Sunday, January 31, 2010

Sunday....'Cause that's my fun day....

Thank you to "The Bangles" for the awesome-ness of this blog title. Here's a photo of me during the era of the Bangles. Too bad you can't see the Mullet in a clearer fashion...but, you can see those HOT pants and high top "cross trainers" of the day. Walk like an Egyptian, indeed!

The Pro Bowl is on (before the Super Bowl--how
weird is that), the Grammys are on (opening with Lady Gaga & Elton John--even kinda weirder), my butt is on....the couch. Let's blog.

First, an update on my new tires.
I was SOOOO excited when it was spitting/snowing/icing out the other day because it meant I'd be able to test out my uber-costly new treads. They got great reviews for winter weather driving. I'm zipping down the street, humming and smiling... I see the intersection I turn on my turn signal....I turn right......

....but instead slide.right.by.the.intersection.

Seriously. There was no stopping, no turning. Nothing but sliding. So much for throwing obscene amounts of money at car parts. At least I look good. Those tires are sharp!

(What the hell is P!nk wearing on the Grammys? Dear goodness, I hope she doesn't sneeze! And, doesn't she get dizzy spinning around like that? Do you think she's pissing off the audience while she is pouring water all over them?)

Then, there's the eye booger problem. Freckles' boogers, not mine. She has been making eye boogers like there's no tomorrow. The wife keeps finding eye boogers on the floor, or so she says. I don't know what an canine eye booger on the floor looks like, but she seems to recognize them and is always lamenting about them. The wife also claims she finds these goobers in her car....and, also on Freckles' fur (or, technically hair in her case--Shih tzus have hair, not fur--either way, the boogers are on her paws). Being the tidy dog that she is, she wipes her eyes then licks her boogers, quite to the wife's dismay. (All that licking does get irritating, I must admit.) I think it's rather gifted for a dog to eat its own eye boogers. Lest you think this is an uncommon problem, just google dog eye boogers and see what you find. Her eyes look fine and she is in fine spirits, so she must just be a bit more goopy these days.

Job? Did someone say something about my job? My friend Argo Warrior Princess suggested that I refer to that place "of which I do not speak" as something other than that....the Universe is always listening, you know. As you Addiverse readers know, I refer to anything related to my rumored employment (as if I would ever mention anything related to a job in a blog because that could lead to so much trouble) as something "from the place of which I do not speak." How Harry Potterish is that? (It's confusing to talk about something of which I do not talk about, eh?) She thought something like, "that place that keeps a roof over my head" might be more appropriate. I concur. That place of which I do not speak most certainly does keep a roof over our head....

....even if we do have eye boogers within the residence with said roof.

As for Sunday, that's my fun day, my I don't have to run day......I anticipate a busy week at the "place which sends me paychecks." I'm all good with that and I'm sure you are ready for your week, too. Hope you enjoy your Manic Monday, that your favorite music artist wins lots of Grammys and that your dog (and everyone else in your life) remains eye booger free.

Pass the Black eyed peas--I've got a feeling!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvljD0toJmU

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

The Uniform may have changed....

…but stupid plays at critical moments are forever!

Poor, poor Brett. Three teams, three years, three last plays, three interceptions. No wonder he can't retire. How can you retire with such an awful memory? He's stuck with that last throw--an interception, a game lost. 

BTW, I have no idea how a 40 year old gets out of bed the day after getting PUMMELED in an NFL game. I mean, I don't even know how he got off the turf after some of the plays last weekend; how the hell could he get up the next morning? I have trouble getting out of bed after bowling three games in a fund-raiser.
The wife says he'll be back. He'll say he's retiring, give a tearful good-bye, avoid all mini-camps and training camps, hang out with some high schoolers and show up on the Astro-turf right before the season starts. Egotistical, arrogant, shameless--he'll be back. (Her brother, Tommy Hilfiger, says Brett won't be back. Do I sense a friendly family wager?)

