Ty predicts a riot

See, here's the thing. You can't fuck with just one of us. This is a pretty tight clique. As Duckie is so fond of saying, you fight one bean you fight the whole burrito.


Atomic Blue is a cool guy. Mighty mighty. Great writer. If you insult him, you must be prepared to face the wrath of the warriors.


Ty started it. Bloggers coming to each other's defense, it really warms my heart. See how loyal Ty can be when he internet loves someone? Or whatever phrase he decided was ok to use when referencing another man.


Of course, as Ty's assassin I had to step up. Put on my game face. Don't think for one second that I won't cut you. and I'm not talking all slow and sexual-y.


Terra, get your car. We have some business to take care of. You don't even know how much Terra is dying to run over someone. She doesn't even need a very good excuse, we just have to point her in the right direction and maybe remove the beer from her hand. Nah, she can do it one-handed.


See what we did to the last guy who tried something like this? We're all hardcore and shit.


We stick together, we have each other's backs. Just keep this in mind, before you decide to attack. We're cool like that.

Internet love is quite fickle.

He internet loves me:
ty: whoa. you hot

He internet loves me not:
ty: toad the wet jacket reads words on the retarded bus with marshall mathers and bitches who clean rule

He internet loves me:
ty: you're funny again. hurray!

He internet loves me not:
ty: jajajajajajaja as your relatives in spain say

I'm still not sure if he internet loves me or not:
whoa. she is writer.
ty blue-to-tha-smith Homepage 03.30.05 - 12:53 am #


I can never be sure where I stand with Mister Ty Bluesmith. Sometimes he is internet all over my ass:

I FUCKING INTERNET HEART THE FUCK OUT OF YOU.
THAT SHIT MADE ME LAUGH MY ASS OFF!!!!
ty Homepage 06.01.05 - 11:43 am #

i can't believe you remember that shit. i internet love you for that
ty Homepage 05.24.05 - 12:25 am #

she will cut you. it's totally true
ty Homepage 06.02.05 - 12:54 am #
(I consider this a mark in the win column, some of you may disagree)

i internet worship grr and cl. period. that is all.
ty 06.02.05 - 7:01 pm #

cl is so fucking cool
ty 06.02.05 - 8:30 pm #

ty: cindy you are a funny motherfucker. i internet love you
(he really liked me June 2nd)

Other days he's internet bashing me and spreading rumors:

ty: [trans - cindy has mental problems. don't lend her any money]

grrrace: i won't be able to hang with tt and cl... god help me.
ty: i know. we'd be all scared and shit sitting with our backs against the wall sipping sodas and shit.
(although we all know this is untrue. Ty would be slipping roofies in my drink and taking me back to his hotel)
(not an altogether disagreeable image)

I guess I will never know where I stand with Teebles. Unless he happens to call me some day and talk to me for an hour and a half and prove his internet love. Like that'll ever happen.

my new life motto.

Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.

It's important to have standards

It's funny what I will take offense to. I was listening to Eminem on my way home today, rocking out as usual. By the way, I am a rapping queen, guys. Seriously, I rule. I got the hand motions down and everything. But anyway, I'm cool with him smacking women, killing his wife and tossing her body in the lake, hey, you want to tell your mom to bend over and take it like a slut? I'm good with that, too. Bitch, whore, slut, faggot, trailer park girls, talk about whatever you want to talk about, Marshall, I'm here for you. Yet, the one line I find offensive is "there's no such thing, like a female with good looks who cooks and cleans". What the fuck is that all about? I laugh when he talks about his mom "fuck that shit bitch, eat a mother fucking dick, chew on a prick and lick a million mother fucking cocks per second" yet how dare he say there's no such thing as a good looking woman who cooks and cleans? I mean, shouldn't I take offense to the fact that he's probably saying that's all woman are good for? No, my crazy Cindy brain is offended because I'm a great cook, I keep my house clean, and I'd say I'm all right looking. I can even take the anti-american crap, to a point. Because I know he's kidding. Just like he'd only beat me because he loves me, right? Yet even I have my limits. Do not mock my cooking, Marshall sweetie. You've been warned. Ty knows. I'll cut you.


