Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.



Today is a pretty good day.

My room is clean. I even threw a rug over the cat puke stains-- Meow Mix will do a number on a beige carpet, no matter how fast you clean it up-- until I can get them steam cleaned. I discovered that Silent Bob likes the Beasties and the Dead. I was playing them while cleaning, and she was tearing around like a whirling dervish. If she could have figured out a way to do it, she'd have been on the ceiling. Loved 'em.

(For whatever reason, Mooj also likes the Dead. Go figure.)

Most of my bills are paid, at least the ones that could cause a potential fine or disruption of service if not paid are taken care of. The car's scheduled to get inspected on Thursday, and I'm probably working Thursday and Friday as "office bitch" and receptionist, respectively. I'm half tempted to see if I can pick up Monday, because it'd be time and a half.

Friday's Stoltzfus's annual Fourth of July extravaganza on the roof. Despite the fact that I think the city's mayor is a total tool, and he looks an awful lot like Mayor McCheese, he does do a great fireworks show. And that fireworks show? Just happens to be set off about a block, block and a half from Stoltzfus' house. So annually, he invites his friends over to barbeque on the roof, watch the show, and get covered in ash. It. Is. AWESOME.

So this week I'm not feeling quite so revolting, and I did get my paperwork back to the county. I checked, and a level 2 is higher than a level 1, so I'm thinking the pay would be fairly decent. I just need to work on this WordPerfect stuff. Still having trouble sleeping, because my mind is going a zillion miles a minute, but I think I'll load up on our friend Benadryl tonight, and sleep till I feel like waking up.



More fun with photos. Art edition

This installment? Maa's Art!

Maa in High School, arty, even back then. (Note, I only WISH my hair was this color. I got gypped.)

Ocean Street house, in Cape May, in progress.

Ocean Street House, finished.

Barn near our old house

Maa, about 5 years ago. I think she looks younger now. :)


Fun with Photos

Now with even more photos!

Silent Bob, on the left, as a wee kitten (pre becoming a wee adult) and Evil on the right, deigning to have her picture taken. This was taken sometime while I was still in FL.

A painting Maa did of Evil.

Twelve pounds of Alice in a six pound box.

Somewhere, there's a picture of mammoth Mooj doing the same thing. (The lure of the box, she is strong.)

P.S. Jonathan Franzen. I hate thee. You have written a book with thoroughly dislikeable characters, but made me read obsessively until I finished the last page.
Oooooozing hate for every single person in the damn thing, but reading like a fiend.



Best. Search Term. Ever.

"MWN Penis being cut off"

Yes, that's an actual referring search term for the site.

I can now die a happy woman, because I don't think it's ever going to get better than that.

In other news, I'm about halfway through The Corrections, despite pretty much loathing all of the characters in it because they're either excessively stereotypcally midwestern, (not quite Jell-O salad, but close), horribly stereotypical yuppies, or overwroughtly metaphored. Seriously. The opening paragraphs contain this gem- "He'd had his nap, and there would be no local news until five o'clock. Two empty hours were a sinus in which infections bred."

Just... no. Sorry. No. Not in paragraph two. I may be a shitty writer, but you just don't. Yet this? Won a National Book Award?

Then again, the types of people who award the NBA also like Dave Eggers. So... there's no accounting for taste. (Loved, loved, looooved him at Might. Hate, hate, haaaaaaaaatey McHate him as an author. Still can't believe I missed his event at the Little Nonprofit that Could (occasionally book a decent author), so I could thank him for Might, and hurl "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Bullshit" at his head.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, Franzen. Corrections. Despite loathing the characters, I can't seem to put the damn thing down. Scary, that.

Oh? And the good news?

I got a letter from the local Children & Youth dept, asking if I'm available for a position. I couldn't fill that out and get it back in the mail fast enough. Unfortunately, they do not have a "HELL YES" option to check off. So next step, I hope, is the interview. Cross your fingers. I read the job description, and I can SO do that. With the exception of one thing. Word Perfect. Who the fuck still uses WP? Children & Youth, apparently. I'm pretty sure I can fake it, and grab a manual, but duuuude. Anyway, the pay grade they listed on my letter is a bit lower than I had thought, but if I can advance, I could deal with it. I could maybe pick up some shifts at the codger corral to make up the difference. At least there'd be benes. Good. Solid. Dependable benefits.


It also means I won't have to housekeep and or kitchen geek on a permanentish basis. (good, because someone else just quit in the kitchen, and wow, it sucks, but I really, really don't want to be back there. At least with housekeeping, I can haul ass, and get through my rooms in about 5 hours, then help Superboss for the remaining 3.) (And yes, I am She-Ra, mistress of the toilet scrubber, because I my 2 wings & 4 housecleans and did them well (white glove-able), all by lunchtime. Yay me.)


Why I love housekeeping-

Why I love housekeeping, a brief list.

1. I don't have to talk to anyone except to say "Hello" and "I'm here to clean your bathroom."

2. I don't really see anyone for most of the morning, because they're either at breakfast, church or lunch.

3. I can work at my own pace.

4. All the Murphy's Oil Soap I can inhale.

5. I? Am a moppin' foo'.

6. No poopy rooms, so far.

Things I hate about housekeeping, a briefer list.

1. "Oh my! How many hats do you wear?", "Master of all trades, you are", and "Boy, you sure do work a lot of departments!" I know. I was kitchen queen last week, now I'm housekeeping goddess. Big whoop. Wanna watch me juggle?

