I'm not really bad. I'm just drawn that way.

Suburbite asked if it was wrong to have a crush on Kim Possible. I don't think it is, I mean look at her. That hair, those big green eyes, and a teeny tiny waist. Besides, I admitted to having a slight crush on Danny Phantom.

He fights ghosts and is kind of dorky. I love it.
Even Summer let it slip that she crushes on the Ninja Turtles. Totally understandable.

Who else has a secret (or not so secret) animated crush?

The bar is open over here, too

Chris is serving drinks over at his blog, so I thought I'd join in the fun.

What can I do for you?



(If you answer correctly you win my heart forever)

Advertising

On my way to work this morning I saw a van with the company name The Best Electrical Company written on it. That's pretty ingenius, wouldn't you say? I mean, if you're looking for an electrician, are you really going to call The Second Best Electrical Company? Nope.
Can you imagine, you need an electrician so you grab the phone book. Not that anybody really uses the phone book anymore, but for the purposes of this post let's pretend. So you're flipping through, looking for something that catches your eye. You certainly don't want to call The Really Shitty Electrical Company. You could call The Adequate Electrical Company if you're trying to save money. The Pretty Good Electrical Company, well that might do. Oh no, here we go! I'm calling The Best Electrical Company! Nothing less than the best for my wires.

I internet hate you if:

1. All you write as a comment is "this blog sucks".
2. You don't read your own comments.
3. You can't take a joke.
4. You jump all over Ty for his FBF pictures.
5. Your comments are funnier than my post.
6. You leave one comment but don't put your URL, then never come back. (but only if I am unable to hunt you down like I did Amerazn Barb)
7. You disappear without warning. (you can recover from this by either coming back, emailing me to let me know what happened, or both)
8. You say you internet hate me.
9. You've been sitting here at the computer for way too long
10. Trying to think of two more.

Guess who said:

those are very groovy songs. i love lyle. if i were
gay he would be my #1 bitch.

March of Dimes

My sister is doing the March Of Dimes - Walk America this Saturday, April 30th. I'm posting in her honor, to try and get you guys to sponsor her. It's a great cause, the March of Dimes supports research into the causes of premature birth. You want to save the babies, don't you? Her deadline is Friday, I know I know, I suck for getting this out so late. You can make a donation online here and print a receipt for your tax write off. See? Everyone wins! The babies live, my sister gets a T-shirt, and you get a tax write off. Plus, if she reaches her goal I'll post sexy pictures of her.*

Sponsor my adorable sister here.

I just did it, it's easy.




*She has not agreed to this, but I'm sure I can talk her into it.

I have a sitemeter, you know

I have been wondering who in the heck is reading this from Cisco. I think I just figured it out. It's not the obvious answer, but someone I always forget works there. Which is odd. I shouldn't forget but I do, because I have an awful memory. So anyway, I know you're not the only DH to be reading this. I just don't know why it has to be so top secret.

(Top Secret is a great movie, by the way)

Idaho potatoes

What's up with this potato? I used to be so proud of Idaho potatoes. I mean, what else does Idaho have going for it? Nothing, that's what. It's got potatoes and that's about it. Oh, and Napoleon Dynamite. Ok, that's pretty cool. What do they think, because they finally got someone famous they can start slacking on the potatoes? Fuck that. What happened to having a little pride in your work? Damn it, Idaho! Try a little harder next time!
(ok, it also has the added benefit of sounding like you're saying "I da HO", right Blog Ho?)

30 things about me

1. I absolutely hate grocery shopping
2. I'm 5'7"
3. I'm a very very picky eater
4. I love pizza the most
5. I hate to travel
6. I'm the middle child
7. I like to be alone
8. I don't have nearly the amount of self confidence that I've been told I portray on this blog
9. I have a total of four screws in my knees
10. No, they have never set off the metal detector at the airport
11. I hate my ears
12. Blogging has replaced TV as my #1 pastime
13. I was on the dance team and a cheerleader in high school
14. I wanted to be in a Janet Jackson video when I was 15
15. I hate sports
16. I have no competitive spirit
17. I am not adventurous at all
18. I have a tattoo of the Cat in the Hat
19. My fingers bend backward really far
20. I like to wink at people
21. My sister is my best friend
22. My cat is named Fatty
23. I love to be barefoot
24. I like frog stuff
25. I don't watch, read, or pay attention to the news
26. I love the beach
27. I don't swim very well
28. I have the attention span of a gnat
29. I will talk to anyone and love to meet new people
30. I don't really have OCD, I'm just very precise.

justified

I feel that walking two blocks to pick up breakfast makes it ok to eat it.

