doing Jillian's 30 day Shred???

It did WHAT to my buttocks? That 30 day shred blew those glutes right out of my pants.

It took me HOW LONG to break up with her, despite the pain and agony she brought me?

Well, she's back and you know I can't say no to her.

When I got home from work, I saw the box from Warrior.com (aka that website where you used to buy books but now buy everything) sitting on the stoop (complete with two dog treats rubber banded onto the box--our mail lady rocks). I was foolishly excited to see that my Jillian had arrived. Jillian squared, that is--two DVDs!

I opened the "Banish Fat" DVD first, thinking it'd be better to start with the one that didn't require using weights. (BTW, I HATE the packaging on CDs and DVD boxes. You have no idea how many finger nails I have broken trying to open those stupid things.) I skimmed the back of the box, seeing that the work-out should take about 45 minutes. No problem--MJagger and I have been walking 12 minute miles for three miles--that's kind of like doing a 45 minute workout. I looked at the front of the case: "Lose up to Five Pounds a Week!" Hmmm, doubt that, don't wanna do that, just want my pants to fit. (Well, and keep my healthy heart healthy. I suppose that would be on the top of my exercise-to-do list.) I ran upstairs, peed, put on my shorts, slapped on my sports bra (can't work out in my favorite Wally World Sponge Bobs bra) and ran downstairs to start the DVD.

I began the workout, all the while trying to keep my knee attached to my body. I was very careful and promised myself I wouldn't do any of the squatty things; rather, I would jog in place. I told myself to take it slow and easy. And, that was only during her introduction.

Suffice it to say, I made it through most of the workout. Okay, okay, so I skipped Circuit Six. Well, and part of Circuit Four--or, was it Five? But, otherwise, I did fine. Well, besides my knee hurting a bit when doing those moguls. I did at one point think about how I am not going to be able to walk tomorrow but I quickly forgot about that due to my inability to breathe while doing ab work. Not being able to breathe is a good distraction for anything.

I figure if I do a Jillian tape twice a week, walk twice a week outside and once a week inside (I won't forsake you, Leslie), I'll be good to go, my pants will fit, my heart will be strong AND I'll be able to continue my love affair with chocolate extreme blizzards......

I am already scheduled to see my Beloved Lady Chiropractor this week. It's my "once a month" check-up. I was going to give her a Christmas card while there because I won't see her again til after the holidays, but....

.....I think I'll hang on to the card, as I'm pretty certain I'll be needing additional chiropractic services before the holidays. After all, the Bitch is Back.....is that my knee making little whimpering noises?
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Friday, November 27, 2009

Black (and blue?) Friday

The gratitude-giving is over, the left-overs are in full gear, the indigestion has cleared. What's left to do with a four day weekend?

If you're the wife, it's time to join a million crazed--er, I mean dedicated--shoppers...get up at some ungodly hour and throw yourself into the sea of consumer hell. It's like a sport.

I do not subscribe to the tenets or the sport of Black Friday, not that I find anything wrong with it. I'm just too lazy to get out of bed at 3 AM in search of the perfect Zhu Zhu or what-not....besides, I'm an on-line type of shopper, not a real-store kind of shopper. Give me a lap top and a credit card, and I'm good to go.

Here's a picture of a Zhu Zhu....I have no idea what it does or why anyone wants one, but they are the hot gift this year and you can now spend hundreds of dollars for this $8.00 toy. If you have any of these in your hot little hands, go immediately to eBay and let the bidding begin--my money says you'll make a couple hundred bucks in a matter of hours.

(Note to youngest niece: hey! here's a hamster that won't die on you ....well, you might need more batteries and you'll need to spend your college fund to get one but that's about it. No more dead hamsters.)

Midnight. You could begin your holiday shopping at Midnight. Or, 3 A.M. Or, 4 A.M. Who needs sleep when Zhu Zhus are calling your name?

The wife didn't go shopping at 3 A.M. but she did get up way before I was able to drag my sorry ass off the couch (I have a cold and needed to sleep sitting upright, hence the couch). She indicated that the crowds weren't too overwhelming but entries on Book de la Face suggest otherwise. I think my favorite status update came from the suburbs, regarding two women in Carsons fighting over the last blanket. Seems the younger women acquiesced in the long run: "If you need it that badly, you can have it, bitch!" It was reported that the crowd erupted in applause.

