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February/March 2004 Archive
Read from the bottom, up! The older entries are at the bottom.
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03-25-04 - Stupid Heather Tricks Yesterday will go into the old memory bank as one of the less-intelligent moments of my life. Heather the graceful chopped off the end of her delicate finger yesterday - accidentally, of course. I was cutting through some very thick fabric, and my finger tip jumped right into the path of the scissors. "snip-plop" And it figures - it's the MOST IMPORTANT finger too! My middle one! I didn't realize how bad it was at first. When I did it, it hurt a LOT, so I ran downstairs to wash it out. It wasn't bleeding all that much, and I wrapped it up quickly in a clean washcloth and dialed Brian's number. No answer. Ahhh! But voice mail! Obviously I wasn't thinking very clearly as I left my message: "Hi, baby! Ummmm, could you call me and tell me when a person should get stitches? I mean, like, how bad should a cut be before a person would have to go to . . . say . . . the emergency room?" <suddenly realizing that he's gonna panic when he hears his voicemail> "Oh, but don't worry! I'm fine!" Oops. I hang up and look at the washcloth wrapped around my finger. It's bleeding straight through four layers. Curiosity is killing me because it's starting to look like this is *not* just some "little" cut. I take off the washcloth to sneak a peek. . . . Bone.
I think I see bone. I nearly puke, but I can't look away because
it's just so . . . gross. So I need to find out if somethign like
this is "stitchable" and if not, what do I do? Who to
call? Mom:
Hello? So I call the doctor and they told me to stop calling people and to use my "phone hand" to apply pressure to get it to stop bleeding. They said they can't stitch up such a big gap, and the only thing that's important right now if to get the bleeding to stop - and if I can't get it to stop, I have to go to the ER and have them <gulp> cauterize it. <shudder, thinking to self: That simply ain't an option unless I really am dying> Then I remember that I left that awful message on Brian's voicemail, so I call him back. He
didn't even greet me. He answered with: WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?! He knows me so well. So I go sit down and pop in DVD number two of The Forsyte Saga and watch for ten minutes. Then I peek. Bleeding has stopped. (Man, that is soooooooo GROSS) So
the good news is that I won't have to do dishes for a few days.
The bad news is that I have a raw bloody half-stump where my perfectly
perky middle finger USED to be. Who needs tv? Before bed I listened to my voicemail messages. Only one. "This is your mother. The one you forgot to call back. You're probably dead in a pathetic ball on the shower floor. But I wouldn't know because you never called me back to tell me if you're going to live or die, did you?" Peace, till next |
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03-24-04 - We can survive this! Heh. My friend Krista sent me this very fun tibit of information: You can buy a book that will teach you how to survive against Zombies! However, with the new Dawn of the Dead and the revolutionary 28 Days Later, Zombies no longer do that shamblin' thing. These critters move with purpose, and they are F A S T!! If you're not haulin', you're being eaten. So someone out there needs to write a NEW Zombie Survival Guide and update all the tips and tricks for the "modern" zombie. I am thinking about running an auction on eBay. The listing will say "All the Things in My Backyard" And if the winning bidder can haul it, they can have it. It'll be like a great big treasure hunt, because we don't even know for sure what's back there - and *you* won't know unless you come look! (Bring a chainsaw and a wheelbarrow.) I have seen an old Valiant car, a couple of boat trailers, TONS of tires, a bunch of old Electric insulators (I know people collect them, all they gotta do now is come GET them) the infamous satellite dish, lots of long metal pipe-y things, firewood, chicken wire, an old baby carriage, old pots and pans, doll heads - wow, my backyard *IS* eBay! If I had a little more time before the wedding, I'd have a TON of fun exploring around back there, but the wedding is in under 3 months, and much of that time will be spent doing house renovations, clearing up the fallen trees, and painting the house exterior. WHEW. Wanna come help? OK, this chickadee has a LOT of work to do before April 1, so I will have to cut this short. I promise, once the house is ready for the wedding, and once the wedding is over, my schedule should return to normal. I hope. Maybe. Or maybe not . . . . Peace, till next |