Does anyone have the Howie Day CD they can copy for me? Someone who maybe owes me a CD, or even if you don't owe me one, I'm willing to make a trade. I like that song Collide.

Spurred by Tibbles

I internet love you if:

1. You're goofy enough to not care
2. You write on my shoutbox
3. You shamelessly flirt with me
4. You write secret messages
5. You use pictures in your posts
6. You send me emails
7. You don't take offense to my comments
8. You miss me when I'm gone
9. You swear and swear often
10. You take me places with your words

I want to post

Really, I do. But right now I have just enough energy to bring a beer to my lips. If I have to choose between beer and blogging, I'm sorry but I have to go with the beer.

I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow

So my dad (who was supposed to come to town on Thursday) will be here today, in about an hour. You know what that means for me. No going out and getting drunk! No, really it means I won't be around the blogs much, and won't be on MSN at night. My computer is in the guest room. I don't really know how long he'll be here, I know he told me once upon a time but you know my memory. It's kind of rude to ask "so when are you leaving" so I'll just go with it. I will visit as often as possible, and try to get on MSN at work. Please email me. Please! I will be so lonely! Do not forsake me. I beg of you.

All grows up

What's up with skorts? Seriously, am I the only one who thinks they're retarded? Looking through the ads on Sunday that's all I saw, skorts skorts skorts. Not only do I think the whole concept is lame for anyone over age 10, but the word itself is annoying. Skort. Lame.
I can see why a little girl would wear them, they're always flipping around the bars or turning cartwheels. It's a welcome alternative to wearing shorts under your skirt. I had to wear shorts under my skirts those three times my mom convinced me to wear one. I was always upsidedown. Grown women however, should not be wearing skorts. I cannot think of a reason why a grown woman would need skorts. Ok, I can think of a couple reasons, but none are compelling enough to justify wearing something called a SKORT.

Monday

I was driving home the other day and I saw a VW Scirocco. It got me thinking about my friend James because he taught me how to drive a stick in his Scirocco. Seriously, drive a five-speed, that's not a euphemism. Anyway, I went on this huge voyage on my thought train, thinking about high school, wondering how James is now, if he ever married that girl, if he finished his thesis on snowy plovers. All kinds of things, you know how your mind wanders. So after about fifteen minutes of following this car and thinking about James and high school and UC Davis and a bunch of people I haven't thought about in ages, I realized it wasn't a Scirocco at all. It was a fucking Nissan or some shit. Stupid car. I should look James up.

I'm really glad I got to throw away last week's TV Guide. On the cover it said Gilmore Girls Crisis! And every time I walked by it I would say in my head "Oh no! A crisis on Gilmore Girls! What are we going to do, how will we live? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO NOW????" I couldn't stop myself, I'd think it every time. I only get the TV Guide for the crossword puzzles anyway. Tivo renders the TV Guide pretty useless. The only thing it's good for (other than the crossword puzzle) is when it tells me a show is starting. I've been waiting for The Dead Zone and Nip/Tuck to start. I'm dying over here.

The Bridal Shower

My sister's bridal shower was yesterday. I have to say it was a huge success. Everything went very smoothly, I wasn't a complete nutcase, and people seemed to have a good time. The place looked great, my house was sparkly, the decorations somehow made it up, check out the cute napkins.

I'm telling you, I should do this for a living. Alyssa and I planned the entire shower over instant message. So 2005.