(I'm just playing, Marshall. You know I love you)

psst.

wanna play statcounter [google search] revelations?

1. I will miss you most of all Scarecrow.
2. mega boobs.
3. quizzes put on blogs.

[bow motherfuckers. feel my greatness. i am a search engine god.]

one more of Caden

I forgot to share this cute one.

I'm resisting the urge to quote Eminem

Well I'm back, ladies and gentlemen. I've made my rounds and caught up on everyone's adventures, whew, that was quite a ride. I've missed you all, my blogger loves.
So, my sister got married. The wedding was beautiful, I couldn't believe it turned out so well. We had it here, in the backyard. Everything looked so great. We strung white japanese lanterns over the deck and the lawn, and there were purple glass lanterns hanging around the deck. We had to make sure people could see where the deck ended so nobody would step off and break their ankle or anything like that. I mean, can you imagine someone falling off the edge of the deck and breaking their ankle? Sheesh, you'd have to be quite distracted to do something silly like that. (haha) Thankfully, we had no problems this time around. Nobody got hurt, nothing was broken, nobody called the cops, everyone had a great time. My sister was the most beautiful bride I have ever seen in my life. She looked like she stepped out of a magazine. They were so happy, you could just see it in their faces. There was supposed to be 94 people, I'd say probably 10 of those didn't show. I think it's quite rude to RSVP to a wedding and not show up, but what are you going to do, right? I can't believe so many people were in my backyard and they all fit so well. It was a really fun wedding. Probably better than mine, even, and mine was really fun. The food was good, what three bites I had of it, the DJ was good, the decorations looked awesome, and I actually found shoes that looked great with my dress! Thanks to a well known friend who apparently wants to remain anonymous, due to the metrosexual aspect of shoe advice, I think. I don't know if I'm allowed to post pictures but I feel that since the wedding was in my backyard I kind of own the rights to the photos, don't you think?

First, my little guy. He did a great job as ring bearer. (or ring BEAR, rarrrrr) He actually stood up there the whole time, looking at the minister like he was really paying attention to what he was saying. The cutest kid in the universe. Maybe I'm baised. Who knows. I think I'll post a few of him, just to show off.


Caden looking all handsome, what a guy. I'm so proud of this kid.


The flower girl was pretty young, Caden was yanking her down the aisle, trying to get her to hurry up. He wanted to ditch her for going too slow.


Caden happy with a cupcake. They had a cupcake tree instead of a cake.


Krissy and Chris, don't they look so happy? Happy that it's finally OVER! No, really, they were very happy and cute. I cried, and I never cry.


This is me with both my sisters. (I'm the one on the left, in case you don't know me) See how cool the lanterns looked? It looks like a real wedding place, not just a backyard. Everyone danced and drank and had fun, it was great. (gee, can you tell I had fun, all I can say is how great it was)

I have sore muscles, my ribs hurt like someone socked me, and I have a massive bruise on my thigh. All in all, a success.

What the hell.

I went to pick up Caden's tux for the wedding today. (yeah, a tux, how cute is that?) I told the girl I was there to pick up my son's tux and she asked me what school it was for. It took me a second to realize that she meant what PROM my son was going to! I said it was for a wedding party, my son is the ring bearer. Then I asked "Do I look old enough to have a teenage son?!?" Holy shit, dude. I almost cried.

I will be back eventually, things are quite hectic right now so play well together and I'll see you when this is over.

my blog is pissy

Would someone please explain why I can see my blog when I sign on through AOL, but when I just open Explorer I can't see anything but a white page?
I feel that this releases me from the pressure to post.
Especially since I don't have anything to say, as all I've been doing is shopping and cleaning.

