The Human Garbage Disposal...

At this rate, with the way I've been eating lately, this cat and I will soon have waaaaaay too much in common (although I prefer to think of myself as more of a calico rather than just a plain ol' "yella" cat):

Spam-a-Lot

Oh yeah, we all get it -- unsolicited messages about prescription medications, septic tanks (still one I don't understand b/c, is there that large of a demand for this?), penis enlargement options (they still haven't figured out that I would have no use for this being that I AM FEMALE and do not have possession of a penis), herbal dietary & energy supplements (are they trying to tell me something?), home mortgage rates, etc. That's right -- SPAM. And let's face it: who can help but love any terminology that was derived from a "Monty Python" skit, right!? "Spam, spam, spam..." [Which, by the way, I must proudly add that I correctly answered this as a "Final Jeopardy!" question to beat out our resident workplace "Jeopardy!" fanatic and MENSA member... hee, hee...]

But now, dear reader, I have started receiving spam e-mails about BEER. I was very impressed because, HOW DID THEY KNOW???? I mean, I have no need for car/health insurance quotes, Viagra, Cialis, diet pills (yeah, let's not even go there), refinancing, etc., but BEER? Oh my, yes, please...

Fun in the Sun with the Bitches...

Please note that a photo in the post titled "The 'F' Word" dated Friday, August 12, 2005, has been amended due to threat of legal action from unauthorized use of a friend's face. So, Steph, no need to sue me... ;-)

Back from the beach -- had a *blast* and realized we're getting older and older! By that I mean that we kept the condo cleaner, there were fewer smokers in the group, no drunk incidences to speak of, an attendee who is preggers, one who had to miss her little girl's first encounter w/ sand to take the time to be with us for a day, WAY too much discussion of physical ailments (colonoscopy, anyone?), and no late nights out (we were home by midnight -- BOO on us!)... But that wasn't the point of the trip anyway, now was it? The point was to visit with old pals and to catch up on things (I have since found out that said friends have been frequenting this blog unbeknownst to me, bless their hearts -- but no fear, gals, no bathing suit/tankini photos will be posted...)

It's so funny how you can get together with old friends, even if it's been ages since you last saw each other, yet it feels like you were hardly ever apart... The group dynamics are still the same, everyone's little quirks come out again, and we fall right back into our old routines together -- I love it! It's somewhat comforting to know that we're all still the same silly 18-year old girls who met (gasp!) 10 freaking years ago!!!!!!!! Oh my...

Needless to say, the weekend was a smashing success -- it was soooooo good to catch up with these gals.... And millions of thanks to Ash for letting us bunk in her condo!!!! Oh, and go ahead and mark your calendars now, girls, because next year, we're Vegas-bound!!!! (Perhaps Katie can find some parties for us to "hit" & "86" if necessary -- hee, hee...) And have I told you lately that I love you bitches!!!!????

Could it be possible?

Even though the trip was planned months in advance, it looks as though I am actually going to be able to make a trip to the beach with -- dare I say it? -- no chance of a fucking hurricane taking us out while we're there!!! I probably just jinxed that, huh? Something is bound to happen now. Monsoon? Tsunami? Earthquake? I know, I know, my positive outlook is almost too much to take, isn't it? I guess if I didn't drink so much, maybe the damn glass would be half-full more often. ;-)

{on a side note, and I love side notes, I'm trying to do better about using the versatile and oh-so-eloquent word "fuck" and all of its various forms. Prognosis: not good.}

Who, me?

The "F" Word.

Get your mind out of the gutter (you know who you are), I was referring to the word "Friday"... which it finally is, thank the good sweet Lord!!!

And to clarify after my last post -- lest all of my "loyal readers" (bless your hearts, you poor, sweet souls) think that I really am as ego-centric and selfish as it might appear... The truth is, I'm really not THAT bad. Yeah, it's about me (hee, hee!), but it's also all about my girls, Dixie Lou (pictured here since I realized I have not given her the credit she's due, blog-wise, for living with me for 7 years!) and Mattie (see "The Great Burger Face-Off" post)...among other things, of course, but do you really want me to bore you with more specifics or pet pictures?