The uniform may have changed....but I highly doubt Number 4 has changed at all.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

When the Saints Come Marching In

Ha! Fooled you! You thought I was going to talk about football. I'm not. My marching saints are the Catholic kind (although I am partial to the WHO DAT team of the moment).

Last blog entry (or, was it the one before? I can't recall and for some reason Feedblitz didn't email me my last few posts so it's not fresh in my mind--man, I hope all of you are getting your blog entries...I'll be so sad if you're not), I babbled about the Catholic Church's public relations campaign. (I also babbled about recruiting straight people to join my church, but that's a whole 'nother story.) Clever commercials, calling us home--who can resist the calling of the Eucharist? It's been quite the media affair, to say the least.

Anyways, I was at work today--home of the religious zealots--when one of them brought me a bulletin from their Catholic church. (Do other religions call their weekly publications handed out during service a bulletin?) The real reason this particular co-worker brought me a Catholic bulletin was because we had been talking about advertising the program (of employment of which I do not speak) in the bulletins. (Hey, the Catholics have oodles of money and they have the population of which I seek, so I'm all for churchy advertisement.) The bulletin was placed on my desk, no comment made, no fan fare, no nothing. I took a gander at all the ads and realized that our ad would be a perfect fit, provided I could afford the advertising costs set forth by the Catholic Church. I then innocently flipped through the multi-paged publication....when a yellow sticky caught my eye....

....On the post-it was simply written: "I am inviting you back."

The sticky had been placed on an article regarding an invitation to non-practicing Catholics to take part in a six week program for those of us who had "been hurt or angered by the Church."

My own personal call home!

Only at my job could this happen.

So, I left the bulletin on my desk, thinking nothing further of it. A different employee walks in, sees the bulletin, picks it up and starts talking about the Catholic commercials calling Catholics home. He spoke of his congregation and of how wonderful the "campaign" truly is, inviting people who were raised Catholic to come back to the church. He then looks at me and quietly asks, "I know I can't really ask this, but may I ask what religion you are?"

(Only only only at my job!)

I simply indicate I was raised in the Catholic church. (I thought about reprimanding him for asking such an inappropriate thing at work but let it slide--it's not fair the evangelical types have had the chance to try to save me and he hasn't had his turn.) As it is quite evident that I am not a practicing Catholic, he too invites me home.

Two invites in one hour--SCORE!

I am perversely intrigued by this. What took the Catholics so long to start recruiting me at work? I mean, the evangelicals have a HUGE head start on them. As I contemplate this, another employee (a not-catholic-but-rather-saved-by-Jesus-type) enters the office, sees the bulletin and starts talking about those wonderful commercials. She loves their message, the situations, the call home. She went on and on.....the whole time I'm thinking, "Man, this is some ad campaign!"

If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was inviting me home, too. Three in an hour? That's got to be some record.

Alas, I have yet to return "home;" last time I checked, the Catholic Church hadn't changed its stance on details such as practicing/choosing/living a perverse lifestyle. BTW, I didn't buy ad space in the bulletin--those Catholics drive a hard bargain & were too expensive for my blood......

....do you think if I come "home" they will give me a discount?

I will turn my focus to the football Saints. WHO DAT calling me home?!!
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Thursday, January 21, 2010

Leaving on a Jet...Propeller?....Plane

Well, it's that time of year in the Addiverse when planning a summer vacation sounds like a grand idea. Since Dos Marias have now moved to Connecticut and since Suzuki DeFranco Little Ori are getting married in Massachusetts this summer, it seems like a no-brainer that we'd head east for our vacation. I checked with Dos Marias--they're in. I requested the time off at work--that was approved. I triple checked the wedding date--got it. I went on line and took a peek at airline availability for Hartford via American....

....uh oh. Little Plane!

Let me define little plane: 50 seats. That's small enough to get my attention. After all, I'm a 757 kind of girl.

Boys and girls, I am not one to choose a small plane when there are giant planes to be had. The photo here kinda-sorta shows what plane I'm talking about. I am pretty sure the one we'd take would have jet engines, not propellers, but I'm not exactly sure yet.