2. Mysterious poop smells that can't be difinitively tied to a specific source.

3. My dogs are a-hurtin'.

Truth be told, I like housekeeping a lot more than Kitchen, though I'd rather be at the front desk. Today, one of the activities was to check out the Juggling Brothers. Funny, yes. Scary, as I babysat the three of them when they were tots. The eldest is Odie's age, and is a mortician down in DC, the others are in/about to be in high school. Gaaaah. Ancient. I feel ancient.

I did get to borrow a book from the Corral library, so I snagged "The Corrections" by J. Franzen. Will let you know how it is.

Perhaps things will be less dull tomorrow!



Thanks everyone, for your kind words, good vibes, and reassurances. They mean a lot to me, and still do, I am sure, for Evil. I know she's not hurting anymore, which is extremely calming. The vet's office sent a really nice card, and maa brought flowers, which was really sweet.

Nothing of note happened today, other than getting to sit with G. Monkey for a bit today, and Mr. G. Monkey having been born 35 years ago this morning. I'm working Fri-Mon so I'm sure I'll have more to say after my housekeeping shifts.

Thanks again, guys.


There are no words.

Well I'm here to tell you now each and every mother's son
That you better learn it fast you better learn it young
'Cause someday never comes.

Oh, but it does. And when it does, even when you know it's coming, it'll still knock you flat on your ass.

Evil and I took our final trip to the vet together this afternoon. I'm not feeling very funny or entertaining right now. I'm leaving things in your hands till I get back to speed.


Run of the mill

Worked the reception desk today, going to be a housekeeper on Fri/Sat/Sun. The desk was interesting, but again, I felt stupid because I haven't worked a weekday in nearly 3 years. (At the desk, anyway.) Guh. Dummmmmb. But I did find out that "Nu-Me" the woman who does my old job, is giving me the extra 1.50/hour premium for coming in each day, so I made that on top of the 1.50/hour weekend differential too. That makes Sunday suck a lot less than it did.

In less thrilling/happy news, Evil, who was doing so well last week is now not so hot. She's had this "Thing", for lack of a better word, near her thigh. It looked like a scrape, which got bigger, and weepy, then healed over as just a plain, quarter sized patch. Well, Friday I noticed it was weeping again, and cleaned it with wound wash. Saturday after work I checked it, and what I thought was a bit of clotted blood was actually a hole. In her leg. Sunday night it was big enough to have put an eraser into. I've got it covered with a band-aid, but I'm kind of afraid to peek at it today.

She's got a vet visit scheduled tomorrow, but I don't think this is fixable. (Maybe I'm wrong.) If it's not, I'm pretty much at peace. Sad, and will miss my plushly pelted wooglet, but if I was developing holes in my appendages, and had tumors all over my body, and only wanted to sleep all day long, and lick terra cotta and concrete (no, I can't figure that out either), and hurt, I'd probably want someone to make that stuff stop too. She was "talking" at me this morning, and you could just tell she hurt. She won't even fight me when I take her upstairs.

I'll keep you posted tomorrow, but if you could send her happy, pain-free kitty vibes, and thoughts of catnip, mouse & bird flavored cat food, and all the laundry in the world to pee on, we'd both appreciate it.

Happy Bird Day, Dear Bloglette...

It was a year ago today (the 20th) that I started this hodgepodge. Scary, eh?

And since it's a blog birthday, YOU get the gifties. I am working my little fingers to nubbins* to get them together, and they will go into the mail as soon as they're finished. (Personal to the Stephranger- I need your address!)

Here's to another year, perhaps with fewer psychotic bosses, and more of the "good crazy". Thanks for reading, for getting my back, and giving me something to look forward to every day. It may be trite, but seriously, y'all rock, and I really appreciate you.

Much love to you all-
Special Sauce

*This is not a bad thing, the nubbin-ing.


A riddle-

What has two thumbs and hates the breakfast shift?

This girl.

Seriously. Getting up at 4:15ish? No problem. Functioning at 5:30? Not a problem. (That's why they make diet cherry cola so damned tasty; it's the perfect caffiene delivery system.) Residents who won't either all show up at once, or at least show up a table at a time? That is a problem.

I had half the dining room to cover, which is about 45+ residents. Getting the meals out wasn't too bad, but trying to bus my tables afterwards was a freakin' nightmare. I'll have to do better tomorrow. And Jeebus forbid you forget anyone's fucking coffee or prune juice.

I want a sign that says "Hi. See me? I'm the new girl. I realize you've been spoiled by the other breakfast servers, but I am neither psychic, nor excessively intelligent this early in the morning. If you normally drink 3.4 ounces of apple juice mixed with 6 teaspoons of freshly squeezed cranberry juice, garnished with a gentle sprinkling of metamucil and a side of prunes, you. Have. To. Tell. Me. Don't get shirty because I don't magically appear with this special concotion the nanosecond you sit down."

And yes, I will answer to "New Girl", "Diane's Girl", and other derivations of my given name.

...and speaking of food, that's one of the other perks. Free meals. And let me tell you, the residents? They eat better than I do. Yesterday's lunch? Salmon, roasted new potatoes, caesar or garden salad, mashed taters, veggies etc. Today they got really good looking salads with strawberries, oranges, pine nuts and a balsamic vinagrette over romaine (or a garden salad) Cranberry glazed pork chops, taters, asparagus and beets. And what do they do?


