Deb's Choice Bits
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Yellowcard
I am quickly checking in from Hell AKA the process of buying a house and the subsequent packing, moving and unpacking.

I have been remiss about posting because I have no fricking time to! My world is currently a revolving world of working my ass off at work to come home and work my ass off. Good times I tell you! NOT!!!!

So anywho, I asked Deb to send me a list of her personal favorite Meg-O-Rama entries and the reasons why. This is what she sent:

Tuesday, 10 August 2004
RIP Dearest Sandals
Because it's SO you, and I love any post about shoes

Wednesday, 22 September 2004
I needa...
Because Hummers have been in vogue way too long, and like the Ugg boot, they must be destroyed! And I shudder to think there are men out there who'd think that is cool.

Sunday, 31 October 2004
Trick or Treating in `Ancientpeopleville'
I mean, giving trick or treaters a stapler? Priceless? And to quote Homer Simpson, "It's funny cause it's true!"

Monday, 14 February 2005
Happy VD!
Because it is just so right on!

Saturday, 19 March 2005
Celebrity Funeral
Really hilariously random celebrities, and it is also an homage to your good buddy Jason!

Thursday, 5 May 2005
Call of the Cougar
You needn't ask why!

Monday, 13 June 2005
Yo' Mama!
Because I personally have been at places where you have used these, and the world should know you are not making these up!

Friday, 1 July 2005
Hollywood 'Hit' List
Everyone should have one!

Thursday, 12 January 2006
Fear O Flying
Again, this one hits home, and truly explains fear of flying to the non chicken-shit!

Sunday, 1 January 2006
My Dating Rules for the New Year
Stick to 'em darlin'!

If you haven’t read everything on the site already, check out Deb’s Choice Bits. She’s biased of course but maybe they will keep you amused while I finish my move…or while I step in front of a public bus which would be far less painful.

The Top 100 Reasons Terrorists Hate Us
Mood:  mischievious
Now Playing: The Clash
For some reason, this just totally amuses me (beyond easy to do) and I keep thinking of more. It is now up to the Top 100 Reasons Terrorists Hate Us although I?m sure there are many, many more?.

1. Wal-Mart’s everyday low prices
2. Oprah
3. Seasoned curly fries
4. Shrek I & II
5. Big Lots stores
6. Happy hour
7. Triumph the Insult Dog
8. No foam decaf soy lattes
9. Performance fleece
10. M&Ms
11. Poetry slams
12. Budweiser, the King of Beers, Budbowl
13. Porch swings
14. Calvin & Hobbs
15. Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade
16. Drive through liquor stores
17. The Vermont Teddy Bear Company
18. Paris Hilton
19. Hostess Twinkies
20. Pay-per-view porn
21. Chuck Norris
22. Mild salsa from La Victoria
23. Spongebob Squarepants
24. The Ice Capades
25. Celebrity Fit Club
26. CROCs
27. The homo-fabulous actress-groping Isaac Mizrahi
28. Grocery store 'club' cards
29. Emoticons
30. Trophy wives/soccer moms
31. Justin Timberlake screensavers
32. Brazilian waxes
33. The Prius
34. Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back
35. In-N-Out Burger
36. Free ringtones
37. Halo 2
38. Viagra
39. The fact that it took two years to get the final 10 episodes of The Sopranos
40. Boneless riblets
41. David Hasselhoff
42. ‘Girls Gone Wild’
43. Star Trek conventions
44. Fusion yoga
45. Charles Shaw $2 merlot (AKA Two Buck Chuck at Trader Joe’s)
46. Tevo
47. Match.com
48. Home equity lines of credit
49. French pedicures
50. Boogie boards
51. 1-800-Pet-Meds
52. Bling, bling
53. Strobe lights
54. College Basketball
55. Racial profiling
56. Breast implants
57. Glade Plug Ins
58. Mountain Dew Code Red
59. 1969 Camaro Z-28
60. Hermit crab races
61. I can't Believe it's Not Butter
62. Croched toliet paper covers
63. Midget tossing
64. Ring Pops
65. The George Foreman Grill
66. Deep fried Snickers bars
67. Velour track suits
68. The Blue Man Group
69. Jiffy Lube
70. Frisbees
71. Dear Abby
72. Crab cakes
73. Sunless tanner
74. Kegerators
75. Tom and Katie’s bastard, and most likely turkey baster, child
76. Livestong bracelets
77. Mary Lou Retton
78. The International House of Pancakes
79. Thighmaster
80. Some call it football, we call it soccer
81. Mr. Potatohead
82. P-51 Mustang
83. Silly Putty
84. I dream of Jeannie
85. Oral hygiene
86. The Village People
87. Sleestacks
88. Vanilla Ice
89. Lee Press on Nails
90. Trailer parks
91. Cabbage Patch Dolls
92. Howard Stern
93. Chicken fried steak
94. Las Vegas
95. What you talkin bout Willis?!
96. Mr. Clean
97. Slurpees
98. My Space
99. Appletinis
100. Indian casinos

