The Icon

Ok, I totally ripped this off from some guy who's trying to pick me
up on Match.com. I don't know if he ripped it off or wrote it so...
Right, anyway. Here it is:

Flowbee

OK, this one is TRUE!*

I have a friend who is a great beautician. She must have thought I
looked a little ragged, because she offered to give me a haircut this
weekend. I don't want anything free, so I stopped by the Thrift
Store a couple of nights ago and picked up a Flow Bee, the hair clip-
pers that fit on your vacuum. It was a little greasy, but for just two
bucks, I snatched that thing up. Pulled all those quarters out of my
pocket so fast that I think I've got whiplash.

Well, I've got one of those new industrial strength Oreck vacuums,
the kind that can pick up a bowling ball. To make a long story short,
I'm wearing a toboggan today, and it looks like I'll have to wear it for
at least a month. To make matters worse, I didn't want to get hair
all over my clothes, so I did it naked. That thing got away from me
and headed straight for my "private" area . I now have a perfect like-
ness of Mother Teresa down there.

I guess some idiot from the hospital told a few friends about it, be-
cause I had every dang TV station and newspaper in Alabama calling
me the next day. A free lunch sounded reasonable to me, so I let
NBC 13 News broadcast a live remote from the shop last night.

When I got to work this morning, there was a huge line of customers
lined up outside. Well, it turned out they're "pilgrims" here to see
Mother Teresa. I'm very busy, with house payment and payroll com-
ing up today. Well money is time, and as bad as I hate to, I'm going to
have to charge these folks for their ?viewing?. I just hope they don't
want to see her weeping tears of blood.

*She really is a great beautician.

Still Alive

Ok So... You've probably all heard of the Dead Pool list right? It's
a this list where people submit a list of 25 people they think or
hope will kick off during the next year and there's a pool of money
and he/she with the most names croaking by the end of the year
wins. So anyway.

I thought about joining, but I didn't have the heart to actually bet
on and then ROOT for people to die. I mean, given my own medi-
cal problems it even seemed a little bit like you know, bad karma.
So instead, I came up with a list of people who have reached a time
in their lives when they, like my dad, and perhaps even me, have
been around for awhile and should let people know that they are
still out there and lucky to be there for another bend around the
ol' twist in the New Year. Pssstt... You may feel that a couple of
'em don't really even deserve it, but as it's said...

"even the wicked get worse than they deserve." Willa Cather

Happy New Year EveryOne!

And Without Further Ado, The Still Alive List for 2006:

june allyson
bob barker
ingmar bergman
joey bishop 87
ernest borgnine
jack kervorkian
p.w. botha
ray bradbury
helen gurley brown
mel brooks
james brown
art buchwald
ross perot
red buttons
robert byrd
Castro
Frank Cady
Sid Caesar
kitty carlisle
pierre cardin
walter cronkite 89
yvonne decarlo 83
Doris Day 81
Olivia De Havilland 89
Dino De Laurentiis 88
Kirk Douglas 89
oan Fonaine 88
Betty Ford 87
Glenn Ford 88
John Forsythe 89
Milton Friedman 93
Zsa Zsa Gabor 86
John Glenn 84
Dody Goodman 90
Robert Goulet 72
Curt Gowdy 86
Billy Graham 87
Andy Griffith 79
Merv Griffin 80
Robert Guillaume 78
Alexander Haig 81
Monty Hall 82
Paul Harvey 87
Leona Helsley 85
Jesse Helms 84
Edmund Hillary 85
Lena Horne 89
Henry Kissinger 82
Jack Klugman 83
Deborah Kerr 84
B.B. King 80
Monte Irvin 86
Van Johnson 89
Frankie Lane 92
Charles Lane 100
Lyndon LaRouche 83
Art Linkletter 93
Norman Lear 83
Meadowlark Lemon 75
Claude Levi-Strauss 97
Herbert Lom 88
Maharishi Mahesh Yogi 94
Karl Malden 93
Nelson Mandela 87
George McGovern 83
Robert McNamara 89
Ricardo Montalban 85
Howard Metzenbaum 88
Stan Musial 85
Augusto Pinochet (Ugarte) 90
Oral Roberts 87
David Rockefeller 90
Andy Rooney 86
Liz Taylor
James Van Allen 90
Abigail Van Buren 87
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. 83
Kurt Waldheim 87
Eli Wallach 90
Miike Wallace 87
Joseph Wapner 86
Shelley Winters 85
John Wooden 95
Jane Wyatt 94
Jane Wyman 91
Alan Young

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I'm a 38 year old single mom from Alabama.
I would love to have world peace for Christmas. What? Not gonna
happen this year? Well then, I'll just move on.

If there is any way you could convince my dad that he REALLY
DOES need a hearing aid so that he'll quit yelling at all of the rest
of us who can, by the way, hear just fine - that would be swell.

My 17 year old son Dylan has been a pretty great kid so far. He's a
junior in high school and of course, I love him more than life itself.
I could never have hoped for a better child. I hope he keeps right
on staying on that "nice" rather than the "naughty" track, but God
knows I'd love him no matter what.

About the politicians... I hesitate to even go here Santa because I
don't know if all of the pixie dust and elf tricks at the North Pole
could fix what ails our political system. Maybe they should just join
hands and sing "Kumbaya" once around the big Christmas Tree at
the White House before we ring in the New Year. What do you
think?

I think that's about it... oh wait. One more thing. I DO live in a
VERY small town Santa. And I'm umm... divorced. I know, but it
happens to the best of us sometimes. At any rate, there aren't many
unattached degreed professionals in these parts, so if you do see a
cute one, could you send him my way? Merry Christmas!

Sydney

My Temperment (Scary But True)

You Have a Choleric Temperament

You are a person of great enthusiasm - easily excited by many things.Unsatisfied by the ordinary, you are reaching for an epic, extraordinary life.You want the best. The best life. The best love. The best reputation. You posses a sharp and keen intellect. Your mind is your primary weapon.Strong willed, nothing can keep you down. Your energy can break down any wall.You're an instantly passionate person - and this passion gives you an intoxicating power over others. At your worst, you are a narcissist. Full of yourself and even proud of your faults.Stubborn and opinionated, you know what you think is right. End of discussion.A bit of a misanthrope, you often see others as weak, ignorant, and inferior.

What Temperment Are You?

Your Relationship Quotient

Your Ideal Relationship is Polyamory

You want to have your cake... and everyone else's.Which isn't a bad thing, if everyone else gets to eat too!You're too much of a free spirit to be tied down by a traditional relationship.You think relationships should be open and free, with few restrictions.

What's" Your Ideal Relationship?

Mo' Movie Schtuff

So today I watched, of course, more (what turned out to be B)
movies. One with Katie Holmes called Abandon. Absolutely
awful. And I like to find things to love about Katie Holmes films.
You know, Katie pre-cult cum mini-cruiser bearing vehicle. But
nothing doing with this one. Currently I'm watching Mercy. The
only good thing about this film is that you get to perv on Peta
Wilson. And you get to flirt with both lesbianism AND S&M
in the SAME film. Although truthfully, the S&M in this film is
far from erotic. The lesbianism is a little hot though.

The only thing better than that is the realization that Peta
looks hot in the film and she is very close to my age. Bad point -
the film was made in 1999. Good point - although Ellen Barkin,
who was formerly kind of a hottie, is looking distressingly a little
ummm... distressed, err... aged. I looked her up and she IS 13
years old than I am. Bad point - the film was made in 1999.
Right. That means I only have seven years to go until my first
face lift.

My Dad is Better

But bitchy. Very very bitchy. He resides constantly in the land of
you should have done, you should do, why didn't you, you really
need to, etc. I apparently have done NOTHING right in the past
38 years and I am in no danger of accidently fucking up and pul-
ling off a correct decision anytime in the near future.

However. This is all good. It means that my father is entirely
back to normal. I mean, save for that 18" incision across his lower
abdomen. That's gotta suck. I KNOW it still hurts. The doctor
sent him home with EXACTLY 30 painkillers, and those were on-
ly lortab 50o's. And of course, being my dad, he was not about to
ask for more. And he forbid me to do it for him. So anyway. Fine
then. Suffer. Whatever. Uggh!

But at least he's ok. I wanted to give everyone that update. And
I wanted to thank all of you for your support and encouragement.
Quite honestly, I didn't think he would make it through this one
so I am unbelievably grateful.

And there you have it.

I Wonder

How Tom Cruise and the Spawn carrying vehicle formerly known
as Katie Holmes are doing? All has been soooo quiet on the Wes-
tern front of late. No more late night sofa switches on the sets of
any talk shows due to busted metal springs or anything?

Do you suppose she'll "get" to have any sort of career after she
delivers mini-cruiser? I mean, as long as she agrees not to take
any roles which might be viewed as less than wholesome and
seemly for The wife of THE TOM C. You know, nothing where
her character says... drinks, smokes - does drugs...

