Washer Woes.

My phone rings this morning as I'm getting ready for work.  It's Sears.  They've graciously put me "First" on their list. 

Yippeeee.

The guy arrives and not only does he look like he stepped fresh from the pages of "America's Most Wanted," but he smells.  Like ass.  Like a large, stinky ass. 

I take him downstairs and tell him what's wrong with the stupid washer. 

His response:  "You need to change your detergent.  You need high efficiency."  That - I can take.  His next comment - not so sure.  "Yeah - you need to rip out this wall.  It's too close to the washer.  Makes it hard to work on."

"You want me to rip out a wall?  In my laundry hole?"  I'm not appaled at the idea.  I've had it a few times myself. However, I'm appalled that the repairman would suggest it instead of - I dunno - FIXING MY DAMN WASHER. 

I laugh and walk off to the tv room.

While I'm watching an episode of "Charmed" (there's NOTHING on tv at 8 am!) I can hear him muttering loudly...

"I hate this! Hate this! Wall... Hate this!"

"Argh!  Cats! Stupid cat.  I hate CATS!"

On and on he complained and bitched as he worked on my ill washer.

"Hey!  HEY!"  he bellows to me from the laundry hole.  "HEY!  You wanna run a broom or something back here before I push it back in?"  I can hear that he thinks I should hop up and do his bidding.  However, I'm offended.  So what if my laundry hole is gross?  So what if the back of my washer is filled with dirt?  I will not be judged by this man.  This stinky man. 

"Nope - I'm good."

"AAgh." was his response. 

So that's my morning so far.  I'm supposed to be heading into work.  But I can't bring myself to leave my nice warm couch and head for the door. 

Tempted to play hookey.

Tempted to "forget" to go in.

Tempted to call in and tell 'em I pulled my gallbladder while lugging on heavy files that I wasn't supposed to be tugging on in the first place. 

Guess the deviishness from yesterday is still hangin' on...  :)

Devil's Food or Me?

I went to the local donut store to get a dozen donuts for my co-workers this morning (and so I could eat three and not look like a total pig) and how am I rewarded for my niceness?

 

1.  My total came to $6.66.  What the hell is with this recurring number?  Is someone(thing?) trying to tell me something?

2.  I am told to go in the conference room and "catalog boxes of files." 

I'm so mad right now that I'm turning red.

Blood red.

Like the devil.

I think I could rock me some horns... 

Cool Beans, dude... Coooool beans!

As I'm driving to work this morning - I see the most unusual thing.  A woman with bright red toenails is driving her minivan with her foot hanging out the window.    Not only was it too cold to drive with one's bare piggies waving in the breeze - it pretty much guarantees that someone in another car is going to get mesmerized by the stupidity of this woman.  And, while under the piggies' spell the other driver will rear-end idiotic foot fetish woman.  Thus teaching the woman with the breeze-lovin' feet a lesson by having to painfully remove a steering wheel from her nether regions.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand - I slept like a rock last night.  If rocks only sleep in thirty minutes intervals, that is.  So needless to say this morning when I tumbled into the bathroom and began my morning ritual of face scrubbing - I wasn't paying much attention to my actions.  And when I flung the glasses from my face in a fit of four-eyed fervor - I hear a "clunk" and then squinted at my glasses.  Somehow I had managed to knock the lens into a knob and remove a chunk of glass from the left lens. 

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!" I screamed at the ceiling, the burnt-out bulbs and the dirty carpeted floor.

"Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?"  Phoebe responded, ignoring my plight and circling her nearly empty food bowl.

Dejected I plopped in the floor and wrestled my contacts into my eyeballs while Phoebe made out with my hairbrush.

Luckily for me - my warranty on my glasses was good for one year.  Unluckily for me - it ran out on the fifteenth. 

Sensing my distress and slight Hulk-green tinge, the saleslady took my frames and went to call her "lens guy" who not only offered to overlook the year warranty and get me a new one - no charge.

After work, I plan on making the day better by going to Borders Bookstore - but I hate to go without a coupon.  Something about NOT getting 10% or 20% off just really bugs me.  It's like going to Payless when they're NOT having BOGO - 'tis just WRONG.  So -if anyone out there has a spare coupon and wants to send it to me - feel free:  h0llyk911@aol.com. 

I promise I'm good for it.  I'll even mow your lawn. 

If you show me how to work a lawn mower...

Irony, Cosmic Interference or Just Really Damn Funny?

