The Work Report

Well, the stock is in the dumper so any dreams I had of frivolous things
like extra bathrooms for our house remain just dreams. On the positive
side, my initial over-4-years stock grant is almost fully vested. Since
it's worth nothing, it serves only as a milestone - that I've been
working at the same place for almost 4 years.

In this weird economy and this crazyass valley, and especially in my
life, that's huge.

Given that and a whole host of other valid reasons, I'm officially
re-committed to staying for as long as they'll have me.

To that end, I'm taking charge of a few things that will make my working
life better and help our team too. Those things are just getting going
but I'm thrilled to report that the atmosphere is a lot calmer than it
was just a couple of months ago.

Plus, I got to use the word 'dumper' in a post.


One Crazy Day

Yesterday was one big mess in terms of traffic and other Police
Activity. 101 closed down because a gas tanker jacknifed and spilled
it's booty all over the roadway. Traffic was stopped for hours and

Knowing that we'd need to go that way later last night to get to Andrea
and Soosan's game, I was checking websites all day in between some
not-my-fault work drama that's been sucking my soul just a bit. This
included watching raw footage from a news site, which was oddly

While I'm checking to see if something has changed, I stumble onto a
police website. That says our whole neighborhood is cordoned off due to
'police activity.' Huh?

Andrea calls the neighbors and eventually finds out that two guys got
into a fight at either the shady burger king or a taqueria. The fight
escalated and someone got shot. I guess the guy ran from the cops
afterwards, down my damn street.

I hear he was caught down the block but still. Crazy fucking day.

It took Andrea, Soosan and I an hour and a half to get to the rink -
that's normally a 15 minute drive. It always amazes me how 1 road being
shut down can bring the entire Bay Area to a screeching halt.


Around the same time last year

Originally uploaded by gadgetgrrl
I guess she's grown just a bit...

Yep, she's a little kid now

Originally uploaded by gadgetgrrl
I'm afraid the baby has left the building.

Vegas By The Numbers

It all started with some excellence. First, we rushed like hell to get to the airport in time for our noon flight, only to discover that it was at 12:40. Phew, a little time to breathe and inhale some tasty airport food.

Then, we learned that there were enough empty seats on the plane that Val could sit in her carseat. Thank the Jesus, because seriously, having her in her own seat is like the Best Thing Ever. We get to Vegas, grab our stuff and head out to the rental car place only to find that our superass cheap generic rental car company has a huge line. So I step one line over to Enterprise and ask if they can match the aforementioned superass cheap rate. And they can! Name brand car rental for us!

I was able to get Val's car seat in (rear-facing, in case you were wondering) in record time -- 5 minutes! The fact that there was no sweating or cursing involved made every penny I spent on her new travel carseat (Britax Marathon, in case you were wondering) worth it. We had just enough time to go to Sonic, then swing back around and pick up Jennie from the airporto.

Finally, we headed to our hotel and checked in, then met up with our surprise teammate -- my best friend from high school. We'd found each other about 2 years ago and I'll be damned if she doesn't play hockey. So I invited her to Burninate with us and she accepted! The whole thing was so surreal (and fantastic) that I haven't quite processed it all yet. Like, huh, is that really her out there on D? With my team? In Vegas? Woah. Awesome, just awesome.

Our first game that night was amazing. We came out swinging and ended up winning 5-0, a record for our normally fairly low-scoring team. We were buoyant, and I was so damn relieved to be off to a solid start. I fully attribute our winning ways to this:
The Trogdor made of yarn that Jennie made for us. We passed it around before every game.

After our first victory, the team left and I stayed at the rink to play another game with my new-to-me local tournament team. I hadn't wanted to play any games with them in Vegas. Had I gotten onto the roster from the start of the season I would have passed because I Burninate Vegas. But the only way for me to qualify to play in regionals was to play with them in Vegas (I need 10 games to qualify and we're running short on time). So I did. We lost 9-2. Blech. I came back to the hotel exhausted but really focusing on our Victory in Burnination, thanks to Trogdor The Knitted.