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03-22-04 - Rude movie people rant As you all know, I am a scary movie geek. I love 'em. So last night Brian and I went to see the latest zombie movie "Dawn of the Dead." It wasn't as good as 28 Days Later, but it still had us jumping in our seats and doing a bunch of "sympathy running" (That's when you scuffle your feet on the sticky movie floor in a running motion, and scream "RUN! RUN" at the morons who are standing there looking at the zombies instead of hauling bootie outta there.) And there was LOTS sympathy running last night! And the popcorn was gooooood. The only thing that was NOT good was the rude group of people sitting behind us - and this seems to be happening more and more lately. People, there are rules to follow when you're at the movies. Contrary to popular belief, you shouldn't be leaving your manners at home when you go to the movies - it's not a politeness-free zone. RULE NUMBER ONE: Shut off your cell phone. You REALLY make people mad when your phone rings in the middle of a movie, and you ANSWER it, and then sit there and CHAT for several minutes. Yes, this actually happend the last TWO times we went to the movies. I think this is so disrespectful - and I promise: everyone within earshot agrees with me. And what were these urgent phone calls about? Well, one of them was about the grocery list, and the other one was about their plans for next Saturday night - and as they discussed these "emergencies," everyone within hearing range turned around to glare at them for their bad behavior. RULE NUMBER TWO: If you take a child with you to see DAWN OF THE DEAD, make sure the kid is old enough to be there. How do you tell if your child is old enough to see a particular movie? Well, if the kid sits there during opening credits and asks, "Why are the words bleeding?" "Why is her eyeball gone?" "What's wrong with that lady?" "Why does she look like that?" and then continues to ask a question every minute . . . That's a good indication that the child is not old enough to see this film. If the child is crying because he/she needs a bottle, that's a good indication that the child is up past their bedtime and is probably not old enough to watch this movie. I know I'm not the only person who feels this way - last night, Brian and I were seated directly in front of the question-filled child and her parents who kept responding with "SHUT UP!" While the opening credits were rolling, we watched two couples move AWAY from this group. Brian and I moved too - and after we moved, a few more couples moved. . . If people are moving away from you in droves, that's a good indication that you're behaving badly. Rude People: all you have to do is be considerate. Just give a few moments of though to those seated around you. Rant over. Back to our scheduled programming and wow, do I feel better! :-) So on Saturday I went to Erin's to help hang drywall and I got fired. First, I used these 40" screws and they were so long that my screw gun kept hopping off them, making pretty gouges in the smooth sheetrock. Oops. So then I cut a piece of drywall and made it all bumply and it didn't fit. Oops. So they fired me and banished me upstairs to take care of the baby. Heh. ;-) Once they start sanding and painting I'll actually be a big help - but as far as hanging drywall goes, I'm no good. Have I mentioned that we have an entire house to drywall? ;-) Lots of fun stories on the horizon, I promise. And if I ever get my stupid camera battery (which is a month LATE), I'll have pictures too!