And speaking of drugs, I hope that natural childbirth thing works
out for her. If any guy tried to make me go through childbirth
without an epidural he'd damn well better stay out of the room
while it was happening because I'd probably kill somebody and
I'm sure I'd know where to "focus" my anger if you get my drift.
He'd be fucking BEGGING me to take the drugs before I was done
with his ass.

Poor Katie. You sold your soul so young. RIP

Sunday Is...

Officially known as weird movie day at our house. Ok, that's not
entirely true. The weekends in general are good for trying to
cram in as many films of as many different varieties and varying
quality as possible. Actually, the variable quality isn't a prerequi-
site, it just seems to kind of come with the territory.

So anyway, this morning's movie is a particularly pedestrian and
well... just basically LAME attempt at a suspense/horror flick
called: Octane. It shoulda been good. It has Madeleine Stowe in
it.

Death of A Genius

And a Groundbreaker. Way ahead of of his time
and gone way too soon.

Richard Pryor - Rest in Peace...

He's Always...

CLASSIC

Eat your heart out Bill O!

Hey There

I'm alive. I've just been under the weather and a little too tired to
post lately. Will get back to everyone soon.

I Am SO Pissed!

LOL Gee Coincutter, Thanks a lot for posting LiberallikeJesus's
big new publication's website online before all of us in his little
circle got to SEE the damn thing!

Now I am locked out from viewing it because the freakin' web-
site has gotten so many hits it has exceeded its bandwidth!

So here's to you and what I am ABSOLUTELY certain is a contro-
versial an interesting work Lib, and hopefully I'll get to see the
thing sometime. You know, maybe like at 3am.

And if the rest of you yahoos think I'm posting the website be-
fore I actually get to view it, thus increasing its popularity
and making it even MORE difficult for me to see, then you had
better think again!

My Doctors Are Fond

of telling me that my body does not work like most people's. It
puzzles them. Which is a really not very confident inspiring
thing for a physician to say to you. You know, anything about
being, say, puzzled, or less than utterly certain. They should
just keep that shit to themselves.

So my body always runs at 97.3. But like, I don't think that this
is THAT unusual. My dad is like that too. So I tend to think of
it as HEREDITARY. Of course, so is Alzheimers. But anyway.
I don't think your body temperature is nearly as serious. I al-
ways wonder if I could drop down MORE or LESS than most
people before getting hypothermia. You know, like if I fell in an
ice covered lake or something.

And I rarely EVER get fevers. So for me, its weird to run a fever
of even 99 degrees. So yesterday morning, even though I was on
Cipro for the staph thingie, I get up and I feel a bit warm. Umm,
that's the other thing, instead of shivering when I get a fever? I
feel hot. I get cold and shiver when it goes down again. I know.
Weird.

So anyway, I go to the doctor. But my temp is only like 99. But
still, they don't like it cuz its first thing in the morning and my
temp always runs low and whatever, oh yeah, not whatever, but
the whole STAPH thing, so they give me a shot of rocifen or how-
ever you spell it, in the ass, which HURTS by the way. And then
I still have a fever last night and now my lymph nodes are all
swollen.

So I get up this MORNING and NOW my lymph nodes are still
swollen so I'm on Cipro and I go back in and now my temp is 100
and I get another shot on the OTHER side of my ass of the ro-
whatever (just so it will hurt equally badly to sit down on both ass
cheeks) umm... except for cindy told me to tell them to mix it with
xylophones or lidocaine or something so it didn't hurt quite as bad
and now I can play the scale out of my asshole.

Anyway, so they once again pried some blood out of me, and I feel
like shit. But my dad is not hurting as bad. So that's good. And
THERE you have it.

oh p.s. whenever I have a fever I get really delusional like? So I
watched this University of Tx/Nebraska game last night and I
was all excited because you know, the Longhorns won? And I
mean, what if they hadn't? And then I got to work this morning
after the shot and stuff and somebody said, you idiot, U.T. didn't
even play last night, that was a fucking re-run on ESPN classics
or something...

Guess What???

My dad was released from the hospital last night! Yayyyyy!!! I
am SO happy! He is in a lot of pain though. I got my first good
night's sleep last night and slept til about 9:30am today then went
into what turned out to be a very long day at work. I am so be-
hind! Then I went to visit my dad at his house and I hate that he
is hurting so much but he does look good.

By the way, of all four of us who were in the room a lot, guess
who left the hospital with a staph infection? Yep! That would
be the immune compromised ME. Now, I am SUPER HAPPY
that my dad didn't get a staph infection, nor anyone else actually.
But why do I always have to pick up every damn germ floating
around?

And UNFORTUNATELY, it's on my FACE. Very unattractive
but the doctor said we were lucky to catch it this early and I'm
on Cipro since this morning. Lovely. This is the second staph
infection I've had and I knew immediately that's what it was.
Lovely. Just lovely. LOL

I had a blood count taken today to see how well my procrit is
working and I'll get the results of that tomorrow, but I have a
feeling its going to come out well because I am starting to feel
better and I have more color and all of that good stuff. Plus, my
migraines seem to be under control lately.

So now if the chicken market would just turn around and people
could quit hitting my damn car then life would truly start look-
pretty damn good. LOL

For Steve

1) Steve/Utopia, your post made me cry.
2) Everything you said - I wouldn't have changed a thing
about it. What you said about me, the entire situation,
Absolutely correct.

Oddly Enough

On the way home yesterday my stepmom and I just happened
across this flock of geese so I pulled over and snapped a few
photos that I thought I would share since like, I'm holed up
here at the hospital with my puter.




huh. They don't look as clear as they do on flickr for some reason.
This is my first experience with flickr though so I may not be doing
it right. My public acct there is under sydala or sydala@hotmail.com

Don't email there though I never check it. Email me at:
msobliqueone@hotmail.com Bye for now!

Monday

My dad may get to go home. He is like defying ALL medical odds.
It is AWESOME!



He's a huge Alabama fan (even though we all know they
suck) so I got him these beanies and balloon.

!!!!!!!HOOK EM HORNS!!!!!!!!

Ok, sorry, I just had to say that. Anyway. He really DOES
want to go home, but he's a little less that excited about the
fact that they are about to take him off of his oxygen, oops,
I meant the morphine pain pump.

Hey, its not going to be any picnic for those of us spending
the night in the room with him EITHER, although... when
he was all hopped up on narcotics I made him promise that
I could cut into the regularly scheduled fishing programming
to watch Desperate Housewives. N0w that is a cool dad!

I told him he could perv on Nicollette Sheridan and Gabrielle
Solis. Here we go, an embarassing photo for posterity:


Now doesn't he just look so happy?
I love you Daddy!

Ok, So Really

I just took a break to bring my stepmother home in a blissfully
harmonious car ride home so that she could get her vehicle and
bring it back to the hospital and so that I could go to my doc's
and get a prescription for Dylan. Because you know, my step-
mother and I just have NOT had nearly enough face time of
late. I mean, Mon Dieu! What if we forgot how each other
looked or something? Ya know?

So anyway, I drop her off and I (finally) get through to my Doc.
Who is rather umm... three sheets to the wind. He decides we
should take his car to his office to write the scrip. In all actuali-
ty you can write a scrip on ANYTHING, a paper bag even. But
with a controlled substance, and on a Saturday, it just LOOKS
better on a regular scrip pad. Ya know?

I was parked kind of off to the side behind him and I DID SAY
to him, "Please don't hit my car when you pull out." I said this
about ten seconds before I heard the SMASH. I'm having a
lovely fucking couple of days let me tell ya. At least my dad is
doing well.

The Three Proofs

EVEN GOD ENJOYS A GOOD LAUGH

There were 3 good arguments that Jesus was Black:
1. He called everyone brother .
2. He liked Gospel.
3. He couldn't get a fair trial.

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus
was Jewish:
1. He went into His Father's business.
2. He lived at home until he was 33.
3. He was sure his Mother was a virgin and his Mother was sure
He was God.

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus
was Italian:
1. He talked with His hands.
2. He had wine with His meals.
3. He used olive oil.

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesuswas
a Californian:
1. He never cut His hair.
2. He walked around barefoot all the time.
3. He started a new religion.

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that
Jesus was an American Indian:
1. He was at peace with nature.
2. He ate a lot of fish.
3. He talked about the Great Spirit.

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus
was Irish:
1. He never got married.
2. He was always telling stories.
3. He loved green pastures.

But the most compelling evidence of all - 3 proofs that
Jesus was a woman:
1. He fed a crowd at a moment's notice when there
was no food.
2. He kept trying to get a message across to a bunch of men
who just didn't get it.
3. And even when He was dead, He had to
get up because there was work to do.

AMEN

Now Back to Our Regularly

Scheduled Programming

They took my dad's pain pump off constant last night. You know,
where he has to squeeze it HIMSELF now? So needless to say, he
DID NOT sleep as well. Needless to say, nor did I.