Friday, we Burninated at 1 something so there was time to sleep a little, eat then head to the rink, with Trogdor The Knitted in tow. We had a tougher time against this team, but squeaked out a win after Lucinda scored the game-winning goal with not that much time left. This win I attribute to Trogdor The Knitted and also to the Hannah Montana picture on Lucinda's shin guard that we all touched before the game.

I played again that night with local tournament team while the Burninators ate at the Wynn. buffet. I'm assured that the food was not at all tasty and that the team was no fun to hang out with. I had sort of a miserable time that game, missing my team, missing my baby and of course, missing a tasty buffet dinner. It took me forever to get out of the rink after a 3-2 overtime loss, I just wanted to go see my peeps and eat something. I was feeling kinda low that night but perked up once Andrea and Michelle picked me up and we set out on a quest for food for me.

The next morning, the Burninators had a 9 something am game, so we roused a very tired Val out of bed, grabbed Trogdor The Knitted and headed to the rink. That game was another squeaker, against a team with a couple of really young skaters who were trying their hardest to carry the team. They also had a short bench so our plan was to just wear them down. This mostly worked, though the young kids kept their energy levels pretty high while the actual adults did slow down over the course of the game. We squeaked out another 3-2 win, thus securing our place in the finals or the semi-finals, depending on how the other game in our division went. I attribute this win to the growing population of odd things in people's gear bags, touching Hannah Montana and of course to the presence of Trogdor The Knitted.

After the game, the tourney director called me out to the lobby, where I learned that by just one goal, we had secured our place in the finals!! We got to skip the semi-finals for the first time ever, leaving our Saturday night open so Jean could go see a show. (She saw Mamma Mia, in case you were wondering, and liked it very much).

That afternoon, local tournament team had their final game. They were super nice and all I had to do was suit up, then warm the bench to get credit for the game. After 2.5 periods of making jokes about being Rudy, I skated one shift, realizing with every stride that I was Seriously Tired.

That night, we intended to go eat at Dick's but it was so ridiculously crowded we wound up at the Excalibur buffet. I'm here to tell you that anyone who says that buffet is mediocre is absolutely correct. But I was happy as hell to be just sitting down for a while with my peeps.

We went to bed early that night so we could wake up to play in the championship the next morning. Despite that, 7:30 am is still early. But we headed to the rink, Trogdor The Knitted in tow, ready for our championshipness.

We skated as hard as we could but it just seemed like we were all tired. Plus, their goalie was a big time cover-er, not leaving the kinds of rebounds we'd been capitalizing on all tourney. We did our best but wound up losing 4-2 after they scored an empty-net goal. Sigh. I attribute this loss to the fact that I was the last one to touch Trogdor The Knitted and I almost missed touching Hannah Montana. Team, I am so sorry about that.

We did get trophies and some of our teammates were named all-tournament (go Becky, Lindsay and Ellen!!). Despite only getting the smaller trophies, I still had a blast.

So here are the numbers:

Number of free airplane seats for Val: 1
Number of times I got to rent a nicer car for the same money: 1
Number of times I grinned on the inside about hanging with Michelle: too many to count
Number of Knitted Trogdors: 1
Number of times I laughed so hard at Jennie thinking that the sports score ticker at Bally's was temperatures for those cities that my Sonic slushie spilled right out of my mouth and onto my shirt: 1. But it was really good.
Number of times the refs delayed dropping the puck because they were talking about the loogey they'd just coughed up: 1
Number of games I dressed for: 7
Number of games I actually skated: 6.2
Number of super excellent #1 Fan jerseys in our audience: 1. But it was so the right one.
Number of trophies given to our #1 Fan: 1
Number of excellent memories: too many to count.

Number of minutes I spent worrying about Val, who was in Jennie's excellent care: 0.

Thanks, team and athletic supporters for the pre-tournament haiku, for the knitted trogdor, for flying from back east to join us, for the squealing of minivan tires in the Tuscany parking lot, for the chance to touch Hannah Montana on a shin guard, for the hard work, for the total teamwork on the bench, for listening to my speeches and seeming to take them to heart and for playing your asses off.