It sounds like things got a little wild in the Cheddarlands, too--the wife's sister was engrossed in a parking deck war. Seems the mall offered $15.00 vouchers to the first 300 persons to park in the deck. Um, hello! Did the mall think people wouldn't all try to squeeze in there? People were cutting each other off in a crazed attempt to get a voucher. To give you an idea of the madness, the wife's sister was in line to get a parking space at 4 A.M. If that's not bad enough, get this--the deck didn't open til 6 A.M. Two hours of sitting in a car for $15.00.

If you are wondering, the wife's sister did indeed get a parking space and a voucher. Was there a doubt?

I'm happy to report that the wife was successful in her Black Friday endeavor--she was on a mission to secure a 32" flat screen TV for her parents....the siblings pool their money together and this year the TV idea won out....she scored the TV of her choice. (Don't worry--they don't read my blog.) There is no way you could've paid me to go to Buy Best this morning, but the wife and her sciatica bravely faced the crowds. She reports that most people were flocked around the laptops, not the TVs. She did not come face-to-face with any Zhu Zhus at any point during her outings but she did come face-to-face with the reality that her sciatic nerve is still not cooperating with her shopping needs.

I did go on-line and check out some of the Black Friday deals. I ended up buying us a snowblower (hmmmm, that's not a gift and not a Black Friday special deal, but ours is leaking gas and the price was right), two Jillian Michaels DVD workouts (not a gift, either.....Jillian begged me to buy them despite how much my knee hates her) and, a book for someone of whom I shall not speak because what if he/she reads this blog and finds out I bought them a present?

This evening, we went out for dinner (feed a cold, feed a fever--that's my motto)....the place that is usually packed was dead. I mean, there were five tables in use in the entire restaurant. (What a bonus!)

I think everyone was at home taking naps.....

.....or, at home bidding on Zhu Zhus.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Pickled again

No, no--I'm not drunk in a gutter.....

Someone keeps throwing pickles on my car when I'm parked at work.

Seriously. I come out from work and find pickles on my windshield.

I took a photo of one of the pickles as seen from the inside of the car. It kinda looks like a UFO from this vantage point, but I assure you that it is just a pickle stuck solidly to the windshield. (A few onions also came along for the ride but you can't really see them.)

I don't think it's anything personal--after all, I work directly across the street from the Golden Arches and I'm not thrilled with their pickles, either. It's quite the McD's--lots of homeless people, mentally ill and drug using/drug selling types--so, it's really really not surprising that pickles are tossing through the air. I don't think I've pissed off any of the local drug dealers and I know all of the guys with mental illness, so I'm perplexed about the daily pickle shower.

I did recently fire someone, so I suppose the pickle patrol might be thanks to a disgruntled employee but that seems pretty far fetched. I mean, who flings pickles at their ex-bosses?

I think I'll keep a photo journal of pickles I have known. As long as "The Pickler" keeps flinging the green globs onto the glass and not onto the paint, I'm all good with it.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Class Ring Bling

This morning, I find my head spinning with all sorts of things from our visit to the suburbs. It was a busy few days--we were out of town not on vacation with Donny and Marie but rather with the wife's thousands of P.E. friends at a state conference--and, thus there is so much I could talk about. (The vacation is on hold for the moment. I spent my vacation money on new clothes. I'm tired of being in pain when I wear my pants. Two days off and new pants are well worth the spent money. We can keep looking for the perfect vacation while I enjoy my new pants and save up some money.) The past 48 hours have brought me much to contemplate:

***Oprah's pending retirement (the poor wife!);

***my sister's dog peeing on my new gym shoes (while I was wearing them, of course);

***Lucy puking in the car while we were driving down the tollway last night (that's always fun);

***Eldest niece locking her keys in her running car last night while we were out to eat (we tried to re-assure her we both have done that more than we care to admit--here's a photo of her leaning on the poor car while she waited for her sisters to go get the extra set of keys);

***MJagger's ankle injury prohibiting us from looking like Jillian Michaels and Fergie--MJagger is on the disabled list and can't walk/run/work out;

***P.E. professionals wearing swishy-sounding sweat-pant outfits (don't even get me started on views from the parking lot!);

***that I really am going to wear my high school class ring until my reunion this summer (as illustrated in the photo--POW POW!);

***how surprisingly fun it turned out to be meeting with people I haven't seen in 30 years (with many of whom I didn't know when I was 30 years younger).