I just went to my vampire blog and saw that the number count had hit - well - an interesting sequence of numbers...

ahahahaah!

Maybe my grandmother was right about me after all...

 

 

Are my Eyebrows on Fire?

I'm so mad right now that I'm sure there is a wee chance that my eyebrows may burst into flames.   Which is sad because I have quite lovely (if not slightly lopsided) eyebrows. 

Last night - it happened.

I was watching "Heroes" with my sister and grandmother (whom I was mostly ignoring due to her condemning me to hell for "devil worshipping" aka "Harry Potter") when I decided to go check on my tiny load of laundry.  I pop up from my recliner (not easy to do since it refuses to unrecline unless I flop my legs down like a crazed gymnast) and saunter back to the laundry hole and - it's f'd up AGAIN!

The stupid piece of electronic crap-pile is flashing at me "Ob" "Ob" "Ob". 

I cautiously lift the lid, careful to pull my head away should the gremlin pop out and want something to suck on, and peer into the murky depths.  It was filled half way with sudsy water, drowning Polo shirts, some underwear and a few t-shirts including my beloved "Barbie dumped Ken."

I stuck my arm in the bin and prayed that I had not accidentally been transported to the twilight zone where Washing Machines transported unsuspecting owners to an alternate universe during the spin cycle.  I grabbed some things and swished them around, thinking I could trick the monster within to stop  flashing me the dreaded "Ob" "Ob" "Ob."

Putting the lid back down I pushed "START" and waited.  The clock dropped to 23 minutes and I could hear the water drain.  And then the clock went to 24. And then to 23.  

I will not share with you the string of curse words that fell from my mouth at this point.  Just know that it was long, profane and a bit twisted.

I decide to call Sears - much to my Husband protests.  

So I talk to Alex - who not only speaks English but it may even be his native tongue!  Pleased, we laugh and joke about the teeny "8 to 5" window I'm given and then he surprises me by saying they have an opening tommorow (today). 

Well, blow me down.  THAT will never happen again!

There's a reason for that.

As I'm perched by the door this morning at  9 AM I get a call from Sears:

"Are you the one waiting for a repairman?" he says.

"Yes, yes I am!"  I'm happy.  Surely they're cruising down my lane as we speak, decked out in their little white outfits and blue and white van. 

"I was calling to let you know that we don't have anyone in your area today, but do have appointments for Friday or Monday," he said.

I'm stunned.  "B-b-but, the guy on the phone, Alex! Alex said that you had an appointment today!" I stammered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said unapologetically.

"So... there's no one in the area and I took the day off of work for nothing?" 

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that!   We will call you on - Friday? Okay - Friday and then you can just meet us at your house.  That way - you don't have to take off work," he said. 

If there was a way to make someone's head explode just by sheer will - vengence would have been mine at that point.

"Okay."  He had me by the proverbial balls - I had no leverage.  What was I supposed to do?  Threaten to NOT use my broken washer in protest?  Boycott Kmart?  Worse yet, boycott Sears?  No - I would never be allowed to do that.  Harry and Craftsman are like Romeo and Juliet - in love - but doomed to do harm to each other...

Sigh...

In the meantime - anyone got any rope I can borrow?

For what? Umm... For a clothesline.  Yes... a clothesline....

                                                 

Synapses misfired. No Synopsis will prevail...

I'm trying to write a synopsis to send to publishers to convince them that my writing will be the next big thing.  I have to convey a certain sense of confidence, humor and a way with words that will make all in the publishing world quiver in their sensible loafers.

Here is what I have so far:

SUPER BUNNY;  A Tail of Trials and Tribulations

 

 

 

                        This is my synopsis. Please publish my book.  It’s fun.   And it’s –um- cool and stuff.  Please publish it with a cute cover.   And pay me some money so that I can quit my horrible job and live off of royalties for awhile. At least two weeks.  Maybe three. Thank you.

 

Yup. I'm shooting for a print date of two-thousand-never!

 

yippppeeee!

UGH.

Things With Bite

I am nearing the end of my journey with Kat Freeman - she has maybe two or three more blogs in her until the end of her blogging career and - maybe even her life!  Go here to check out the latest installment!

I've really enjoyed the vampire journal thing - but it's really hard to come up with new storylines after you impregnate the lead character with Satan. 

Sigh. 

                                              

Slice and Dice!

                                                        

                             

It's my fault, really.