Peace, till next |
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03-18-04 - Home improvin' Over the next few weeks we have MAJOR plans for this house: The first thing will be the installation of our new WASHER AND DRYER! WOOHOO! Delivery is tomorrow, and installation is scheduled for Saturday (Thank you, Bob!) This time next week, I will be a clothes-cleanin' freak. No more laundromat. Which means no more people asking me, "uuuuuuuhhh. Er them yer undapants?" and pointing to the froot-o-loom grannies that have fallen from my basket in a pile of muddy New York boot sludge on the floor. Yeah, I think I can live without those kodak moments. The anorexic shower. . . It's skinny: scary-small. If you have claustrophic tendencies, run. This thing is the stuff nightmares are made of. It's impossible to hike my legs up high enough to shave them. You'd have to be a bleepin' contortionist to accomplish such a feat. A contorionist, I am not. You can not raise your arms in this shower without your elbows sticking out of it. And the sing-song performance mirror (see past journal entries) takes up one quarter of washing space, so to generate shampoo lather, you must rub your head vigorously against the wall. The shelves are rib-height. I have tried to lift my leg to rest my heel on the shelf for leg-shaving, but it's been a good many years since I've been able to do any Rockette style high-kicking. The one time I did manage to get my foot up there. My knee was jammed into my chin and my thigh was pressed tightly against my torso. I couldn't squeeze the razor in between - hell, I couldn't even SEE my leg at that point, so shaving wasn't an option. In fact, at that point MOVING wasn't an option. <FLASH to a terrifiying image of being trapped in this shower so tightly that I will die and must be buried in it: my contorted, twisted body packed into a fiberglass casket. Guests would say their good-byes by lifting my "coffin lid" - which would actually be a plastic shower curtain with tulips on it.> After a bit of wriggling, I was able to eventually free myself, but I sadly realized that I would never grow to love this shower. It was trying to eat me. And that shower curtain - When the furnace kicks on, it starts a little windstorm in the bathroom. That cold, wet plastic curtain starts licking at your legs, slapslapslap. If you kick at it, it sticks more and again, tries to eat you. So after the washer dryer installation, we'll be ripping out the human-killing shower, and installing an obscenely huge twenty-person shower stall with DOORS. Heaven. I'm in Heavennnnnn. I'll post pictures once my camera battery arrives. . . the camera battery that was supposed to be here three weeks ago. . . the camera battery that was only shipped yesterday. . . But that's another bitter story, and I'm really having fun with my mental images of my mansion-sized shower. Let me dream just a bit longer. ;-) Peace, till next |
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03-15-04 - Leaving a trail of DNA . . . I had a sluggy weekend. You ever have those days when you feel like you're on the verge of illness, but there's not really anything wrong with you? Those days when your significant other just looks at you when you tell him how awful you feel and after you explain it's "just a feeling" he kinda looks at you with that forced sympathetic "I feel bad for you, but you're a hypochondriac" expression on his face. Yeah, one of THOSE days - only mine lasted all weekend. I felt like I had run the Boston Marathon, the Iron Man triathalon and a few other sporty-type activities I would never do in a kazillion years. I worked all weekend, but I took a break at one point to watch a PBS special. It's fund-raising time on our PBS station, and with fundraising, comes some fantabulous television programming. Yesterday's program was one of the best I've ever seen on PBS and I was completely captivated. Click here to read about Spencer Wells and his research. It's absolutely fascinating. If the link doesn't work, here's what National Geographic wrote about him: "By collecting blood samples from thousands of men living in isolated tribes around the world and analyzing their DNA, 34-year-old geneticist Spencer Wells and his colleagues discovered that all humans alive today can be traced back to a small tribe of hunter-gatherers who lived in Africa 60,000 years ago. Following this genetic trail, Wells has charted the ancient journey of our ancestors as they populated the planet, continent by continent. The story is told in the 2002 National Geographic documentary The Journey of Man: A Genetic Odyssey and the