Let's do it again next year, shall we?


Damn It

I had so many things I was going to tell You People. But I already forgot. Sorry.

Weekend Hockey Report

I played my first tourney with my new-to-me tournament team this weekend. We fell (literally) just short of going to the finals but I had a great time just the same. Unlike my time on the Seals, playing with this team is a lot more laid-back. I'm not constantly second-guessing whether or not I belong there, skill-wise and socially, it's a lot easier to join this crowd than it was with the Seals. So it's cool.

I played 5 games over 3 days and only hobbled just a little, at the very end. Not too shabby. It all adds up to me being more ready for VEGAS! Which is TOMORROW! YES YES YES, LESSGO RIGHT NOW!


Worth Waking Up For

Val got up really early asking for some muffins. I got up with her and
there we sat at the kitchen table in the early morning light. She
grabbed my arm and said Mommy. I love you.

Best. Moment. Ever.

Until she pointed at the bedroom door, behind which Andrea lay in the
warm bed, and said Mommy! I love you!

Later she pointed at me and said you, funny.

I can't think of a better way to spend an early morning.



The Backyardigans pretend newstation is WIOI, the 'corniest station.'
See ya tomorrow, news!


This Was Exactly My Point

So, remember when some people were giving me a hard time about referring
to Val as half-Chinese? When the whole reason we came up with that term
was to prevent people from asking follow-up questions about Val's
paternal heritage? Because, seriously, I don't feel that is anyone's

So today I'm at this shindig at work with Val. A co-worker comments on
Val's hair, how it's the same color as mine, asks if she's my only
child. The next comment was about her eyes 'wonder where those eyes
come from...'

Right. I can see where this is headed. I say 'she's half-Chinese.'
Oh. Is she adopted? No.

I think if we weren't at work the next questions would no doubt have
been more probing. But I have to wonder, do straight people get asked
questions like that? And how many questions did I head off by saying
she's half-Chinese?


No End In Sight

You could say that in some key ways, my Mom and I see the world differently. For one, she still struggles to call me Liz, even though I've been going by Liz for over 20 years now. I know, you can't rush change.

Another one is the issue of how we dress Val. This came up before she was born when I asked mom to get a blue blanket instead of pink. For the record, Val sleeps under that blanket every night now and we're still certain that she's a girl.

But I digress.

In the ensuing 2+ years since we found out Val was a girl, my mom has sent her many many wonderful things to wear. And DO NOT get me wrong for one goddamn second, we are grateful for all of these things.

However, it seems that there is still no meeting of the minds between my mother and I about how Val should dress. Apparently, the ever-increasing amount of pink in her wardrobe just isn't enough to prove to whoever is looking for proof that she's a girl. No, my mom would like to hook Val up with things that aren't exactly shirts but aren't exactly dresses either, things that, by her reckoning, are more 'feminine.'

Um, she's 1. Her world is all about running around and climbing on shit. To put her in anything that might restrict those hobbies seems unfair, especially when you consider that she really hasn't been walking all that long.

And yet, no matter how many times I explain this to my mom, (trying politely to divert her away from the shirts-that-are-almost-dresses, I guess you'd call them 'tops' or in one of those cases, 'housecoats') it still comes up.

"Don't you want her to look feminine?"
What I don't say to that is this: to tell you the truth, mom, no. I don't give a shit if she looks feminine. Why is that a priority?

And the other part I don't say is, what's the "worst" thing that could happen if Val doesn't dress 'feminine'? Let's see... She could turn out gay?

Ahem. You might already guess that I don't consider that the worst thing that could happen. Sure, it's probably easier to be straight but so what? Statistically, Val is most likely to turn out to be straight, even if she's not wearing dresses or things that look like housecoats today.

So we're continuing to have this discussion, though I think one day soon it will hit the point where I have to say some of those things.

I will admit to no small amount of glee at hearing that Talbots Kids is going out of business. That's one more battle I don't have to fight over what Grandma sends to Val.