I should've known better than to try out a level of domesticity that we had not previously achieved in our three years of wedded bliss. 

We made lunch at home on Sunday. 

I sliced up tomatoes and arranged them on two sandwiches, one for me and one for my mom who was on her way over to assist with some curtain hanging.  

"Can I help you clean your knife?"  Harry asked sweetly and picked up my tomato-laden knife. 

"Sure, babycakes, that'd be great!"  I said and laid out the plates on the table.

"Is your mom on her way ov-Aaaaaaaaaagh!"  Cuss words flew through the air with the greatest of ease as Harry grabbed his injured thumb. 

I didn't look - I simply went to the cabinet and removed peroxide and band-aids.  Walking over to Harry standing with his hand under the water - I swooned. 

Too much BLOOOOOOOD!

I don't do well with blood.  Nope.

I made him wrap it in a paper towel and wait for Mom to get there.  She's motherly and stuff - she'll know what to do with a gushing flesh wound, I thought to myself. 

She came in and tended to my hubby's wound while I sat down at the table and tried not to wretch over my ham sandwich. 

Later, with nine working fingers, my hubby manages to hang three sets of curtains and rewire the entire downstairs tv room including the readjusting and repositioning of six speakers, one tv, a 500 disc dvd changer, a dvd player, a vcr of ancient origin, a receiver and a cable box. 

He's a keeper.

Even with nine fingers.

oh- and he totally fixed the washer!  

And Then I Broke the Washer.

 

                   

I skipped the Pumpkin Festival Media dinner last night (and missed out on making small talk with local celebrities like Tony Cavalier - on second thought - that may be a good thing - I may accidentally mention the word "gerbil" and - well - then THAT would be akward... Long story...) so I could stay home and work on my essay for my Modern Poetry class and figure out a paper topic to submit - all due by 9 AM this morning.

So - I go home after work - order a pizza (brain food) and down two large cans of cherry coke.  Out of my noggin' pops a slightly crappy essay on "Billy Bill" and even crappier paper topic involving "Bird Boy" and his Naturalistic approach on the uncaring Universe and how we don't matter and the irony that his approach was thwarted by his poetry, recording his life in countless books, accidentally disproving his theory and making him "matter" to the world. 

I email my stuff to my prof and go to finish out the last load of laundry.  I was multi-tasking - and - I was out of undies that had butts in them.  

I go to the laundry hole (it's a kitchen with a hole to the side where my washer and dryer are nestled akwardly) and see that my high class washer, used intermittedly is flashing "CA, CA, CA" at me.   So - either it's in need of a vacation to the west coast or it is, once again, f'd up.  

I sigh and lift the lid, and there, before my very eyes is my dress clothes, drowning in sudsy water, unable to finish the cleaning process.  I hit buttons, smack the lid, push more buttons and finally give up when my hand starts to throb and I can smell the faint odor of a motor burning.

I called Harry.  "Hey, I'll be home late tomorrow night. I broke the washer so you'll need to fix it! Okluvubye!"

One of the many joys of marriage: The 'Honey-Do" List!

Fool for School

I have just spent the last four hours in my house going over the poetry of William Carlos Williams (hereinafter referred to as "Billy Bill") and Stephen Crane ("Birdy").  And what, after much speculation and hard-working divination have I discovered?

That I completely suck at poetry. 

I don't understand it. 

I went to class on Wednesday night and one of my new friends proudly handed me his volume of poems.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that unless his name ended in "Suess" I was probably not going to understand a word of it. 

He watched me as I read.  I nodded and smiled.  I flipped pages in wild abandon.

I didn't have a f'n clue what the poem meant and still am not sure if it was my fault or his. 

I gave it back to him, trying my hardest not to give him the "WTF" look that I'm sportin' in the photo above.

Some things could only happen to Stacey...

That's my friend Stacey with me (oh yeah - that was the haircut that almost made me lose my sanity - yellow bangs! I had YELLOW BANGS!) and if anyone has worse luck than yours truly  - it's her.

Case in point:  The following is an excerpt from an email she sent me earlier....and a good reason to give up coffee in the morning...

I had to have a do-over this morning.

Got to campus, had a good spot.

In the process of shuffling my 40 pound bag-o-work, Lab manual,

Purse, Keys, phone and coffee, I Made a fatal error

I was gathering up all of my things and attmepting to get out of the

car at the same time. I decided that it would be smart to put my

half-full coffee cup on the top of my car, where it was supposed to

wait for me until I stood up and closed the car door.