book of the same name." You can buy his book by clicking here. From what I understand he's coming to Rochester to present a lecture on his findings. I'd really love to sit in on that one. I've been reading a lot of the interviews and articles about Dr. Wells, and the most interesting aspect of all this research is the impact it will have on racism. Wells' thoughts on racism, from a Rediff interview: "We are all much closely related than we ever expected. Racism is not only socially divisive, but also scientifically incorrect. We are all descendants of people who lived in Africa recently. We are all Africans under the skin. " Read this article and and this article and draw your own conclusion. Peace, till next |
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03-12-04 - Go Rupert, Go Rupert! Welcome ANN, who passed Survivor initiation last night, and has officially selected her favorite competitor: Big Tom. We had a full house - Joe, Geof, Tim, Naters Potaters, of course me, Brian and Ann, and then later Chico stopped in and a new gal who seems to be rather fond of our Timster! (Tim, I *totally* approve!) So last week I was in Walmart, and I SWEAR I thought I saw a guy from my high school out of the corner of my eye. I was like "Hey! That's Person X standing over there!" and I looked back but the guy was gone. So I thought, "Huh, I wonder what Person X's up to? I should look him up and see how he's doing." Then I forgot about him again, until yesterday when my friend Phillip emailed me: "Jen called me this am...she is whispering from her desk. I'm like are you going to get fired for talking on the phone? Anyway I almost didn't return her call but she said she had some bad news so curiosity got the best of me. It seems Person X died last week!" HOW FREAKED OUT WAS I WHEN I READ THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! So I called my sister Shannon, who would be totally as freaked out as *I* am by this, and we could freak each other out over it. Unfortunately, she didn't answer the phone. I was itching-itching-itching to tell my weird story - I *had* to tell SOMEONE about it, so as a last resort, I called cynical sister Erin. I should have known better, because Erin doesn't buy into weird stuff like that, and if I had pondered it for more than an impulsive nano-second, I probably could've predicted her reaction. Here's how the conversation went: Me:
. . . so I swear I thought I saw Person X at the Rochester Walmart,
last week and then Phillip emails me a week later and PERSON X HAD
DIED!!!!! Peace, till next |
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03-09-04 - Snow came back :-( We'll be resuming our Survivor parties this week! Huzzah! We're scheduled to "rock: this Thursday, anytime before 8 and the boys will all be here, with a few new people joining the ranks this time! One is even a Suvivor Virgin! Welcome, Ann! ;-) Last week we had a couple of days where the temperatures soared into the 50s and melted all of our snow. I was going to take a picture of myself in the back yard mudbath with my new snowboarding gear, but the snow came back yesterday. DRAT. We decided to NOT go to Scotland in June, and will be saving that trip for a time when air fare isn't $1000 per person. (YIKES) Instead, we opted for sunny beaches and will be taking our honeymoon here. This pasty-girl is finally gonna get a tan. ;-) I've still got a lot of catching up to do from the play, so my updates aren't going to get back to normal for a few more weeks yet. But I promise to tell you lots of funny stories as soon as I have a decent amount of time to write. Skye also has a few tales to tell! Peace, till next |
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03-05-04 - Day After the Day of Rupert Well. Not really sure what to say about the whole Sue/Richard thing. I'll be interested to see how this pans out. So as not to spoil the ending of last night's show, I'll change the subject. Brian didn't get a chance to see it yet, but he'll be watching it tonight. Now, let's take a trip to the groovy side of life and visit this guy's website. Last week we went to the BANFF Film Festival. It was, as always, phenomenal. If it's coming to your town, GO! Anyway, one of the clips was about this cool-guy-earth-cookie-rapper who uses a product called "Grassolean" in his converted diesel truck. Grassolean (Also known as biodiesel) is the used french fry oil that restaurants discard after it's all nasty and skanktified. You can chat about it here and learn how to create a biodiesel co-op in your town. Brian and I are car shopping and I've been looking at some cool electric