It's comforting

Toad the Wet Sprocket is like my comfort food. When I want to listen to something that isn't going to make me sad, something that I can sing and clear my head, something that doesn't remind me of any certain time in my life or make me think about anyone in particular, this is what I put on.

Fear is my favorite album of all time. I adore the song Something to Say, I love the line:
You can take me down
You can show me your home.
Not the place where you live
But the place where you belong.

Dulcinea is a close second. I love Crowing and Windmills. This is from Crowing:
Staring at a cold little hand
Reading fault lines
Of a shell of a man
You were waiting for a word from above
Wouldn't you know it
No answer ever did come
and it was never a question....

I always feel better when I can drive with the windows open and sing Toad the Wet Sprocket. I needed them today and they came through for me.

What's your comfort music?

Is this Terra?

my mood today

I saw two dead things in the road on my way home today. A big bird and what I think was a raccoon.

I owe Ty.

Total volume of music files on my computer:
Looks like about 1000.

The last CD I bought was:
Rob Thomas, Something To Be

Song playing right now:
Angel of Harlem, U2
(ok, now it's Drive By, Glen Phillips. I'm proof-reading)

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

1. Crowing, Toad the Wet Sprocket
2. Walk Through The Bottomland, Lyle Lovett
3. Everything, Ben Harper
4. Into the Mystic, Van Morrison
5. For No One, the Beatles

(I did it, Ty! See, I'm fun again)

***I forgot to say who I pass this on to! I suuuuck.
Duck...duck....oh see, this is where I would choose GOOSE but I want to choose Duckie so that just doesn't work.

1. Duckie
2. Jarod
3. Chris B.

it's freaky friday

I wonder what I'll be licking tonight...

*sniff sniff*

Summer and Autumn, you guys ROCK! I swear, sometimes my blogger friends are so cool it makes me a little misty. These wonderful, sweet girls sent me a squirrel t-shirt. It's got two squirrels on it, one is chasing the other and it says "get off my nuts". I will so post a picture of the squirrels on my boobs, but I'm at work and can't do it until later. I wanted to get this post up though and say THANK YOU to Summer and Autumn. Hot and thoughtful, what more could you ask for? I love you guys. *sniff*

I want to make you bleed

I got a call today from the Blood Center of the Pacific. They want my blood. (doesn't that sound cool? they want my bloooooood) Apparently they are in dire need of A positive blood. Who knew my blood was such a hot commodity? They said there are two leukemia patients who are A positive and they're going through all their blood. They use a lot of blood, I guess. (ok, so I just like to say blood) So the guy asks if I'd be willing to come in and donate. Do people really say no to that? Could you have someone call you and tell you that these cancer patients need your blood and say no? "Sorry, I'm kind of busy right now" or "Tell those bastards to get their own blood. They should have stocked up earlier". I'm going to donate, of course. I couldn't exactly say "Oh, but I'm supposed to go out drinking that night, I really need all my blood". Because think about it, I'll get buzzed faster anyway, right? Works out for everyone.

But on a serious note:

4.5 million American lives saved each year by blood transfusions.

38,000 pints: amount of donated blood used each day in the United States.

Someone needs blood every two seconds.

One pint of donated blood saves up to three lives.

500,000: the number of Americans who donated blood in the days following the September 11 attacks. (makes you proud, doesn't it?)

Since a pint is pound, you lose a pound every time you donate blood.

Very compelling reasons to go donate blood. (ok, I just had to say blood one last time. blood)

(seriously, it's a cool word)

but why?

You know how cute Christopher Reeve was when he played Superman? He was all young and strong, and he had that cute little curl in the middle of his forehead. Oh how I swooned for this man when I was younger. His bangs would flop in his face in that perfect little curl. So damn cute, right? Well, my hair is doing that exact same thing today because the rain makes my hair curly. I'll tell you right now, it's not nearly as cute on me as it was on Christopher Reeve.

Damn rain.

I am so mad.