Well... I missed the roof, or rather the opening of the car door to

get to the roof.

The edge of the cup tipped over sideways and I managed to douse

myself, bookbag, lab manaul and car interior with frothy Dark roast

Senso coffee.

It was even in my hair.

Momentarily stunned, I sat there pondering my next move.

Do I go ahead and go in? It's not like I don't usually spend the

day with soem sort of food stain on my clothes. Then again, it's

usally a much smaller stain and occurs much later in the day.

I took one little attempt at stepping out of the car door, that cold

morning wind hit my wet clothes, I got back in the car and went

home.

On the way home I also managed to lose a contact [lens], so, overall, a

rough morning.

 

Grammatically speaking, of course...

Late last night, while my ever-traveling hubby and I were snuggled in bed he squeezes my shoulder and says : "Hey - there was a typo on your blog yesterday."

I'm surprised he noticed so I say "Oh really - what was it?"

"You typed an 'r' instead of a 't' and I was going to point it out to you in the comments and post my favorite quote but couldn't figure it out."

"You couldn't figure out how to post a comment?"  I was perplexed.

"No - I couldn't figure out how to spell 'senor' without the little doo-hickey over the 'n'"  he said.

"What quote was it?"  I asked.

"From 'Office Space' - 'Excuse me, Senor, but I ordered a Mai Tai and you brought me a Margarita and...'"  he said and laughed at his memory of Milton.  "I also couldn't spell 'Mai Tai'"

"Oh really? How were you going to spell it?"

"Well," he said, letting one hand rest on my head, "I was just going to spell 'senor' without the doo-hickey - S-E-N-I-O-R,"  I stifled a giggle and let him continue, "but then I had trouble with 'Mai Tai' - M-Y-T-Y, M-I-T-Y..." 

I busted out laughing "OH SENIOR - I'D LIKE A MEEETY!  SENIOR - A MIGHTY, OVER HERE PLEASE!"

Ah - marriage.  'Tis a wonderful thing to have someone to love, to hold, to cherish - and to make fun of on a daily basis. 

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I'll love ya, tomorrow!"

Although Annie ranks up there as one of my favorite movie (and soundtracks) of all time, I would not have to say that it's filled with lovable movie quotes.

My favorite quote from a flick would have to be the one uttered by the speed-chowin' Liv Tyler in "Empire Records":  "There are 24 usable hours in every day." 

                        

I would really love to be one of those great people who can exist and refuel on a mere four hours of sleep per night.  I wish I could be the container and vessel for untapped entegy and I wish that I could get everything done in one day that I have been struggling to get done for weeks now.

However, on a brighter note, my schoolwork is going well and no one has smacked me with a Twain novel for being stupid - which really was a fear of mine.  I thought for sure that I'd be in class, sitting in one of those uncomfortable TINY chairs when the prof would look at me and say "Holly, what do YOU think?"  And I'd pee myself in sheer terror.  Yup.  That is one of my big fears.  Not so much the urination part - but the part where I'd be put on the spot, my face would turn red, ears flush to purple and I'd stammer, "Well, I - uh - I - uh - I liked it.  A lot."

So far, so good. And I'm entering the 13th hour...

Dum-dum-DUM!!!!

What's your favorite movie quote?  Comment/E-mail me!  h0llyk911@aol.com!

Are My Roots Showing?

Cindy felt I needed to take this quiz...

 

You Are 60% Redneck

You're just about as welcome up in town as a hair in a biscuit. Ain't no hidin' your redneck roots!

How Redneck Are You?

 

Hmm- I think she's right - I should change my name to "Hillbilly Holly!"

It's no wonder I have six tv's in my house...

I watch way too much tv...

I stole this from Cindy who swiped it from Dan who pinched it from... Well, let's just say that this list has gotten around. You can alphabetically add up to three tv shows that are not already listed. Bold the ones you've seen at least three times, italicize 'em if you've seen every single episode - which for me - was too many. But what can I say - If Joss makes it - I'll watch it!