The favors were quite popular, and I'm sure you can see why. Thanks to Terra's suggestion I ordered those fortune cookies with the personalized message inside. I put them in decorative chinese food boxes. How freaking cute, huh?
So there I am, all Martha fucking Stewart, right? Homemade carrot cake, pasta jambalaya, the Stepford Wife dress from hell. I'm taking white, floral print, pink fucking gingham ribbon tied at the waist, white sandals (before memorial day? the horror!) the works.

I'm Bree Van De Kamp with a cake knife in one hand and a Coors Light in the other. Sometimes I impress even myself.

After grabbing a short nap we went out dancing. As you can see from the post below, it was a lot of fun. Just to warn you, Rosie McCann's serves really big shots of Patron. Big.
D-Nice was not lying, I did have a mishap with a bush. I almost died too, not from the scrape but from laughing so hard.

See? Be careful out there. These are dangerous times. (this is my leg, Cat. not my arm)
I got home at 4am. I need more coffee.

Oh, this was funny. My friend lost her wallet at the bar and wanted to leave her phone number with the bartender just in case they found it. That's not the funny part. Also, someone did find it and she got it back, so that turned out well. Anyway, I pulled a small notebook and a pen out of my purse so she could write her information for the bartender and some guy next to me says "I've never seen someone carry around a pen and a notebook, are you a major player or what?" I look at him and reply "I'm not a player, I'm obsessive compulsive". He so didn't know what to make of that.

Saturday night

Do you guys remember D-Nice? I know, it's been a while. She hasn't been around since the WOLF fiasco. Oh right, that was me. Ok, well anyway, we're here and we're drunk together and the backspace button has been over-used tonight.
She wants to say hi and

I almost fell. Cindy had a mishap with a thorn and I have allergies. WTF sister!

My sister is leaving, she wants to say goodbye

Quit thinking about my sister making out with chicks.

Dude, you want to know the weirdest thing? My sister typed that without the backspace button. Not even once. Weird. I'm all over the backspace button right now.
Alyssa is mad at her booty call
They just let the cat out
I've had a lot of tequila.

Pirates are replacing squirrels as the new black

I have this on going pirate thing with one of my co-workers. This guy came in to open an account and he had some weird shit like growing on his fingernails. It was pretty gross. Anyway, we started calling him Ol' Barnacle Hands. It just took off from there. Pretty much every email or post-it note we leave for each other includes some sort of pirate reference. Once she even made this little pop-up note in my drawer, that was sweet. The best email she ever sent me said:

whatever happened to Ol' Barnacle Hands?

...he was lost at sea, wasn't he. that be a mighty shame.

She left me a post-it asking me to do something and said to beware the barnacle. I did the opposite of what she asked, just to piss her off, and I found a post-it on Monday that called me a scurvy sea witch and I left her one threatening to make her walk the plank for that. Yeah, we like post-its around here. I don't usually get to work with her, we alternate days so it's kind of rare to be here at the same time. She's here with me today though, and we've been laughing A LOT. She said I killed the pope. I know that doesn't translate well, but trust me, it was funny. I laughed so hard I kind of wanted to throw up.
Well, I just wanted to tell you all about Ol' Barnacle Hands. Chris posted a pirate story and it made me think of this. Agent LAH posted about puking out of a car, and it reminded me of a funny story. I'll save that little gem for later. I think I'll go get a Jamba Juice now.

power: on

So, the power goes out this morning at work. My first thought? No, it wasn't "how are we going to get our work done". It was "I better go get some coffee before it gets cold". Yes, I do have my priorities straight.

I love my friends

I had the most amusing talk with Duckie this morning. We always talk on Tuesday and Thursday mornings at 8 o'clock and we always talk about the most random crap. Last time I posted about the Porn & Pizza rule, remember? He's also the one who told me I laugh like a stoner. Which isn't always true. That's only my half-laughing huh-huh-huh laugh; when I really laugh it's more like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Anyway, he did this evil genius laugh and I complemented him on it, he's very good at it. He tells me he was giving his friend some pointers on the evil laugh last night. He said "He's got the evil part down, but he needs to add the maniacal". That just killed me. Evil laugh pointers. I am so very bad at the evil laugh. I could use some lessons. Then the conversation turned to me kissing women. I know, much better, right? I said I'd kiss Ashley Judd or Alyssa Milano. He suggested Jessica Alba, but she seems too young and innocent, I'd feel like I was doing something wrong. No, Alyssa Milano is hot and a little skanky, and Ashley Judd is hot and classy. And they're both old enough. We hang up and Duckie goes into work and sends me this in an email.