If it were up to them, it would be Bacon, Ham Steaks, Ham Sandwiches, waffles, and sausage all the time. (And while we're talking pig. I don't think the residents realize that Ham, Bacon, Pork Chops, and Pork Barbeque all come from the same animal. People who snit at pork chops, would hawk their dentures and/or push their tablemates out of the way for a ham steak. I don't get it.) I suppose though, the less they take, the more there is for those of us who appreciate it.

Anyway, after breakfast is over, things improve immensely. Lunch is a breeze. Dinner is a joy. But breakfast eats it raw. Maybe I'm just pissy because I feel like someone beat me with a baseball bat. I got new inserts, and will wear my docs tomorrow to see if that makes a difference. (I'm packing motrin to be on the safe side)

Oh, one other thing that drove me nuts yesterday, and today too. Yes, I used to be management. I've also been a bus-driver, activities director and aide, toenail wrangler, doctor's office record keeper, receptionist, housekeeper, and now I'm in the kitchen. It's called cross-training. It's called pitching in where I'm needed. (It's called being broke!) There's no reason to stare at me like I have eight heads, and then utter "What are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu doing in the kitchennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!?!11WTF!!11" I'm not slumming, this is not punishment. In fact, it's actually kind of fun. Despite the hairnet, and breakfast, it's not bad. Just because you would never think of doing something that's "not my job*" doesn't mean I won't. It's called being flexible. Look into it.

*Ok, the only thing I won't really do is be a nurse's aide, and that's because I don't think I could handle wiping butts and giving showers. I could pour meds, do accu-checks & BPs no problem, but (no pun intended) giving suppositories, wiping butts and giving showers? Nooooooooothankyou. I will be a caring, supportive staffer while the residents are clothedthankyouverymuch.


In Lunch Lady Laaaannnnndddd....

Today I wore a hairnet. I am officially a lunchlady.

An ever-so-attractive hairnet. White.

In fact, three quarters of the people who saw me today said... Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa? and couldn't recognize me. Why? The hairnet.

Oh yeah.

Though it was interesting, it was a hardcore 8 hour shift, my legs are killing me. I'll be back to do it again tomorrow and Sunday (bright and early both days). Monday I'll be the receptionist for my mom, so she can do managerial stuff, and after that...?

Well, after that I may be queen of the kitchen. She who must not be denied (not in a bad way, it's just impossible to turn Swellboss down)cornered me during the dinner rush and asked if I wanted to STAY in the kitchen. Apparently the Human Dynamo (number 2 in charge of the kitchen) may be leaving. I'd be a good fit for the job, but it's a lot of bullshit-dealing-with too. Then again, if I can put up with psychobosses 1 & 2, I could deal with that.

On the other hand, I really, really want that county job.

SWMNBD knows this, but said I could "name my own salary" so I think what I'm going to offer is to work full time as the Human Dynamo-ette, while they put their feelers out for someone who can perhaps fill the Human Dynamo's shoes. If I get the call for the county, I'll take it, but give them enough time to get the other person hired (2 weeks) before I leave. I think that could be a win-win situation. I'd have some steadier money coming in, they'd have someone with a partial brain back there, and I'd be able to fulfil my lifelong dream of working at a job with a hairnet. If only they'd give us paper hats to go with them...

the other perk? A shirt with my name on it. Not just a polo, oh no. A white, uniform shirt, with my name on a patch on the front. HELLS YEAH!

Heh. I'm easily amused.
G'night all.


Ladybugs twelve, at the ladybug picnic

I have a confession to make. I am a huge Sesame Street fan. And while in recent years, during the dark time which I call the "Elmo Era", the show has changed- not nearly enough of the "classic bits"- I have remained loyal and true. I get the warmest fuzziest feeling, remembering the show. I can remember one cold winter night, being curled up on my mom's wicker chair (white, with a pink and white gingham chair pad) with my feet on their tall bureau, neck craned up to watch Sesame Street & Mr. Rogers, all the while enjoying a bowl of beef & barley.

I can't really even begin to explain how much I love PBS kids programming. I still watch Arthur, even. (What are you gonna do about it? Huh?) Much like Francis, I loved 3-2-1 Contact, Mr. Rogers, Sesame Street, and Square One (C'mon, Mathnet? LOVE! and I? Hated math with a passion.) With all the warm fuzziness I have for PBS, the recent spate of calls to cut its funding have really worried me.

If the idea of cutting the budget leaves you more than a bit torqued (or even just a bit disturbed- we need all the help we can get), sign the petition at Moveon.org. If you can afford to send your local station a check, please, please do so. Let them know we're behind them.

That said. I've actually got 3 days worth of work at the codger corral. This makes me ecstatic, even though it IS 2 days of slinging breakfast, and I'm not sure what else, but it's also nearly 30 hours of work, which will go a long way to making sure all the crap that I have to pay this month gets paid. This week/next week I should hear from the county, so keep your fingers crossed. (And pray that I don't kill someone by Sunday, because I'm working 5:30-6. Yes, that's AM to PM. Saturday it's only 5:30-2. Friday, I'm particularly lucky to only have to work 10-6.) If anyone gives me any guff, I'm spitting in their oatmeal.


Also, 1 more block done, one more started. I think I may try to make a throw. I might be on drugs though.