The Last time (and only time that I recall) I flew on a small plane is when we were Dos Marias in Puerto Rico. We flew from the main island to Vieques on the teeniest, weeniest little plane...the four of us and the pilot (who was like 12 years old and had his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel). Why, look--I have a photo of that infamous plane.

...Nothing like flying on a plane where they weigh everyone and weigh their luggage and where take off is delayed because there is a dog on the runway.

The flight to/from Vieques went swimmingly, but it was only a few minutes long.....flying to Hartford would be like two hours long. I'm not sure if I have the constitution to fly two hours on a 50 seater plane. When I asked Dos Marias about this, they suggested that it would be "fun" albeit loud. Hmm. Not reassuring. At least there wouldn't be any dogs on the runway in Hartford.

I thought it might just be American's issue with the small plane, but oh no--several internet searches have shown me that small planes--okay, technically they are jets--fly from O'Hare to Hartford. Dang!

I sense an adventure in the making.

I did figure out that if I want a big plane (i.e. 757), we could fly to Miami and then transfer to Hartford. Go figure. Seems like a long way out of the way to get a big plane, eh?

I'll keep you up to date on our vacation-planning. After the Mexi-louis vacation last year, I figure the travel gods will look kindly upon us and let everything go "right" with this summer trip. Until then, I'm gonna keep looking for a big plane without flying across country out of the way to get where we are going.

P.S. We're Recruiting!

(Here's a P.S. blog entry I never thought I'd be writing....)


Historically, it has often been suggested that gay people spent inordinate amounts of time recruiting straight people to join the sinful homosexual lifestyle. After all, this is how we get our toaster ovens. (Forget it if you don't get that joke--just go with it and know you won't be getting a toaster oven. One more for me, I guess.)

I personally have never recruited any of my straight friends to join the fun....

....well, not that I remember.

I don't have a toaster oven, so I think my claim is safe. Besides, I don't have time to waste on recruiting anyone. Lucy Lawless is in a new show and I have to spend my free time getting ready for this event. Someone else can do the recruiting and win the toaster ovens.

I digress.

I've decided it is my Christian, saintly, holy obligation to recruit straight people for my church of choice.
Yes, yes, you read that right: I am recruiting old fashioned-yet-liberally-minded heterosexuals to attend the Addichurch.

Please note: this my OWN personal campaign and in no way implies that the church of choice is a gay church or that only gay people go there or that only gay people are welcomed or that I don't want any new gaybies to come join the fun or that anyone else in the congregation remotely feels the same way that I do about this "issue." The Addichurch features a delightful, eclectic mix of fine, upstanding citizens....it's just that the "odds" appear to be getting a bit stacked against the heteros and it's making me nervous. I am all about equity & balance.

So, if any of you straight peep looking for a new church or fresh approach to your belief system, consider my recruiting efforts.
***You get a gift bag on the first day you attend;
***it's a wonderful group of people;
***it's casual enough that I wear my jeans to church and not worry one iota about it;
***no one will try to "save" you (you are fine just the way you are);
***no one will condemn you or throw bibles at you;
***there are a lot of really nice gay people there, so you'll be able to say "some of my best friends are gay."

If you want a gift bag (and not a toaster oven), join us at the church--bring I.D. proving your straightness--wedding photos, marriage certificate, divorce papers, testimony from current partner, prom photos, etc....

....oh wait a minute--I have wedding photos, marriage certificate, divorce papers and prom photos. Dang......

Saturday, January 16, 2010


Catholics, Tires & Two Slaps to the Face

Let's start with two slaps to the face: I was feeling really good the other day at work and I was goofing around, trying to get a co-worker to laugh and I just couldn't resist doing a POW! POW! Xena kick in the air. It was an awesome kick--I got some major air time under me....but, when the second kicked leg came down, I realized that doing a Xena kick had been a really, really bad idea. My knee gave a Xena war cry. Shit. My second thought (after the first thought being how stupid it had been to do a Xena kick) was, "this is gonna be one stupid workman's comp claim." My third thought was, "it really sucks that I'm too old to do a Xena kick," especially cuz I looked pretty damned good doing it.