Were it just a matter of style (see: talbots kids vs. how we actually dress her) that would be one thing. Because mom and I do have dramatically different tastes in many many things (her house is full of furniture with crazy prints where our stuff is mostly plain colors, except for Val's Sesame Street couch. And I don't think that counts.) What worries me the most is the messages behind the questions.

Better Than Flowers

Because in the end don't you have to take care of flowers?

Through the miracle of the Internet, I know someone who works at the same hospital my uncle is in. And she was kind enough to look up my uncle's room and head over to let them know that we're thinking of them right now. Sounds like things are going along and he's holding his own. That's progress, which is never a bad thing.

Lots of love going out from here to there...


This Sucks

Apparently this morning my uncle celebrated his birthday in a very shitty way -- by having a stroke. Thanks to swift action by my aunt, he's now in the hospital where they're doing all sorts of tests. Last I heard, those tests have only revealed that indeed, he had a stroke.



Dude, Vegas. It's NEXT WEEK!

Did That Really Happen?

Yesterday, Andrea's team and my team had a scheduling conflict so we decided to try having Val hang out with our friend's teenage daughter at the rink. This way, should anything go wrong, Andrea was right there not 20 feet away and ready to be summoned to the rescue.

We'd tried this before, a few months ago. The only polite way to describe what happened is to say that Val didn't enjoy it very much.

But she's older now so we thought we'd give it one more shot. The night before, we talked it up 'hey Val, tomorrow you're gonna hang out with S, how excellent will that be???' so she was ready.

It worked out fine, she had a great time with S, so much so that when I arrived after my game, Val wasn't that into me, she wanted to hang with S. Cool, then we can do this again if we need to...

Last night, it's time for Val's bath so I say okay Val, can you get undressed? (Yes, that's right, she can undress herself now. It's really fantastic, except for when she does it in public. Then it's not so great.) So she pulls down her pants.

And that's when I see it, poking out just below her now-going-down pants and just above the little Elmo on her diaper is what looks like, from across the room, it looks like A FINGER.

No, I am not kidding. It was just like a horror movie, except that it was on my little girl. Apparently S had her some fake nails and apparently during a diaper check or something, off came the nail.

I rush over, trying not to freak out that there's what appears to be a finger stuck to my wee daughter's leg. Val is no fool, she realizes that I'm freaked out and doesn't know why so she starts crying as I discover that it wasn't a whole finger, no, it was just a press-on fingernail that had somehow adhered itself to Val's little thigh.

So I have to calm myself down in order to calm Val down so I could remove the damn thing. It's left a bit of a mark, but didn't break the skin so it should be all better soon.

But me? I might be a little scarred by this one for a while yet...


What's Going On At Work

For one, no more tears. That in itself is huge.

For two, things are better. My boss made some changes that have helped a shitload. The end result of that change is that I'm getting better information and my work has way fewer quality issues than it was. So I'm out of the hot seat and somewhere along the way, I developed an offensive-ness (not like being offensive, but rather being ON the offensive) that's helped with the getting better instructions part.

Just in case you were wondering. Better all around and I couldn't be more grateful.

Owning Up To The Part About The Cars

Yes, I keep many Big Items until the last possible days. My ancient TV, my ipod, my hockey skates, any hockey gear that I like (you should smell my now-irreplaceable elbow pads. Ew.) stuff like that. I also have this thing about buying giant plastic play stuff for Val new. I just won't. That shit never wears down, never degrades and should, by rights be used forever. So that, I'll only buy used. Good thing there's a ton of people selling that stuff at any given moment.

By rights, if I'm as frugal as I say I am, I'd keep my cars forever. But you know that's not true, especially the last 3 years or so.

You've got me there. It's true and I own up to all of it.

My parents are the keep their cars until they die type. I totally respect the sentiment behind that. However, I think the fact that both of their cars were rather old by the time I started driving (10 and 7, I think) meant that something was always falling apart or needing to be fixed.

When I got my first car, a fine 1981 brown/rust (not the color but the actual rust) Toyota Corolla station wagon that if I'm guessing right, 2 of you actually rode in, for $450 from a neighbor, that thing had seen some better days. Yes, it was paid for, yes, it was cheap, but it also had many dates with the repair shop that left me carless/broke. That car was followed by a lovely 1985 VW Quantum (again, same two of you, riding in my jitney there) that I would have driven for a long time had I not totaled it.