Olympic Overkill
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: New York Dolls
I have now reached my Olympics saturation level. As In, I’m done.

See, the Olympics are like homemade fudge. You greedily gobble down the first offerings and you just want more! It is unbelievably good. But soon enough, you are sick of it. It finally gets to the point where the mere thought of more makes you positively queasy. Yup. The Olympics are like fudge. It’ my analogy and I’m sticking to it.

Just how many preliminary speed skating runs and trials can I possibly be expected to endlessly watch anyway? Don’t get me wrong, it’s interesting and all, but after watching a seemingly gazillion qualifying runs, I am pretty much at the point where I don’t give a crap who medals—not even if it’s Apolo and that’s saying something!

Show us the “thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” just keep to short clips and highlights to keep our limited attention riveted. Cut the televised program down to the Opening Ceremony, athlete personal interest stories, medal runs and medal presentation. Televise it over a 3-day weekend and be done with it.

The Olympics lack a larger audience because they drag it out and even when you really enjoy them, like fudge, you can have too much.

I’m thinking Olympic Idol…

Things I've learned....
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: Soul Coughing
1. Packing to move sucks serious ass
2. Never cook bacon naked
3. I apparently own two identical socket wrench sets--perhaps the work of the socket wrench fairy?
4. Fleece, Performance or otherwise, doesn’t play well with hay
5. Did I mention packing to move sucks serious ass?

That Party
Mood:  suave
Now Playing: Tony Bennett
So the hoi polloi private party I went to the other night at the golf tourney. First off, I think they took serious liberties in describing it as “celebrity filled”.

I saw one random morning show personality and that was that as far as the star boinking went. Now there were some rather large blinged-out black guys at the party, but I didn’t want to be a dillhole and assume that they were athletes representing the high-end sports magazine that co-hosted the party--as that would be totally dillhole of me.

Long and short of it? Free drinks and noshes as well as decent eye candy in a sweet locale.

Coolest portion of the evening? Ran into a buddy who I haven’t seen since college. And even better? He is one of the people that I actually gave a shit about ‘whatever happened to…?”

Pretty cool scene even if they were serving chardonnay in Dixie cups…

Random Thoughts
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: 10,000 Maniacs-MTV Unplugged
1.Any man who refers to the woman he’s dating as his “current lady friend” is an ass.

2.Losing a pet to death, by whatever means, is heartbreaking.

3.Anyone who willingly appears as a guest on The Jerry Springer Show should be sterilized and prevented from breeding.

4.Sometimes you just have to refuse to let common sense cloud your judgment.

5.I wonder who would win in a fist fight between Chuck Norris and a Klingon.

Ah! I love the smell of the Olympics in the evening!
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Abandoned Pools
I am a complete and total whore for the winter Olympics.

There’s just something about it. My favorite part of the Olympics after medal ceremonies when the American athletes sing along to the national anthem and cry? Opening ceremonies. Why you ask?

First off, I love hearing the names of all of those random countries that I could honestly not pick out on a map with any degree of certainty. I mean seriously, just how many ‘-istan’ countries can there be?! Apparently quite a lot.

I also love the whole ritual of it all. Nothing says pomp and circumstance like the opening ceremonies. Parades, banners, excitement, fireworks, energy, and last but not least flags. The lighting of the Olympic flame. It’s just plain cool in my book.

But who’s bright idea was it to use a melange of cheesy 80s tunes as the accompanying music to the parade tonight?

Did I really need to experience the athletes from Latvia entering to Y.M.C.A.? Chinese Taipei coming in to What is Love? Senegal boogying to Disco Inferno? I swore that if Kim Carnes’ ‘Betty Davis Eyes’ started to play, I would boycott the remainder of the show as some things are just not right.