I came home and limped toward the kitchen table, only to find an envelope from the AARP. Hmmmm. I'd never received anything from them before and at first I thought it was another credit card invitation/application. For poops and giggles, I opened the envelope....it was an invitation to join AARP.

I gasped. I forgot all about my knee.

Hey people: I'm only 47! How rude is it to start 2.5 years ahead of time! Gimme a friggin' break! Man, getting that invitation on the same day as getting injured doing a Xena kick really slapped me in the face.
SLAP!

Has anyone else noticed how many Catholics commercials there are on TV these days? Maybe I'm just watching more TV but I'm pretty sure the Catholics are cramming the airwaves with their ads, wanting us to come home. The wife and I have been very enthralled by this; in fact, every time one of the commercials airs, one of us invariably says, "hey, there's one of those Catholic commercials." I'd say the richest religion in the world is worried about their numbers. I think they'd have a better chance of recruiting if they aired sexy/naughty commercials with the message: "we want you to spawn like bunnies!"

Now, now--I was born and raised Catholic, so don't go getting your rosaries all in a bundle. I didn't say I didn't like the commercials or the Catholic faith. I said there sure are a lot of those dang commercials. They probably should add a disclaimer to the ads, tho: "Don't bother coming home if you use birth control, have chosen to practice a homosexual lifestyle or are divorced and do not have money to secure an annulment.

I think they showed one of these ads during last year's Super Bowl; my guess is that they will do so again this year. Come on home and bring a Budweiser with you, while you're at it!

As for the tire situation, I am tired of tires, pun intended. I have researched tires out the wazoo in an effort to get the right "shoes" for my poor car. The wife was impressed with my tenacity to secure the right tire, quite the compliment coming from her. After finally deciding on the highly-rated Treds of Triple, (thanks, Viking Jill!), the tires were ordered. I waited til they got to town (they were in Nevada, lucky treds), drove my car to Viking Jill's garage and.....damn. Unfortunately, I ordered the wrong size tires. Talk about embarrassing... there I am, listening to the guy remove my tires.... then.....nothing. That's because he's scratching his head wondering why he's trying to put 195 sized tires on my 205 sized rims. I'm scratching my head because I can't think of any reason a car company would put nicer/bigger tires on the lowest, cheapest model they make. I'm like, "I checked and re-checked what size tires I have." He agrees, saying he did the same thing. No matter, the tires don't fit.

This confuses me. Determined to figure out the tire issue, I dig through my glove compartment but find nothing on my tire size. (I did find interesting things but nothing about the tires.) I re-checked data on line: DX size is 195. I went home and grabbed my "car file," taking out the original window sticker. (The wife has trained me well, don't you think?) That's when I solve the mystery: I have an LX, not a DX. All this time I thought I had the cheap ass model of my car; instead, I've been driving around in the mid-cheap ass model of my car. I am much more sporty than I ever knew!

I apologized profusely to Viking Jill, who assured me it was no big deal. She re-ordered the tires, assuring me they will get the tires on right on when they arrive.

Turns out the tires I want are literally sold out nation wide until March. I can't wait til March to get tires so I don't slide in the snow! Trust me, I called local vendors, I did an on-line search--those tires are nowhere to be found. I had to begin my search from the beginning. I must have good taste, because the next two tires I picked were also sold out until the Spring. (A lot of people must have been in ditches lately.) After much angst, I decided on the tire pictured here. It's Exalto-ly what I want and need. They are on order....coming from Nevada. I don't know what's going on in Nevada, but that must be where tires live.

Thankfully, football play-offs are on TV, my tires are on order, my Xena-kicked knee is just fine and the Catholics continue to call me home. Now, if I can just keep that AARP away from me while I wait for my tires and contemplate the meaning of the Eucharist.....