Um......

I am on a major Lyle kick right now.

Lyle Lovett has a song called Sonja from his I Love Everybody album. It's about him writing a love song for a waitress. It says "And I need to impress her, cause I want to undress her". I was listening to it earlier and started thinking: This is how all men think, isn't it? They just try to do whatever it takes to impress a woman enough to get her clothes off. Some use music, some use athletic prowess, some use their writing, some use their looks, but they're all using whatever tools they have to get in some girl's pants. I get it now.

On a side note, I just created the best Lyle Lovett mix CD ever. If you'd like a copy, let me know. He has the most amazing voice in the world.

and he titled the email "hehehe"

My dad just sent me this in an email. I love my dad.

Tuesday is my day off

I just finished a book called Killer Dust. It was totally lame. I didn't care about anything or anybody in the book until just before the end then they killed him. Stupid. I love to sit outside in the sun and read in the mornings. I like the birds twittering away in the trees and the sun on my face. My cat was out there trying to catch a bug for breakfast. It's funny when she wants to get a bird or a squirrel and she runs along the fence and tries to jump up to get it. She's so fat she makes it about halfway up the fence them falls back down. Fatty Fat-cat. I love her. I hope she doesn't die soon, she's old. And fat. The vet told me to make sure she gets 45 minutes of aerobic activity a day. I tie her to the treadmill and make her run. Just kidding, how are you supposed to make sure your cat gets 45 minutes of aerobic activity a day? She only plays fetch with a rubberband for about ten minutes before collapsing. When I was a kid I had a cross eyed cat. I think every single animal I've ever had has been found or rescued. I brought a dog home from school once. The poor thing was all abandoned and the janitor was going to take her to the pound so I took her home and hid her in the playhouse out back. Then it started raining so I had to tell my mom she was out there. My mom said no way, then she saw her sad boo-boo eyes and we got to keep her. Fatty ran up to me in downtown San Jose, outside of David's FRAT HOUSE. Ha. She was all skinny and covered in spider webs. She found me, I didn't find her. My dog Targa was found under a car, my cat Seymour was rescued from an unwanted litter, the cross eyed cat was the retarded runt of a wild litter. My attention span just ran out on the animal topic.
Let me share this with you. An email I sent my neighbor:

I'm having my sister's shower here on Saturday and I was wondering
if you would still be able to get those canopy things from work? You
know, so the old people don't faint from the heat? I also want to
know if I can use your picnic bench, PLEASE!!!!
Cindy


Her reply:

Number one: DON'T BEG. IT SHOWS YOU ARE A SISSY.
Number two: WHAT TIME IS THIS AT?
Number 3....WHEN IS THE STRIPPER PARTY?

I'm a hater

What does it say about me that I hate a five year old? I'm talking HATE, I HATE this kid. Maybe not HATE but hate. For sure. I feel bad, and I know it's bad but I just can't help it. He is SO annoying and just plain mean. He's that bad kid you don't want your kid to play with but for some reason your kid wants to play with him anyway. This kid has hit Caden, bit Caden, ran Caden over with his Big Wheel, punched him, kicked him, thrown rocks at his head, and Caden still wants to play with him! I don't get it. And PLEASE somebody teach him that there is in fact a D in Caden. He sounds like a fucking retard saying his name. Oh I'm so going to hell. But just do it, just say Caden as if there was no D. Ca-en. OH MY GOD. Don't you think five should be old enough to say it right? Fucking kid. He comes in the house today and says "Cindy?" and I say "yes?" and he says "hi". I'm like (don't ever fucking talk to me again you little shit) "hi". The first two times I said hi. The next time I just didn't say anything and the fourth time I said "stop it". When I see him I make a face like I just ate something that tastes disgusting. I can't stop myself. I hope they move.