I'll focus on my pending high school class ring. Side note: I get confused--I've been talking about this ring bling non-stop on Book de la Face but not in the blog. It took me til this morning to realize that--in fact, I was really surprised I hadn't been blogging about this. So, if you read both this blog and my Book de la Face comments (god love you for reading both), humor me. If you are not my friend on Book de la Face, learn of the ring bling here. Then, ask yourself why you are not my friend on Book de la Face. What's up with that?

In honor of this summer's 30 year high school class reunion, I have decided to wear my class ring from now until then. There is something quite humorous seeing a 47 year old lady sporting class ring bling. Isn't it funny--you pay all sorts of money for the ring, you can't live without having a class ring when you are in high school, you wear the ring through college....and, then all of a sudden one day you no longer wear it, your friends aren't wearing theirs and you put it in some box, never to be seen again.

Well, I am here to change that.

I dug that puppy out of the dark, dusty corner of the jewelry box, stuffed it on my finger and have proudly displayed it for the past week. I have no intention of taking it off until July 12, 2010 (and, even then I might not take it off because that thing is on their snug as a bug in a rug--I'm not sure I'll be able to pry it off). I haven't really had any comments to my face about it. Every time I look at my hand, it makes me laugh--I mean, come on! I'm wearing my high school class ring!

I love my class ring. Always have. I wonder why we stop wearing them?

I was surprised to see that I had a softball player on my ring, not a band symbol of sorts. While I loved softball, I loved band much more--I spent most of my free time in the band room, I was better at band than sports, the majority 0f my friends were in the band, I was a band officer and the head of the goon squad (don't ask), I ate lunch in the band room every day, the only bathroom I ever peed in during high school was in the band room....band was incredibly important to me; so, why the softball player instead of a band geek? If I remember correctly, I chose the softball lady because it looked a lot better than the band thing for the ring. It's about aesthetics, people!

My ring is made of ultrium. I have no idea what ultrium is but I know it's much cheaper than gold and it's held up very well over the years. I am really, really hard on jewelry and I am here to tell you that this stuff has held up to the challenge. I believe my ring cost $79.00, which was hundreds of dollars cheaper than the gold version. Again, this was the right decision. I'm sure I would have ruined or lost the ring had it been made of actual gold.

A bunch of high school alums--via Book de la Face--decided to meet at a sports bar & grill in the suburbs. (This reunion thing has us all sentimental, I guess.) Since we were already going to be in town for the wife's convention and since I am already wearing my high school class ring, this seemed to be the perfect thing to do. The wife and I went to the bar, only to be the first ones to arrive--well, we weren't sure if we were first or not, as I hadn't seen these people in 30 years and wasn't sure who I was looking for. Because I am terminally punctual, we were there at exactly the time specified; this means we got to stand around and look stupid for 20 or more minutes until someone else showed up. Thankfully, I recognized them and we were able to start our evening.

About 20 people showed up for the event, half of whom I had never spoke to during high school, which is fine because now that we are not in high school, we are nice to each other. It was a fun evening, showing off the ring, talking about this or that, having a few good laughs. Here is a photo of someone trying to steal my class ring right off my hand....of course, he couldn't get it off because it is stuck on that finger, but it was fun seeing him try.....thank you to Clara Net for taking this (and other) photos of the event....

There was only one guy who "acted" in a way I was afraid many might act. He was an athlete who never once uttered a word to me during my entire tenure during high school. Mr. Jock would not be the type to know any band geeks and I certainly wasn't cute/pretty/cheerleaderish, so there was no need for him to waste his time talking to me--or, even knowing someone like me might exist. At the end of the night, he walked up to me & the wife.....he said, "I thought this was for (insert name of high school here) alums." I think he was trying to be funny, but he had this weird look on his face and he wasn't very funny to me. I assured him I was from our class. He asked, "Do you know who I am?" I wanted to say, "of course I know who you are--you were a basketball star who had no time for band geeks and persons who graduated in the top two percent of the class!" but, instead acknowledged knowing who he was, politely assuring him that he would not have known me. I grabbed my year book, opened the page to him, pointed him out. A few of us milling about had a laugh about this (he had a good photo, lucky dog). As he still looked confused, I opened the page to my picture and pointed myself out. He had a blank look on his face, then muttered, "Nope. I don't know who you are." Mr. Jock looked at the wife, looked at me, looked at the wife and looked very, very confused. He thankfully walked away at this point, uttering not another word.