24 (yawn. Don't get the hype. AND Keifer's creepy)
3rd Rock from the Sun
7th Heaven (too many kids - really hope they'll blow up that damn house and that chick that looks like a chiauaua in the last episode)
Adam-12
Aeon Flux
A.L.F
Alfred Hitchcock Presents
Alias
Alice
Alien Nation
Allo Allo
American Idol/Pop Idol/Canadian Idol/Australian Idol
America's Next Top Model/Germany's Next Top Model
Angel (Every. Single. Episode. AND the dvd extras!)
Arrested Development
Arthur of the Britons
Babylon 5
Babylon 5: CrusadeBattlestar
Battlestar Galactica (the old one)
Battlestar Galactica (the new one)
Baywatch
Batman
Beauty & the Beast
Beavis & Butthead (Am I the only one who loved the movie? huh? )
The Ben Stiller Show
Beverly Hills 90210 (Shannon Doherty's crosse-eyed glare got me every time).
Bewitched
Bonanza
Bones
Bosom Buddies
Boston Legal
Boy Meets World ( I just loooooove Ben Savage!)
Brady Bunch
Buck Rogers in the 25th Century
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (I have watched this entire show - all seasons... three times... or more...)
Bug Juice
Chappelle's Show
Charlie's Angels
Charmed (Cool concept - convuluted storylines...)
Cheers
China Beach
Columbo
Combat
Commander in Chief
Coupling
Cowboy Bebop
Crossing Jordan
CSI
CSI: Miami
CSI: NY
Curb Your Enthusiasm
Dallas
Dancing with the Stars
Danny Phantom
Dark Angel
Dark Skies
Davinci's Inquest
Dawson's Creek (Pacey!)
Dead Like Me
Deadliest Catch
Deadwood
Degrassi: The Next Generation
DesigningWomen
Desperate Housewives (Stopped watching mid-way through Season Two - my guess - two more years and this show will be finito!)
Dharma & Greg
Diff'rent Strokes
Doctor Who (new Who)
Doctor Who (series 1-26)
Dragnet
Due South (Seen it a couple times. Cute.)
Dungeons and Dragons
Dynasty
Earth 2
Earth - Final Conflict
Emergency!
Enterprise
Entourage
ER
Escape From Planet Earth
Everwood
Everybody Loves Raymond
Facts of Life
Falcon Crest
Family Guy (I watched this last night - I am so happy it got un-cancelled!)
Family Ties
Fantasy Island
Farscape
Fawlty Towers
Felicity
Firefly (Nathan Fillion's butt makes a cameo in this show. One of the best moments in television history...)
Flamingo Road
Frasier
Friends
Full House
Futurama
Get Smart
Gilligan's Island
Gilmore Girls
Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.
Green Wing
Grey's Anatomy
Growing Pains
Gunsmoke
Happy Days
Head of the Class
Hercules
Highlander
Hill Street Blues
Hogan's Heroes
Home Improvement Homicide: Life on the Street
House
I Dream of Jeannie
I Love Lucy
Invader Zim
Invasion
Iron Chef (Japan)
Iron Chef (USA) (Secret Ingredient - GROUND BEEEEEEF!)
Ironside
JAG
Jackass
Jeopardy
Joey
John Doe
Kath and Kim
Knight Rider
Knots Landing
La Femme Nikita
LA Law
Laugh-In
Laverne and Shirley
Law & Order
Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Law & Order: SVU
Little House on the Prairie
Lizzie McGuire
Logan's Run
Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman
Lost (Couldn't get into it.  Really wish they'd all eat poisoned fish and be done with it...)
Lost in Space
Love, American Style
M*A*S*H
MacGyver
Magnum P.I.
Malcolm in the Middle
Married...With Children
Melrose Place
Miami Vice
Millenium
Mission Impossible
Monk
Moonlighting
Mork & Mindy
Murphy Brown
My Family
My Favorite Martian
My Life as a Dog
My Mother the Car
My So-Called Life
My Three Sons
My Two Dads
Mysterious Cities of Gold
NCIS
Night Court
Nip/Tuck
Northern Exposure
Numbers
One Tree Hill (My current addiction - I'm on pins and needles for the season opener!)
Oz
Parker Lewis Can't Lose
Perfect Strangers
PerryMason
Picket Fences
Pirates of Darkwater
Pokemon
Power Rangers
Prison Break
Profiler
Project Blue Book ("Project UFO" in UK)
Project Runway
Psyche
Quantum Leap
Queer As Folk (US)
Queer asFolk (British)
Queer Eye For The Straight Guy
ReGenesis
Remington Steele
Rescue Me
Road Rules
ROME
Roseanne
Roswell
Samurai Jack
Sanford & Son
Saved by the Bell
Scarecrow and Mrs. King
Scooby-Doo Where Are You?
Scrubs
Seinfeld
Sex and the City
Six Feet Under
Sliders
Slings and Arrows
Smallville (Although it's getting a bit strange - it's still good - except Lana - she's always sucky...)
Small Wonder
So Weird
South Park
Space 1999
Spaced
Spongebob Squarepants
Sports Night
Square Pegs
St. Elsewhere
Star Trek
Star Trek: The Next Generation (Wil Wheaton! Be still my beating heart with your tacky gray jumpsuit!)
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Star Trek: Voyager
Star Trek: Enterprise
Stargate Atlantis
Stargate SG-1
Superman
Supernatural
Surface
Survivor
Taxi
Teen Titans
Teletubbies
That Girl
That 70's Show
That's So Raven
The 4400
The Addams Family
The Andy Griffith Show
The A-Team
The Avengers
The Beverly Hillbillies
The Bionic Woman
The Book of Daniel
The Colbert Report
The Cosby Show
The Daily Show
The Dead Zone
The Dick Van Dyke Show
The Dukes of Hazard
The Flintstones
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
The Golden Girls
The Greatest American Hero
The Jetsons
The L Word
The Love Boat
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
The Mighty Boosh
The Monkees
The Munsters
The Mythbusters
The O.C.
The Office (UK)
The Office (US)
The Outer Limits
The Pretender
The Prisoner
The Real World
The Shield
The Simpsons  (my marriage depends on my watching of this show)
The Six Million Dollar Man
The Sopranos
The Suite Life of Zack and Cody
Tour of Duty
The Twilight Zone
The Waltons
The West Wing
The Wild Wild West
The Wonder Years  (Fred Savage!  My first crush! After E.T. that is...)
The X-Files
Third Watch
Thirtysomething
Three's Company
Top Gear
Twin Peaks
Twitch City
Upstairs, Downstairs
"V"
Veronica Mars
Wings
What Not To Wear (US)
What Not To Wear (UK)
Whose Line is it Anyway? (US)
Whose Line is it Anyway? (UK)
Witchblade
Will & Grace
Wonderfalls
Wonder Woman
Xena: Warrior Princess
Young Hercules