On the bright side, the naked pink Mohawk dude and accompanying surreal performers were stellar. The Ferrari spinning donuts also was way cool. Made me yearn for a Power Ball win.

I think Italy did it up proud although that could just be the Pinot Grigio talking.

On another note, just where the Hell is the country of San Marino anyway? The world map was a whole lot easier in the Cold War years. I almost feel sorry for the little bastards in our under funded public school systems trying to learn geography these days.

Suburban Vigilante
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: The Clash
When I was in 7th grade someone began vandalizing the mailboxes in our neighborhood. All the neighbors were completely freaked out figuring it was the ‘damn troublemakers’(this was the 70s folks).

One night, my Pop had enough. The neighbor’s mailbox has been defaced and Pop was just certain ours was next. He had gotten himself all shades of worked up. So what does he do? He parks our full-size Ford Econoline van on the driveway in front of the house, sets up a foldable lawn chair and sets out to wait for the “little bastards” to come. Did I mention he was grasping a softball bat during his vigil?

Around Midnight, two teenage boys walk by our house talking. As they wander by, one of them half-ass kicks our mailbox in passing and Bam! Game on! Pop flies around the end of the van going towards the kids at a full run, softball bat gripped in both hands and raised high over his head as he screams some primal scream only suburban airline pilots can produce. Scares the holy crap out of these kids who both proceed to scream like little girls.

The taller kid takes off at a dead run into the night, leaving his freakish buddy to face the wrath of the mighty Oz. Pop had this kid by the front of the shirt and was holding him up on his toes as pop threatened him with the bat—screaming at him the whole time. At the top of his lungs. At Midnight. In the suburbs. “You sonofabitch! You thought I wouldn’t catch you?! Why did you kick my mailbox!?”

Yeah. Pretty soon, my mom wasn’t the only one running out in her jammies to scream at Pop. Needless to say, mom talked him out of calling the cops, reminding Pop that the kid could claim assault based upon Pop's convincing Ape Man of the Serengeti portrayal.

Flash forward several years. Many severals of years. As in this year. Someone is vandalizing the stop signs in my parents’ neighborhood and pops is all shades of pissed off about it.

“It costs $2,000 to replace every sign they deface. $2,000! Morons! It costs us all more as taxpayers! Do they realize that?! Do they have any idea?!” (Note: Pop, people who deface stop signs are no doubt so not worrying about their increasing share of taxpayer burden).

He goes on to say that he’s going to plan a sting and catch the “little weasels in the act".

So I say “What pop? You going to park the Tahoe out front, set up a folding chair, wait, and then after you catch them in the act, run after them screaming with your softball bat?”

Dead silence. Then he starts chuckling “I had forgotten all about that…”

Yeah sure you did Captain vigilante!

Now That's Red!
Mood:  surprised
Now Playing: Maroon 5

So....Red
Mood:  surprised
Now Playing: Edith Piaf
I have this high brow celebrity-filled outing on Saturday. Basically, a private party at whatever they call that big golf tourney now. Amazing that Joe Lewis arena and a plethora of other sporting venues have maintained their original name forever but we seem to change the names of our venues and events on a regular basis…but I digress.

In light of the festivities, I needed to freshen the hair color, etc. The problem is that my back is verklempt and sitting for hours on end (pun intended) is excruciating. How does one go about the upkeep on one’s outer appearance when one is unable to sit for a long time? One, being me, asks her stylist what could be done in say....a half an hour or before the Soma runs out. Apparently, hair color not highlights.

A half an hour later—SHAZAM! I am freshly coiffed....all shades of red. Yup. Red. I went red. As in saucy vixen red. You know, that red somewhere between Maureen O’Hara and Bozo the Clown. Not an I Love Lucy red so much as Raquel Welch red. Kind of auburn but definitely red. Red.

Can you tell I am still kind of freaking out?

I like it but it is seriously drastic which I think is really the only way one should go red. Hard and fast. Like ripping off a bandage. Red is just not a gradual color....

But I really think I like it…in fact, I think I really like it.

And the matching cuff....

Before the Red
Mood:  cheeky
BEFORE THE RED....