I feel so loved

Yankeebob is so awesome! He took the Blogger CD and made it pretty for me. It has all the songs listed on it, along with my squirrel avatar and my Cindy-Lou avatar, plus a bonus picture of Rocky from Rocky and Bullwinkle! What a guy that Yankeebob is. I think I love him.
Of course, this means I have an extra copy of my boring, drab looking CD if anyone is interested. I hate to just toss it. (clarification: the CD looks drab and boring, the music is not)

Thank you so much, YB. You're the best.

The Peevery, new and improved

Michelle made me do a little housecleaning over at the new Peevery. I had to re-title all my old posts and catagorize them. Funny how 75% of my peeves fall under one specific catagory, huh? I'm just glad I only had to go as far back as November. I feel sorry for the rest of those poor bastards who have two years worth of posts to work on.
Anyway, I came across this little gem that I posted some time ago, and wanted to share it with you guys. I re-read it and it made me laugh all over again.
Also, Michelle's brilliance can be seen on this post. I love myself in a giant beer.
Happy Saturday!

Quickie.

I find Blog Ho and Screetus to be the most myterious and exotic bloggers around.

I love Blogger!

No, really I do. I owe all of you to Blogger, how could I not love it? I'm willing to cut Blogger a little slack because it connected me to so many great people. I'm so glad I started blogging. Am I getting all mushy here, because it's so unlike me. At least when I'm sober.
I'll admit a slight irritation with Blogger, especially last night when I couldn't post. Blogger is responsible for you not being able to read my post-margarita hour ramblings. I cannot for the life of me remember what words of wisdom I was going to unleash upon you, but I'm sure it would have been brilliant. I apparently wanted to tell you something about Van Morrison.
Margarita hour was great. I know Duckie sort of faded out of the blogging world, but I assure you he's alive and well in the real world. He's going to paint me something for my dining room. I already have one piece by him in my family room. Someday he'll be famous and my two paintings will be worth a fortune. It's actually my retirement plan. No, I'm kidding, I have a great retirement plan. I'll be retired by 50 and lounging by my pool with a drink in my hand. I'm sure it'll have a little umbrella in it, too. And dude, check out my pool boy. Hot.
Oh, and I had a sex dream about Zach Braff last night.

Do you like my shoes?

I want to be like Ty. But my argyle socks are cooler. They're denim Converse. Denim! And the soles are red. How cool is that? Speaking of shoes...
I have to go to the mall today and buy some new shoes. I know what you're thinking, but I really do need them. I don't have a single pair of shoes to go with the dress I just bought for my sister's shower next weekend. As much as I'd love to wear the Converse, I need something cuter. And strappier. With a heel. I also need one of these belts.


Need may be too strong of a word. Want. Yeah, that's better. I always get what I want, anyway. So, since it's raining and the beach is out, I will head to the mall and support the economy. I have to do my part.

America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

Racing the sun

I went grocery shopping tonight. Nothing exciting happened like when YB goes shopping, although I did take a step back and look at myself and wonder what people think. I'm pushing the cart, hopping and skipping down the isles, singing along to Bread. If a picture paints a thousand words then why can't I paint you....
I wonder if people think I have a screw loose. Oh my god, I'm one of those people YB talks about! Damn it. Oh well, I have to amuse myself somehow.
This however, is not the point of my post.
When I walked out of the store the sky looked amazing. I just had to get a picture, and I wanted this picture from the top of that hill at the park. I crammed all the groceries in my backseat (because my trunk is still full of luau decorations) and raced home. Almost took out a few neighborhood kids along the way. Stupid kids shouldn't be playing in the street anyway. I threw all the bags on the counter in a haphazard mound of yogurt, bread, and cereal, jumped back in the car and sped down the street. I was flying, I'm talking 50 in a 40 zone. (joke) I turn on Lean, FUCK this is Dunn not Lean! Run a stop sign, flip an illegal u-turn, back on Santa Teresa, ok here's Lean. I pull up to the curb, grab my camera and bolt into the park. The whole way there I'm looking over my shoulder to check the movement of the sun. I'm so close. I run up the hill, ok I'll be honest, I ran halfway up the hill and kind of hobbled the rest of the way. I'm pulling out my camera as I crest the hill. I turn around, put the camera to my face and....
I fucking missed the sunset by like three minutes. Son of a fucking bitch. As I trudge dejectedly down the hill on shaky legs I vow to myself: I will make it tomorrow.