We've also got 2 cats lurking about. One's a cute, fluffy, orange Tom that the neighbor 2 doors down abandoned when she moved away. AND if I knew where that stupid twat moved to, I would sic the cops or animal control on her. Because that? Pisses me off. We live right over the hill from a no-kill shelter. WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU ABANDON YOUR CAT WHEN YOU COULD TAKE IT TO THE SHELTER FOR FREE??? I'm in favor of adopting it, because it eats Amlette's food anyway, but Maa says nix. There's also a pretty grey and white tom running around too, fighting with the orange one. They both ran into the street this evening and nearly got hit- I think the grey one has a home, I just don't know where. If all else fails, we'll try to nab them, and take them to CARES (shelter) and maybe they can be adopted. At least they won't get squished or gassed.

On that note. Yarr.


What did I do today?


I made my very first hand sewn quilt block. And it turned out perfectly. I'm so thrilled I could practically wet myself. (In fact, I maybe I did. Just a little. Heh.)

What block? Grandmother's Flower Garden. Will I make a gigantic quilt? Probably not. Though I am surprised at how quickly I finished the block. The only bad thing is that I loathe rotary cutting, so I will need to come up with a different method to cut. The block I did is white & yellow print in the center, navy with white "stitch" print for the second row, and a blue calico for the outer row. I'm going to scrounge in the scrap bin and see what I can come up with for another block.

Oh, and what DIDN'T I do today? I didn't sweat my ass off, because it appears that the heat is finally breaking. Thank Elvis.


Tuesdays must be the day I'm included in the "random blog that comes up when you click 'next blog'" lottery. The past few weeks, I've had craaaaazy high hits (25 new visitors, which for me? Is feckin' incredible) but only on Tuesdays.


Vilkomen, Bienvenue, C'mon in...


Hot, steamy monkey love.

I love this monkey. In fact, I don't think words can express how much I adore this picture. Found it at the Swapatorium site.


New from Sauce World Enterprises

Ok, if I could bottle the smell of fresh cilantro and lime juice, I would wear it every day. I think I may have to go pester the people at Bath and Body Works. If they can make a good Violet scent, they can do this for me.

On that note, there's a new recipe or three over at Foodage.

And I can't stress it enough, if you haven't listened to the Egg yet, you really should.

Still waiting to hear from G. Monkey and Senor Horsty about shirt designs. Initial responses on the "I'm pretty, like cake!" and "Follow me, I know where dessert is!" shirts at the Idiot Girls boards seem reasonably promising, so I may try to make them up, just to see if I can.

In the rotation for potential dishes this week (which means new recipes for you!) include: Something tasty crafted from leftover super thin steak. (Steak was marinated in a mixture of soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, onion, and leftover roasted red peppers.) Mini Margherita Pizzas, A product review on Bumblebee (I think?) ready to serve pre-marinated tuna steak, and the return of the demon lemon squares if the heat breaks later this week, and I snag some lemons.

Why Lemon Squares? Because my father, in his infinite "If one is good, more is better" wisdom bought not one, but TWO 18 packs of eggs Saturday. Nevermind that he and my mother are going away tomorrow, and there is no way in hell anyone will eat that many eggs before they go bad... (Like I need an excuse to make lemon squares?) I may whip up a double batch, and bribe the county HR staff.


Yeah, that lasted a while.

Ok, so I didn't stay in the basement that long, but things may be a bit sporadic in the future.

So, on one side of the house, we have the screechy kids, mother of the year, and the brood of uncle daddies. On the other 2 sides, we have a farmer's field. Not content to leave well enough alone, the township has decided they want a sewage treatment facility. Where do they want to put it? In the field behind our house. The field with a great view. And, to be fair, the field that the douchebag farmer only ever works on in the middle of the night (planting/harvesting) or in the middle of a picnic/laundry day (spreading manure).

The method they want to use is a sort of a pond thing, reportedly this thing doesn't stink, and it simply looks like a bunch of ponds. Not that the neighbors can do anything about it, since the township has made up its mind, but the sewer board sponsored a little "good will field trip" yesterday. They took all the folks who border the land where the ponds are going, to see a similar system in action. And more importantly, smell the new system in action.

So Maa and Papa Sauce took the big trip yesterday, and all week they've been talking about it. Not about what the ponds will look/smell like. No, they were wondering what would be in the boxed lunch. And I have to tell ya, if Maa and I were putting together the boxed lunch? Oh, we'd have had so much fun.

Our proposed Box Lunch Menu for Sewage Plant Tour:

Egg Salad Sandwich
Corn (on or off the cob)
Baked Beans
Chocolate or Butterscotch Pudding
King-Size Tootsie Rolls and Baby Ruth bars.

Needless to say, this is probably why I don't have very many friends.

And the actual box lunch menu was quite tame, nary a candy bar or pudding cup in sight. Chickens.

On the upside, apparently the ponds aren't wholly unattractive, and do not reek. At all. This amazes me. So, hooray for Maa and Papa Sauce. They won't have to put up with even worse stink.

And Evil, the tapioca cat (her new nickname) says "Myaah!" (oddly enough, she is now exactly how I'd kind of figure Choo Choo Bear from Something Positive would feel, only slightly more lumpy.)


Pretty, like cake.

I'm going "in the basement" for a few days. No posts till there's something interesting to report, or something like that.

In the meantime, amuse yourselves with this link, courtesy the folks at the Idiot Girls newish yahoo group.

My eyes! My eyes!


Reverend Horton Heat Hears The Who

Sorry, that's what happens when you listen to the radio and read Dr. Seuss.

I've got nothin' over here. Nothin' except a fervent wish for an ice bikini, a strawberry milkshake, and a date with Mr. Freeze. Because it? Is really fucking hot here.