I should have punched him with my class ring bling.

This 30-second event in no way tarnished a very fun evening. I am happy to report that 30 years has a happy way of addressing the stupidity of youth--everyone is normal and nice and no longer cliquish. It's okay for the cheerleaders to talk to the band people who are talking to the athletes who are talking to nerds...because we are no longer these things in real life. We are people that have one thing in common: we are alums of our beloved high school.

Well.....we have TWO things in common: we are alums AND we we have class rings.

May I suggest we all wear our class rings and be proud. POW POW! Go ahead, dig your class ring out and wear it for a week. See what happens......
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Sunday, November 15, 2009

Rockford Rage Really Rolling Now

Put on your ripped fishnets and stuff in your mouth guard--roller derby is the perfect double date on a Saturday night.

I wasn't kidding when I said the wife, Three Hawk, Argo WP and I were going to roller derby bout. We put on our best (in my case this means: clean & kinda still fit) jeans and found our way out to the sports center not far up the road. Shout out to Patti Party Pecs & gal pal "what-nickname-did-we-give-her-I-don't need-my-gallbladder-Sue," as they were in the audience for this big, blessed bout.

Let's start with the bout: it's called a BOUT, not a match, not a game, not an event. The bout has rules--most of which confused me. The bout consists of two thirty-five minute halves, with a 20 minute intermission/half time. All this bouting got me thinking about my preconcevied notions of roller derby.....

....I dunno about you, but when I hear the words "roller" and "derby" used in the same breath, I think of roller derby from the really early'70's. It was an "on-TV-are-you-kidding-me?" type of happening. When asked what she first thought of when hearing the words "roller derby, "the wife indicated she thought of "Kansas City Bombers" with Raquel Welch. (Time for a rental movie???)


If you were around back in those early 1970's, you probably remember women violently throwing each other over banisters, beating the crap out of each other--kind of like professional wrestling, only on wheels. How can you not love something like that?

Flash forward thirty five or more years and find yourself in the world of flat-track, always-turning-to-your-left fun. (The whole "only skate to the left" thing really bothered the wife: "Don't get they get shin splints? Shouldn't they turn around at half time?) There's even an official association: The Women's Flat Track Derby Association (www.wftda.com). The beauty of the new, improved derby is the fact that bouts can be held just about anywhere that has room to "make" a rink: a flat surface in a gym will do just fine, thank you. Naughty names, naughty uniforms (if you can call them that), naughty moves, naughty refs--it's all good, clean naughty fun.....

Well, it's really not THAT naughty; after all, an entire group of Red Hat Society ladies were in attendance and they looked like they were enjoying the festivities without incident. (There were some naughty words spewing out of a few players' mouths, but they were pretty tough to hear over the non-stop babbling of the M.C.--so, the kids were safe...as long as they didn't start to ask questions about all those skater names.)

It's naughty with a purpose: the local ladies spend a lot of time raising money and awareness for various charitable causes. Is life great or what? This night's proceeds went toward the local VFW and "recognized the dead by helping the living." In honor of this, one team was dressed (kinda sorta) in camouflage.

BTW, for those of you naughty-in-your-own-assuming ways thinking that this is a big gay (or worse word) event, you have assumed wrong. (Not that there would be anything wrong with roller derby if it WERE a big gay grrrl event.) I'd say this is a bunch of straight grrrlz working out their frustrations while their very manly boyfriends stand around and suck beer down like there's no tomorrow. Now, I'm not saying there wasn't a roller-queer or two around; I'm just saying you might be surprised--it's not like the softball leagues of the 1980's. ha ha!

BTW-squared: there is no way I could ever roller derby; I'd never get out of bed the next day. Any visions of grandeur of roller derby participation were quickly squelched by reality: maybe 25 years ago, but not now--I get hurt walking into open frig doors and when walking in business dress shoes. I'd have to hire My Beloved Lady Chiropractor to come live with us, and even then I wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week. (It's almost as bad as Brett Favre thinking he can play pro football at 40.....0h wait, he IS doing that.....how the hell does he get up on Monday morning?)