Origin of the Word ''Nerd''

There are two popular stories about the origin of the word, "nerd."

The first is that it come from Dr. Suess's "If I Ran the Zoo," in which appears a creature called a "nerd." This book was published in 1950.

"I'll sail to Ka-Troo And Bring Back an It-Kutch, a Preep and a Proo, A Nerkle, a Nerd, and a Seersucker, too!"

The second is that it is a variation on the name of ventriloquist Edgar Bergen's (Candace's father) dummy, "Mortimer Snerd."

Either theory could be correct. There is no record of the term prior to its 1950 appearance in the Dr. Suess book. The earliest citing of the current usage is from 1951.

Coincidence?

Roy Hobbs, were you at Vasona recently? I never knew you felt this way about me...

I have red hair now.

Haircut: $45
Color: $95
Shampoo and conditioner for color treated hair: $20

Spending 3 hours in a salon to come home and have your son say your hair looks messy: Priceless



I really did it for YB. I know how he feels about redheads.

I wish I may, I wish I might

Tibbles asked:

"If a genie showed/up and gave you three wishes and one of them could not be unlimited wishes forever what would your three wishes be?"

I decided the answer was too long for the comment section so here's my reply.

1. Every time I choose a number on the roulette table I want it to come up. (have to get the money one out of the way first, right? and what better way to make money than gambling? Functional and fun, plus you get free beer)

2. I want it to never rain two days in a row. I just can't take it. (what good is all that money if I'm in a bad mood? although, if it's a rainy day I could always head to the casino and make some more money, you know, just to pass the time)

3. This one is hard...let's see....should I choose to never get sick again or to be rid of all my irrational fears? Oh...I say I want to never get sick again. Not a cold, not the flu, definitely not cancer. (this goes for all STD's too) I figure if I'm rich enough I won't ever have to deal with spiders or flying if I don't want to, and I'll probably have a cook to open all my biscuits, right? Or better yet, make them all from scratch for me. I bet Nigella makes all her biscuits fresh every day. Nigella's biscuits....mmm. Ok, that settles it. I will never get sick again and I will use all my wealth to lure Nigella to my kitchen. Perfect.

There you go, Ty. Anyone else feel like answering the three wish question? Apparently there's extra credit involved, so if you're just a few points away from an A it might be a good idea.

You know what I think is funny?

Changing the time to suit our needs. I mean, how self-centered can we get? Oh, it's not light enough for you? Oh, you want it to get light earlier? Well sure, we can arrange that, just switch the clocks, no big deal. What else do you want? How about an extra day in February, would that make you happy? I know it makes me happy. I just love the word February. I love the way it's spelled; it makes me giddy to throw in that extra R just for the hell of it. Throwing in extra letters all nimbly bimbly. Extra R's in February; extra D's in Wednesday. This world is going to hell in a handbasket and I tell you I will NOT be here to pick up the pieces. I'll be in hell. With the rest of you. and this post makes absolutely no sense so good night.

Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer

I heard today that when the pope dies it's customary for someone (a cardinal maybe?) to go in and hit him on the head with a silver hammer. I think this is to make sure he's dead, or to finish the job. Personally, I think it's a little strange but you know customs. They're either forcing you to do something just because that's what they've always done or they're strip searching you because they suspect you've got some heroin stashed in a not-so-easy to reach place.

I want to go around whacking people in the head with a silver hammer. When they yell and ask me what the fuck I was thinking I'd say "Nope, you're not dead. Just checking." Then when they start throwing a fit or trying to kick my ass I'd make them feel guilty by saying "If it's good enough for the pope it's certainly good enough for you!"

It's usually pretty easy to make a catholic feel guilty anyway.