Broke Back
Mood:  accident prone
Now Playing: OMD
I almost made it a few weeks without a personal injury ‘incident’. I am just so not the poster child for OSHA. I managed to blow out my back. As in ‘totally gone verklempt sucks to be you cripple’. And it didn’t even happen while doing something fun like midget bowling or playing Bloody Knuckles. And how did I blow out my back? Hurking hay out of “high ho”. Yep, I am one of those white trash horse owners who lug hay about in non-pickup truck type vehicles. At least I am not as bad as my friend Robert who hauls hay in the trunk of his Jag. Now that’s overkill.

Now, I usually have no problem with tossing hay around. Each bale weighs about 75 pounds but it’s not the weight that gets me, it’s the awkwardness of the bale design. Whoever decided bales were a good unit of dry grass measure didn’t take into consideration chicks hurking them out of mid-size SUVs wearing 4-inch platform flip flops. Not the best shoe wear for manual labor I know but I was in a hurry. It didn’t hurt exactly when I was unloading, it was more uncomfortable than anything.

All I know is that I woke up Friday morning at 3am and I was in more pain than I have been in…months, which is saying a lot given my accident-prone background.

I started howling in pain. The chorus of gnarly f-bombers that left my mouth would have made most folks sob in horror. I spent the next five hours alternately sobbing and cursing God.

Made an appointment with my doctor ASAP. I actually hurt hard enough that I had to ask my 71 year old girlfriend Carol—red-headed little grandma and former 1950s scooter trash- to drive me there.I literally couldn't. How lame is that?

My legs actually gave out under me during the exam and my doc had to catch me. I was sobbing hysterically that it was a ruptured disc and I couldn’t have surgery now because I have too much too do. He hugged me and patted me as I sobbed.

Have I mentioned that my doctor is smoking hot? I had to tell one of the gals at the office who goes to him too and just lurves him. “Hey, Doctor Hottie totally hugged me.” She’s all “Nu-uh! What was it like?” So I told her “Sweet” and sighed just to be a brat. She called me on it--“Bitch!”

So after the hug, Doctor Hottie administers the ‘How screwed up are you?’ tests on my back. He tells me the good news: No ruptured disc just a massive back spasm. Whew!

He had the nurse come in and pump me full of happy juice AKA 1000000 micrograms of some wicked narcotic, prescribed some Percocet and Soma, patted me on the head, and told Carol to drag my now increasingly fuzzy self home.

Carol was a total trooper- She drove me back and forth to the doctor, picked up my prescriptions, drove my now giggly/sloppy/singing show tunes ass home all the while regaling me with stories of dancing on table tops and how she could “…spin both tassels the same direction.” Oh good God! Like I needed that image scorched on my retinas! It burns! It burns!

Now? Borrowing Sanchez’s Jacuzzi on a regular basis and praying for a full recovery and soon.

The structural engineer okayed the house. I have to pack and move in a matter of weeks…well, 6 weeks but still. ARGH!

Posted by azcoolchick0 at 3:55 PM NZT | Post Comment | Permalink

But I Digress...
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Fleetwood Mac
Someone asked me why I seem to use the phrase “but I digress” a lot.

It’s because I do. All the time. It is a rarity for me not to go off on a streak of never ending, unrelated tangents. Usually when I am telling someone a story, after a while I have completely forgotten why I was telling the story in the first place. Yup.

It appears that I am incapable of telling a brief and concise story orally or with via the written word. That’s why I tend to use “but I digress” because as I am typing, my mind starts veering off track and voila! I digress.

Asked. Answered.

Stress Dream
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: Jason Moss
Stress Dream

So they accepted my offer on the house and I am all shades of freaked out! For reals! I spent all weekend on an emotional rollercoaster which ran the gambit from exhilarating high to Holy crap what the fuck have I done?! Seriously! I had no idea buying a house would be this stressy or complicated.

Everyone needs documentation. Paperwork is flying back and forth with the sellers--counter offers, the SPDS form, etc. The mortgage company pretty much wants a DNA profile, my first born child and a full body cavity exam sans latex gloves and lube or so it seems. The title company, much like my credit card company, just wants my money. I really didn’t know it would be this hairy.

See, I am a virgin.

Ok, stop laughing and/or choking and listen! I truly am. I am a first time homebuyer and now I am starting to wonder if having the ability to naked Jacuzzi in my own backyard really is worth all the hassle.