cars. I feel like I should be looking at healthier, greener ways to live and co-exist with the rest of the critters on Earth. I'm also getting interested in solar energy for the house. Since we need to do a lot of work anyway, it would be so great if we could implement some solar power into the renovations. Unfortunately, NY isn't exactly known for its sunny weather. But I'm certain it can be done - the problem will be "for how much $$?" Anyone out there have any experience with this sort of thing? I'd love a bit of input! As mentioned, the play is over. I did ok - one major onstage screw-up. My character's name is "Trudy," and very ditzy flapper, and my traveling buddy is "Charlene." Well, we had these lines that go like this: Me:
I'm Trudy! So we've got a full house - packed to the brim. It's my turn to speak, and my brain is saying, "I'm Trudy!" But my mouth opens up and I scream "I'm Charlene!" Ugh. I knew it was wrong before I finished saying it. Nan, the FABULOUS lady that she is, whipped her head around and said, "Silly! *I* am Charlene! You are TRUDY!" and giggled at what a ditzy flapper I was. And she *totally* saved my a$$. Man, I was SO grateful that she was there! The audience loved it and laughed, and laughed. My heart was a'poundin' though! WHEW! Nothing like messing up your lines to get the blood pumping! ;-) Well, my guy is due home anytime. He's been out of town for three days and I miss him like crazy! So I'm going to *try* to make dinner for him. Those who know me also know that "dinner" ain't my specialty. ;-) Wish me luck! Peace, till next |
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02-27-04 - Day After the Day of Rupert Begging forgiveness: I still adore Rupert and I really-eally-eally want him to win, and I'm soooo sorry for not updating frequently. I promise, once the play is over, I'll have LOTS more time to devote to my ramblings. So much time that you'll be sick of me soon enough! So, SURVIVOR fans, did you laugh your nekkid buns off when the Hatch went down the hatch? That man "cracks" me up, (hehe) but it was kind of nice to see him get voted off, even if he was wearing a Utilikilt - the greatest functional kilts on earth. So, here we are, down to two teams, and RUPERT is still around - and we're SO happy about that! Next week we will resume the Survivor parties here at Ladybug Ranch, and I'll devote lots of future Stitches to our dear Rupert. ***************************** I just read this headline: Mel
Gibson says his wife could be going to hell and I can't help but wonder what his wife thinks of all this. According to the article, Mel thinks his wife is really great - in fact, he thinks she's a better person than *he* is. <snipped from MSNBC's article:> "but apparently, he feels that Protestants are also doomed to damnation. In fact, it looks like Gibson, a conservative Catholic, believes that his Episcopalian wife could be going to hell. " Men, for the record, we don't like it when you say stuff like that about us. It makes us cringe and think you're not so groovy. I tried to imagine Brian saying something like that: Brian: Honey, I love you, but you're going to burn in hell. Me: Sweetiepie, you're gorgeous but could you please just sit there looking nice, and *not* speak? Thanks. <wink, wink> ***************************** The other night I was making dinner with the Briguy. You know those biscuits that come in a tube? The ones you have to peel, and then they make a scary POP when you least expect them to? I hate them. They scare me. So I asked Brian to do it, and he peeled off the outer layer. It didn't pop. He stared at me. I stared back. This naughty look washed over his face, and those grinny teeth of his appeared. . . . Brian: hehehehehehe Me: Nooooooooooooo Brian: HEHEHEHEHEHE Me: NOOOOOOOOOOO! Brian: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA He stuck out his pointer finger and started chasing me around the kitchen, threatening to poke the unpopped biscuit tube. I HATE THAT!!!!! So here's Brian running around the kitchen like a maniac, biscuit tube in one hand, pointer finger ready to explode said container, and me screaming like a mad mongrat, afraid of the impending biscuit explosion. . . . . Brian: <cornering me> AHHHHHHHAHAHAHA! I'VE GOT YOU NOW! Skye: Browowowowowowowowowow! (Translation: GIVE ME THOSE BISCUITS!) Me: STOP! NO! ACK! NOOOOOO! Brian: <POKE> Biscuit tube: <pop> Me: Oh. ***************************** It said: "Before I order a dress from you, I want your name, address, phone number, your lawyer's name address and phone number, so that in the event that I hate the dress, I can sue you." Rule # 468 in the game of life states: Don't email people you don't know with threats of lawsuits. It makes a really bad first impression. (I bet your reaction to this email was similar to mine: RUN, FORREST, RUN!) Which I did, and I made sure Brian wasn't chasing me with an unpopped biscuit container. ;-) Peace, till next |