 

.... I really need to get a hobby....

Wow, What a Weekend!

A list of things that happened over my "Wow, what a weekend!" weekend:

1.  Saturday morning I roll out of bed and start wandering around the bathroom, zombie-like, until we leave the house - AT EIGHT A.M.!  We have to be in Beckley to get the head unit in the Denali fixed by 10.  Why?  Because the other branches of the store where the monitor was purchased just closed up shop and left.  Didn't even bother to call.  Bastardheads...  Anyway - so we go to Beckley to the beautiful "Crossroads Mall."  Sounds scary and a little like the title to a B-grade Horror flick doesn't it?  "And they were never seen again..."  So we have to wander around the "mall"  (A "Garfield's" a "JCPenney" and a "Hallmark" doesn not a mall make..." And I'm happy to find headbands that don't hurt my head and cute black draped shirt with  a 3/4 length cardigan (the latter of which totaled  $4!!!!).  We get back to the car stereo place and they haven't switched head units - they've only swapped out the brain. 

Harry's not satisfied.

So he rips off the dash and starts dismantling the stereo.  I kid you not.  It was the funniest damn thing I'd seen in weeks. 

The other guys started scrambling to help and I hopped in the back seat - fearing shrapnel. 

Finally, Harry's happy - so everyone's happy.  But Lord help the tiny redneck install guy when my beloved's ears happened to hear - static.  Off came the dash again and off I flew to the backseat to cower.  

It was funny.  And a bit scary...

2.  The Fall Fest officially ended on Saturday night.  Drats - only managed to consume three funnel cakes.  I will try harder next year...

3.  I wake up too early on Sunday morning and go downstairs to sit in my too-cool tv room (it has red walls and accents of lime green, brown and orange.  Groovy, man, groooovy).  I am watching "Sky High" a movie that I love, for some reason, and watch it anytime it's on.  I'm halfway done folding my brand new bright turquoise Tommy Hilfiger towels (on sale - $7 for bath sheets and sooooo soft!) when Harry comes downstairs.  In the space of ten mintues he's laying next to me, cuddled on my arm and then, somehow - on top of me.   Doing nothing - just laying there.  So - I try to enjoy the rest of the movie - with a large man laying on me. 