BTW-cubed: the local team is a WFTDA apprentice team, not that that matters. Just a factoid for all you nerds.

BTW times Four: I don't usually include anything brand-specific information in my blogs, but in this case I thought it'd be oaky to use the name's real team and location. They deserve a little free press, don't you think?

Okay, okay--the actual event. Lots of fun names, lots of scoring of which I did not understand, lots of refs (geez, there were as many refs as were skaters), lots of bruises (the ref had a horrific bruise on her thigh--yikes!). Pivot, Blockers, Jammer--five women on each team, five women trying to keep each other from scoring points, five women skating counter-clockwise. Usually, there were always several women in the penalty box at the same time--what they did to land there, I do not know. I have no idea who won and I have no idea if the score of the bout was good, bad, usual, unusual or what.

We had a close up view of one skater take quite the tumble--took her awhile and the team doctor to get her up and back on the track. Being the tough grrrrrl that she was, she got her back cracked back into place and a few minutes later she was back to jamming. I later learned that she is 29 years old--no wonder she was able to get back up. I would have been in traction after such a hit.

If you have a choice to see roller derby or get an enema, go with the roller derby. If you have a choice to see roller derby or watch a Lifetime TV movie, go with roller derby. If you have the chance to go see roller derby or meet Jillian Michaels, go with Jillian Michaels TO the roller derby. It's fun, it's cheap, it's interesting....and, it supports a good cause.

Before going....may I suggest you try and come up with your own roller derby name. Names with sexual connotation work well. Play on word names also work handsomely. Real names must be avoided, so don't just take your given name and add a word to it--Addi-tude might work but Awesome Addi would not. The wife might be opt for something like Cy Attica or Hotfer Teacher.

You might also work on your derby attire--something ripped & black will always fit in. A pre-game dinner, a padded bleacher seat thingy, a loud voice and a sense of humor will go a long way.

I give roller derby four out of five wheels; if asked face to face by one of the participants, I will say five out of five wheels. It's not like I can outrun them, they've got all that protective equipment on and they are used to inflicting pain.

Don't just sit there--go to a roller derby bout. If you can't find one in your area, go rent Raquel Welch's movie and enjoy a little roller derby of your own. Growl!
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Friday, November 13, 2009

Friday Night Lite

It's a quite Friday night at home. No major plans.....saving our energy for tomorrow night's roller derby outing...fake crops already harvested....pajamas on since 6:30 pm...dogs enjoying those wives of Orange County on T.V. Is life good or what?

This photo of Freckles sums up our evening.....

No news on the vacation front, but not for a lack of trying. My eyes are blurry from searching all those travel sites. I haven't found us the perfect cheap-short trip but I have learned that the prices fluctuate--what costs one thing on a Tuesday evening costs a very different thing on a Saturday afternoon. At first I thought I was crazy; then, I saw the pattern. All I have to say is that if you want to get the best prices on line, stick with looking on a Tuesday and stay away from the weekend. Thanks to the peeps who have made some awesome ideas. I'm not sure we'll end up in Vegas 'cuz it looks like the Donny & Marie show is already sold out for the dates I can go. (I am sure I can get tickets for a price...but, what price? Won't the price go up if Donny wins on Dancing with the Stars?!!) If we don't end up going anywhere, I'm going to go out and buy some new glasses.....

....speaking of which....

May I whine for a minute about my glasses being all befuckled? Thanks. Yesterday I walked into the open refrigerator door at work. It's one of those big, commercial, restaurant grade behemoth frigs, so it's a serious door to walk into. There isn't much worse than crooked, can't get 'em straight, don't feel right pair of glasses. I'm pretty particular about how my specs sit on my face--with my eyesight, it's important they fit just right. I spend more time trying to adjust my nose pieces than I do getting ready for work start to finish. (Are you still wondering how one walks into an open refrigerator door?) So far, I haven't un-befuckled them and it's getting old. If I get the nose piece feeling better, the right arm hurts. If I get the arm to feel better, the frames are crooked. If I make the frames straight, the nose pieces dig into my nose. You get the idea.

