A few words of advice

Tim McGraw - you are lovely to look at, and typically don't intrude on my world. I don't care how much money Monday Night Football is paying you - if I hear that godforsaken "I Like It, I Love It" song one more time, someone's getting hurt. It's Wednesday, and still it haunts me.

Joss Stone - put some shoes on your giant hippy feet. I am not playing with you.

Whole Foods shoppers - other people really do exist. I can't expect you to change your behavior based upon that information, but I felt it necessary to share.

Barbara Walters - you and I have very different views on what makes a person "fascinating".

Opposing party in collection case - it was not necessary to prove to me that you had recently undergone surgery. I took your word for it prior to you pulling your shirt up to show me a fresh, oozing wound. By the way, Neosporin is available over the counter. Look into it.

Court-appointed client - I respectfully suggest you and your wife take a break from one another. She shouldn't have stabbed you in the neck, even if it was out of love.

Is now the time I start missing my job?

White Ladies Gone Wild

I went to see the 1,078th version of "Pride & Prejudice" this weekend. Of course I did. When I saw the preview a few months ago, I was all scorn, saying, "Ha! I will not be seeing that! Enough already with the P&P - Colin Firth owns that shizzle!"

Yesterday, me, a Diet Coke, and a popcorn were parked in a packed theater in the middle of the afternoon. I have no adequate explanation for what ensued. Perhaps people had been trapped in their homes with troublesome relatives too many days in a row, perhaps they were grateful to have escaped Wal-Mart without being trampled, or maybe, just maybe, white ladies go crazy for Jane Austen.

Darcy: I dare say I know only five or six young ladies who I may call truly accomplished.
Elizabeth: Your definition comprehends so much that I wonder you know any.
Audience: WOOOOO!

Jane: Has this altered your opinion of Wickham?
Elizabeth: My opinion is so altered, I can scarce recall the basis of my esteem.
Audience: OH NO SHE DI'N'T!!!

It was actually pretty hilarious, if incredibly bizarre. I felt like I was back in East Cleveland, where the audience treated moviegoing as an interactive experience. The thing is, I can see it in some kinds of movies. In a horror flick, the director wants you to be thinking, "Don't go in the basement!!!" Whether you choose to share that sentiment aloud is a judgment call. But Jane Austen? Really?

Seriously, you guys

I am the reason remote controls were invented for the television. I am the reason the scan button is on the car radio. I am capable of flipping back and forth between five programs at a time, sort of vaguely watching all of them enough to pick up the highlights.

All this by way of saying that when I tell you I watched a show on CMT about the selection of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleading squad, I could not have known how great it would be. I was just doing my usual 30 channels in 30 seconds routine, when I was stopped dead by a stack of blond hair and a Botoxed forehead crying and declaring, "Ah believe God put this in mah heart." Of course I stopped. Here was an alien race of women, some of whom sincerely believed that the Lord Almighty told them to become Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders. Think about that for a moment.

Are you done? Okay, I'll wait.

The program was spectacular. From the open auditions (including some unfortunate souls who must have wandered in from the free clinic) to the sisterhood-building retreat to the director of the squad asking a girl to name one current event and being met with a completely blank stare, it is delicious. Not for nothing, but we are currently involved in a war event, so the absolute look of terror the question inspired was especially priceless. No one is asking these gals for their opinions on regulation of the pharmaceutical industry or the Supreme Court vacancies. Name any current event. Anything at all. That is a event. Occuring at this time. No? All righty.

The director lady is made of evil, which makes her even more wonderful. She tells the "fat girls" who have any evidence on their bodies that they've ever eaten, to lose weight immediately - she doesn't care how. She cuts girls from the team with mechanical precision, and is either totally unmoved by any display of emotion from the girls, or her dermatologist has made sure that her face is no longer capable of such displays.

I give this program four pom-poms out of five. It did lose one pom-pom because this should have been a full reality series in the grand tradition of America's Next Top Model. I want a full season of bulimia, sucking up to the judges, and terrible dancing. I want to learn what possible motivation some of the people at the open audition had for being there. Was it on a dare? Was it they mama's dying wish? Was God involved? So many questions...