But enough about that. Because where will I be next week? THE BEACH. Not at my own condo, which is still under repairs from Hurricane Ivan (I'll spare you the choice words I have to describe that situation), but at the beach nonetheless (thank you, Reed -- you're the best!)... Ever since college, a group of my friends have tried to keep up an annual "Bitch Beach Bash" weekend every summer, which gets harder & harder to do as time goes on & our lives diverge more & more... In fact, not everyone will be making it this year, but we're still doing pretty good! The picture is from "BBB 2002", which now seems like AGES ago! I'm not too sure about this whole "getting old" thing... Perhaps I should have just called it a day when I turned 21.

It's All About Me.

Fitting picture, eh? Actually, it's sort of a family joke, but the shirt is just icing on the cake. Because let's face it, after all, it IS all about me, right? [wink, wink]

Bat-Shitting, and Other Hobbies...

Since it's quite clear that I've got nothing of interest to post, I'm going to post one of my new favourite findings (note the sophisticated British spelling -- I'm so chic & cosmopolitan, I shit Prada). It is because of this that I almost changed my screen name to "Bat-Shitter", but since I'm not exactly what you would call "so goth", I guess I can't claim it as my own. I will just remain *The Queen*. Feel free to insert any noun you like after that (i.e. -- The Queen Bitch, The Queen Wench, The Queen Bee, etc.).

By the way, is it me, or does the guy in the picture look a lot like Jack White from the White Stripes? Oh, and I'm loving the tattered arm-hosiery -- it really matches the sterling lunch pail nicely to make a killer ensemble... Rock on!

My Day. In a Nutshell.

If anyone knows where I can purchase one of these stamps, I'm in desperate need of it. Immediately. If not sooner.

The Great Burger Face-Off

Above you will see a picture of my silly dog having a stand-off/duel with her beloved (& bedraggled) "burger". And sometimes, I must admit, the burger wins. You gotta love Mattie, though -- she may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but darnit, she's the cutest little thing ever (although she turns into a total slut anytime a male -- and I don't just mean a male dog -- is around... little skank)!!!

Some people post pictures of their kids, I post pictures of my pets. (Given, I don't have kids -- but I if I did, I would probably post a few more of the kid(s) and just a few less of the animals -- hee, hee...)

And for those of you who were on the edge of your seats as to who won the bitch dog-burger standoff, we'll just call it a draw. Mattie gave up in favor of air-conditioning. Ahhhh, just like her mama...

Sunday, Bubbly Sunday...

Today was a good day to just relax, do nothing, and "decompose" (any 'Seinfeld' fans out there? Anyone?), which is exactly what I did. The first thing I did when I got up this morning was to take a nice, long jacuzzi bubble bath -- and realized that I don't use that jacuzzi tub nearly often enough! I'd forgotten how relaxing it is... As an added bonus, I have a flat-screen tv on the wall facing the tub, so it's perfect... Between the tv, the bubbles that tried to rise up and overtake the entire bathroom once the jets got started, and my beloved Star magazine, I was in heaven... :)

I've also found a little time to find some places to put a smidgen of all of my SHIT that has accumulated over the past few years, and which followed me when I moved from one house to the other! And I think that just maybe, some new old shit tagged along with it. I have an entire bedroom that is the result of the "just-set-it-down-there-and-I'll-unpack-it-later" rhetoric (and now it's spilling over into half of the 3rd bedroom -- pitiful)... My poor garage looks like the equivalent of a Salvation Army drop-off depot. I would take a digital picture, post it, and prove my point, but every happy homemaker has her dignity, and even I have better things to do...

But back to the whole packrat syndrome... I'm [slowly] doing better, throwing more things away, sorting through and packing up old clothes, trying to resist buying crap I do not need nor will I use, basically just trying to get my stuff back into my ship-shape organized mess... just the way I like it!!!

cramps = contagious?