I barely slept all weekend. I pretty much kept myself liquored up to the gills so that I wouldn’t dwell on it a great deal (I really hate to waste perfectly good Xanax on non-flying freakouts although they are rare). Sunday evening, in spite of my boozy football and beer filled day (I so lurve those kinds of days), I didn’t fall asleep until 4am. As in 2 ? hours before I had to get up for work. Those 2 ? hours were total trauma too! I ended up having the stress dream of life!

Now, I have had major stress dreams before. Frued dude would probably have a field day with the random whacky shit that goes on in my head sometimes and this one was majorly freaky!

So in this dream, I go to pick up my cat, Madness. She just turned 16 and is getting to be kind of a grumpy little bitch. As I pick her up, her front left leg falls off. Yep. Falls off! As in just drops off her body and falls to my bedroom floor. Not like in the blood spurting “’Tis only a flesh wound” kind of way though. This was more in the cutting a raw chicken leg in half kind of way. Just an ugly, gooey red hole. It was fricking bizarre! She just kind of looked down at her leg and back up at me and says “Meow?” like ‘what the fuck just happened here?”

I panic. I have to call the vet and of course, it’s after hours. My vet doesn’t have emergency hours so I have to find one in the yellow pages. Good times!

Then, I pick up the house phone and it’s dead.

I run out to the kitchen to get my cell phone and a friend of mine has it in pieces on the counter (he likes to fiddle with electronics). “What are you doing?!” and he tells me that he is making the phone into a combination Blackberry/Walkie Talkie for me. Huh? Exactly!

So I finally get a phone and call a vet. The vet answers and I describe her injuries and the vet tells me that they don’t want to deal with it and to call someone else.

The next vet has some total moron answering the phone and she can’t tell me where they are located. No major cross streets, nothing.

All the while, I keep checking Madness’ leg to see if it’s still warm enough to reattach.

Yeah…..

I hear it only gets more stressful from here on out with a house purchase. I am so not looking forward to the naked, chainsaw-wielding clown dreams…

Celebreality Television
Mood:  silly
Now Playing: Eddie Money
I am the only person I know who truly despises ‘reality’ television. I would rather sky dive butt nekked into a Black Sabbath concert than watch reality t.v. That’s saying a lot! You can just imagine the male concert goers thinking that it was treats from Heaven...but I digress.

I hate reality t.v. because it puts itself forward as being raw and authentic and it’s not. It’s staged and the story content is fashioned and twisted by creative editing rather like a Michael Moore “documentary”.

The only thing worse than reality t.v. in my mind (other than berets, beer hiccups, crocheted toilet paper covers and poor oral hygiene) is reality t.v. with celebrities. Celebreality t.v. Let’s empty out the drug rehab centers and Motel 6s and really find the bottom feeders and sludge (basically the worst of the Where Are They Now files) and put them on television again. Who the Hell thought that was a good idea? Must be the agents representing the ‘has been’ and C and D-list actors in Hollywood who are desperate to find work…any work.

First, they toss 6 of them into a house for MTV’s Surreal Life. That was kind of funny in a freak show kind of way if I do say so. It was like watching a train wreck—you just couldn’t look away from the horror of it all. (If I EVER hear Brigitte Nielsen’s name again, it will be too soon! That broad is wacked!) Suddenly, celebrity reality shows multiplied faster than an unchecked colony of feral cats with about as much yowling and stink.

The Osbornes. Celebrity Mole. Celebrity Fit Club. Hit Me Baby One More Time. I’m a Celebrity-Get Me Out of Here. But Can They Sing.

Then this already hideous genre mutated much like that shit growing on the goat cheese in my fridge. Suddenly, it had morphed into doing sports with has been celebrities. Celebrity Boxing. Dancing with the Stars. Skating with Stars. Like we needed more!

If we have to have celebriality television you know what I’d like to see? Building a Home Made Bong with the Stars. Picking Scabs with the Stars. All Breed Dog and Cat Grooming with the Stars. And last, but not least, Thumb Wrestling with the Stars.

Now that’s celebreality t.v!

WHY?!
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: XRay Spex
I don’t know about you, but I am beyond freaked out that the edgy, alternative music as well as the corny one-hit-wonders of my youth is now being used to hock financial planning services among other products.

Seriously. I was all shades of wigged out when I heard 80s pop cheese meister Falco's 'Der Kommissar' (you know the song "Don't turn around, wo-a-o! Der Komissar's in town! Wo-a-o!) being used to hock Fidelity Investment. They should have at least used the later and ever more popular club version of 'Der Kommissar' by After the Fire.