I was eying my odometer the whole way home. 99995....99997.....at 99998 I get my camera out. Geeky, I know, but I was excited to see it say 99999. Call it OCD, call it OCB, whatever, I was happy. Then I noticed the other odometer (tripometer??) was looking awesome, too. I was going to get a picture of my odometer saying 99999 and the other one saying 5555. OCD heaven, right? My little organized mind was practically jumping with joy, if a brain can do that. Well, guess what? I had no memory card in my camera. Yeah, that's right, I missed the coolest picture an obsessive compulsive could ever hope for because I forgot to put my memory card back in the camera. Well, the coolest one would be all 9's but I would settle for 9's and 5's. Now I have NOTHING. Great.


**And I just put my coffee cup in the fridge and my water bottle in the sink. I'm on a roll.

As if I had no choice in the matter.

Your hand closes around mine possessively. The electricity in the room is overwhelming. You reach over and pull off a rose petal. Softly, you run the swatch of velvet over my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids. My right hand still trapped by yours, my left hand on the dresser for balance. Balance that is quickly evaporating from my body. You let the rose petal drift to the floor and gently trace the same path across my face with your lips. You already know every curve, every plane. You've always known. Our bodies only met moments ago but our souls have been joined since the beginning of time.

You lead me to sit on the bed, kneel down, and remove my sandals. You run your thumb lightly across the tips of my toes and smile a lazy smile. We lay on the bed, facing each other. We're not touching with anything other than our eyes. We're not speaking with anything other than our eyes. For thirty minutes we lay like this; becoming comfortable in each other's company. Slowly, the words start to come. Your voice was made for the bedroom. Low and sexy, evoking images of days spent in bed; tangled sheets and bare feet. My fingers tracing the line of your jaw. Your fingers running up and down my arm, giving me goosebumps. These inadequate touches are all we will allow ourselves.

The day starts to fade into twilight. We don't turn on the lights; we just watch the sky darken through sheer curtains. That meeting of day and night, that time of transition, so appropriate for the moment.

It is time to go.

So hard to pull myself away but I have to do it. I sit up and start to rise from the bed. You stop me with your hand on mine. I feel a catch in my throat, a burning in my eyes. I refuse to look at you. You pull me towards you, enveloping me in your arms. We're kneeling on the bed; our bodies perfectly formed for each other, made for one another. My face is pressed into the curve of your neck; I'm inhaling you. You firmly tilt my face to yours. I cannot refuse you; I cannot deny myself. Our lips meet and it is like the crashing of the ocean. Clamorous and fervent. It is both the feeling of home and the feeling of stepping through the wardrobe into a new land full of dreams and possibilities. For a short moment we are the only two people in the world. Nothing exists outside that door. Yet, it cannot last. As much as it wrenches my heart to do so, I turn away. Break the contact.

It is time to go.

At the door I turn to look at you one last time. You don't know that my goodbye means forever. That this one perfect day will be all you ever know of me. That our one kiss will be the only one we ever share. You only know the feeling inside yourself is something that will not fade quickly. It will fade though. When I turn my back and walk away, eventually it will fade. I know this.

I sit in my car and cry. It was easier not knowing you existed.

Tell me why I don't like Mondays

I totally suck at posting lately. I internet hate myself. I'm distracted. I owe some people questions, I owe Suburbite some answers. I will make it up to you. Eventually.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green
Towering over your head
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes
And she's gone

Look what I get.

Snapple

Real Fact #170

In 1878, the first telephone book ever issued contained only 50 names.

Have you ever been so annoyed that you tried to will someone to have an aneurism? Actually stared at their head trying to mentally cause an artery to burst?

Check it out, Blog Ho on my boobs.

My butterfly

If I squeeze too tight
I will have to bury you
in a small white box.

A Dramatic Interpretation by Cindy-Lou Who

Like, oh my gawd, did you see what Cindy wrote on her blag today?

Of course I did, I check it every day at 9:30 in homeroom, duh!

