Archive | February, 2009

You’re a good man, Chuck

27 Feb

Today is Chuck’s birthday.  He’s a very private person, so I try not to talk about him too much on here.  I will say that somehow I’ve managed to bamboozle him into thinking he married up, but I’m pretty sure I’m getting the better end of this deal.




Happy Birthday, Chuck!  I love you!


Just like everybody else does

26 Feb

I’ve had this song on my mind all week.  One of my favorites.  I love Morrissey and The Smiths before he went solo.  There is just something very raw and genuine and so very sincere about the music.  He just puts all the angst and pain out there.  All that stuff that we all feel at some point in our lives or other, but don’t like to speak out loud.  And he brings us all to this common denominator.  We’re all just human, after all.  At the very core of us, we all have the same basic need.


How Soon Is Now

I am the son
and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

I am the son
and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and the heir
of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

There’s a club if you’d like to go
you could meet somebody who really loves you
so you go, and you stand on your own
and you leave on your own
and you go home, and you cry
and you want to die

When you say it’s gonna happen “now”
well, when exactly do you mean?
see I’ve already waited too long
and all my hope is gone

You shut your mouth
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

I saw him in concert years ago—Friday October 2, 1992 (exactly 7 years before DynaGirl was born!)—at the Huntsman Center at the U of U.  It was one of the best concerts ever.  He wasn’t putting on a show.  You really got the sense that he was just feeling it.  And you felt it.  Love him.

I’m off for the weekend.  Be back Tuesday.  Love to all of you!

I’m really a very trusting person

25 Feb

So Chuck arranged to switch our phone service over to the same company that provides our internet (something about a deal and saving money, blah, blah, blah) and scheduled the dude to come out today.  First off, we all know how I feel about the service call.  So I spent last night and this morning tidying about the house (yes, it did require two sessions, just shut it!) and then came downstairs a little before noon to hang out all casual like til he came.  He was supposed to be here sometime between 12 and 2 pm.  (I know—have you ever heard of such a small window of time for a service call appointment?!)  I always like to finish up my tidying with plenty of down time left to catch my breath and appear casual.  I don’t like people catching me in the act of the tidying or catching me all rosy-cheeked after a good tidying, if you know what I mean.  It’s just none of their business if I’ve been tidying.  For all they should know, I’m all about the tidy all the time and am not about the quickie tidy for service calls and such.

I decided to try to catch up on one of my DVR’d shows while I waited.  I have about 26 hours of dramas to watch, having as of late invested all of my spare TV time to my Buffy DVDs.  (I’m on part one of the two part season finale of season 3—the ascension!)  I put on an episode of The Closer from a couple weeks back.  It was a lovely episode about a serial rapist.  I only got about 15 minutes or so into it before the phone dude showed up, so I paused while I got him situated and then came back to it.  So as the case unfolded, it turned out these are two-man jobs.  One guy works for a delivery company and scopes out potential victims–young, attractive, blonde women who appear to be alone.  If he finds one that fits the bill, he leaves a window unlocked and then returns with his partner that night, who is actually the real sicko bad guy rapist.  The delivery guy just acts as look out.

It ended up being kind of a complicated story, legally speaking—they can’t bring the real sicko bad guy rapist up on charges because of all this legal mumbo jumbo (something about no physical evidence and not being able to use the testimony of his partner, blah, blah, blah) and he ends up getting away with it.  I hate it when they get away with it!  So I was sitting there all annoyed when it hit me that I have a service guy in my house right now.  And I am young (ish) and attractive (I’m assuming enough for a sicko bad guy rapist, though trust me, that’s not what I’d call a real self-esteem booster) and blonde (hey, they didn’t specify naturally) and I was alone!  Well, I had BigHugs with me, but still.  So you can bet your sweet bippy that I have made sure that all of my windows are secure, and I’m also kind of wondering if I should be dusting for fingerprints (I’m pretty sure he wasn’t wearing gloves, which, now that I think of it, he probably would have been wearing gloves had he really been scoping out my potential victimness, so that’s kind of reassuring) or trying to make a plaster cast of his footprint in my family room carpet (I did freshly vacuum, so there should be a good imprint.  No wait, that’s a lie.  I totally didn’t vacuum.  Plus also, I think he was wearing plastic booties over his shoes.  Wait, plastic booties?  That’s a little suspicious, isn’t it?  Premeditation?  To prevent a good imprint or the leaving behind of any relevant evidence such as dirt that could be traced back to his place of residence and link him to the scene of the crime?  He said he didn’t want to get my carpet dirty, but my carpet is so obviously trashed already—a likely story!) 