At 3am -ok, please remember he's on morphine- he turned on the
tv and started watching a Kenny Rogers infommercial. I kid you
fucking n0t. For REAL. I went over and pushed his morphine for
him, totally, I'll admit, selfishly. You know, hoping to God he'd fall
asleep. Then I tried to turn old Kenny off, or even, down. No dice.
I got yelled at for my efforts. Since then we've been watching a
never ending series of westerns.

I'm just not sure I personally have enough drugs to get through this
one...

So My Dad

Got moved out of ICU Wednesday night and my stepmother and I
have been staying here together with him since then. Ahhh, family
unity and joy at its finest. I've been staying downstairs ever since
the surgery even at night while she went home an hour away so
the doctor came to talk to me when they moved my dad and I had
no idea he hadn't come to talk to her. She was FUCKING LIVID.

Plus, he didn't come back til the next day. She accused me of it be-
ing my fault they were moving him to a regular room. I said, umm
I think a regular room is supposed to be a good thing (bitch) ok, that
part was under my breath. She said, if only one of us can stay I'M
STAYING WITH HIM. I said, oh, so NOW you want to stay. I
said, probably both of us can stay. And we can. So joy of joys, the
three of us are together in a room. My stepmom, my dad and me.

She gets yelled at a lot. Which is good. My dad is doing better
when he starts yelling. I don't get yelled at much because I just
Don't GET YELLED AT MUCH. And even sick, my dad knows
better than that. I finally got them to put him on a pain pump
yesterday and he's doing really great. He may get to go home
early next week.

He did, get this, pull out his nasal gastric tube in the middle of the
night because he SAYS he had a dream he was at a bbq. I said,
and what, everyone was dancing around pulling out their ng tubes?
I don't think the doctor bought the story either. It's earned him a
few more days with no food.

"Or it gets the tube again."

Ok, So...

My dad made it through a surgery that was over five hours long. That's a long fucking time to wait when you're the one who isn't asleep by the way. Oh wait. I did sleep. I took more xanax yesterday than they keep in the entire psychiatric wing of some major medical facilities. Every once in a while someone would disturb my sleep to let me know that surgery was still progressing and that my father was still alive.

To which I would reply that if he had succumbed, surgery would probably cease to progress. Most doctors aren't big into wasting their time like that. Which would earn me more than a few dirty looks. To which I would REPLY... Why don't you guys just wake me up: A. If there is a problem or B. When they come out and tell us surgery is over? I don't want to know that surgery is progressing. I expect it to fucking progress. Unless, you know, something bad happens. Can't you see that I am trying to deal with my stress by overmedicating and avoidance?

So we didn't see my dad from early yesterday until 4:30pm. He'll be in ICU at least three days. And I miss him. I get to see him thirty minutes, four times per day. My stepmother made sure that I couldn't spend the night in the ICU by asking the nurse about it in advance instead of letting me talk to her about it because basically, she didn't want me to stay there with my dad. While I was asleep she also managed to chat up EVERY OTHER person in the waiting room and tell them the entire medical history of my dad, my grandmother, me, her and God knows who else. She makes me insane. Especially during times of stress. If I could slap a big shot of valium in her ass without getting arrested I would. But then she would probably just talk more. To more people. Yes I KNOW. I write a blog. And tell people almost everything. But somehow its different than when you can't catch a moment's silence from someone sitting right the fuck next to you.

Ever notice how nasty and pissy I get when I'm nervous? Guess that's MY way of coping.

huh.

The So Cool Thing

About having a teenager who can drive is that you can send him
out for food. All the time. He's bringing home dinner right now.
This makes twice today. LOVE IT.

Other guys

In Hollywood who I like who may seem a little weird to some but
probably not AS weird as some guys I may have mentioned pre-
viously...

Willem Defoe
Joe Mantegna

And there you have it

Well Let's See

Ok. Here it is. All of the Shit. That is my life. Lately. And some
of the not so shitty stuff. Pay attention. Some of the shitty stuff
is stuff I've done. YEP. Ooo-k. Here we go.

My dad IS going to have to have the bad surgery where they have
to open him up to do the surgery. They are doing it Monday. If
he survives the surgery he will be in the hospital in ICU for a while
and then in the hospital for at least two weeks.

I slept with a MARRIED 28 year old vendor. Very gorgeous and
he did take his ring off so that I wouldn't know he was married.

I was drunk and there was a storm and his room was closer than
my car and he suggested I stay for a while until the storm, you
know, ended. I have actually successfully negotiated this maneu-
ver in the past. But this guy was a cuddler. Oh fuck that. This guy
was horny. And very good with his hands. And an excellent lay.

Beautiful green eyes by the way. And did I mention that although
he took his ring off, I am wise to that particular maneuver so I did
ask sometime during dinner, so hey, how long have you been mar-
ried? And he sheepishly replied, "Six years." So yes, I KNEW. So
I'm sure if my dad doesn't die due to poor health and difficulty of
surgery he will now succumb because God is punishing me for phil-
andering. Or for leading the married guy into philandering. Or for,
you know, LETTING him philander. Which I'm sure he NEVER in-
tended to do. That's why he took the ring off. But I digress. I
mean, rationalize.

And of course, the married vendor will get off scott free because he
has probably done this a million times before and I am solely respon-
sible for the sins of the world. Or so I was told last time I posed in a
thong on my blog. So apparently I really AM a slut and a whore. Well
ok then.

I had a date with the phlebotomist from my doctor's office (who is
also a volunteer fireman and so totally not my speed) and I did NOT
sleep with him as I was not remotely attracted to the guy but now I
see the guy every time I go to my Doc's office and he asks me out
again and I don't know a nice way to tell him hey, its just not going to
work out. Umm, guys? Anyone want to respond to this one?

I went to Dallas to see a customer. Still trying to sell her a product
that I can't seem to get any of the plants to make the way I know
she wants it. Very frustrating. It could be so great if I could find
someone to make it.

Ok but back to what I'm avoiding. MONDAY. My dad. I'm at utter-
ly and completely terrified that he isn't going to make it. So I go talk
to my doctor. He says, "Syd, given the complications your dad has,
it really doesn't look like a very good prognosis." So anyway. We'll
spend as much time as we can with him this weekend and hope for
the best.

Oh yeah, and you guys are going to get tired of me saying this, but
all of you smokers? It really will kill you. Young sometimes. My
dad is only 61. His arteries and lungs are shot. If you don't ever
plan to have kids, then whatever. But if you love your kids, you
might want to try to stick around for them.

So Get This

My boss keeps telling me that I need to read Machiavelli. Specifi-
cally, The Prince - which is basically a how-to manual on how to
govern (in a very diabolical and twisted way) written by Machia-
velli in the 1500's and probably based on one of the Borgias (an
infamous and corrupt ruling family in that same time period).
(Hey, we're in sales - what can you expect)

Due to this treatment written by Machiavelli, as many of you al-
ready know, I'm sure, when someone is very devious and goes
about getting what they want in a very deviant and underhanded
but successful way, they are frequently called Machiavellian. So
anyway, this has long been a request and topic of conversation as
apparently some of the administration really admire the tactics in
The Prince. I've always pretended like I don't know what they're
talking about, but hello? I was a writing minor and a psych major
so,

Funnily enough, I HAVE read The Prince. In college no less. I final-
ly emailed my boss and said, umm... by the way, Machiavelli never
believed what he wrote in The Prince. In fact, Machiavelli was never
Machiavellian. He wrote The Prince in an attempt (which backfired)
to flatter the Medicis and get them to put him back into political of-
fice. They were not amused to be seen as so cruel and the entire
plan backfired on him. He never did regain political office. His real
works can be seen in in Discourses on Livy. I also reminded him that
the Borgias, upon at least one of whom The Prince was thought to
have been modeled, never DID come to a very good end...

Anyway, both of these two are interesting reading if you are at all
interested in this sort of thing. And... There you have it.

Palm Springs

Dylan and I did have a lot of fun in Palm Springs. We didn't get to
stay at the Villa Royale this time though due to our company grow-
ing so much over the past year. This year we stayed at a place
called the Parker. Over the past few months, the Parker has been
completely remade with an Eames era style motif in mind. It's kind
of cool if you like that sort of thing. Kind of grows on you I guess.
Its not really my thing but it was kind of cool for a once in while
visit. Pretty much, I'd thought that the retro thing had already
been kind of done to death but this is an ultra trendy hotel so ap-
parently I'm just, you know, WRONG. Definitely NOT the first or
the last time for THAT.

Oh, and Matthew Perry was there. I think someone in our
group managed to get a picture of him bending over. So basically,
a photo of his ass. I personally try not to fall all over celebrities.
Its this weird pride thing I have where I refuse to to acknowledge
them as more important than other people. Plus, I think they de-
serve to have a private life sometimes too. But anyway.

In any case, the Parker remains a very luxurious hotel with EX-
CELLENT food ( my #1 concern anyway - the FOOD). The
daughter of one of our company's principal's died unexpectedly
shortly prior to the trip, which put kind of a damper on part of the
weekend. And I'm still a little low energy (although I did put in a
good night of drinking last Friday night since Dylan went to bed
early), anyway, Dylan was kind enough to take most of these pho-
tos so that we could share them. If it doesn't bore you too much,
you can check out our vacation photos below:































And last but not least, me, VERY VERY intoxicated.
And no, Dylan didn't take this one, he was already asleep.