Normally, this is not a problem. Y'know, with gainful employment comes air conditioning. (and a nifty paycheck) Getting home at 5:00 is swell, because by then the house has gone from "my eyeballs are about to rupture" back to a liveable "I feel like a pair of bike shorts during the Tour de France". And if you can tune out the screeching urchins, manure, and shitheads with their bass cranked so high your fillings vibrate, the deck's not half bad. Well, not half bad until it rains.

But between the hours of 10 and 4? If you are in the house, you will certainly want to die. I've been vying with the cats for the coolest square inch of concrete in the furnace room. I've contemplated pulling out the shelves in the basement fridge, and curling up in there for a bit, and saying "suffocation be damned". Going anywhere is out, because the car's been sitting with the windows up for the past few days (damn nightly rain). If I sit inside it, I will vaporize. Bleagh.

Today's not as bad as the rest of the week was, thank goodness. I only halfway want to die. That's a good start. (And yes, I know I lived in high eighties temperatures, with 491,193% humidity in Florida. I also had a beach 5 minute's walk from my house. This balances things out.)

In other news, Evil's been positively normal lately. Well, excessively bumpy, kind of like tapioca and marbles in a cat-suit. But she's been speaking, purring, and demanding to be petted. I consider this a good thing. Now I'm trying to get her to put on some weight. Silent Bob's been lying low during the days, but at night she's been "Catching Mice" for mommy, and it's about the cutest damned thing ever. She tracks down every toy mouse in the house, and brings them, one by one, to me. She walks up all "mrrr! Mrrr! Look what I got for you!", drops them in a pile, and gets her well-deserved affection. Seriously. Cute.


Ghostface Meme Steala'

Thanks for the idea, MWN, and for putting up your tracks, ET!

The choose your own life soundtrack meme.

Note: Janeane Garafolo must play me in the movie, and she has to put weight on to do it. If Ms. G. refuses, I would consider being animated, with Daria standing in. Heh.

Opening Song: The News/Odd Beliefs- Bill Hicks (Not a song, but it fits.)

Waking Up: Uncle John's Band (or anything I can sing along to)- Grateful Dead

Falling in Love: Forever & Ever, Amen- Randy Travis (shut UP!)

Sex Scene: (because mine will always be comedy) Lovin' & Huggin'- Hank Williams III OR A Little Less Conversation (remix) Elvis Presley

Heartbreak: Please Please- The Violent Femmes and/or I Think of You- Jared Michael Hobgood

First Big Argument With Parents: Hey Fuck You- The Beastie Boys (a bit beyond the time frame, but fitting)

Rebellious Song: Insight- Dead Kennedys

First Time Really Drunk: Brass Monkey (and it probably WAS playing) Beastie Boys

Otherwise Intoxicated: Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced- Dropkick Murphys, and/or Mississippi Mud- Hank Williams III

Driving (long distances): No Sleep Till Brooklyn- Beastie Boys, Asleep at the Wheel- Bloodhound Gang

Getting Ready To Go Out: Oop Oop A Doop- Etta James, Giant Steps- All Mighty Senators, Anything by James Brown

Wedding Song: The Luckiest- Ben Folds Five (I'm a sap.)

Dream Sequence: Bob Rules- Keller Williams

Out Of Body Experience: I Shall Be Released- The Band

Feeling Depressed: Oh Me- Nirvana, Pack Up Your Sorrows- Johnny Cash

Birth of a Child: Do You Realize- Flaming Lips

Striptease Song: Devil's Daughter- Hank Williams III

Going to Hated Job
: Industrial Strength Tranquilizers- Austin Lounge Lizards

Leaving Said Jobsite: Lookin' Out My Backdoor- Creedence Clearwater Revival

Moment When the Sun Shines in the Room Perfectly: Three Little Birds- Bob Marley

Falling Asleep: Sleepy Maggie- Ashley MacIsaac

Funeral Song: I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me- Frank Sinatra, Tomorrow Never Comes- CCR

Closing Song: The Conclusion from Revelations- Bill Hicks

PMSing: Earth Died Screamin- Tom Waits, Coin Operated Boy- Dresden Dolls

Breaking Up: Ball & Chain- Social Distortion, Ya Ya Ya- Detroit Cobras

Chain Smoking: N/A

Songs Sung Loudly With Intoxicated Friends: Mrs. Leroy Brown- Loretta Lynn, No Woman No Cry- Bob Marley, Move, Bitch-Ludacris (there IS a story to go with that), Mama Said Knock You Out- LL Cool J

Actual songs are destined to change, as I'm horrendous at remembering titles, so I went with (predominantly) what's in my collection. Hee!

Get Behind The Salad

Ok, that's what I kept reading the title of the new White Stripes album as. Not "Get Behind Me Satan" but "Get Behind The Salad". I think I like the latter much better. This is why you shouldn't use tiny dorfy fonts when you advertise on television.

Made Strawberry Tartlets last night, while the rest of the family was out for dinner. Local strawberries are just coming in, and damn, if they're not delicious.

We had a good time at the museums yesterday, I especially enjoyed the local heritage place. They had examples of weaving, embroidery, and drawn work that were simply stunning. At the quilt museum, they had 2 neat exhibits of handmade mennonite stuffed animals, and it was exceptionally interesting. And there were even a few things I didn't know about Amish history. (They were allowed to be photographed until the end of the 19th century, and for a while there, dressed just like everyone else in rural America.) Also, they had their big hoopla going over the 20th anniversary of the movie Witness. Props, scripts, wardrobe. Nifty.

Be sure to check out the ET's blog, she's got more interesting things happenin' in her neck of the woods.