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Welcome to the Addi-tar

I went and saw "Avatar"--in "regular" 2D vision yesterday. Then, I went and saw Avatar again today--this time in 3D.

The wife went shopping. Both days.

Here's a picture of me and Lucy all "Na'vi-fied," all ready for Avatar Action on Pandora. I like to think of it as we've been Additar-ed.

Okay, so we look like psychotic, mass murdering smurfs. I'm working only with Microsoft Publisher here, people. Cut me some slack. Besides, Avatars are human minds in an alien body--we look pretty alien here. Damn, I should have made me and Lucy really long as additars, as the Navi are really tall peeps. Tall and really thin. And, blue. I figured out the blue part but not so much the tall part--well, for me....Lucy is naturally tall.

Just think what I could do if I had some fancy photo-shopping kind of software.

I've only made two avatars in my life--once, for a Wii game and one for Ville de la Farm. I think I look better on the farm than in the movie additar above.

Maybe I was born to be on a farm, not on an alien planet.

If you are one of the three people left on the planet who has yet to see the movie (well, besides the wife, who will not be going), I suggest you go see the 3D version. It blew the 2D movie right out of the water. I really didn't think it'd make much of a difference, but I was wrong. For those of you who suffer from vertigo, may I suggest you take Dramamine, although I don't think you'll need it. I thought most of the 3D-ness was about the scenery and peeps, not of flying around like you are on a runaway roller coaster.

BTW, 3D glasses have come light years since the days of the cardboard blue and red plastic "lens," if you could call them that. The 21st century glasses look like cheap Ray-bans. Don't ask me how they work--something about being polarized--all I know is that they work and they fit over my regular glasses, so it's all good.

The reason to go see the movie is not for the story (although there is nothing wrong with the story or symbolism or moral what-not and, in fact, I resonate with the whole premise); it's for the effects. Find the biggest cinema screen around and go. You'll be able to rent this at home, but what's the point of that? This is a film that should be seen as big as possible. If there is an IMAX around, don't just sit there--shell out the money and go see it. If you are going to spend three hours of your life staring at a movie, make it worth it.

I don't know how they made this movie but I do know it's visually intriguing.

I won't talk about the actual movie (plot, theme, story, whatever) because that's in the eye of the beholder and I'm not in the spoiler business. I am a sci-fi geek, loved Lord of the Rings, like anything remotely shamanistic; so, anything I say will be biased toward my interested. (Feel free to talk to me about the story in person, where we can trade thoughts on the Universe, God Force, evil, entitled white Americans, shamanism, politics and/or tree hugging while drinking expensive coffee.) Suffice it to say I liked it enough to Additar myself.

I would like to know how they made this movie; but, then again, I really don't want to know the science behind it. Why lose the magic? It's like going to Universal Studios and seeing how they made "Jaws." In this case, best to leave the unknown unknown.

I smell a sequel in the making......think James Cameron will be calling on my mad additar-ing skills to work on the movie? I think me and Lucy are ready for our cameos....
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Thursday, January 07, 2010

Winter Weather Warriors

Let it be known that Lucy Bark of Poteidaia is no weather wimp. She's just waiting for some beer to go with her pretzels. Weather wimps would be happy with a soda.

Our dogs love cold weather; in fact, Freckles acts five years younger when it's 40 degrees or below. They don't mind snow, as long as we don't make them wear their parkas. They aren't weather wimps. They say, "Bring it on, Mama Nature!" They are true winter weather warriors. They plow through snow piles over their heads. They pee outside and never complain that the wind chill seems to require an official advisory. They poop with one or two paws in the air because they've got ice in their paw pads and yet they keep on pooping with nary a whine.

I am joining the puppies: I am going to embrace winter. I am going to be a Winter Weather Warrior!

Too much information has made us weather wimps. (Myself included. Don't think I'm only judging you, prisoner of weather channel forecasting!)