Thanks Everyone

For all of the well wishes about my dad. He's spent the weekend
doing tests, and we should know something about how they are
going to proceed on Tuesday when he goes back to the vascular
surgeon. I appreciate all of your kind thoughts very much! :)

Goings On

So... My dad has been in the hospital and is going to need some type
of surgery for an aneurism of the aorta (just above his kidneys)
sometime within the next week or so. We're waiting on testing to
see whether it will be fixed with a stint or whether he'll have to
have a full blown surgery.

He has a lot of medical problems, mostly related to smoking, that
cause him to be a lot more medically fragile than most so its going
to be rough going. Kind of puts all of the broken toilet issues in per-
spective...

So anyway, Dylan and I are back from Palm Springs and I'll post
some photos from there soon as well. I've just been busy as hell
between my dad and work since I got back from California. That's
about all the new schtuff.

Retraction

Umm... About that Gilbert Godfried thing. I'm watching
"1o0 Scariest Movie Moments" on Bravo and he's one of
the commentators. And I have to say that I don't think
that he's... well, aged in a manner particularly conducive
to my continued desire to...

shall we say, get to KNOW him better. In that way. Just
thought I'd share.

The Toilet

Is. Still. Fucking. Broken.

Dylan cannot fix it. I cannot fix it. It is Fucked. Up.

I hate it. I am so annoyed that I would actually go out and buy a
new toilet were it not for the fact that I know it would be largely
more difficult to install an entire toilet than it will be to fix this
stupid problem at the top of the tank. And I would get my dad to
come over and fix it but he is working at his Pumpkin Ranch at-
traction thingie through Monday and then he is off to Gulf Shores
for a week. And we are leaving for Palm Springs Thursday.

And I have huge shit coming up at work that I can't really talk
about yet, but I'll fill everybody in when I can. Bizarre shit though
I can say that much. Oh yeah, and I'm supposed to do this sleep
study tomorrow night with these electrodes strapped to my head.
Get this. NOT because they think I have apnea, but because they
want an overnight baseline on how I sleep because of my weird
brain waves. Whatever. On Halloween. Pretty funny.

So life is strange and my toilet is broken but on Thursday I'll be
able to escape from it all to sunny California for a few days. Yep,
that pretty much sums it up.

The Toilet is Broken

So I had to turn off the water because it was leaking and dripping
down the back wall causing water damage to the bottom floor, not
to mention $70 water bills. Dylan was in there trying to fix it to-
night, but apparently was having problems because I heard much
cursing and kicking of objects. I let it go. He came by that honest-
ly. The good news is that what we thought was the house leaking
from the outside may have actually been the toilet. The bad news
is that it is more difficult to fix than we thought. Of course, we
CAN do it. And we COULD call a plumber, but being stubborn, my
son and I, we won't. Why? Because we figure we SHOULD be able
to figure the damn thing out.

Currently, I've sent him to go help my dad with his Pumpkin Ranch
for the night. I have a tiny - emphasis on slight - head cold, which
is just enough to make me feel a little puky but not anything truly
wretched. Thank God. Cuz we all know what a fucking baby I am
when I don't feel good. I think I've demonstrated that for all of you
here before if I'm not mistaken.

Tomorrow I really need to clean the damn house. I mean REALLY.
I know that's my never ending mantra, but we've managed to get a
lot of things done already so it doesn't seem so overwhelming to fi-
nish it tomorrow. And I want to have it clean before we leave for
California. Hopefully we can finish the toilet in the morning. I'm un-
coordinated and clumsy on the best of days and I'm going to break
my neck if I have to keep navigating the stairs to go down to use
Dylan's bathroom when I'm half asleep in the middle of the night.

Palm Springs

My son Dylan and I go on our annual pilgrimage to Palm Springs
this Thursday - Sunday. The head of one of the companies I work
for hosts it every year. I have a feeling though that this year may
be the last year we have it because the company has gotten so big.


Photos of the Villa Royale, a beautiful Inn where we stayed through
last year. Unfortunately due to the size of the company, we have to
move to a larger more impersonal hotel this year.


Musical Chairs is so much more fun on tequila shots.

There will be much boisterousness and drinking and the shoving
of people into swimming pools. And should someone decide to
shove me into a pool, my son will help me not at all. I know this
due to his history of not helping me in the past. Point in case
below, from last year's trip:


Me after being oh so rudely dragged into the pool last
year.

Also, the main partner in the company is permanently annoyed
with me these days. Not just with me really, with all of us, on ac-
count of too much inventory, declining market etc. Last week on
the phone I was called, and I quote, "a crazy schmuck." I further
infuriated him by spontaneously bursting out in laughter as that
is, after all, one of the funnier names I've been called. I plan to in-
corporate it somehow into an aol screenname and IM him with it
next week. You know, before the trip to California. Just to make
things really interesting when I get there.

Actually though, since this is suposed to be a trip where everyone
forgets about business and stays drunk all of the time (except my
son of course - he picks fruit from nearby trees, surreptitiously
slips it the swimming pools and then laughs as all of the drunk peo-
ple, most of whom are not from California and have never seen fruit
growing on trees, wonder how the pools are bringing up limes,
lemons and oranges). Anyway, so they'll have to be nice to me and
actually, once the alchohol takes hold, all of the sins of the past year
are usually forgiven and everyone gets drunk and parties - again,
except my son, who gets to come every year because I brought him
the first year and they found him so amusing they forbade me to go
without him after that - and... there you have it.


Dylan last year, resting between pranks.

Actually, to be quite honest I think they said something about lik-
ing him better than me. Umm, MUCH better. Something to the
effect that his presence is the only thing that makes MY presence
tolerable. Or words to that effect... So anyway, once again, my son
is my one saving grace.

Here are some pretty views from the top of the Tramway in Palm Springs.
Its so high that the temperature actually changes dramatically from the
city of the Palm Springs to the top of the Tramway. It's also really fucking
scary to ride in. There are all of these people crammed into one cable car.
The cable car doesn't really "latch" onto the cable. Instead the little do-
hickey that hooks it onto the cable just kind of sits on top of the cable and
is secured by, get this, "gravity." Yep. And the cable car turns around as
it goes up and down the hill so you kind of have to elbow people out of
your way to get the photos you want. Umm... that part was no problem
for me ;P

Ok So...

This is my 2nd or 3rd 6:3oam work morning in a row. Did I men-
tion that I'm not a morning person? I could say that a few times
and it wouldn't be enough to properly reflect how serious I am
about that sentiment. But anyway, I needed to be at one of the
plants early, so I was. Not that its helped particularly in what I
was trying to achieve, but I did try.

So anyway, I just remembered this afternoon, as I contemplated
going home, soaking in a hot tub and then relaxing in bed with a
book and a cup of hot tea, that I can't do any of those things to-
night. Or at least, not for a few hours. I promised my dad I'd help
him at the Pumpkin Ranch.

My dad runs this Pumpkin Ranch. You know, with a corn maze
and hay rides, and a pumpkin patch, etc. It's a local attraction of
sorts. Because there is a God, this is his last year. Ok, so it also
has something to do with the fact that he didn't make ANY MONEY
AT ALL running this thing during the past four years. So anyway.
By the way. Since I forgot I was helping him tonight, I wore a skirt
and tights to work today. Yep. I'm going to freeze my stupid ass off.
Gotta love it.

The Turn Around

Sometimes life has a really funny way of just... turning around. It's
one of the reasons you should never kill yourself. You know, just to
see how it all turns out. I mean, you'd never forgive yourself if one
night you had to a few too many, went into the bathroom, got into
the tub, slit your wrists and bled out onto the linoleum - only to find
out that six months later...

Your long lost uncle Hugo from Bombazeria who is, by the way, fil-
thy rich and has been searching for you lo these many years should
suddenly come to town. And it turns out that your mother, whom
you THOUGHT would have NEVER cheated on your father (al-
though those feathered earrings she wore in the seventies should
have been some kind of subtle indicator perhaps) had a wild but
secret fling with a prince who later died in a bloody coup attempt
(aren't they always). But the Royal family knew about you and
though your mother had tried to keep your location secret for fear
that they might someday snatch you, they have finally found you
and merely want to bestow upon you their love and wealth. Except
oh yeah, you're dead.

Where was I? Ok, so things have been ULTRA busy at work but I
really am having, dare I say it? A good time. Fun! At my job, for
the first time since I can remember. Glad I didn't off myself in the
bathtub. Or you know, put out resumes everywhere.

I'm Not Dead or Anything

I've just been working and traveling a lot. And too tired to get on-
line at the end of the day. But everything is ok in Sydneyland.
Just nothing terribly exciting to report. I know, I know, that's
never stopped me before...