Revenge of the Counter Stats

It just makes me giggle that I've had a whole bunch of people checking out the site solely because of that Long Dong Silver post a few days back. Heh.

So I think I may have to say it again. Long Dong Silver. Just because.

In other news, Evil actually jumped UP on my bed, Myaa'd, and demanded to be petted this morning around 5:30. I don't know what possessed her. She also purred, and laid down next to me for about 2 hours. That? Was awesome.


goin' on the resume

Oh, I am so putting toenail wrangler on my resume.

I was skeezin' my family out by telling them I was catching the flying bits with my teeth. Hee. At least this time around I knew most of the residents who were getting shod. They were, of course, the ones with the most obscenely icky toenails I've ever seen. Seriously. Your toenails should never look like corn fritters. Ever. If you're rockin' 1/3 of an inch thick (yes, thick, not long) toenails, or they resemble giant hunks of pyrite, you might want to look into slightly more regular foot care, or a date with a belt sander, because daaaaaaaaaaamn. That's funky.

And support hose? They are indeed the work of the devil.

Well, that's over, anyway. Dr. E. and I had a great time. And Papa Sauce came home from a storage unit auction today, he won a unit for around 65 bucks. In that unit? Two sewing machines. Maa doesn't want either of them so I'm going to keep the singer, it doesn't do as much as my kenmore, but it's a bit more sturdy, and it has the travel case to go with it. It still needs a tune-up, but should run great. G. Monkey's going to get the Brother, which also seems very sturdy, needs a checkup, but looks like maybe it was a school machine, so it should be very durable. Apparently there's also a buttload of fabric and patterns up there, so that's awesome. There was a ton of other stuff, but that's all that really mattered to me. Heh.

Tomorrow I take a break from toenail wrangling, and get to play tour guide. We're going to take my aunt and uncle downtown. We'll hit Market and get some good strawberries, and maybe some nice flowers or bread, head to Wish You Were Here for Swedes (or maybe not, as it looks like they are not open tomorrow! GAH!). Their oatmeal pancakes are divine. We'll also hit the heritage museum and quilt museum, then head on up the street to see G. Monkey at her museum. We may swing by and egg the Little Nonprofit that Could (drive G. Monkey to resign from the board) while CrazyBetsy is on vacation (again).

Should be AWESOME, if the weather holds.
More to come...


So reflecting on this weekend reminded me of the last time G. Monkey, Tiffany, Doc, and I went out and were total asses. G. Monkey's "Bachelorette" party. Really, more of a girl's night out, because G. Monkey didn't want to do the veil/condomshirt/etc. So we surprised her with a trip to bawlmurr, to hit the power plant. (It's an assload of clubs all in one tiny little area, so you can get your drink on without travelling too far.

We? Were sooooo very obnoxious. Exceptionally intoxicated (hooray for cabs!) and I can't remember most of the places we were at, with the exception of two. One was a 70s themed place, and we shook shook shook, shook shook shook our booties. At least one man was there in polyester bell bottoms and was rockin' his very own white-guy-fro. He also had shoes to die for- but that's another story for another day. The other place was a beach themed place. We did a looooot of drinking and dancing there, and it's especially memorable because of the mini Andre Braugher there who thought I was the best thing since Homicide, Life On The Street reruns. And had he not been shorter than me, and wearing a Marlboro backpack (in a club? with a packed-ass dance floor?) and using the world's worst pickup lines, he may have stood a chance, because Andre Braugher? Is hot.

That's also the night I was in the "Creepy Dude Sandwich". The best fun of all came after we were done dancing. G. Monkey is drunk. Beyond drunk. she was druuunnnnnnnnk. When G. Monkey gets drunk, she gets hungry. Really hungry. And she loses all self-censorship. So we went to this diner to get some food. The entire time, G's freakin' out, because she's soooooooooooo hungry, and can't wait for the food to get there. Then she wants to leave immediately as it arrives. So we snag to-go boxes, and while we're waiting for a cab to come, she devours her sandwich. And mine. And both our fries. And Tiffany's fries. Doc didn't get anything to eat, or she'd have lost that too.

The next morning? She doesn't remember doing ANY of this. Hee! We laughed our asses off. Probably you had to be there, but it was good.

On that note, I need to scram. I'm chasing toenails today. Whee!


The Double Drunk Bus?

Oh my, did we have an interesting evening last night. The cast of Characters?

G. Monkey- The possessor of 3/4 of my brain, fashion goddess, and all around swell gal.

The P'fessor- One of approximately 3214 Erics we know. Smart, but has a very very wrong sense of humor. He was our photodocumentary dude.

Miss Love- Her husband owns the club G. Monkey's husband works for, is a hoot AND a holler, and is a local DJ to boot. (which is pertinent later)

Guido- doorman at the club, and all around designated driver extrordinaire

Me- Teh hawtness.

So the evening starts by G. Monkey calling me to say, Um.... I accidentally put my hand through the kitchen window, and I'm running a little bit late. I couldn't get my finger to stop bleeding. (It was only a flesh wound, and her kitchen windows are evil bastards) She didn't need stitches, but she still wanted to go out, so three cheers for the walking wounded!

First we needed to find her something appropriately slutty, yet still adorable for the evening. After an hour and change at Burlington, this mission was accomplished, plus a few more outfits for work/summer. (I got lucky, and reworked an old shirt of mine that had a hideous neckline ruffle, and worked perfectly for the evening. No shopping for me.) We raced back to my place, straightened her gorgeously supercurly hair, tarted her up, tarted me up, and raced to the club so we could meet up with the professor and miss love and Guido.