No, I can't explain how the hell I walk into things, so don't ask. Let's just say I have terrible (non-existent) peripheral vision and thus things tend to jump out at me.

Tonight, I learned that I like Thai food WAAAAAAAAY more than Vietnamese food (no offense to Vietnamese readers or cooks). I adore Thai food. A.D.O.R.E. We've sorely missed the now-closed-due-to retirement Thai restaurant and have been looking for a little something to take its place. So, instead of regular old fast food, we tried the new Vietnamese take out place down the road for dinner tonight--fancier fast food, I suppose. Here's a stock photo of some Vietnamese food. Ours didn't quite look like this, but you get the idea. Picture this type of food in Styrofoam.

Who'da thunk that Vietnamese restaurants (well, at least this one) might not have vegetarian choices on the menu? Not me. I pictured delicious vegetarian options. Not so much. The cook was very accommodating but it was still a pretty tough sell. I mean, I know those noodles came from some bath of broth.....

I'm sad to say it wasn't my favorite meal. Oh, I ate it but it wasn't the most delish thing I've ever put my lips on. I liked the idea of fresh lettuce, cilantro, cucumber....but, let's face it: I miss my Thai and I shouldn't be trying to replace one Asian cuisine with another.

Today's Friday adventure was to take the grrrrlz for their annual physical exams. It's a pretty mundane event... no blood, no tests, no shots--just a nervous poop on the front lawn of the vet's office (Freckles, not me), a quick look in the ears, a few comments about the tar tar on Lucy's teeth, a quick listen to the heart, a quick swipe of the charge card. I suppose we could skip this event, but it seems the right thing to do--after all, I feed these critters organic food, I make them walk every day, we put little covers on them when they go to bed. For some reason, the dogs LOVE going to the vet--they literally run in the door. I think it's all the treats that shower down upon them. Maybe it's because they love going to a place that is all about cats. Maybe it's because the vet is always so happy to see them. (I wish she wouldn't shove her face in Freckles' face--some day, the ol' Fatty Patty may take a nip out of her nose.) The Pee Wees got, of course, a clean bill of health. Lucy could use a little dental work and best not gain any more weight; Freckles was deemed fabulous--goopy eyes, lack of teeth, smelly, oily skin and all. Bad news is that the Warrior Princess is developing bald spots to go along with her smelly, oily skin. Worse news is that the vet indicates that is very normal for dogs like her. So much for all that organic food--it ain't gonna save her hair.....

Don't worry, Frecks--we'll still love you--bald, smelly, eye-boogered and all......

......as long as you don't want to eat Vietnamese food for dinner every night.
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Thursday, November 12, 2009

Is it Thursday already?

Sheesh! I am so far behind schedule. I woke up and thought it was Tuesday. Suffice it to say, my "real" blogging will have to wait until tomorrow. And, I can't wait to blog about the roller derby event the wife, Argo WP, Three Hawk and I will be in attendance at on Saturday night. How fun is that?

Until I can write a proper blog, I leave you with a little Green Bay humor. The Wife is CONVINCED that Ted Thompson (owner of the GB Packers) is purposefully ruining the team. Them Packer Backers take the game very seriously....they are having a really tough time with this stinky season. I am thinking the wife is gonna needs lots of therapy by the time the end of December rolls around.

It doesn't help that Brett Favre is having a killer year.

Don't worry, his reign will end....I picked him to be my quarterback this weekend for my fantasy football team. I am the kiss of death for any player I pick, so Brett will throw five interceptions this weekend. You read it here.

'Nuf Said. I have to go get my Thursday groove on.....

Sunday, November 08, 2009

Vacation a-where to go-go, Part 37

How can you have a bad day when you start your blog off with thoughts of Donny and Marie? You can't! I'll get to why I've posted the Dynamic Duo on the top of the blog, but you'll have to sing, "I'm a little bit country, I'm a little bit rock and roll" before I tell you anything.

Besides putting out positive vibes that the wife's back gets better (healing light healing light healing light), how do you think I've spent the last 48 hours of my life? Let me give you a guess--last time it landed us in Mexi-Louis.

Now that my three program inspections at the place of which I do not speak (one on the State level, two on the Federal level, all three stressful in their own delicious, special ways) have come and gone, my boss (of which I do not have but if I did would give direction at the place of which I do not speak) has indicated it is time for me to take some deserved time off.