I hate it when these things hit home...

Ok, so its right. So what? Lucky guess. They probably ALL say
the same thing right? I can't hear you! RIGHT? Here goes:

The ancient science of numerology offers insight into the personality
by assigning numeric values to names and birth dates, calculating
numerological values and then interpreting the results.To calculate
the values used in numerology, all digits of a number are first added
together. If the outcome is a number with more than one digit, the
resulting digits are added together again until they are reduced to a
single digit. For example, the number 27 is reduced by adding 2 + 7
to get 9. The number 1974 is reduced by adding 1 + 9 + 7 + 4 to get
21; then 21 is further reduced by adding 2 + 1 to get 3. All numbers
are reduced to single digits between 1 and 9 except the special mas-
ter number 11, which is not reduced in numerological calculations.

Letters are first converted into numbers, which are then added toge-
ther until they become a single digit. The letter A = 1, B = 2, C = 3,
etc.; M = 13, which becomes 1 + 3 = 4. For example, the name Amy
is equal to 1 + 4 + 7 = 12. 12 is then further reduced by adding 1 + 2
to get 3.Your Numerology Portrait applies the results of several cal-
culations to provide insight into the most important aspects of your
personality. If you have a Y in your name, please consult the table
for further information on how we treat that letter's dual nature as
consonant and vowel.

Your soul number reveals your inner, private self, the underlying
motivations that influence your decisions and actions, your subcon-
scious desires and your most deeply ingrained attitudes. (It is deter-
mined by adding the values for the vowels in your full birth name.)
Your Numerology Portrait is based on the following calculations:Is
Y considered a consonant or a vowel?- If your first name begins
with Y, then Y will appear in the "first vowel" section of your por-
trait. All other sections of your portrait will treat that Y as a conso-
nant.

If a Y appears in any other position in your first, middle or last name,
it will be considered a consonant if preceded by a vowel and vice ver-
sa.Total for each letter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9A=0 B=0 C=0 D=1
E=2 F=0 G=0 H=0 I=0 J=0 K=0 L=1 M=1 N=1 O=1 P=0 Q=0 R=0
S=1 T=1 U=0 V=0 W=0 X=0 Y=3 Z=0 Consonant Total: 6 (33)
Vowel Total: 5 (23)Grand Total: 11 (56)Date Total: 8 (35)Missing
Number(s) are: 9First letter is SFirst vowel is Y Your Soul Number
is FIVE.A deep inner restlessness and discontent with the status quo
makes you seek out adventure, excitement, and the unconventional.
You thrive on new ideas, change, travel, experimenting with new
ways of doing things. Predictability and routine make you feel life-
less and unhappy so you must find a lifestyle that is varied enough
to be mentally stimulating and challenging.

Independent, freedom-loving, and easily bored, you have trouble
making commitments and finishing projects. You often "move on"
prematurely, whether in a personal relationship or in your work.
You need to develop discipline and perseverance when you have an
important goal. You have many talents and need many outlets and
avenues for their expression, but try to finish one thing before at-
tempting the next.


Questions - Discipline? Perseverance? What are those? ;P

Its Really Weird

I thought once my son hit teenhood I would never see him again.
You know, except when he wanted money. But it appears that he
actually does want to talk a lot. Mostly about girl troubles. Not
that he EVER listens to what I say or BELIEVES anything I have
to tell him about how girls think. Even though, you know, I am
one.

Mostly, he likes to discuss these things over food. And herein lies
the rub. I love food. I love all food. I in particular love ethnic
foods of all types. My son has a list of about twenty foods from
which he will eat. I'm just kidding. 22. This is how our conver
sations go. You know, when we're trying to decide where to eat.

Mom: What's your problem with Mexican food. After all, your
grandmother is Mexican. (I mean, not really, she's Mexican-
American, but liking Mexican food should be, you know, in his
blood, from my perspective.)

Dylan: I know, but she never really cooked it when I was growing
up. So I don't know.

Mom: Well, what about Chinese food, what's your problem with
Chinese food?

Dylan: I don't have a problem with Chinese food.

Mom: So, can we go eat Chinese today?

Dylan: No.

Mom: Why not.

Dylan: By not having a problem with Chinese food I meant that
if Kung Pao Chicken were to apply for a job with me I wouldn't
discriminate upon the basis of culinary genre.

Mom: You don't own a business.

Dylan: True, I guess that makes it a moot point. Let's go to Pizza
Hut.

Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

So I just found out today, belatedly it seems, that one of my favor-
ite blogspot bloggers, Porkchop, was dooced and has taken down
her site. NO NO NO! I am totally upset. I loved to read Pork-
chop! Come back, Come back! Please, we miss you, and staring
at all of that blank white page on your website CAN'T be good
for the human eyeball...

Our Yard

used to be the most pristine and beautifully manicured lawn on the
block. People would come from miles around just to look at it.

Then we moved in.


Sydism

Yes Well...

I need to go do housework. But I just wanted to say...

HOOK EM' HORNS!!!!
WOOOOO HOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

I Have Strange Attractions

I do. Like for instance... The guy in the new CDW commercials? I
think he's so cute. I KNOW. He's chubby. But he's SO funny and
cute. And it doesn't hurt that he reminds me a little of Vincent
D'onofrio from Law & Order. Yep. Another hearthrob of mine Go
Figure.

Ok, this one IS weird. Don't puke on me now folks. Stay with me...
Gilbert Godfried. Yep. I got a little thing for old Gilbert. I don't
know how to explain that one. THAT I have a feeling, is just down-
right fucking kinky. Or wrong. Pretty bad. But hey, I can't help it.

And before you judge me too harshly, I know that a lot of you guys
out there fantasize about fucking a midget. Right after you give her
a bubble bath in the sink. So don't even fuck with me about Gilbert.
Because I know how you guys are. I know your secret sick desires.
Got it?

OUCH! Tell Me What You Really Think...

You Are Changing Leaves

Pretty, but soon dead.

What Part of Fall Are You?

If You Want to Go Out with Me

There is one thing that you should never do as a prelude to a date.

Never, ever send me a photo that shows you wearing a thong.
Most especially not a pink thong. I mean, if you're a guy. If you're
a girl, I won't go out with you, but go ahead, send the photo. But
truly, for a guy? It is the kiss of fucking death.

I think we've already established that I'm a boxers girl anyway.
But I can handle the tighty whities. The skivies. I CAN. But not
bikini briefs, not thongs, not on a guy. Never, no, not that. GROSS!
Dude, What the fuck were you thinking? I was totally THERE
until that photo! I mean, WTF!

Update My Ass

Every time I've tried to sign in to write anything the system has
been down for its own "updating." Then by the time I finally can
sign in, the moment has passed. I mean, I don't get on here and
then think of something to write. It's more like this diarrhea of
the brain hits me and I have to splooge it out all over my blog.

Or in this case, blogs. You can't imagine how painful it is, all that
cramping and nowhere to relieve myself.
Are you happy now, Ben?

But Seriously Folks...

I do have this runtime error that is the current bane of my
existence. And hey, that's saying a lot. Anyone got any
ideas for me?

unterminated string constant error

Yes. If any of you know what I'm talking about, and some of you
do - I have one. Which means that I have the privilege of going
back and reviewing the code to find out where and when I, or
someone whose code I copied, fucked up. Lovely. And there you
have it.

Men Get Confused

about this one a lot so I'm going to clear it up for you. Well, I'm go-
ing to clear it up for you as far as I am concerned. I can't speak for
other women.

One of my online guy friends who read my peep blog wrote and
asked me, "If the guy had stopped at his pickup and looked at the
view you were putting on display there in your short skirt would
you have been mad or thought he was harassing you?"

Noooooooooooo. Absolutely not. My entire point was that the guy
was within inches of me. He could have pushed me into my car, or
whatever. He had gone from looking to actually threatening - all
without saying anything. He had gotten so close to me that it was
no longer clear that his intentions were to merely look.

Also, in the US, we have what is known as the expectation of pri-
vacy.

Which he violated.

If you are wearing a mini-skirt, you expect that someone is going
to look at your legs. You expect that if you walked up the stairs in
front of them, it would be a really tricky maneuver. You don't ex-
pect to have to guard the area immediately underneath your skirt
lest some lunatic pretend to drop a key and stick his nose under it.
That, my friends, is your expectation of privacy.

AndyT13 Has Been Hiding This Guy

Uggh! I sincerely apologize to God and everyone for perving on
the minor in AndyT13's blog. I swear, your honor, I thought he
was at least 26.

Andy's blog

Oh yeah, my headache is BETTER! Long live relpax, dark
rooms and sleep.

It's Baaaaaaaack

My headache that is. Which brings me to my next point. I mean,
it doesn't really, but let's pretend, shall we?

Do you ever write a blog and then think to yourself... "Really, I
just cannot put that out there in its present form or maybe even
at all. Because its too stupid or (whispering) perhaps too violent
and you don't want the Secret Service to show up at your door.
Most especially not when you have a migraine. Because they
just NEVER have the good drugs. Or so I've heard.