Our theme this evening? Bars we've never been to.

The first stop?

Low Places. A country line dance bar, in the basement of a hotel. Now, a bit of backstory. My ONLY goal tonight (aside from having a great time) was to have SOMEONE. ANYONE hit on me. Because I have been feeling like a fat, pathetic, unemployed loooooooooooooooozer lately. And I? Was looking really cute. We walk in, I in my mexican lampshade skirt, G. Monkey lookin' a bit like stevie nicks in her hankerchief hem skirt, Miss love looks normal and the professor's wearing as close to a suit as he'll ever get. (Guido went upstairs to the sports bar to do his chillin') we walk in, and all eyes snap to us. If this was a movie, the BG music would have scratched, and stopped. Heh. Yeah. that good.

So we waited in line, the only urban foo's in the midst of cowboy hats, boots, and more fringe than you can shake a stick at. We snag our drinks and look for a place to sit (there are, of course, none), but I do get my wish. Immediately upon coming to a full stop near the DJ booth, a guy named Matt came over and began to chat me up. And he wasn't a troglodyte. Sweet. We had a great time at Low Places, and will e back. Who knows, I may even attempt to partake in the NASCAR of dancing. (which would be a hoot, because I can't even do the electric slide...)

Also, at this time, I should warn you that I started this blog entry about 6 hours ago. In the intervening time, I've cooked dinner for my parents, aunt, uncle, and brother, and have very nearly singlehandedly polished off a bottle of my "Papa Joe's" homemade niagra apple wine. I take no responsibility for any spelling, punctuation, or grammatical errors from here on out, because I? Am really fuzzed around the edges.

After we had our picture taken with the guy in the biggest cowboy hat in the joint, we fled for a little bar called Tails. If the York Hardware bar is the poor man's Coyote Ugly, Tails is the welfare recipient's Hardware Bar. It's supposed to be a place where cute girls in tight outfits will occasionally jump on top of the bar, and dance on the handy affixed poles. When we were there? Gangsta rap (which I don't mind), and a lot of really skeevy guys hoping to see some tails. There were maybe 7 girls in the joint, 1 was working, and three of those were in our party. So... uh... Bleagh. Tails was a bust. We got a photo of us smacking our own rears, in front of the sign and headed off to the Travelodge.

I used to game right down the street from the Travelodge, but was never old enough to drink there back then. So I'd never been in it. Apparently Saturday night is Karaoke night. Heh. Heh. Heh. Actually the singers weren't bad, but the crowd was... interesting. Also: there was an Edgar Winter Wannabe dancing to the rap version of "It takes two". Quite possibly the funniest thing of the evening. Heh.

From the Travelodge, we went to the Tally Ho, our conservative town's (almost) one and (almost) only gay club. We KNEW they'd have good dance music, and Miss Love really wanted to get out and shake her ass. And she did. Had there been more people on the dance floor (besides Miss Love, and the really cute couple) I'd have probably shaken my own thing too. (Though really? I haven't danced in nearly 3 years. Don't know why. I guess I just get way too self conscious.) The place was dead, so we decided to head to my favorite bar, the Shamrock.

Now, the Shamrock, as I've mentioned before, has the shuffle bowling, but since it was very nearly 1:35, and almost last call, we didn't bother with shuffle bowling. Instead, we went straight for the 60 cent pabst drafts. (No, that's not a typo.) That draft, I believe, was my undoing. For I was really good all night long (being broke will do that) and had club soda at most of our stops. I had a draft beer at Tails, and a bottle of beer at the Ho, but this little 10 oz pabst must have been skunked, because this morning? Was not pleasant. But that's later.

We got to enjoy some more really good (surprisingly) Karoke, closed the bar, and had our pictures taken outside, punching each other, in homage to what usually happens at that bar. (At least once a week, someone leaves bleeding. Huzzah.)

After that, I went to G. Monkey's house, where we snacked on chicken and french fries, and tried to watch Meet the Fockers. I passed out about halfway through, and woke up when it was light out (unusual. I have a really, really hard time sleeping in unfamiliar places, but I was exhausted.) I woke up this morning with a godawful headache, and struggled to keep my excedrin down on the ride back home. (G. Monkey drove me to the shindig, so she had to drive me home again.) I won the battle in the car, but lost at my house. Mercifully, my family and relatives had gone out to sightsee by the time I got home, so I got to take a nice, long nap. (Unfortunately, I fell asleep through most of "Bringing up Baby" and a really good "Midsomer Murders"- and yes, I find Inspector Barnaby absolutely adorable. Thank you Biography Channel for giving me marathons of Poirot and Midsomer on back to back weekends.)

Which brings us to the picnic, and the wine, and to this.

The end...



I believe the first meeting of the official "Crack Monkey Dance Troupe" will be held next week sometime. Just because. (Or whenever ET is feeling less icky)

I'm sitting at the desk tonight at the codger corral, and then G. Monkey and I are going to go out for a bit. She's got an opening tonight at the museum, and will be ready for conversation with someone who doesn't say "oh. So this is what my money went to. *sniff*" and I'll be ready for conversation with someone who 1. doesn't meow, and doesn't go to bed at 5:30.

Unfortunately "the coolest skirt ever" is not making an appearance tonight. (I may take it with me to work, but I'm not holding out hope.) It's more of a "I want to see a good show at the club, and be seen by many" skirt, while I think tonight will be more of a "I need to drink cheap beer and play shuffle bowling" kind of evening. And for that, my work clothes and some flip flops will do nicely.

wow. And I've officially descended into the land of boring and vapid. So on that note, have a great night!