A girl who works with me just went home because of menstrual cRaMpS, so she left early to go ovulate in pain alone at home. And that has led me to wonder something: Is it possible to get "ghost cramps" because someone around you won't quit talking about theirs? A psychosomatic side-effect perhaps? I mean, seriously. Because those lemon poppyseed muffins are looking damn good right now, and my ovaries are tricking me into thinking that they hurt. Something to ponder...

Update: I bought 2 poppyseed muffins on the way home and devoured them. Yum.

Hyde-ing Out.

I love that picture. I really, really love that picture. And I was fortunate enough to be in London's Hyde Park to take it (albeit, several years ago)... I've been receiving e-mails from my friend who was blowing through London on his way to Prague (which sparked a pea-green feeling of envy to take over!), and was thus inspired to include it in a post here. And to think, y'all probably thought I didn't have any pictures from my European Tour that didn't involve general debauchery and drunkenness -- tsk, tsk...

Guilty Pleasures (shamelessly admitted).

I was in the doctor's office today & was resigned to reading such "domestic" publications as "Ladies Home Journal" & "Redbook", & if I really wanted to know how to make sex go faster & make the man finish quicker (I'm sorry, what? This is a problem?)... well, let's just say that now I am more educated on the subject that I ever cared to be. Suffice to say, in a polling of men actually willing to speak with "LHJ" about this, one cited Astroglide as a big help in speeding things along. Shocker. They're really churning out some quality journalism for the modern woman -- from quiche recipes to windowsill herb gardens to personal lubricants...

Okay, back to the subject, which coincidentally, has nothing to do with sex. While reading one of the above-mentioned magazines (I think it was the Christmas '04 issue -- you know, real current), I came across the book reviews, & one in particular piqued my interest: "The Encyclopedia Of Guilty Pleasures: 1,001 Thing You Hate To Love", which listed things like the Bee Gees, Rice-a-Roni (I challenge anyone to make a meaner Broccoli Au Gratin rice dish than the San Francisco treat!), Hee-Haw, Vanilla Ice, etc... classics! (also recommended summer reading from Prof. Kelly is "Be Safe!: Simple Strategies For Death-Free Living"... I have not read it, but it's hard to beat the term "death-free" -- quite clever indeed...)

So, I thought why not humiliate myself here online in front of all of you nice folks & list some of my very own "guilty pleasures"? I have no shame, and it cures my boredom for the time being. Try it -- it's quite a revealing little activity & really does a number for the self-respect... :)

My Very Incomplete List o' Guilty pLeAsUrEs: [including, but not limited to, and in no particular order] "Saved By the Bell" reruns, celebrity gossip rags (US Weekly, Star, InTouch, et. al.), proofreading, Oompa-Loompas, those damn Olsen twins (post-"Full House"), "Blind Date", Air Supply, Boone's Strawberry Hill & Andre' champagne, Trivial Pursuit, National Lampoon's Vacation movie series (yes, even "Vegas Vacation"), Waffle House, IHOP's chocolate chip pancakes, news & comedy on XM Radio, nature documentaries, Will Ferrell movies, Fox News, "Brat Pack" movies, unlimited salad & breadsticks @ the Olive Garden, watching "A Christmas Story" at least twice during its 24 hrs. of continuous play each year (TBS, you rock), "The Golden Girls", Archie Bunker & "All in the Family", the George Foreman Grill, Lucky Dogs (a New Orleans must -- disgustingly delicious!), sunflower seeds, my family's annual Tacky Christmas Light Hunt, Literati, the HBO show "Autopsy", mustard, Ann Coulter (you can't deny the bitch knows her shit), Tom Arnold, "Gone With the Wind", "Way Sour" Blow Pops, those dastardly British nookie-happy bad boys Hugh Grant & Jude Law, the same pair of Birkenstocks I've had since 1994, shampoo & conditioner-in-one, Ah-nuld as Goverantor of Ca-li-for-ni-a, Courtney Love (give her some credit -- she gives not a shit what anyone thinks), Sebastian Bach from Skid Row (preferably about 15 years ago), "Fraggle Rock", 80's hair bands, and Maxim, FHM & Stuff magazines (Look, I can't help it if men's magazines are much, MUCH funnier than the shit in women's mags -- like instructions for how to apply the correct color of eye make-up to best match your eyebrow arch so you can be pretty for your skanky striptease routine for your man as per Marie Claire's or Elle's instructions -- it's great exercise, girls! -- using nothing but an ice cube & a piece of twine as props, after just removing a fresh batch of sugar cookies from the oven (from that brand-new recipe listed in the magazine, of course) so you can keep up the facade that you actually eat yummy food when you really starve yourself or stick to Atkins/South Beach/the Zone or some other fad diet craze, but also b/c you plan to serve said cookies at the fabulously killer baby shower/gala that you're throwing for your "BFF" & that you've been meticulously planning for months after getting "Party Planning Tips" from Cosmo or one of the others, complete with a diaper cake & rubber nipples as party favors... While a men's magazine would have a joke about a rabbi, a priest, & a monk on one page and step-by-step instructions for making the most of your next keg stand on the next. Why, oh why must the boys get all the good stuff?)...