Bad enough that Bananarama promoted Gillette Venus razors. Where will it end? Will I be forced to hear The Sex Pistols used to hock mattresses? The Jam pushing faux Italian at the Olive Garden? The Boomtown Rats' ?Ghost Town? as the theme song of The Phantom Guest Ranch? Just push me in front of a public bus now!

I realized today that 30-somethings are the new baby boomers. Now i know how they must have felt when Beatles tunes started popping up in every other commercial. God, do I feel old!

Go Steelers!
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Slip Knot
Here I sit buzzed. Super buzzed. Uber buzzed. It’s been a stellar day of beer, noshes and football. Ahhhhh! Sunday! The only thing that would make it better would be if the football was hockey but I digress.

Do you have any idea how psyched I am that the Steelers are going to the Super Bowl? The only thing that would make it better would be if the Raiders were going. Although I would be beyond torn.

Why so? Have I mentioned that I am a total whore for the Raiders and the Steelers and have been since I was a kid? Seriously. When I was a kid (SO dating myself here) in the 1970s, Arizona had no NFL team and in my mind, still doesn’t. I became a fanatic for the Raiders as they were from Oakland and we had moved to AZ from No Cal. I picked up the Steelers along the way.

My grade school had a pencil machine and I spent countless dimes, probably enough for a pair of Manolo Blahniks, on NFL pencils praying I would get a Raiders or Steelers pencil. Seriously. I was that committed which is as committed as one can be in the 3rd grade.

I know it’s bizarre as the Raiders and the Steelers rivalry was beyond intense in the 70’s. Although the Steelers dominated the NFL during that decade in one of the most famous winning streaks in all of sports, the Raiders also were one of the most successful franchises in the NFL under the tutelage of then coach John Madden. The Raider’s heartbreaking losses were most notably at the hands of the Steelers.

The Steelers denied the Raiders a trip to the Super Bowl in three of four consecutive seasons in the early 1970s (the first loss was the famous "Immaculate Reception" loss) until the Raiders finally beat the Steelers in the 1976 AFC Championship game after finishing 13-1 and went on to win their first NFL championship in Super Bowl XI over the Minnesota Vikings 32-14 in Pasadena, CA, the following January. It took the Raiders forever to beat the “Steel Curtain Defense".

As I said, the Steelers' rivalry with the Raiders was extremely intense during the 1970s. After his team's loss to the Raiders, Steeler coach Chuck Noll actually described the Raider defensive backs as a "criminal element" in a post-game interview.

As a kid, I loved the players. “Mean” Joe Greene, Terry Bradshaw, the list goes on and on. My favorite player of all time and my perfect man is former Raider Howie Long (not from my childhood--from my hormonalhood). Can you say YUM!!!! He is the ultimate man--cute, great bod, well dressed, intelligent, funny, a great father and a committed husband. Can it get much better in a guy? He is best known today as an analyst for the FOX Network's NFL coverage where, as you know, he often plays the straight man to the comic antics of co-host Terry Bradshaw, a former Steeler, whom Long sacked several times over the course of their NFL encounters.

Even if I didn’t love the Steelers, I always root for the under dog. I like the rough and tumble bad boys who play with heart. More to the point, I hate the Broncos almost as much as I hate the Cowboys, AKA self important and self aggrandizing asswipes and that’s saying a lot.

I was glad that the Steelers had a decisive win today! They have played one Hell of a post season and today's win was accomplished with huge heart and huge effort and deserves to be noted as such!

I was truly hoping for a Steelers vs. Seahawks Super Bowl and my prayers were answered today! I think it will be an amazing pairing of true warriors. True heart vs. true heart. A game based upon a true desire to win—not for the paycheck and notoriety—but for the joy of winning.

A truly strange and wondrous thing in this day and age....

PS--you can tell I had giantly tied one on. Could I have used the words 'truly', 'true', and 'huge' a few more times? Jeesh!

Google Searches
Mood:  mischievious
Now Playing: The Pixies
Sometimes when I’m bored, I like to Google random weird ass shit like "I am a lush", "Nice ass bitch", or "Leprechauns make me horny” and then read the freaky bits and pieces out there on the Web that pull up for the searches. Endless amusement I tell you! Almost as fun as being wasted and having a bowl of hard candy to entertain yourself with but I digress.