And now I’ve used so many parentheticals that I totally don’t remember where I was going with this except that I would recommend that you not watch a TV show about service people in cahoots with real sicko bad guy rapists whilst hosting a service person in your home.  And also, the carpet be darned!  Much better to have the service dude leaving a trail of evidence that can later be used to convict his sorry sicko bad guy butt!

Strange pulse and awesomeness

24 Feb

No, this is not about Susan M, but it so easily could have been with this post title.

On my way home from dropping the girls off at school, I noticed my right outer thigh had this strange pulsing/throbbing thing going on.  It didn’t really feel like a muscle spasm, more like a pulsing thing, you know, like a heartbeat.  Only not like a heartbeat because it wasn’t steady, it was like all over the place with a pulse then a throb then like nothing then like multiple pulses in a row.  I stared at my thigh (as much as I could while still trying to keep one eye on the road because I was driving) and it stopped.  Then I looked up (because of the driving thing) and it started again.  I got to a stoplight and tried to look down without moving my head, real subtle like as to not tip my thigh off that I was trying to steal a glance, but it stopped.  Then I looked over to my left like I was checking out the cross traffic and quick whipped my head back to my right thigh (the classic fake out!) and my thigh totally fell for it because I saw it moving!  Like moving!  Like with a weird throbbing/pulsing/and I guess also kind of spasming movement!

That was almost an hour and a half ago, and it’s still doing it!  What is that?  I was talking to Cheryl about it on the phone and after a little confusion over whether I was talking about my eye or thigh, she told me it was fine and also NOT to google it because then I would just end up thinking I had cancer and was dying or something.  So of course I googled it and got some semi-interesting, but not at all helpful results.

I googled “pulsing thigh”, and here is what I got, in order:

Strange pulsing/throbbing in my thigh just just above knee
I have an unusual heavy pulse in my left inner thigh just above my knee for the last couple of days. It isn’t painful, but it is a little …

OK, well, it’s not my inner thigh, it’s my outer thigh, and it’s more halfway up than just above the knee.

Pulsing sensation in the v****** area and the thigh area, is this…
I have had sex 3 times in one day. Later on that n…

Um, yeah, that is not my problem.

Pulsing feeling on bum and back part of upper thighs
I am pretty small up top but heavier on bottom- after I work out I feel a strong like twitching pulsing feeling on my bum and back part of …

Again, wrong area, plus I’m 100% positive this has nothing to do with working out.

Pulsing squat thigh exercise ideal for skiers
The pulsing squat thigh is a good skiing exercise ideal for skiers due to the simulated movement.

This exercise is becoming less and less helpful.

Pulsing hematoma of the thigh as a result of a wound to an
[Pulsing hematoma of the thigh as a result of a wound to an anomalously deep femoral artery]. [Article in Russian].

Hematoma?! Dammit, I don’t read Russian!

What is a pulsating pain in the leg or thigh
what is a pulsating pain in the leg or thigh – posted in Bones, joints and muscles.

It’s not exactly painful, though it is starting to get a little achy.

ABC Homeopathy-Online Homeopathic Remedy Finder Software Tool
extremities, limbs; pain; stitching, sudden, sharp; thigh; with every pulsation. extremities, limbs; pain; stitching, sudden, sharp; foot; sole; pulsating …

Sorry, I totally don’t go for that voodoo stuff. Plus I’m pretty sure they’re just trying to sell me something.