As a winter weather warrior, I am going to enjoy the newly fallen snow. I am going to look at shoveling as a great exercise. I am going to see the sub-zero temps as a good reason to wear my new jeans. I am going to dig out those snow shoes and go shoeing with the wife. I feel warm already! I'm going to recall my childhood days of playing outside in the snow because it was fun.

In the olden days (0h boy, here we go), we knew it was winter and it was probably gonna snow and that was it. No weather advisory, no winter warnings, no wind chill alerts, no "ten day out" forecasts. We looked out the window, thought "oh, it's snowing," put on a friggin' coat & boots and went on with business. We went to work even though it was snowing. GASP! That's right--snowing. We commuted and got to work. We got up and shoveled the driveway--we didn't stand in front of the TV to see what was closed or canceled....because nothing was closed or canceled unless it was crazy bad outside.

We loved snow. It meant fun and playing and building snowmen and celebrating the colder months. It meant ugly parkas, giving yourself extra time to drive somewhere, having a reason to drink hot chocolate (not that anyone should EVER need a reason to drink hot chocolate). Oh sure, we thought about snow days but they were so few and far between that we really didn't ever expect to get any. We were like the post office: school no matter sleet or rain or snow or drought or locusts.

In celebration of my developing winter weather warriorness, I have ordered some new tires for my car. Ending up in a ditch does motivate one to spend money. Many a discussion was held about snow tires vs. all season tires. I educated myself, then educated the wife. I showed her videos on YouTube, I shared the data, I read the reviews. My vote was for snow tires, but the wife's arguments won: changing snow tires out in the spring and fall suck, so she says--it does sound rather like a pain in the ass--and thus I chose all-season tires that got great reviews. My bank account won't think they are so great, but what price do you put on safety and on building winter weather warriorness? (I hear they look good, too--a bonus in the Addiverse. If you are gonna be in a ditch, one should look hot.)

I admit, it has snowed a LOT recently and that I've teetered on being a winter weather wimp. I admit that I am rather sick of snow and it's only January, so it's a little early to be getting sick of the white stuff. I admit snow is probably more fun when you are 10 years old as opposed to 40 something years old. I admit I am not a fan of below zero weather.....

.....I admit to watching the Local on the 8's over and over and over and letting myself get sucked in to the weather frenzy: "OH MY GOD IT'S GOING TO SNOW! OH NO IT'S GOING TO SNOW UP TO TWO INCHES! WE BETTER STAY HOME!" I admit I worry about isobars, wind chills, Alberta clippers. I love weather but it can take me prisoner without me even knowing it and then I go from warrior to wimp. I must stop the madness!

I admit I know it's snowing right now and that we've received 5 inches of the white stuff in 24 hours and about three more inches are anticipated. I know that bone-chilling temps will descend upon our domain, wind chills threatening our very being.....and knowing all this makes me feel a wee bit wimpy inside.

BUT I SHALL EMBRACE THIS WINTER WEATHER LIKE A TRUE WARRIOR!

Remember the first time I published this photo? No? I do! It's a classic. You have to read and re-read this beauty--link below. I had to put the photo in the blog again. This is what I look like when using the snow blower to rip the neighbors' holiday decorations off their garage. Vrro-o-o-o-o-m! A nude winter weather warrior is even BETTER than just a plan old winter weather warrior.
http://addiwp.blogspot.com/2006/12/friendly-neighbor-with-snow-blower.html

And so, I will shovel, I will snow shoe, I will drive my new tires with reckless abandon. I will grab Ol' Man Winter by the snow balls. I will make snow angels and bound through the piles like I'm one of the dogs. I will not be wimpy--I will be a warrior!

Unless I end up in another ditch. Then, all bets are off......

Saturday, January 02, 2010

STOP THE PRESS!!!! TRIDENT HAS BROUGHT BACK CINNAMON GUM!!!

You have NO idea how excited I am about this. NO IDEA. NO NO NO NO IDEA!!!! WOO WOO!