Follow that up with the panic replacement, bought with a loan from my folks car that I ended up hating (87 VW Fox), then a serious piece of shit Toyota van that was in such bad shape it nearly killed me twice and I wound up at the place where that, that was it.

No more reasonably-priced used cars for me. No more tow trucks in the middle of the night in rural Oregon, no more rebuilding this giant expensive part or that thing, no. My ass was shelling out for a Brand New Car that was years away from needing repairs.

And ya know, I haven't looked back since. Maybe I'll hang onto this little Mazda I've got now, maybe I won't. But one thing that won't ever happen to me again is getting stranded in the middle of nowhere and being totally dependent on hillbilly, gay-hating strangers to tow my piece of shit car to their buddy's garage, then give me a ride home, charging me out the ass for the privilege. Do you know how dangerous that is?

Yes, that really happened. That was the first time that awful van failed me so thoroughly, but it wasn't the last. It didn't help that I was just a few months into my Exciting! New! Life! with the girlfriend who really didn't like me all that much, that she was just Too Busy at work to come get my stranded ass.

And when that awful van blew the radiator and the clutch at the same time later that year, the only person in the world I had to call to my aid (besides AAA, which my parents had generously shelled out for) was my boss from the shoe store.

Talk about a low point, waiting by the side of the freeway, praying that nobody would plow into me. Later that summer, I stopped 2 blocks away from the VW dealer to pour water into the (allegedly rebuilt) radiator so it wouldn't overheat and traded that fucker in for $900 towards a brand-new Jetta with power nothing but a new engine that never once failed me in 4 years.

The Sad State Of Things

You might now that I'm sort of cheap. I do tend to buy things with some degree of impulse, yes, but for Big Purchases, I tend to do my homework, hunt for coupons or deals, and often will settle for less than The Best of whatever it is just to save some cash. Along with this is the fact that once I've made a Big Purchase, I'll hang onto whatever it is until it dies.

So I have expensive shoes that I wear for too long, clothes that start to wear out before I decide they've exceeded their lifespan, a TV that I bought in college that you have to turn up the volume pretty high to hear anything on (and has slightly orange people, especially on SuperNanny. What's up with that??) and my now-4 year old ipod.

I will not replace that TV or my ipod until they die. There's just no point. They're paid off and they still play music or show us cheesy brain-rotting programming with (knock wood) unfailing loyalty. How could I think of replacing them just because the marketplace deems them obsolete?

Except. That recently, I dared to buy some new music and attempt to transfer it to my trusty, giant ipod. It spat back at me a message about incompatibility. I suspect that the real text of that message was 'how could you POSSIBLY continue to use this behemoth of the digital music world? Have you no shame?'

I'm not sure if my response was stupid or not. I followed the instructions and reformatted it (or something Bad like that). I knew, I knew but hoped differently, that most of my songs are actually on Andrea's work computer, housed there since she was the kind soul who transferred almost all of our CDs to digital formats back in what? 2003, when I had my first ipod, slightly larger than this one, one I would still have now except that it was plagued by a malfunctioning battery and got returned somewhere along the way.

So, I reformatted my trusty behemoth. And lost almost all of my music. I'm now down to whatever I've bought off itunes over the last few years. And well, it's not all that much.

Now I'm trapped in a loop of Christmas songs, ELO that even I am growing weary of and the Black Eyed Peas.

All day at work, especially when I'm on a big project, I'm using this trusty ipod. And now, that means listening to the same handful of songs.

I think I'm going crazy.


Off To A Fabulous Start

I had an early meeting today so I had to get up early. No sooner do I stumble to the bathroom do I hear the dogs getting into it. Had I been more awake, I'd have realized that usually means only 1 thing: Pat's had a seizure and is getting into the other dogs' business.

The skirmish continues, Andrea gets up to break it up, arriving just in time to catch Zeus peeing inside. Thanks, dude.