Anti-Establishment & Whatnot...

Kelly: "I'm what you would call 'anti-establishment', right?" [with a strong tinge of sarcasm]

Matthew: "Ummm, you work for your parents' 'establishment', so NO. But then again, I LIVE in my parents' 'establishment', so I can't really talk..."

Matthew's sorry ass, along with Will, left yesterday for a year-long stint teaching English in Prague, one of my all-time favorite cities ever -- the lucky bastard. I'm not jealous at all, really. Can't you tell? Ha.

Just for me!? Umm, thanks. I think.

A silly thing happened to me today, which will give you a very small (not even the tip of the iceberg) glimpse into the eccentricity of my family... My mom bops into my office bearing gifts from her & my dad, w/ what can only be described as a sly grin on her face... I'm immediately told that they saw these "happies", or in the words of Kimpossible/Bob, "perties" (good ol' Southern terminology) & thought of me. Yikes. Those words alone, when spoken by a family member of mine & especially my mom, are enough to tip me off that whatever is coming will no doubt double as some kind of joke @ my expense... And behold, I give you what reminded my parents of sweet little me:

That would be a S.L.U.T.S. ["don't cook....... they have it done!"] Cookbook & some Total Bitch Lotion (which is kind of funny, since I have gifted the "Queen Bitch" lotion to my mom). Cooking is not one of my better skills, so I really don't do it all that often. And I'm not sure if I don't cook much b/c I'm not very good @ it, or if I'm not very good @ it b/c I don't cook much -- like the whole chicken & the egg quandary. I'm not a terrible cook, but I'm no Julia Childs, for sure!!! Plus, I figure if you make something a habit, like cooking dinner, people might actually (gasp!) start to expect it from you. All the time. On a regular basis. Dare I say it, EVERY NIGHT!? Oh, the horror, the horror...

I could have probably benefited from some home ec-type classes b/c I'm completely inept @ that kind of stuff -- sewing, baking, knitting, darning socks, & all kinds of other sexist "1950's housewife"-type activities. I can't even iron clothes decently! There is probably a hidden homemaker somewhere deep down inside of me, but so far, it has stayed cleverly & quietly tucked away... ;)

--> Please pardon the gaudiness of my recent posts... I'm a COLOR addict.

A Case of the Mondays.

Yep, it's definitely Monday. And I'm definitely at work. And I'm definitely NOT lounging on some TROPICAL island with a cabana boy at my beck & call, bringing me all kinds of fruity, gay drinks (like I should be)... Rather, I'm here in my office getting what can only be called the "fluorescent tan"... Lovely, especially for a naturally dark-complected, olive-skinned person who tends to look jaundiced when I am pale. Now does that sound attractive or what!?