I am a gum-a-holic, so I know what I'm talking about here. I chew gum most of my waking hours. Seriously. (I like to think I'm pretty good at not smacking when I chew and I try not to look like a cow chewing cud when I am chomping on my gum but I admit to an obnoxious habit of blowing bubbles more often than not.) I like not having dry mouth and I like having fresh breath. I like knowing I am wiping out all sorts of decay-causing bacteria with one chomp of gum. As a gum connoisseur, I adored Trident Cinnamon gum. It as by far my favorite flavor. It was perfect--hot, cinnamon-y, good texture, long lasting gum ability, breath freshening, sugar free. I chewed it by the packful, bought it by the box of 12 at Club Sammy's. Fresh, happy, tasty, delightful. I never once thought about Trident ceasing production of such a wonderful, popular slice of heaven.....I was never without at least two packs of the stuff at any given moment.

....but then.....one day a few years back, it was gone. At first, I thought Club Sammy's had run out and was waiting to re-stock, but when it didn't get re-stocked for many months, I started to get worried. I stopped seeing it at stores. It was harder and harder to find.

Gone. It was gone. Gone from my world, gone from the shelves, gone from production.

I was morose.

Being a gum-a-holic, I checked with my peer whose dad worked for the company who makes Trident. (How weird is that that I know someone in the gum business? Even weirder is that I drive by the gum factory every day going to/from that place of which I do not speak.) It was confirmed-- the maker of Trident Cinnamon had discontinued making it.

My world was cold and lonely. How could they discontinue such a popular flavor?

I tried chewing various Cinnamon gums but they were no comparison--in fact, I down right hated most of them. I tried the other Trident flavors, but hated them, too. All the gums I tried either had awful texture, were too sugary, didn't last or were just plain lousy in the cinnamon department. The little white square cinnamon gums with the candy coating shell didn't match the small, short stick version of trident's gum. Since I'm not a minty kind of girl--not peppermint, not spearmint, not winter mint--ugh--I didn't chew those either, even after giving them another chance. Minty flavors just give me bad breath and no enjoyment.

I finally gave up my search for a replacement and turned to Orbit Bubblemint (not to be confused with any other mint--it's basically bubble gum flavor). I learned to love it, I learned to buy it by the case, I learned to enjoy it. It was okay, it was better than anything I had found.....sigh.

Today, we were wandering the aisles at Club Sammy when I spotted it. I had gone down the candy aisle to get Eldest Niece some cookies for her bowling tournament in town (don't try to understand), when the dark red rows of boxes caught my eye. At first, I was like, "that CAN'T be Trident Cinnamon." I got closer, holding my breath. I confirmed it was Trident but then thought, "it must be those little square candy-coated kind I don't like," but the packaging sure looked like the real thing. I approached the shelf, filled with trepidation. I squinted through my trifocals and read the beautiful words: "A CLASSIC IS BACK!!!"

OH.MY.JAW-CHEWING.GOD! Could it be? Really be?

TRIDENT CINNAMON IS BACK!

It was all I could do to get through the check out so I could open the box. I didn't wait for the wife. I paid, shot out of line and opened the package. Heaven! Pure heaven! I almost wept I was so happy. I'm sure the other shoppers were wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

I 've been smiling brightly and chomping on Trident Cinnamon gum ever since. I don't plan on not having a piece of that gum in my mouth until it's bedtime.

Let it be known I won't stop chewing the Orbit Bubblemint because I like it, it's been good to me and it's good to have a back up flavor. But, it's nothing like the classic that is back.

God bless you, Cadbury Adams! Thank you for bringing this classic and most loved flavor back. Please call me if you plan on discontinuing it again so I can stockpile before protesting your factory and scheduling my therapy.
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P.S. I am not alone in my affinity for gum. Just googling trident cinnamon gum will bring you a plethora of hits. One of my favorites is gumalert. How can you not love a blog that is focused solely on gum? http://gumalert.blogspot.com/2009/11/trident-cinnamon.html
Vegan-flavored Fantasy Football Fretting

Happy 2010. Do you say "twenty ten" or "two thousand ten?" I haven't decided yet.