Or anyway, do you ever just not put it out there because it just
sounds too... well, insane? Ok, I think we've ruled that one out
in my case. Not my insanity. Just that the thought that other
people would find out would ever keep me from posting some-
thing. I mean, you've read my blog. Obviously, it doesn't.

But anyway, do you? You know, hesitate...

So... It's Only Saturday Right?

I woke up with THE worst headache this morning but I took, you
know, some drugs, and it seems to be better now. Which reminds
me, I am almost out of said drugs. The good ones anyway. The
PAINKILLERS. And I can't reasonably expect to get more for a
couple of weeks. So I really DO need to find the prescription for
my non-narcotic fioricet. Which is what I was searching for when
I was oh so unceremoniously peeped yesterday in the parking lot.

Hey, maybe the guy was just upskirting me for some website. I
hadn't even THOUGHT about that option. You know, a little key-
chain minicam action? I could almost admire the balls that would
have taken if he hadn't come up with SUCH A STUPID EXCUSE.

So anyway, look for my ass in black panties in a black floral mini-
skirt bent over the passenger side of a lexus if you visit any up-
dated upskirt sites. Not that my ass hasn't been online before
right? Stupid guy, he should have just asked for the web address
to my blog.

For such a little town, my son and I have both been accosted in the
parking lots of the major supercenters here. Me at KMart (where
we don't shop). And him by some weirdo at WalMart, where we
get groceries all the time. Umm before you snicker, in small
southern towns, WalMart SuperCenters are the ONLY place you
can get a wide variety of fresh produce and meat items. And if you
have any penchant for ethnic cuisine and the fixings for such. Yep,
again, its WalMart. The weirdo at WalMart - and I won't even go
into the story, but lets just say that the sick fuck propositioned my
kid, who couldn't place him in a car, but did report it, wasn't caught.
No cops in the lot that time. Thankfully, my kid did all the right
things. But its scary. I'm so happy that he's, at this age, a big kid.
Geez, almost an adult now. Its so odd to say that. So truly odd.

Anyway, its Saturday, my headache is receeding and I really must
get some stuff done this time. This weekend I can't just let time
slip through the glass while I sit numbly by getting nothing done.
I really must do... SOMETHING constructive. Right?

Slutty Sydney Steals

This test from NicoleMart. Anyways, I didn't turn out to be as
slutty as I wanted. A few of the questions on the question tripped
me up. Apparently there are some things I won't do. 36% of
them in fact. Who knew?




How much of a slut are you?

I Couldn't Even Make It Up

Not if I tried. My life is so weird even I'm gettin' some popcorn
and a diet coke - caffeine free of course - to sit down and watch.

So after surviving the hands happy doctor who wanted to show
me in detail how they insert the IV in my artery, you know, in
my groin, "right here," he said, placing his hand on it. And then...
not removing said hand. "Then, he explained, "They shave you
here," he pressed down to emphasize his point. He went on to
explain that they would insert the cardiac catheter, blah blah blah
and then went on to say, "And then they'll need to apply pressure
for several minutes on your groin," and placed his other hand on
his first and pressed down again.

There was no nurse in the room. I was trying to decide whether
to call the medical board or just go ahead and have him get me
ALL the way off. Since he was fairly attractive and is apparently
one of the best surgeons around and I may need my valve re-
placed someday I decided on option three. Say nothing and let
him finish his umm... rather detailed hands on explanation.

So after that, I get my other weird test today. My boss is in a
bad mood and gets mad at me on the way out the door. That
always makes for a lovely weekend. So afer all of THAT, I'm on
my way home and I decide that I need to get a prescription filled.
Except that last time I called the pharmacy I didn't have refills al-
though I know perfectly well that I have three remaining.

I figured the bottle was on the passenger floorboard of my car.
You know, along with most of the rest of my life. So I pulled into
K-Mart towards the side end of the lot, away from the other ve-
hicles, got out and bent over the passenger side of my car with the
door open. At that time, there were no other cars around me. Did
I mention I was wearing a rather short skirt? Ok. I was. I think
that may possibly be germaine to the rest of what happened, al-
though I could be wrong.

So I'm looking for this bottle, which I can't seem to find, although I
do come up with some other stuff I'd lost and didn't even know I
was missing. Anyway, you know when you just have this quiet cer-
tain knowledge that someone is right behind you even though you
haven't seen them yet? That weird feeling?

Well here I am, bent over my seat, car door open, and I get that feel-
ing. I look down and I SWEAR TO GOD this guy about my age was
squatting on the ground RIGHT BEHIND ME LOOKING UP MY
SKIRT. A little to my rear right actually. But I do mean RIGHT
fucking behind me. Like less than a foot. So whirled around and
saw a car (a truck actually) that I took to be his but it was at least
four or five car spaces away from mine and there was nothing but
space between my car and his truck. Unfotunately, there was little
space between my ass and his nose. I loudly demanded, "What are
you doing!"

He quickly backed away from me, almost stuttering, and said,
"Nothing, I dropped my key." He was WAY bigger than me, by the
way, but the parking lot was crowded and he left and went into the
K-Mart. I didn't see a key, nor did I hear one drop. So... I was
faced with another one of those questions.

What to do? Well, it happened there was a cop right there in the
parking lot. I mean, its a huge parking lot but in the far corner it
just so happened that there had been a fender bender so there
was one out there handling he report. So I told him what happened
and I said look, I don't know WHAT he was doing exactly but can
you please just stop him and run him for priors.

I'd hate not to report it and then find out he's wanted for this type
of thing. You know, the key dropping dress peeping maneuver. Or
something worse. Because I can live with being peeped personally,
but I couldn't live with not reporting something if it turned out the
guy had hurt someone before or something. Turns out they were
more than happy to stop the guy. It can get boring being a cop
here ALTHOUGH a lot more goes on in a small town than people
would imagine. I say that having worked with social services in
a small town in Texas for a little while.

They stopped him on the way out. He explained that somehow his
key had rolled. That's right, rolled out of his hands and up under
my ass. From many feet away. And he was just kind of quietly
trying to retrieve it. And his jacket was clean. No priors. He had
been on his way to have his key copied at K-Mart and had taken it
off of his key ring and it had just taken on a life of its own. It was a
bad key incident. They happen. And he was so sorry he scared
me. Scared me? Hell, he's lucky I didn't have a gun in the car at
that moment sneaking up behind me like that. I mean, retrieving
his key. And there you have it.

I Think I am Home Free

Kinda. Ok, by that I mean that my test yesterday came out really
well. UBER well. Except that I was told that I can no longer have
caffeine. Yes, I am going to titrate off of that. Oh, and I have to
take some drugs to slow my heart rate down. That's right. More
drugs.

I still have a couple more heart related tests on Monday, but I
hope and think actually that they will come out well too. Ok, that
said... my brain is weird. But you knew that already. My eeg came
out bad. As in wrong. As in, 'you just ain't right." Something that
people here in my new state tell me ALL the ever lovin' time. So
my brain is abby normal. I just got the results.

Very nice. Ok, but you know, that can happen - I think. That these
things come out abnormal. Maybe. Except, oh yeah, I did have that
weird thing happen last week. The incident at work. Ok, well,
There IS that. And umm, all of my eeg's have been abnormal, this
one just happens to be you know, more abnormal. So, I get an MRI
too. Just in case I wasn't pissing my boss off ENOUGH with all of
the medical tests.

But anyway, I'm still not getting really worked up over this. I don't
know exactly why, but I guess I feel kind of more comfortable with
problems in my head - you know, where me and my migraines live,
than with problems in my heart. I'm USED to having headaches so
I guess a problem with my brain isn't quite as scary for me. Weird
huh? Go figure.

I See Men

a lot like hood ornaments. Every time I find one I wouldn't be
embarassed to put on my car, I can't keep him from falling off.






copywrighted by Syd

For The Adult Crowd

So Arthur, or Chief Blogster, never one to rest on his laurels, has
begun a new endeavor. This one is a little racier. A little edgier.
A little not for the 18 and under.

Per his request, its also not to go back to blogster, for any blog-
steridians reading this. He wants to give the new guys a fair
shake without any competition. Although really this is not at
all the same thing.

Ever the entrepeneur, the Chief has come up with a new idea.
Adult Blogster
It's a link site for adult blogs. Its still in its formulative stage,
but... There you have it. Adult eye candy. Or at least, links to
such.

So What Day Is It?

The 24th? The 25th? I can't wait and entire two weeks to do
housework because the house is pretty bad. Plus, we need
clothing. Although... if I showed up to work naked I just might
be able to sell more chicken.

But seriously, as soon as Dylan wakes up, I will give him some
time, like the little vampire offspring that he is, to get used to
the fact that it is daylight outside, and THEN we are cleaning
the house. Because a lot of my tests do not occur for two weeks
and the house simply CANNOT wait until then.

