Hot Cranky People

I had to have some blood drawn the other day. They tried to make up for it by giving me this sparkly and shiny bandaid, like that would make the whole thing more festive and fun.

Nice try.

Remember when I learned that drinks should not be chewy?Apparently I didn’t learn my lesson. Behold the horror of grass jelly. At least I think that’s what it is. I’m not really certain. I am certain, however, that it was really, really gross.

I’m making the switch from Movable Type to Wordpress, so things might be a little wonky for a while. Bear with me.

My friend Alfie has been working for months on a project that is finally available to the masses…

That’s right, you can now hear a sexy lady yelling out your name in ecstacy over 70s porn music whenever you receive a call on your cell phone. Perfect for those important business meetings and crowded train rides.

Get yours here.

Good luck, Alf!

The Donald and The Pnut.

The Donald and The Herbert.

The Donald listens intently to Bert’s sage business advice.

Bert tries to eat The Donald’s arm.

Someone I know has a wart on his toe. I started teasing him about it. A lot. He eventually snapped and asked me, very sternly, to stop mentioning it.

So I named it Voldewart.

My friend David, aka Turtleboy, stopped in the Bay Area for a few days during a month-long road trip around California.

Those of you who know me know I love birds. I am a bird person. I am a birder. I bird.

The Northern Mockingbird is a feisty singer. His song is a varied medley of short phrases, each repeated 4-6 times. Listen to a sample here. Think of that car alarm that cycles through about 6 different sounds. You know the one. The really annoying one. It’s pretty similar.

Every night at about 11pm, a mockinbird begins to sing in our yard, right outside the bedroom window. We’ve named him “Jefferson”.

Jefferson T. Mockingbird.

When he begins his nightly ritual, it’s sort of pleasant.

Chirpity chirpity chirpity chirpity WEEEP WEEEP WEEEP WEEEP WEEEP doodleoodle doodleoodle doodleoodle doodleoodle chipchipchipchipchipchipchip

“Hey listen, there’s Jefferson!”

The thing is, he doesn’t stop. Until SIX IN THE MORNING.

Most likely he’s an unmated male. So he’s cruising. He’s looking for his lady love. A little late night mockingbird action.

It’s annoying.

If someone knows a bachelorette mockingbird in the Bay Area, can you please send her our way?

Thanks.

Last night as I was in the express lane at the grocery store, I couldn’t help but giggle at what the woman in front of me was buying.

2 bags of Indulgence chocolate caramels, plastic champagne flutes, and a can of whipped cream.

I was buying cat food.

I think she was planning on a more exciting evening than I was.

Yes, I admit I love reality TV. I also love cooking shows.

So when I found out some friends of mine are contestants on a reality cooking show I was ecstatic.

Be sure to check out my friends Dan and Steve as they compete to win their own cooking show on The Next Food Network Star They have a thriving catering business in Chicago called The Hearty Boys.

They kicked ass in the first two episodes, and I am getting such a kick out of seeing them on TV.

I leave you with a photo of me in a sassy blonde wig and Steve in a festive fake mustache.

My friend Alfie let me know that Comments weren’t working. I fixed it. I think.

Too bad I haven’t written anything in weeks.

Flying back home from New York today. Will update soon! No, really!!

Baby chic!

Testing posting using Mars Edit

(Via My moblog.)

It was so nice outside this evening that we opened all our windows and enjoyed the air while watching a movie.

And then a skunk outside sprayed.

Eew. Eew. Eew.

“Up on Mount Soledad, Janet Andrews is reporting it rained shrimp on April 28. She and others found masses of baby shrimp on the tennis courts of the Summit residential development.”

Apparently a wind funnel formed over the water, picked up a zillion shrimp, carried them away, and dropped them.

Words cannot describe the horror I would feel if it started raining shrimp on me.

via Boing Boing

AHA!!!

I’ve been sitting in my kitchen for the last hour, near the front window. I heard a suspicious sound a minute ago and peeked through the closed shades to SEE THE TRASH CAN BANDIT moving my can. He had a different hat on today, a big fancy straw one. And sunglasses. Because, you know, he’s cool.

So I paused for a moment, then without really thinking I tiptoed out the front door to follow him. Mind you, I’m not wearing any shoes, I’m wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt I’ve been gardening in, no bra, and my hair is unwashed and crazy. In other words, I’m a total disaster, and would never go out in public like this.

But I had to.

Of course, I was immediately busted by the mailman who was across the street, and waved to me.

I headed stealthily to the left out my front door, looked down the street, and there was no sign of him.

Suddenly, I heard the rumbling of another trash can being moved!

And then it hit me. He’s not walking down my street at all.

My house is on a corner, but the cross street doesn’t line up directly on both sides of my street. Across the street it’s scooted over about the length of one house, mine.

I realized he’s coming down the street across from my house, cutting over, and then going down the street on the side of my house. It just happens that my house is the only one on my street on his “route”

So I tiptoed across my (wet) front lawn, still barefoot, ducked behind the edge of my corner fence, and peeked around the side. I can’t even begin to imagine what the mailman thought of the whole thing. But there was the bandit, at the house behind mine, moving their can! And then he went across the street and moved the can at THAT house!

So the mystery is solved. I’m not special at all. He does it for everyone on his route.

Although it’s still odd.