I was checking out referrals to the blog trying to figure out where everyone is coming from as I still find this all rather wild. What I found surprised me. Some people have me bookmarked (I like you best!), others are coming from the Lycos Top 100 and still others from Jason Mulgrew.com (shameless plug for him). Many folks ended up here as a result of random and/or freaky Google searches. And I do mean random and/or freaky.

Sometimes the phrase or words Googled, I actually used in an entry. The majority of the time though Google takes arbitrary words and excerpts from multiple blog entries I have put up and rigs them together to fit the search even though they are not all in the same posting. Some of the searches are hilarious and some scare even me. Here are some of the actual Google searches that I copied from the site meter for your amusement, horror or both that led folks to the blog:


I am stuck in traffic and must use the bathroom?

bambi woods fucking mr. Greenfield (Meg O Rama was the #2 answer--SCAREY)

xiolin showdown porno

Schlitz bull tattoos

"little penis bay to breakers"

asiago dip

Dirty Spanking Girl (Arabic Google search)

Dead wolverine

candle wax ass crack nipple

"met a guy on eharmony" (Again, Meg O Rama was the #2 response)

"cheerleaders tied up by robbers"

Doesn’t Suck Umbrellas

Yukon john stamos fan club

"burned nipples"

Benise (He’s a nouveau Flamenco Spanish Guitarist and there were two searches for him)

Chris Evans, girly, feminine

Tramp Stamp

Mother weasel

“Sucks ass”

leather tequila bandolier

dreams, poop, public restroom

family guy meg plush

"hooters in bondage" (German Google search)

Kristy McNicols

"brazilian wax" and farted

lemonade cleanse

shanana bowzer picture

“Unholy smells”

And last but so not least, my personal favorite:

Losing British Accent After Tonsillectomy (WTF!?!)

On the bright side? I am very encouraged by the fact that I am apparently not the only whack job out there. In fact, there are many far greater than me!

A House Hunting We Will Go
Mood:  lucky
Now Playing: Boomtown Rats
Ah house hunting! I can’t tell you how excited I was to be looking for a new house! Was being the key part of that sentence. I must have been toking on the rock, having an alien abduction encounter or at the very least a rather torrid out of body experience to think that! NIGHTMARE!

On the bright side, my requirements are such that my options are limited. It must be a decent sized horse property in metropolitan Phoenix. That definitely narrows it down. There were lots of houses that fit the decent sized horse property available outside the city but after living in LA for four really long years and commuting an hour each way to and from work—SO not for me! That definitely meant I had to count out the houses in Lake Havasu—nothing like that 12 plus hour daily commute—NOT!!!

So the games began and here we are. I have now schlepped all over looking at overpriced crap whose MLS listing descriptions were way overblown and off base. I think that whoever compiles these things must have an MB degree--Masters in Bullshit-- and is wasting an excellent career opportunity as a political spin doctor in DC. Seriously, they are creatively enhanced beyond imagination and just lies, lies, lies (yeah!).

What do I mean? In my recent experience, if a house is described as “cozy” it means it is so fricking tiny that if two people were in the house and one was in the bathroom taking a dump, the other would be practically sitting on his or her lap and not by choice. “Charming” means better than the rest of the crack house shanty town dwellings in the neighborhood. “Quaint” is nothing more than a metaphor for freakishly strange. The list goes on and on!

Here is a brief rundown of the vile piles I saw:

House of a Thousand Sheds-This house had 20 sheds in the back yard. 20 sheds. All in various states of disrepair. I have no idea if these folks had a hydroponic pot farm or were hiding stolen goods but 20 sheds, even in good shape, is overkill. No thanks!

Knee Deep in Crap- I look out into the yard and it is covered in knee deep horse ‘apples’. Knee deep decomposing poop. I turned to my REALTOR and said “Oh no, this shit’s got to go” not even realizing I had made a funny. No thanks!

The 70’s Threw Up AKA Attack of the Turquoise Molded Shag Carpet-Everything in this house was original from the day it was built. A horrid melange of Harvest Gold, Olive Green, Burnt Orange, turquoise, etc. The counter tops were all white laminate with gold flecks. There was some random knob on the kitchen counter. I was all “Hmmmm, wonder what this is?” and turned it and it came off in my hand. Suddenly, this terrible high-pitched noise- ‘Shreeeeeeeeeeeek’- started emanating from somewhere in the kitchen—scared the holy Hell out of us as I scrambled to shove the knob back on and turn whatever it was off. We never figured out exactly what it was. No thanks!