Supernatural

I've realized how my house will sell. I'm including in the purchase price all of the appliances, including the washer and dryer. Make that the magical dryer.

Last night I was washing my bathmat (still trying to keep the place magazine-clean), and threw it into the dryer alone. When it buzzed at me and I went to retrieve it, I found a sock in the dryer with the bathmat. That's right. Apparently my dryer got tired of the hacky Catskills comedians and has begun spontaneously generating socks.

Forget selling it, I'm going to charge tourists $5 a pop to view the Amazing Dryer of Mystery.

Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend

I'm here at work on a Saturday because strangers are in my house, and rather than do anything useful or productive like get my oil changed or go grocery shopping or god-forbid - work, I'm screwing around on the internet.

It's already been a busy day, and if not for the showings, I'd probably be taking a delicious and well-deserved nap. I hauled Loki to the vet this morning for his annual checkup, and he was predictably unamused. The vet found a weird cut on his belly that probably resulted from fighting with Luisa. I would feel sorry for him, but he completely provokes her, by doing things like hiding behind doors and pouncing on her when she comes trotting into the room.

Otherwise, it's been a quiet week, as I begin the process of wrapping up my files at work. I'm finding it extremely difficult to motivate myself to do what needs to be done. It really is almost over, although it's hard to remember that when you're trying to force yourself to get out of bed in the morning. If only I could sell my house, I would finally be able to relax.

This was a boring post, but I feel quite boring today. Better luck next time.

Cats for sale!

I think the cats sense that something is up, what with all the cleaning and people in and out and clearing out closets and such. They have responded by increasing their clinginess and ramping up the level of destruction and mayhem.

Every day I come home and at least one closet has been opened, and the contents thrown from the shelves. The box spring has been ripped open and used as an emergency hiding place. The couch has been ripped open from underneath. I no longer smoke in the apartment, so I sit outside like a refugee while two sets of eyes glare at me from the windows. They must have overheard my conversations that I don't know what I'm going to do with them, because the resentment is clear.

I think they are sabotaging me in the hopes that the apartment will never sell. It's entirely possible that they'll get their wish, of course. I know it's only been a week or so, but I really want a contract to be signed so that I know what I'm working with timewise. Blargh.

19 years of education, and "blargh" is really all I've got. If the foregoing paragraphs make you desperate to "live the dream" and adopt one of my cats, please do not hesitate to contact me. Free to good home...free to home...free? Anyone? Bueller?

Nancy Drew

Today, Nancy explores the Mystery of the Tummy Troubles. On Friday morning, Ms. X awoke with a strange feeling in her tummy - almost as though someone had stopped stabbing her. Over the next four days, her shoulders went down about three inches as the knot between her shoulders relaxed, and the strange non-stabby feeling increased. Last night, Ms. X returned to the airport, and to the stabbiness. By the end of the day today, her back was so sore she could barely sit up straight. What oh what could be the cause? Even for Nancy Drew, this mystery sure is extra crazy super mysterious! Join her as she searches for clues and tries to piece this puzzling puzzle together until her puzzler is sore!

Spoiled Brat

The worst part about the "virtual tour" of my apartment (aside from sitting with the ladies at work yelling out, "I sleep there! That's my bed!" like a moron) is that the pictures were taken the day before the cleaning lady came. I want a do-over.

I was on my way home from work yesterday evening, and as I pulled up to the house, I saw that the cleaning person was still there. So I kept driving. Apparently, I'm okay with being a disgusting pig who won't clean my own home, but I don't want to look someone in the eye while they are cleaning my tub. I'm not sure what I thought I was accomplishing by running away - maybe she wouldn't realize that an able-bodied adult lived there?

As always, I may be overthinking this.

I am having a hard time adjusting to my house being in the public domain. Yesterday was the first showing, and I felt weirdly protective of my little home. I've been there three years, and I don't like the idea of strangers marching through all, "I could never live here!" I need to settle down - there's a long road ahead of me...

Creeeeepy!

This is freaking me out.

Edited to add: the link didn't work right, but the site has my house, including pictures and a virtual tour. If you put in my street and city, you'll see my little apartment for sale.