To his benefit, he did do two loads of dishes in the dishwasher
yesterday. And I am going to live up to my taco promise. He
LOVES tacos. I'll bet I could feed him tacos every day and he'd
still love them. And by this I do not mean the crunchy taco shells
you buy at the store. He likes corn tortillas deep fried and folded
over at home. His preference is for me to throw some chorizo in
with the hamburger meat, but Dorothy, we're not in Kansas err...
Texas anymore. We're in Alabama. Hard to find chorizo here.

His grandmother from Texas has a cool way you can convert ham-
burger meat to chorizo. I need to call and get it from her. If I do,
I'll post it in case anyone else wants to try it.

The funniest thing about this post? I hardly ever cook. But hey,
we are poor lately. So I'm going to be doing a LOT more of it!

A Tale of Two Blogs

So... I originally came here because I was having some you know,
issues, back at home on the range on my original blog:

Blah Blah Blog... by again... ObliqueOne

I wasn't feeling creative the day I started it, hence the title. Ok,
so I was feeling really uncreative. What about it? Anyway, so I
left. You know, stopped writing there. Came to blogspot. Started
a blog. I like it here. Not only are there lots of cool blogs out here
but I can - well if I was creative I could - futz about with my own
html here. And blogspot uses the standard blogging format. Un-
fortunately, blogster doesn't.

Last week, things were resolved at blogster, at least in terms of
my issues there. But I found that I couldn't and didn't want to
give this blog up. Nice people and the ability to more or less do
my own thing here reeled me in. So since then, I've been here.
And there. But I will not be leaving here. So I'll do both. Which
is fine. I have more blathering to do than is possibly fair to ex-
pect any one group of people to read.

So anyway, blogster was purchased on ebay initially and was
grown into a community of bloggers. By Arthur, affectionately
(most of the time) known as the Chief Blogster. We were a dif-
ficult group to keep in line I'm sure.

Two or three days ago, Arthur sold Blogster. For an undisclosed
amount. Its not, by the way, his only gig. Never was. But con-
gratulations and I'll miss you, Arthur. You know. In a weird sort
of way ;)

ChiefBlogster

p.s. You guys here may wonder - why is she telling US about this?
Well duh! I have to talk about it somewhere, and I can't tell the
folks at blogster because... they ALREADY KNOW. And there
you have it.

The Funniest Thing

that happened today is my doc said, so during that TIA yesteday-
Look, I said, we don't KNOW that it WAS a TIA. That remains a
hypothetical diagnoses. As I was saying, he went on, when the un-
KNOWN EVENT occurred yesterday, did you think to take your
pulse?

Are you fucking nuts? I said. The "event" that occurred yester-
day where my entire world narrowed to a pinpoint of light? The
one where I was fairly certain was going to die, silently and alone
in the front of my office? No, I did not think to take my pulse. I
thought about how fast I could have gone through all the life in-
surance at my son's age. I thought about what dorky dress my
mom would probably put me in for the funeral. But no, I did not
think to take my pulse. And there you have it. Again.

It Would Seem That

My health isnt all that good of late. It would seem actually that my
health falls into the category offically called, "kinda sucky." So yes-
terday I had some kind of weird head thing where I almost passed
out. It may or may not have something to do with my heart, which
was making very rude noises this morning and not acting at all so-
cial.

Since I'm fairly certain I had a T.I.A. yesterday, I got scared. I had
a little miniature nervous breakdown. So I called my mom. And
cried. You know, briefly. Then I pulled it together and called my
doctor.

And then began the adventure that is the normal trip to my doc's
office. Please try to remember - it's free. My doctor says, I really
want you in here. But its Saturday. Your heart, he says, doesn't
care what day it is. Hell of a good point he's got there. And be-
sides, wasn't that me crying on the phone, first to my mom, and
then, a little calmer, talking to my friend Cindy? Yes. Yes, in fact
that was me. So... I drive to my doc's office in a nearby town. He
has his builder and painter there (they recently moved offices and
are still doing the buildout while seeing patients). Of course, he's
not open today, just there.

His son calls. Oh he says, you'll have to ride with me to (insert the
name of another small town in Alabama here) to take the boys to
their friends. No problem, I said, we can talk on the way. So I ex-
plain what's happened and he, unhappily, agrees I've very pro-
bably had one in a series of T.I.A.'s - his son regales us with a story
written by his brother wherein the entire town is overcome by a
giant fart and then explodes in cloud of methane and FEMA is un-
able to handle the aftermath. The doctor is embarrassed. About
me hearing about the giant fart I mean. I find the story actually
quite well-written and timely. And amusing. As fart humor goes.

So we go back to the office where I am examined. My mitral valve
is loudly announcing HA HA, I don't close all the way, HA HA! But
lots and lots of people have that I said. Not like this, he said. Oh.
And it appears there is some damage that has occurred to my
heart. But HEY, just a very small area. And my carotid arteries
sound funny. Right. Ok. Well... lovely then.

Did I ever tell you that NOBODY in my family EVER gets cancer?
I said. He was not amused. I said, Umm... my mom wants you to
call her. (He hates that shit) He said, Tell her that this is probably
not going to be fatal. I said what do you mean probably. He said,
I mean we can probably fix whats wrong with your heart. Ok... I
said, and again - by fix - what are you thinking. Oh, he said you
very probably need a pacemaker. And someday, you will have to
have that valve replaced, but the cardiologist will tell us if we can
wait a few years.

So I call back on Monday to find out when I come back for a sleep
study, and EEG (those two on account of the TIA thingie), a car-
diac cath, you need your carotids dopplered and... we've already
set you up for an echo and a stress test. Between now and then
don't do anything strenuous, don't have sex (like that was gonna
happen) and - and here he said the thing that freaked me out.
Because this is a guy who in the past has told me that clear liquids
could include vodka. But he said, and I would invite you back to
my house for a beer but I don't want you to have ANYTHING at
all to drink until we're clear of these tests.

Ok, now? NOW I am scared.

This type of thing

May begin to sound oddly familiar to some of you. Here's the deal.
I couldn't find my keys yesterday morning before work. Not any-
where. Now, the previous evening I had gone to bed, although not
necessarily to sleep, at 6pm. Yes. Again. My son had come up-
stairs and needed to used my debit card. I said, yeah sure - oh,
and be sure to get us some drinks too ok? (You know, diet coke
and the like. He's too young to send out for vodka.)

I heard him dump my purse out on the floor in the living room.
Through the haze that was my half sleep, I inwardly cringed, but
then thought, oh well, what the fuck. Ok - a brief side story. I'd
had a bad EKG earlier that day, and I've been having some in-
creasingly annoying heart symptoms. Shortness of breath upon
exertion that isn't even laughingly called exertion (like - rolling
over in bed for instance, or say - taking a shower), ultra fast heart
beat, that sort of thing. Oh yeah, and some chest pain. But really
the other symptons bothered me more. And the fatigue of course.
So anyway, I've always had some slight cardiac issues, but they
had seemed to be resolving until very recently. Now, they aren't
and I've had a worse than usual EKG. And I was really tired. So
back to my story.

I hear all the stuff spill out. I think to myself, Gee, I hope he's put-
ting all of that stuff back. Oh well. Then at some point, I go to
sleep. Fast forward to yesterday morning. I wake up. Dylan is at
school. I can't find my keys. Anywhere. Or my bankcard, which
he took with him the night before. I'm going to be late to work. I
am assuming my son has my card and also may have moved my
keys as he had my purse the night before. I call his school and de-
mand he be sent home. Hey, I have to go to work, ya know?

So on his way home, he decides, I DON'T KNOW WHY, to stop by
the Piggly Wiggly to get the drinks that he apparently forgot to
purchase the night before. He apparently is afraid I'll be mad that
he forgot so he takes this precious time that I am already late for
work to do this. He gets home. In the meantime, I have (oops)
found my keys. However, I still need my bankcard.

He walks in with the drinks, a look of panic on his face. He CAN'T
FIND HIS BILLFOLD. Wait. The one you just had at the store?
The one with my bankcard in it? And by the way, why the hell
did you GO to the store NOW anyway? Uggh! He runs back
down to the store. His billfold is not there but the truck that was
parked next to his car is gone. Lovely. I cancel my bankcard. I
have no less than eight items per month that come out directly
from my account. I now have to contact each of these places with
the new # the bank gave me. I go to work. He goes to school.

Last night when I got home my son said... You didn't call the cops
yet did you? No, I said. Why?

Oh. I found my billfold in the bushes next to our house. You know,
right next to where I park the car. It must have fallen out of my
pocket... I love you mom.

Having Not Slept

More than two hours night before last - you know, being worried
that Dylan wouldn't wake up in time to make it to the bus barn to
get his hatbox - I went to bed at 6:30 or so last night. Couldn't
sleep. Took a half an ambien. Couldn't sleep. Took a whole am-
bien. Couldn't sleep. Talked to friends. Finally fell asleep.