Note: Hockey sticks are EXCELLENT for breaking up dog fights. Not that one was used this morning, but I'm just saying.

Anyhoo, at this point I have a half hour to get ready, get out of the house and get to my meeting. I feed dogs, give Pat extra meds to calm him back down, and head out the door (after kissing Val's fuffin-crumbly mouth twice, per her request. And people, if you do not agree with me that is the cutest thing ever, I have no choice but to wonder if you have a soul).

My gas light came on as I pulled out of the driveway. I make it to work in time for my meeting, only to discover that it's with someone who's new (read: really enthusiastic but doesn't know how things work around here) so in the end, it was the other person reading to me from a document I already have and have been working off of.

Glad I got up early for that, really.

Dare I Say

That Val really enjoyed her Christmas presents?


I Was So Looking Forward To It

The main reason we shell out for Showtime is for their original series. First, it was for Queer As Folk because hey! a show about Our People that's actually interesting and not a documentary. Then that ended and the L Word started. Woo! Another show about Our People, even if they're all too hip for their own good and living a life that's so not at all like ours. But hey, a show full of dykes!

But here's the thing. It's not great. It's just not, especially compared to the other excellent shows they've had like QAF, Huff and our new favorite Dexter. L Word is like the castoff cousin that is plagued by sub-quality writing.

It's been a while since the last season ended so I guess I forgot about all that, especially since there are very few interesting shows on right now.

Within like 2 minutes of last night's season opener, I was bored and annoyed. Sigh. With Val so damn active, we don't have a lot of time to watch TV and I just want to enjoy the time we do have.

Hockey, And The Rain

Late Thursday/early Friday we had a bigass storm. Not the midwestern kind where storm=snow, ice and all that frozen crap. No, no, we had the joys of fierce winds that blew the roof off our patio, blew shit over and inspired the dogs to pee inside. Though, really, I can't blame them. If my bathroom was outdoors, I'd resign myself to an indoor potty stop in conditions like those.

I had a doctor appointment that I didn't want to cancel since we'd already arranged for childcare so I found myself out in The Weather, crazy gusts of wind hurtling themselves at my little car, driving rain pelting me as I slowly made my way up the highway. I was super relieved and only mildly pissed when the doc's office called to say their power was out and they'd have to reschedule. So I made my way home and curled up in bed while I worked from home.

Note: Laptop, you suck as far as computers go, but you're still fantastic even if you're quirky and slow because you let me work from beneath my bitchin' gnome sheets.

Thursday night also involved Val deciding that sleep was for anyone but her. So it was three hours of wrangling her in our bed in an attempt to get her tiny ass to sleep. Finally, just in time for me to sleep for like an hour before the winds started making all kinds of noise, she fell asleep after I cursed, then said that's it, we're doing cry it out this weekend.

The thing is, she's not the kind of kid you can really use cry it out with. Because if you leave her in her crib, crying, she just cries more. And more, then cries to the point where she's choking herself.

And there is no way I can force her to do that. So we were sort of at a loss about how to shorten her bedtime routine.

And then, I read a post on my mailing list from a mom who just goes into her kids' room and reads a book while they fall asleep. Duh. Yes.

So, Friday night after I came home from a hockey game where I scored from the point and we won, Val kissed Andrea good night, I grabbed a book and we headed into her room.

No, Val was not thrilled. But she did lay down on her own and we decided that I'd hold her hand while she fell asleep. And don't you know, she fell asleep, right there in her crib while I held her hand. She slept hard through the night. The next night, she laid down on her own and stuck her hand out for me to hold.

Of course, it wasn't quite that easy, there were a number of up and down episodes, with crying and complaining, as well as a pretend potty trip. But eventually she fell asleep in her own bed and I got to read while she was doing it.

Works for me.


In Lieu Of Original Content

I offer you some unoriginal content.