Roasted Stuffed Chicken Thighs with Capers Recipe – Bob Chambers
Pulsing an extra chicken thigh with onion, garlic, parsley and breadcrumbs makes a supereasy stuffing.



Google fails me again.  But seriously, what is that?  Should I be concerned?

And now for some awesomeness. ShazBraz’s post for today is titled Haircut 100, referencing an oft-forgotten group of 80s awesomeness. I looked them up on youtube to get my Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl) and Love Plus One fix. Good, good stuff.

In the related videos column I noticed this:

There’s nothing like an 80s music video. They just don’t make them like that anymore. After seeing that little gem, I looked up this:

Not quite as fun, but still chock full o’ 80s awesomeness.  I had this album on vinyl and I remember Madhousewife and I singing along with gusto. 

Who broke my heart?
You did, you did
Bow to the target,
Blame cupid, cupid
You think you’re smart
Stupid, stupid

Shoot that poison arrow through to my heart
Shoot that poison arrow

Sigh.  Those were the days.

Annoyances (and something fun to make up for my complaining)

23 Feb

So I’m downstairs getting the girls ready for school and DynaGirl says, “Did you hear that? What is that?”

Me: What is what?

DynaGirl: That squeak. Didn’t you hear the squeak?

Cue the kind of squeaky, chirpy sound.

Me: Yeah. I don’t know.

One minute la-tare. Squeak/chirp!

DynaGirl: What IS that?

Me: I don’t know.


DynaGirl:  Seriously, what is that?

Me:  I don’t know.

DynaGirl: Did you hear that?

Me: Yes, but I. Don’t. Know. What it is, OK?

DynaGirl:  It’s annoying.

It was annoying.  (It wasn’t the only that was annoying.)  I get the girls off to school then took BigHugs to the potty and I hear it again.  And again.  And then it hits me.  It must be a low battery on one of the smoke alarms.  It’s happened before, and I’m wondering why it’s taken me so long to connect the dots.  So I walk around looking for the offending alarm, but I can’t figure out which one it is.  The squeaks/chirps are coming fairly steadily—like maybe once a minute—but every time I’m standing under one, silence.  And no blinking light or anything else.  Seriously, like 5 minutes of silence.  Then as soon as I step back into the hall, SQUEAK/CHIRP!  Maybe I was looking at the wrong one.  I repeat the process with every smoke alarm I can find.  It’s like one of those lameoid shows where everyone keeps barely missing each other, one person constantly showing up just as the other is leaving. 

I’m thinking I should just replace all of the batteries instead of wasting my time trying to figure out which one, only I’m pretty sure I don’t even have one replacement battery (Who keeps a stash of 9V?  And if you do, just keep it to yourself.) let alone six (or however many smoke alarms there are in this house).

Still with the squeak/chirping.  I’m trying to weigh my laziness (going around unhooking all the smoke alarms until Chuck comes home to deal with the battery issue because I have no desire to run errands today) against my squeak/chirping tolerance level.  It’s really, really close.


And now for the fun!  Cheryl is turning the big 3-0 (still a baby!) this week and is celebrating with a fun giveaway on her blog.  Go check it out!  Happy birthday week to Cheryl!

Saved by music…almost

20 Feb

When Chuck and I went to the movies last weekend, I noticed our local theater was still playing a couple showings of Twilight.  That movie’s been out for like four months.  Just release it on DVD already!  For the record, I did see it in the theater.  We had free passes.  And it wasn’t a total waste.  It had been a long time since Chuck and I had laughed that hard at a movie plus it really had a decent soundtrack. I think it almost saved the movie—to a certain extent.  I strongly recommend the rental.  I think it’s worth the buck at the red box.

Here’s a good sampling of the soundtrack:


My favorite track is Full Moon by The Black Ghosts.