Won’t You be my Landlord-this house had a mobile home in the back yard that was rented to some 76 year old woman. Oh sure. Just what I want, to buy a house and have some old broad living in my yard. Next thing you know I am doing maintenance on the singlewide and hoping that if she dies, her cats eat her so I don’t have to deal with it. No thanks!

Mauve Delight-Imagine mauve. Mauve as far as the eye can see. Mauve carpet, mauve tile, mauve paint, mauve bathroom fixtures. Mauve. Mauve. Everywhere Mauve. It was liking being inside someone’s mouth, sans tonsils, and not in the good way. No thanks!

This is just some of the disasters we encountered. On the flip side of the coin, we saw the Meg Hefner Playbroad mansion. 360 degree views of mountains and the city set up high on the mountain. Ginormous front patio with awesome views. Huge front room-all windows- with same amazing views. The house just had mojo! The kitchen was huge and had an awesome wraparound bar that seated 15 and flowed into an enclosed patio with views of the pool and mountain. In the backyard was a killer pool complete with the infamous rock grotto, bamboo groves and a custom built-in grill. I was already envisioning myself holding fabulous cocktail parties, telling Paco, my cabana boy, that we needed more mojitos and suntan oil…sigh! Too bad there was no room for the horse so unfortunately,I won't be wearing a velvet smoking jacket any time soon.

That was the biggest problem--finding a house that worked for me and a set up that also worked for the dogs and the horse. Some places, I was wondering if I could put Biggers in the laundry room as there was nowhere else to house him. Like Mr. Ed. Yeah. Not so much.

Then serendipitous luck! We turn down the wrong street and “Ahhhhhhhhhh” (think the Heavens opening up and Angels singing) there it was. The house. My house. Darling, darling, darling!

Long story short? (Yes, I actually can do that sometimes with extreme concentration). I am in putting in an offer tomorrow. Keep your fingers and other assorted appendages crossed for me.

Serial Dater
Mood:  cool
Now Playing: Depeche Mode
Recently, I have been a major serial dater. Even more so than usual. Guys seem to dropping out of the skies AKA it’s raining men—hallelujah! Seriously. I am meeting men everywhere I go. I’ve been on so many dates it’s almost my fricking hobby. I should probably add it to my resume:

Hobbies/Interests: Creating art, making jewelry, hiking, cooking, music, travel, reading, entertaining and dating

Can’t you just see it? Yeah.

As mentioned earlier, I have given up on my active pursuit of Mr. Right as it just wasn’t working out. Instead, I am reveling in the enjoyment of the numerous Mr. Right Nows life is bringing me. This does not mean that I have given up hope of finding ‘The One’ someday as I am still looking to find the Bogie to my Bacall. I believe in true love and all the mush. I am a total sucker at heart but I digress….

The one life lesson that is being reinforced by this whole journey? Don’t judge people by their outer appearances. For reals. How someone looks on the inside is no gauge whatsoever of what kind of person he is on the inside. I have been out to dinner with tall, dark and handsome only to realize over the course of an hour that he is a small minded, mean spirited, horrid jerkoff. The contrary also is true. I have been out with someone who just wasn’t really my thing upon first meeting him and in an hour of talking about the world we live in and life in general (Yes, I ripped that off from my favorite Depeche Mode song ‘Somebody’), he became a Mr. Yes.

A pretty face and a hot body will only take you so far in my book if you are a dickhead or otherwise arrogant bastard (although it usually takes you pretty far if you are a seriously hot total harpy mean bitch—guys will tolerate that shit a whole lot longer than chicks will). I think what it always takes me back to is what my gramps always used to say--Pretty is as pretty does. Too true.

Someone once told me that my outside just further enhanced my inside. I think that’s a pretty sweet compliment. It’s also what I’m looking for in my Bogie—outsides are all fine and good but I want someone with pretty insides…
way harder to find than you might think.

‘Moral’ of the story? (I know, surprising if not fully scary from someone like me) Give people a chance. Go beyond the skin deep first impressions and you might just be happily surprised at what you find.