For the new year, I had planned on eating a bit healthier (read: 1/2 pound of chocolate instead of one pound of chocolate per sitting). I had dreams of grandeur that I would follow the writings of "Skinny Bitch," because what they write makes perfect sense to me....besides, who doesn't want "to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous?" (Not to say I don't already look fabulous, but one can never look TOOOO fabulous.)

Unfortunately, two things transpired as of 8 AM this morning: (1) my copy of "Skinny Bitch" has yet to arrive via that mammoth bookstore on line and thus I haven't been able to digest the important information provided there (pun intended); and, (2) I found myself eating scones and brownies for breakfast today. (Hey, at least it's organic creamer in my coffee.) When I get the book, I'll let you know how it goes. If you haven't heard of it, I suggest you grab a copy while you're at that noble bookstore and scan it. Lots of foul words, lots of crude talk, lots of real life examples. Be warned, tho: you'll have to become a vegetarian to be on this adventure....and, I do believe they want you to be the other V word--vegan. Woof! Do you know how hard it is to be vegan? At least as a vegetarian, I can still down gallons of ice cream and put eggs in my pancakes. BTW, you can find more info at http://www.skinnybitch.net/

Today will be fraught with fantasy football fretting, which is actually quite unusual for me. My modus operandi is to (1) open the site; (2) scan the choices; (3) make the picks; (4) go eat something chocolate. No research, no struggling, no loss of brain cells. It's a game--a fun reason to banter with family and friends. But, now it's happened: I am technically in the run for pool money. Not the big money (and certainly not an easy stretch), but money nonetheless. You might not be excited about this, but since I started the year in absolute last place, this is quite the feat, so I am very excited. Of course, changing my method at this point of the game seems counter-productive, but.....money! glory! prestige! It messes with the mind. So......I made my picks as usual. I turned away from the website. I went and got some chocolate.....

....and, I've fretted ever since.

Every time the wife turns on ESPN, my head hurts. Oh no--they're sitting their starting quarterback! Oh no, they've benched their best receiver. Dear god, they've clinched the division--do they want home field advantage or will they sit their players? It's changed everything. There is no rhyme or reason to what is about to happen tomorrow. Teams that should win by huge margins will probably lose. Players that were sure bets are probably no bet.....

Of course, what's the first thing the wife does this A.M.? She turns on ESPN. I want to go screaming from the room but I cannot look away, just like it's impossible to truly look away from that zit video on TubeYou. (Trust me, if you haven't seen this video, you should take a gander. It is by far the most disgusting thing I have EVER seen in my entire life and I almost vomited while watching it--the gagging in the background doesn't help--but, if you want to see the most disgusting thing ever, go find it....but, don't say I didn't warn you.)

....I went back to my picks this morning. I have a few hours before I can no longer change them. Now, I am one of those people who subscribes to the "my first choices are always my best choices," just like it was when taking tests in school--always go with the first answer, don't go back and mess with the answers. So, I looked at the picks, I talked out loud about my picks, I asked the wife about players on teams as related to my picks.....

....and, then I turned away. I left my picks as is.

This is no time to change methods. If I win, so be it--it will be the way I've played the game all along. If I lose, so be it--as long as my dad rakes in the money, I'll be very glad with that. (Keep the glory in the family, that's what I say.) I will fret about these picks until the deadline. I'm hoping a trip to Club de la Sam, a Jillian workout and a few more brownies will help distract me from fretting too much....or, from going back and changing my picks. Maybe I can spend my day harvesting fake crops on Ville de la Farm. Maybe my Skinny Bitch book will come in the mail and I'll spend time fretting over becoming a vegan or giving up coffee.

....Or, maybe I'll look for that zit video again--that'll distract me from EVERYTHING.....

Happy twenty-ten, Happy two thousand ten, indeed.
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