Was awakened by my friend's son. He's about my age. He weighs,
at last count, somewhere in the neighborhoood of 300 lbs and is a
policeman at a very very very small neighboring city. That is to
say, town. That is to say, a town EVEN SMALLER THAN OURS.
(A town even smaller than our is a very small town indeed.)
Because he has washed out of both the police department and sher-
riff's department here. First a shooting at the police department, of
suspicious circumstances.

Although, my friend does not think so, and I do not comment in
front of her out of respect. (Really, Ranger Tom, THIS ONE WAS A
BAD SHOOTING and they fired the right officer, HIM. My friend's
son.) So anyway, the other thing is. He has five kids. He pays child
support for two, the other three, from his first marriage, he left his
parents to raise for most of their lives while both he and his first
wife went their separate ways, lived elsewhere, and did not offer
financial support. So anyway, I don't have a huge amount of respect
for the guy. Now his mother, the one who raised his first three kids,
is a good friend of mine.

We have had a couple of words about how I feel she doesn't take
good enough care of herself, trying to care for three grandchildren
with her husband, on their limited income without the financial or
physical support of either parent. I worry about her, because both
she and her husband have health problems. I do have to say, her
grandkids WERE better off with her. Apparently, her son has
recently moved back in with her. Good. He can help with the kids.
You know. His kids. So anyway, he called and woke me up at 8:30,
(not really his fault as it is considered polite to call anyone after
10am and before 10pm unless expressly asked not to do so, or un-
less a restraining order is in place) and I answered, drugged on
ambien, and our conversation went as follows:

Hi, Sydney - I'm trying to set up a wireless internet for my mom
I didn't wake you did I? You sound a little weird?

Me? Oh - no, I umm, no, it couldn't be, it was just umm, just a min-
ute. A wireless system? At your mom's? Walmart? No no, not
$200.

Yeah, he said I needed three different pieces of equipment but I'm
just trying to hook up these two computers and I...

(Never one to let ANYONE complete an entire sentence awake
or asleep you ARE going to notice me interject a lot. It's one of my
tackier character flaws - you'd think I'd grown up in New York or
something, and by that I do mean the city, not the state - particu-
larly the upper portion of the state where people are oh so gen-
teel.) Listen, you don't need three pieces of equipment, to buy I
mean. All you need to buy are a wireless router and a card for the
computer that is away from the cable modem, you know, the one
upstairs.

I'm sorry? Our cable modem IS upstairs! The computer that's a-
way from it is downstairs!

(Of course, how silly of me to forget that everyone's house isn't
wired just like mine) Right. Of course, but anyway, same thing.
Just the other way around. Anyway, you just need those two
pieces of equipment. Be sure the wireless router has room for
a hard line to go to the one computer that's right next to your
cable modem.

But what about the hub that charter gave us?

Charter gave you a hub? Really? In addition to your modem?
(For a moment was thinking - even through the ambien - that all of
the planets had come un-aligned and charter was not a "for profit"
company after all. The world as I knew it threatened to teeter on a
precipice. See, Charter would NEVER GIVE you a HUB. They don't
like to even think about you USING a hub. If you happen to MEN-
TION that you are using a hub when you are talking to them, they
close their eyes and think about baseball. In their minds every
customer hooks up with one computer and buys a new connection
for each new computer. That's how they make money. Now the
guys that come out to your house to hook you up? They know you
use a router to hook up all of your computers. But then, they don't
really care. They don't really work for Charter. They're con-
tracted employees.)

Oh. No, I guess its a modem after all.

Ok... Well, you are GOING TO NEED THAT. Its what brings the
internet into your computers. From there, the line goes into the
wireless router, then, one line goes into the one computer and the
computer on the other floor receives the connection in a wireless
manner. Got it?

But... There is only space for that cable cord going into the cable
modem, not coming out of it.

Umm... Lets go over this again because I think I probably havent
been communicating very well... (ambien) The cable cord comes
out of the wall. It goes into the cable modem charter gave you.
You take the computer cord, not a cable line, from the cable modem
to the wireless router. From there, you will run another computer
line from the wireless router to the computer nearest the cable
modem. On the computer downstairs, you will install the wireless
card, or plug a receiver into the usb port dependent upon what
type you buy, and... voila! You're hooked up!

Ok, well, how much do those components cost.

(What am I now, mysimon?) I don't know, probably around 70
bucks for the wireless router and 30 or so for the card if you buy
the kind you install in the desktop and 5o bucks or more if you buy
the external type that you plug into the USB port. If you wait and
go to radio shack you might get a better price although the super
walmart did have several brands last time I looked.

And you're sure I only need those two parts cuz the guy at Wal-
Mart said I needed three.

Ok well, you have to decide whether you trust me, or some guy
working at walmart who hasn't already fixed your mom's compu-
ter 5000 times.

Oh, yeah... true. Well, thanks.

No probem, night.

Saving UP

So I saved up everything I needed to do this weekend for today.
Then my son Dylan popped himself in the eye (umm, not really in
the eye - that would have been way bad - but near the eye) with
a power cord and cut his cheek open and we just got back from
the ER. Him with stitches. Err... stitch. Or two. And they said,
you can come back to get it taken out in five days or so. Right.
We'll be doing THAT little operation at home.

So anyway... Now I have to finish cleaning the house, do a project
for work, write a legal letter for my sister, do laundry, and any
number of other things TONIGHT. Why? Because I did what I
always do. Saved up. But not in the good way implying that I
somehow multiplied my funds or something of that nature. No,
I procrastinated. Saved up my misery. That's right. Saved up.

Getting "Uber" It

I umm... didn't know what the word "Uber" meant. By that, I
mean that I didn't know what the word uber meant until yester-
day. Now, obviously I wasn't eaten up with curiousity about this.
The meaning of the word "Uber." Else I would have looked it up.
I had some vague idea that it had something to do with sex. Why?
Because until proven differently, I hope that everything has some-
thing to do with sex.

Below is a long meandering and ultimately pointless story about
how I came to understand the meaning of the word uber. That
was my disclaimer. Don't say I didn't forewarn you. I have ADD.
Which means that my brain is animation incarnate from the mom-
ent I wake up until the moment my head hits the pillow at night.
I mean until the moment I fall asleep at night. Umm, come to think
of it, gee whiz, that just might be one of the reasons WHY I have
difficulty falling asleep at night.

Now my son, he has ADHD. That is to say, his body FOLLOWS
his brain into all of that activity. My body is much lazier than his.
We both take adderall 30 mg XR, a handy little medication, to slow
everything down enough so that we can attempt to do ten things at
once instead of a hundred (Tom Cruise be damned), and there you
have it.

So... All of that said, back to the "Uber" thing.

I was watching tv out of the corner of my eye whilst on the compu-
ter and I saw the promo for some new reality show where people
submit their inventions and the show actually produces, tests and
then markets the product. Immediately, I thought of some pro-
ducts I'd test if I had an opportunity like that including one I'd call
the "Uber Pond" - a little ready made landscape pond since people
seem to be so fond of water features these days.

And so this is how my brain works. Brain - huh. You better make
sure Uber doesn't have anything to do with sex. Then you'd be mar-
keting a sex pond (ok - remember this is already ridiculous because
I'M NOT MARKETING ANYTHING). So I look it up online. Uber
means "over" in German. In usage its used to mean something is
super or ultra, as in, "Dude, those jalapenos are uber hot!" or...

"Paris Hilton is an uber skank." or...

"Uber Ponds are uber stupid."

Customer of The Year

I have one customer to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude. I
had a broker basically stick us with 29 loads of chicken earlier
this year. It was supposed to have been sold to a large corpora-
tion whose name I will not mention in this post. He gave us his
word on it. And since my boss knew him and had worked with
him before, we bought the inventory based on that. Well... I'm
sure you can see what's coming here. He didn't really have the
deal sewn up. And when it fell through he kind of shrugged and
said, "Wow, I'm really sorry guys."

Enter the customer of the year. Since we are wholesalers, we
sell to a lot of distributors. This customer, who was actually my
very first customer when I got into this business (and he taught
me much of what I know about poultry and deli meats), pitched
in immediately to try to help me move the loads. Now under-
stand that 29 loads of chicken means 29 x 40,000 lbs. Or, in lay-
man's terms, a lot of mother fucking chicken.

So COTY has sold a few loads a month for me every month. As
the chicken market began to dive I have not made money on all
of them, but the most important thing is that I have lost MUCH
LESS than I would have without him as I would not have been
able to move many of the loads. (The company that manufactures
the product and I are in he same market so its difficult to find
customers to whom they aren't already selling, and since they are
the manufacturer they can always beat my price.)

Anyway, thanks to COTY I am down to 5 loads of that product now
and he hopes to have them moved Monday. But in addition to that,
he just called me today. On Saturday. ON SATURDAY! To let me
know that he is in the process of making a deal on the only other
load I need to move so that I can get it out of the way and not lose
money on it. What a great guy!*

*Just as a general FYI, the hurricane took the market up for a
very short time, but it is now falling and is expected to return to
something closely approximating pre-hurricane levels very soon.