She like, said the F-word two times, and she's all, like, "I internet love you". Oh my gawd, do you think she's cheating on her BF?

Like, I don't know! Yesterday she was like, talking about making out with a girl, did you see that? Shame, shame, I know your name...

Like, totally! I wonder if [internet edit] knows anything about it, maybe I should like, text message him or something.

*write message*

OMG did U C the BLAG 2day?

*message sent*

.....

********************The Next Day********************

You are like, so totally busted.

So sue me.

Time for my daily report to [internet edit]. I wonder what he knows about this.

*AIM conversation as imagined by me, not based on reality at all*

girl1: she busted "I" on the blag
boy: now, that's funny
girl1: does she know about me?
boy: yes

I'm going to talk to [internet edit].

What? Who? Didn't I have a friend named Cindy?

We should like, totally get together at the Peach Pit tonight and talk about it.

Wait, do you think that makes us sound like, I don't know...lame or something?

.....



The End

Snapple

Real Fact #102

A one-minute kiss burns 26 calories.

Nonsense

I don't have anything to say but I feel like I should give you a new space for comments. I'm not going to get into anything, so don't ask! You hear me?

Cat, Summer, YoJ: I'm working on your questions. I thought I was finished until it was brought to my attention that I need to come up with five questions, not three. Son of a...

Ty: I am not going to do your list. You knew that when you posted it.

You, you, and you: You suck.

The rest of you: Are the coolest.

And YOU: I love the most.

Good night!

Bunny suicides. Very funny.

I've been censored.

Interview with a vampire lover

I finally gave in and joined this interview craze. Paul posted such cool answers to his questions that I figured his questions wouldn't be boring. I will now attempt to answer these five random questions.

1. You, your closest friend, and your father are on vacation together, hiking in a remote jungle. Your two companions stumble into a nest of poisonous vipers and are bitten repeatedly. You know neither will live without an immediate shot of anti-venom and it is in your pocket. What would you do? (and please refrain from the obvious answer of “Point, laugh and then save it just in case those bastard snakes get you next.”)

It's not specified but I'm assuming I only have one shot. I'd give it to my dad. Sorry Ang, family comes first. You understand, right? We're good? All right, cool, high five. Look out, Ang, there's a snake! Haha, got ya.

2. If you were running for president, what promises would you make that you had no intention of keeping?

If you elect me president I promise to always smile. I promise never to have oral sex in the oval office. I promise to legally change the work week to Monday through Thursday. If you vote for me all of your wildest dreams will come true.

3. How much money would it take for you to consider doing something that you’re not at all comfortable with? (Like eating spiders or sitting through an entire DVD of the first season of Saved by the Bell - cause, like Slater and Kelly weren't even in those ones!)

There is no amount of money that would get me to eat spiders. If I were homeless and starving and my teeth were falling out I might feel differently. Of course, if I were homeless and starving and my teeth were falling out I probably wouldn't be answering these questions because I would have sold my computer for a box of wine. Bottle after bottle I always want more.

4. If my blog and your blog got into fight, who’d win?

My blog fights dirty. He's also pretty good with the bo staff. I think my blog would win. And if my blog didn't win, there would probably be a drive by and your blog would be shot on the sidewalk. I'm pretty tight with Terra T, you know, and I wouldn't advise you fuck around with her. My blogger buddies like me a lot. Then your sisters blog would come after my blog friends, and we'd start an all out blog gang war. Why are you fronting, Paul? Can't we just get along?

5. Would you rather be a living coward or a dead hero? Why?

A living coward, because dude, I'd be alive. Plus, I don't have high morals so being a coward wouldn't bother me. I still choose life.**

Now, I'm supposed to ask if anyone wants me to ask them five questions. I know many of you have already done this, but I also know many of you haven't. So who's it gonna be, guys? I promise to make them as interesting as I can.



**This makes me sound pro-life, just had to clarify that I meant life for me, not fetuses.

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.