I concur.

The good thing is that the wife's Christmas Vacation (of which is like seven months long for college professors) coincides with my newly-suggested vacation plan. The not so good thing is that the wife is very, very limited in what she will be able to do during her between-semester time off, as she can basically walk a half mile and sit for maybe 20 minutes at a time. Soooooo....

....I've spent the last 48 hours looking for a simple, fun, short-in-duration, easy-on-the-wallet, not-too-long-in-a-seat, some-new-adventure for us to do, at a place the wife has never been. A Warm weather site is non-negotiable--although there are many wonderful destinations in our great country, I want warm. I don't want snow, I don't want freezing cold. I can do cold at home. Door county, New England, the great Northwest all sound fabulous....in summer.

My first thought was to try Riviera Maya again, but we're still pretty gun shy after the ol Swine-flu-drug-cartel-Apple-canceled trip this past spring. Besides, the prices are not cheap--they are more than they were back in May. What's up with that? I am blurry-eyed from looking at all the Mexico-related options we have and I am here to tell you that we are most likely not going to Mexico, no offense to the Mayans.

My next thought was "DISNEY!" but that doesn't fit the affordable category and I'm not sure the wife would enjoy time at the Magic Kingdom. Disney's basically all about me. I may be self centered but I'm not incorrigible, so Disney's out.

My Next thought was, "what about an island found in the Bahamas or Key West-ish?" Those options got complicated and for some reason they didn't seem to captivate the wife's attention. She wants to spend a week on an island, not a day or two. Scratch the beach off the list.

I thought about Branson for about 1.5 seconds. 'Nuf said about that; ain't gonna happen.

My next thought was, "Vegas, baby!" The wife's never been there, it's cheap, it's easy, there is tons to do. We could easily do a four day stint in Sin City and only have to drop about $400 each...total--hotel, air, food, tips for show girls. She's never seen the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, the Strip at night or a quality drag queen shows, nor has she ever eaten at an infamous Vegas buffet at 2 A.M. How could I not spend hour upon hour searching for the best Vegas deal?

The great news is that we have lots of options if we go to Vegas: we can fly out of the local airport (of which I am still skeptical but checking out--I hear their planes are dirty and smelly and that they tend to run like seven hours behind when at airports like Vegas); we can get awesome, affordable packages, we can walk around a lot (which is helpful to the wife); we can do something where it is warm but not steaming hot; we can eat at buffets (of which we both love to do). It's not exactly the Caribbean but it's all good with me.

And, if we go to Vegas, we can go to the Donny and Marie show, of which I know the wife would absolutely, positively love!

(Okay, so I'd like it, too. Just don't tell anyone.)

Donny & Marie ticket prices look quite reasonable (that's because I'm used to Madonna-concert ticket prices) and I'm pretty sure we could scrounge up some good ones. What a great way to spend a few days-- buffets, sin, sunshine and Donny & Marie.

The problem? I'm not sure the wife can manage the trip. If it's four hours on a plane and she can't sit for more than 20 minutes at a time, that's gonna be a problem. That's not counting the time on a bus to get to O'Hare or the time waiting at the gate. If her pain doesn't change by then, there is no way I can in good conscious put her on a bus for a billion hours so she can see the Grand Canyon.....

Of course, she could be miraculously recovered by then and none of these considerations will matter. That is the thinking I have chosen to think, but I have to make sure she is thinking the same thing. If she's improved, she'll be able to flit on the strip, hang over the edge of the Grand Canyon and jump on stage to dance with Donny....

Decisions, decisions.

Today, I will spend time outside (because this is the best Indian Summer day I can ever remember--it IS November, isn't it?), I will talk to the wife (who is unfortunately in pain as I type--not from my writing but rather from her sciatica) and we will consider our vacation break options. We could certainly do a regionally-located bed and breakfast; we could stay home; or, we could party with Donny and Marie.

Beloved blog reader, I say to you: "Aspiring travel agents and opinionated travel-loving friends, let the suggesting begin!" Don't wait too long, as I'm time-limited on securing tickets. Do I hear a "Paper Roses" or "Puppy Love" in the house? Do I stay home and harvest my crops on Book de la Face, saving my vacation time for next summer? Operators are standing by......
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