When the thorn bush turns white that’s when I’ll come home
I am going out to see what I can sow
And I don’t know where I’ll go
And I don’t know what I’ll see
But I’ll try not to bring it back home with me

Like the morning sun your eyes will follow me
As you watch me wander, curse the powers that be
Cause all I want is here and now but its already been and gone
Our intentions always last that bit too long

Far far away, no voices sounding, no one around me and you’re still there
Far far away, no choices passing, no time confounds me and you’re still there

In the full moons light I listen to the stream
And in between the silence hear you calling me
But I don’t know where I am and I don’t trust who I’ve been
And If I come home how will I ever leave

What do you think?

P.S. I’m putting the wacky search term prizes in the mail this weekend—promise! Sorry for the tardiness!

Tired and unpostworthy

19 Feb

So last night BigHugs retired early, and after catching up on a couple of shows on the DVR I decided I would just go to bed.  It wasn’t even 11 pm yet.  As I was walking upstairs I thought, “Good honk! (Good honk is a perfectly legitimate expression.  My grandmother used to use it all the time.  She could still be using it for all I know.  Not in heaven or anything.  I mean, she’s still with us, it’s just been a couple of years since I’ve last seen her.) I might actually get like a full 8 hours of sleep tonight!”  And then the universe laughed and laughed until it peed a little.

So I went to bed at say 10:45 pm.  I tossed and turned for a good 30 minutes or so, waking Chuck who decided that would be the perfect time for a chat.  And why not?  I was already awake.  He told me tales of his Facebook adventures that night—girls that had tracked him down.  He was quick to assure me they had not aged well, and even offered to show me their profile pictures as proof.  Like I have anything to worry about.  I’m obviously all the woman Chuck will ever need.  Snort.

Then Chuck says:  I caught up on your blog tonight.

Me:  Oh yeah?

Chuck:  Did you really scrape your armpit with that thing?

Me:  Yeah, it hurt!

Chuck:  I’m sorry.  Do you want me to kiss your armpit?

Me:  Um, no thanks.  And it’s OK—it gave me something to blog about.  I’m trying to figure out how I can hurt myself tomorrow so I’ll have another post.

Chuck:  Why does your deoderant cap have those sharp things?  Mine just has a smooth disk.

Me:  I think it’s because you’re supposed to be able to grab onto it to take it off, but it’s dumb because it never works.  You always have to twist up the stick to get the thing off.

Chuck:  That’s lame.  I think I have a reserve stick in my drawer too.  Actually, I think I have three sticks: the one I’m using, a new stick, and that other one I’m allergic to.

Me:  Why did you keep the one you’re allergic to?  Doesn’t it give you a rash?

Chuck:  It’s my reserve, I guess.  I’d rather be rashy than stinky.

Me:  Can I blog about this?

Chuck:  You want to blog about this?

Me:  I don’t know.

Then I got all sleepy and turned over.  It was around midnight, I think.  Then for the next few hours I’d wake up off and on to BigHugs’ coughing.  Then around 3 am BigHugs came in and crashed out on our floor.  Only every half hour or so she’d wake me up to fix her blankets.  And then from 4-5 am she coughed and coughed.  And then at 5:20 am she woke up and asked for a drink of water because her hiccups were making her cough and a drink of wadder would make her feel bedduh.  So I went to get her a drink of water and Chuck got in the shower and then BigHugs asked if she could climb in bed with me since Daddy was gone and I said why not.  Then BigHugs got in bed with me and kept rubbing the inside of my elbow pit.  Or the outside of my elbow pit.  She wasn’t under my skin, though she may as well have been for how much it was creeping me out and driving me completely nuts.  I told her to stop touching me and then turned over.  My clock said 5:45 am.  I had one more hour until the alarm would go off.

And the rest of the morning is all a blur.  Somehow I ended up here.  And now I’m really starting to wish I had injured myself in some potentially amusing way so I’d have something actually postworthy.  But there it is.