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02-25-04 - Quickie Update Hi, folks! The show is nearing its end, and we only have one more weekend of performances. Since the first weekend, all shows have completely sold out - isn't that tremendous? We're working on home renovations, wedding plans and honeymoon plans. Unfortunately, the battery in my digital camera has died, so until the new battery arrives, I'll be without pictures. :-( We're going to shoot for a vacation in Scotland for the honeymoon, so if anyone has any Scotland travel tips, please give us a shout! We're hoping to do a bohemian/backpack/B&B type of thing, and we plan to visit off-the-beaten-path sites. We're not big fans of tourist traps, and hope to see more of the countryside than the cities. I'm planning to take the entire month of June off, so if anyone plans to order a gown, be sure to do so before May! I book appointments about one month in advance, which means the last orders I will be accepting will be at the end of April. I won't accept any orders with delivery dates during the month of June, so be sure to order early! Right now I'm absolutely swamped with orders - which is another reason to order in advance. Once
the play is over and my camera is working again, I'll post lots
of fun stories and pictures. And Skye has a lot on his mind too,
and wants to pen a few more stories for you. ;-) Peace, till next |
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02-10-04 - Bbbbbbbusy! Hi, folks! Sorry about the lack of updates. It's insanely busy 'round here lately. We're in the midst of the last few dress rehearsals for the play (we open Thursday), work is busy (lots of rush orders for some reason), the dog is mad at us for leaving him home while we go to rehearsals and the cat puked (on my script) just to show that she won't be outdone by a pathetically moping mutt. Yay. Such is life at the Brian/Heather homestead. Brian and I went to see the movie "MONSTER" on Sunday. It was pugnacious, turbid, exigent and calamitous. (See below for the definitions!) It was very, very, very, VERY well acted. It's a must-see if you like turmoil and drama and lesbian serial killers. Seriously though - it was a good flick - well worth the almost $40 investment (after popcorn). . . especially since Brian paid! ;-) We only had a small window of time to catch a movie before Sunday's rehearsal, and I had been going stir crazy coming off a weekend ambulance shift, so I *really* needed to get out. We drove directly to play rehearsal after the flick, and walked in to learn that we were supposed to be in costume - which meant I had to wear my skimpy li'l sequined number - you know - the little body suit with flesh pantyhose and fishnet stockings. . . and I was not really prepared for it. . . Bill (from the Christmas tree cutting event) eagerly savored the moment: Bill:
YES! It IS a costumed rehearsal! I can't believe that
YOU, the anal retentive obsessive-compulsive "I'm on top of
everything" QUEEN who never forgets *anything* didn't remember
that tonight is a COSTUMED REHEARSAL! Me: <running off to find Kathy to beg for just one more day> See, with it being winter, I haven't shaved my legs in months, and I had not brought my tights - ONLY my fishnet stockings - which would force all my dainty leg hairs to poke through the holes, And it would look like I was wearing fur stockings, not fishnets. Nice mental image, eh? Kathy, being the Goddess that she is, told me not to worry a bit and that I would not have to wear the sequined number until the following night. <Mental note: SHAVE LEGS!> Later I see Bill - who is in costume. I am not. Bill:
Heyyyyyy, why aren't you in costume? I still had to wear my OTHER costume though - thankfully the skirt was longer and it covered my hairy legs. I wore it with the black men's socks I had put on earlier, to wear with my black leather workboots. (another nice mental image, eh?) My friend Krista reminded me about what moms say - About wearing clean undies in case the ambulance comes to get you? Well, add to that: Shave your legs, and don't wear men's black dress socks with black leather workboots when you have costumed rehearsals. They just don't fit in with the whole flapper look. And if you want boys to stop picking on you, just talk about how hairy your legs are. ;-) **************************** pugnacious: adj 1: tough and callous by virtue of experience turbid: \Tur"bid\, a. [L. turbidus, from turba tumult, disturbance, akin to turbare to disturb. Disturbed; confused; disordered. exigent: adj 1: demanding attention; "clamant needs"; a crying need calamitous: adj : (of events) having extremely unfortunate or dire consequences; bringing ruin ***************************** Peace, till next |