*happy dance*

I got my scores from the state civil service exam. And lets just say that I'm offically waiting for something shitty to happen, because there's no way I can have 2 really good things happen in one day without something bad to counterbalance them.


I scored a 90. I'm on the list. There are 5 people who scored higher than me at the level 1 position, 4 others who scored the same as I did, and 283 who scored lower. However, at the level 2 position, there are only 2 higher than I, 2 at the same level as I scored, and 222 below.


And that doesn't mean they all tested for this location, and this position. I am on the employment list, I will get called for an interview, and with luck, I WILL get this job. If I can start as a Level 2, that will make me very, very happy.

Pardon me while I dance around the room like a monkey on crack.

It worked! It worked!

Once I finally got the pattern right, the skirt copy project worked! HEE!

Note: if you ever need to copy something that isn't ginormous, waxed paper is your friend. You can place it over the item, and trace the seam lines through it, then add your seam allowances.

I found a really pretty buttercup yellow calico with little tiny orange and green and white dots on it, and did that one today, (I still need to tweak the zipper a bit to make it lie flatter, and do the waistband and hem). I couldn't find the right color ribbon to do the waistband, but am going to see what I have in my box-o-tricks from my great-aunt. (She sent me a ton of sewing supplies/trims as she was cleaning out her closet, YAY!)

I picked up another sort of a light aqua-y blue fabric, and will put together the flowers to put on it tonight/tomorrow. The assembly is pretty easy, so I may end up having a bunch of these by summer's end. (and can probably convert to darker fabrics for winter)

And how much did the skirt fabric, lining, zippers, and ribbon cost? 19.99.
Damn do I love the fabric outlet. I actually got a bit too much fabric, but am glad I did, because the pieces are such an odd fit. I could make some other things out of the remnants. (Or save them for the quilt I will make someday)

I am giddy. Usually I screw these projects up somehow, but I will actually wear this in public. Hee!



But who was "Long Dong Silver"?

While the identity of "Deep Throat", fabled Watergate informant has finally been confirmed, those in the loop are still pondering the existence of the lesser-known, but no-less important ancillary informant, "Long Dong Silver".

The hoopla reminds me of one of the most distressing, yet amusing events of my post-secondary educational "career". One of the classes I took at the local Community College (we'll refer to it as "RETCH" as that's not far off from the sound made when actually pronouncing the real acronym) was a politics/government class. One of the things you need to realize is that, despite the fact this was RETCH, the student body was a bit older/wiser. My prof was actually a city councilman, and fairly interesting. As we were leading up to the Watergate scandal, and the attendant roles that Woodward/Bernstein played, one of the students asked the most horrifying questions ever.

"Um. What is this whole "water gate" thing you guys are talking about?"

Granted, the girl was young, but she was indeed a US citizen, and attended a school that is known for its academics. How you could get to the age of 19 (being generous) without knowing anything about Nixon, and Watergate is beyond me.

Then again, this is the same class that didn't see the humor in an photo poking fun at the Elian Gonzalez situation, using the famous Lee Harvey Oswald with his Manlicher-Carcano rifle image. (They had to have it explained to them, because they didn't know the Oswald image.) Gah.

Anyway, Long Dong, if you're out there, don't let Deep Throat hog the spotlight.


Dear Dad,

Shoes, once removed from your feet, do not go directly in front of the door to the sun porch. Because when I go to bring in Mooj, in the dark, and I fall over them, I am going to very nearly break both my big toes. This will royally piss me off.


Your kid.
(the one with the limp)

In other news.
I have checked my bank account, and it is not so dire as I had believed, which is nice. I'm picking up a shift at the codger corral on Friday, and this is also good. G. Monkey and I are really, really, going to go out on Friday night too.

No news from the agencies.

I think I am going to make the layered sandwich from the totally rockin' Head Nurse's blog for supper tomorrow night.

I also think I am going to try to copy the skirt that everyone loves. It sort of looks like this, your basic white a-line just below the knee skirt, but instead of the embroidered border, it has appliqued poppies, 2 of them, in bright shades of pink, on the lower left side. I want to copy it, but do it in petal pink, or maybe a light blue or green, and either do an entire border of stylized color-coordinated flowers across the bottom, or do a scattering of flowers (large at the bottom, smaller as they sort of spiral up toward the waist).

The individual pieces to the skirt should be simple, they're merely wedges of fabric with a "not really a waistband waistband" (which I may do in a contrasting bias tape, or perhaps a ribbon. The hem is virtually nonexistent, and the fabric is a simple cotton. (Which I should be able to pick up at the fabric outlet for around $2.00/yard) The lining is also basic, so I am sooooo going to give this a whirl. I have enough scraps of fabric around here that I can make some neat flowers. All told, I should be able to copy it for well under $10.00 (excluding time). And compared to the shirt I copied before, this will be a breeze.

Now the only debate is whether I'll do it on the ol' Singer (which is my first love- my mother got that machine when she was married, in '74). It's heavy, reliable, and has a soothing hum as you sew. Or if I'll do it on the Kenmore, it's mine, and It's not a bad machine, it does lots of stuff the old one doesn't do, and it doesn't sit flush, so I can do sleeves and things, but it's clackety. (My gripe about new machines is that they're so clackety and plastic.) Ah, if all my decisions were like that.

I'll keep you posted.