My uncle once: Wrote a book, then another.
Never in my life: did I think people could be as cruel as they sometimes are. This, I think is best to be surprised by rather than lose faith.
When I was five: I walked in on David H. in the kindergarten bathroom.
High School was: not all bad.
I will never forget: how uncomfortable I felt when I was growing up.
I once met: Joan Baez. She was very nice.
There's this girl I know who: is feisty, kind, compassionate and a great mother. I'm lucky to call her my Lady Friend for all these years.
Once, at a bar: I danced with a girl who acted like I was an alien when I asked for her number.
By noon, I'm usually: ready for lunch.
Last night: I meant to go to bed after Val did but played Scrabulous instead.
If I only had: not contacted my birthfather. That was so not necessary.
Next time I go to church: might be this week.
Terry Shiavo: was super-sad. I'm willing to bet she wouldn't have wanted to go out that way.
What worries me most: is money.
When I turn my head left, I see: My reflection in the window.
When I turn my head right, I see: A row full of empty chairs. Where the hell is everyone?
You know I'm lying when: My face turns bright red. Which is why I don't lie, there's no point.
What I miss most about the eighties: is that all-over awkward feeling.
If I was a character in Shakespeare, I'd be: Juliet? I dunno.
By this time next year: I hope there's a little more extra cash in the bank and my job sucks less.
A better name for me would be: Liz. Oh wait, I already chose that one. Yep, it's still the right one.
I have a hard time understanding: people who hate The Gays when they don't know any of us.
If I ever go back to school, I'll: finish my fucking thesis.
You know I like you if: I start appearing on your doorstep a lot.
If I ever won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: the Academy, no matter who gave that award to me.
Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: were all more famous than me.
Take my advice, never: tell people what you really think when they ask you in a moment of low self-esteem.
My ideal breakfast is: eggs with artichoke, sun-dried tomato and sausage.
A song I love, but do not own is: many songs that I don't bother finding out the names of.
If you visit my hometown, I suggest: eating at White Castle, Waffle House, then leaving.
Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: this is a question for people smarter than I.
Why won't people: stop hating on The Gays? We're so not bothering you.
If you spend the night at my house: I'll not poo because our bathroom door doesn't close all the way and I'd just DIE if you heard me.
I'd stop my wedding for: nothing. If the day comes where I can get married, nothing would be more important than that moment. This is not to say that I wouldn't wear jeans.
The world could do without: unkindness.
I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: eat fish. Hrm, I dunno.
My favorite blonde is: Alice Pieczecki.
Paper clips are more useful than: safety pins.
If I do anything well, it's: organize people to do fun stuff. Like play hockey.
And by the way: top o' the mornin' to ya.


Someone Please Tell Me Why This Matters

So today I brought my trusty book to McDonald's so I could break in my gift card (thanks Mom!) and have a quick lunch. The McDonald's closest to my work is a little strange (often, some employee opens the door for me and welcomes me, a far cry from the surliness that my neighborhood location provides) and has been re-done so it's Very Nice on the inside.

For some reason it also has 2 TV's that are constantly on. Makes no sense to me but maybe it serves to appease the masses and keep the noise level among diners down. I dunno.

So today, the only good spot left was directly under one of the TVs, so I march my shit over and start to sit down, only to hear some guy saying some shit about protecting marriage between a man and a woman being his priority, how protecting that sacred bond would only serve to make our beloved country better.

And you wonder why I'm not all that patriotic.

Turns out that guy was Mit Romney, some yahoo who's trying to get the Republican nomination, to serve as our esteemed president/monkey's replacement. Fucking fantastic, Mit. I'm glad that there's someone to carry that torch, because really, it's of grave importance that the government of the country I live in continue to think (rather erroneously) that my little family is somehow a threat to straight people everywhere and that the matrimonial bond those straight people have is somehow far superior to the one that Andrea and I have shared these last 11 years in our fly-by-night product-of-the-homosexual-agenda relationship.

I'll tell you what, Mit. If somehow, you get the nod and if somehow you get elected to be the replacement monkey, I'm going to send you a card every goddamn month with a picture of my family on it. We'll be doing radical things like going to the park, paying our mortgage, adoring our daughter, using the post office, buying groceries and enjoying one another's company. And maybe after you've gotten all those cards and seen all those pictures, you could take a minute to explain to me how exactly we're bad for America.