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02-05-04 - Day of Rupert - he's baaaaack! :-) Here's a fun couple of shots of what it looks like here in the great north woods after a harsh few weeks of wintry weather. This is the Briguy standing in front of the snowbanks on the side of the road. Why is the background all white? Well, that's because the snow is so high that it towers over Brian, who stands 6'3"! (Click for bigger view)
Anyhoo - that's what it's like when you live near Lake Ontario! Over where I used to live - on the eastern shore of the lake - they were hit so hard with snow accumulation over the last week that you probably heard about it on the National news. Erin told me that Dad had called her the other day and said "You made the national news!" When the Floridians are seeing us on the news, it usually means the snow is pretty deep up here. We're pretty much used to it. But it shocks the shoes off people who ain't from 'round these parts. Yesterday I received this email from Brian: *************** -----Original
Message-----
What do you think?? **************** What's scary is that this is normal for us. I wasn't all too surprised - and now it's official, my fella is gonna be on tv. Although, he'll be a mime with no facial hair and nobody will recognize him. So, with my emailed response, the Skyedog wanted to add a P.S. to Brian. Here it is: Ps frum skye Last night I came home from my ambulance meeting and saw this:
and this:
Sometimes that sunny honey of mine leaves me speechless. But nonetheless, the Skyeboy is *very* happy today. ;-) Peace, till next |
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02-04-04 - It's a bitta freezin' rain The roads are covered with a slush and ice combo - Sometimes driving through oatmeal, and sometimes you just need to white-knuckle the steering wheel and do a whole lotta prayin'. Makes me glad I work from home. The community theatre play is gearing up full throttle. We had a full run through last night, and we'll have two more - one tomorrow night, and one on Sunday. Next week we have dresss rehearsals on Monday and Tuesday and we OPEN on Thursday! WOOHOO! The play runs for three weekends - Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. . . and then it's all over . . . and life settles down a bit. But I gotta tell ya - after the rush of performing, the final night is always tinged with a little bit of sadness. I never want it to end. I told you all that I signed up to be an ambulance chickadee, right? Well - I got my first call two Fridays ago! I was given a little pager and when it goes off <beepbeepbeepbeepbeep>, I need to throw on my ambulance gear, run out the door and meet them at headquarters. My town is smallish - and safe-ish and apparently not very accident prone - so it had been a full month of quiet Friday ambulance duty nights. I was starting to think I had scare my town into being healthy. . . (Imagine Heather with a defribrillator. 'Nuff said.) So come Friday ambulance duty night, Brian and I are watching a good flick on the tube (so good I can't remember what it was) and all the sudden BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP My heart froze. I looked at Brian. He looked at me. And in one gracefully fluid movement, I scooped up the pager, giant-stepped into the kitchen to grab my hard-core New York Winter outdoor gear and bent over to lace my boots up. Brian, ever the hero, pulled my coat off the rack and held it out for me. Unfortunately I was still stuck on my boots. When your heart is pounding a billion-frickity-beats-a-second and your hands are shaking like you've been beating laundry rocks all day, lacing boots is an IMPOSSIBLE TASK. Brian: <grinning> Isn't this EXCITING?? Me: AAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! I CAN'T GET MY BLEEPITY BOOTS LACED! Brian: Sure you can! This is EXCITING, isn't it? Me: NO! I CAN"T GET MY BOOTS LACED! GAAAAAA! GAAAAAAAAAA! <Skye runs around excitedly> Do I get to go too? Do I get to go too? Huh, huh? Do I? Do I? Brian is grinning like a fool - beaming at me - excited for me - happy for me - and I want to throw my boot through the wall because it is malfunctioning at the WORST possible moment. (And we all know it was not the boot that was malfunctioning - it was *I* who was malfunctioning.) itfeelslikeagazillionminuteshavepasssedmeby Finally the laces thread their way through the grommets, and Brian helps me into my winter gear. I'm out the door like a shot. I arrive at ambulance HQ . . . and . . . nobody else is there. I am a geek. Never claimed I was anything *but* a geek. But I'm a fast geek. ;-) Brian thought the whole thing was hysterical. He walks around and at random moments screams: BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP It's a good thing he makes delicious cheesecakes . . . . Peace, till next |
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02-03-04 - check out the date - 02-03-04, isn't that fun? Holy cow! Janet Jackson has a nipple! <GASP!> Has the world gone mad? Why is everyone making such a fuss? EVERYONE has one. Most people even have TWO. Some people even have THREE! For the life of me, I can't figure out why Janet Jackson's breast is getting so much press/air time. (And here I go, adding to the media frenzy, by talking about it myself, hypocrite that I am!) Personally, I missed it. I was doing some hand-sewing on a neck ruff, sitting in front of the tube next to Brian, when I heard him mutter: "WHOA! I think I just saw Janet Jackson's breast!" I looked up, but I was too late. The next day it was plastered all over the news. People were emailing me about it. "Didya see it?" Nope. I mised the whole thing. Story of my life. A few years back, I was having Brian list some eBay auctions for me from work, because I was using dialup from our apartment, and he could upload my pictures and list the auctions in seconds, as opposed to hours on dialup. Once everything was uploaded and listed, he would email links to me, and I would check everything over and send him any corrections, he would make them, life was groovy. Now, most of the sample gowns I make are much too big for me, so they look loose on me. Even pinned and clipped in the back, I just don't have enough of a "Renaissance figure" to fill out those bodices, so they are usually loose on me. On this particular day, I was quickly clicking through them, making sure everything was good to go, and lo and behold, third picture down, forth auction listing: I am horrified. As plain as day I was looking at my breast totally exposed for the world to see. OK, so maybe it wasn't plain as day. I don't happen to have enormouse breasts, but it WAS visible. . . or so *I* thought. The too-big bodice left a clear shot of my *exposed* body, down the front of the bodice, practically down to my navel. I freaked. I couldn't dial the phone fast enough. When he answered, I screamed. "MY BREAST! THAT'S MY BREAST! GET IT OFF THERE!" Poor Bri was so confused. He thought I'd lopped off one of my breasts, and was bleeding to death on the floor. "Calm down, honey! What's wrong with your breast?" "MY BREAST IS ON EBAY!" I screamed!! "Wha????" said Bri. "The AUCTION! My breast is CLEARLY visible in one of my auctions! PLEASE take the picture off! PLEASE!!! Before anyone sees it! PLEASE!!??!!??" I cry. Brian stifles a little giggle at how much I am overreacting, and starts hunting for the booby picture. As he is searching, he's consoling. "Honey, it's a breast. It's not that big of a deal. It's ok. Nobody will see it. I'll take it down as soon as I find it." Finally he finds it. What does he say? "Ummm. Your breast is visible? . . Where?" Yes, I'm rather flat chested, but it was SO obvious to me. How could he NOT see it?? Me: <screaming> RIGHT THERE! STOP looking at it! Just GET MY BREAST OFF EBAY!" Brian: Honey, you sure that's not just a shadow? Me: GET IF OFF EBAY NOW!!!!!!!!!!! I spit acid flames through the telephone, just to let Brian know I am SO NOT joking around. He quickly removed the image in question, like the hero he is, and I never heard anything more about it. the auction ended without incident and without any extraordinary fuss or bidding wars. Over on Yahoo today, the Janet story is *still* one of the TOP STORIES. Is it true? Is there no such thing as bad publicity? We'll see in a few weeks how Janet's new album ( to be released in a few weeks) does. She certainly is the talk of the town right now - let's see if it keeps her on the top record charts. However, it probably helps that people weren't mistaking Janet's breast as a shadow. Had I left my breast picture in my auction, I somehow think it wouldn't have created the huge stir that Janet's breast is causing. But then again, ya never know! And we will certainly *never* find out, will we? ;-) Peace, till next |