4.  While at the Crossroads Mall in Beckley I pick up a book and snort with laughter.  Carrying it under my arm I walk up to Harry and say "Hey, think someone might've missed the mark on this one?"  I then held up the book entitled "Depression for Dummies."  I just had to laugh thinking about the person writing the book "Snap out of it - you're not depressed ya dummy!"

5.  I was getting ready this morning - sitting in the floor of the bathroom, carefully and artfully applying green eyeshadow when Harry comes up behind me, pulls out his gel deodorant and starts clicking away.  He was three clicks into it when I heard "oops!" and felt a glop of something hit the back of my freshly washed, newly straightened hair.  "What was that?" I asked.

I look up to see Harry, staring, open-mouthed at the back of my head.  He swiped his underarms and then made a bee-line for the open door, giggling like some kid who got caught doing something wrong. 

I wiped the goop out of my hair and am now sitting at work - every once in a while catching whiffs of "Fresh Sport Scent."  Grrr.

6.  Coming to work this morning I get out of my car and walk in the path of a very large black man mowing the grass.  I wave at him and smile, thanking him for not running me over with his John Deere.  He says "Good morning" and we exchange pleasantries.  So imagine my surprise when I'm walking away and hear a low whistle followed by an appreciative "Mmm-mmm!"  I should've been offended - but it really wasn't his fault  - I have a poofy posterior and it can be quite entrancing to those who, ahem, "like big butts" and cannot lie....  hee hee

7.  Yesterday was my parent's 30-something wedding anniversary (neither can remember exactly what year they were married - I blame the lead paint that used to coat the walls of my childhood home).  And today is my mother's 58th birthday.  So - when I hit the big 3-0 - I will have someone to share my pain - only more so! 

8.  Harry was playing with Phoebe on the bed Saturday. She seemed a little more grumpy than usual (it's hard to tell with her squishy face if she's really mad or just made that way) - so when she hissed at him and beat him about the hands and arms with her massive paws - I couldn't help but laugh.  

9.  Harry and I had to find curtain rods for our brown drapes.   We went to Lowe's, Home Depot, back to Lowe's and then to Linen's and Things to find the perfect rod.  However, now that we have them  - we're hesitant to mar the pretty fresh paint with holes!  So - instead  - we ripped them from their packagings and held them up to each window, trying to decide what to do with them in the near future...

10.  While waiting for Harry to re-assemble his dash - again - one of the guys came to sit next to me on the wall where I was perched reading "CT Yankee" by Twain.   I looked up from my page to see the back of a security guard drive by in a brand-new Jeep with the word "SECURITY" written on the side.  "This mall's security has new Jeeps to drive around in?"

"Yup" said little redneck man, "I installed the light bar on it for them."

"Oh!" I said, happy to have something to add to the conversation, "I was looking at Renegades the other day and they come equipped with a real, working light bar, too! I love it! So rugged!"

He looked at me funny and then got up to see if Harry had fixed the static sound. 

A few minutes later - the Jeep drove back by - with his blue and white lights flashing in their light bar rack on the roof.   

"Oh!"  I said to myself.  "That's why he looked at me like I was a weirdo!"  I chuckled and went back to reading. 

 

And that was my weekend in a nutshell.  No one died, no one was maimed at Home Depot (this time) and I even managed to have fun. 

For lunch I will be going to a Mexican place and consuming a large bowl of cheese dip. 

Mustn't disappoint the lawnmower man!

ahahahahah!

"It's the day that never ends, it just goes on and on, MY FRIEND!"

It's 4 o'clock- do you know where your brain is?

So I'm bored - and am on a website of baby names.

Don't ask.

Future names for mine and Harry's yet-to-be-concieved child:

Halo - very cute, very innocent - Harry would love it due to his obsession with the Xbox game he and his friends play ALL THE TIME. However - this is just asking for some Damien hellspawn to spring from my loins. Ew.

Halyn - Cute - if not a little backwoods-ish.

Harley (From the hares' wood) - perfect combo of my name and Harry's - minus that "e" in there... I like it. Very plucky.

Hestia (hearth): Cute and goes nicely with "Lucille" which is to be the non-existant child's middle name in honor of my teeny former hermit-couch Granny-in-law.

Holiday - I don't know why but I love this. However - I see many unfortunate connontations with the phrase "I'm going on Holiday". Geez...

Harmony - maybe she'll be musically inclined! Or a stripper! Sigh...

 

Harry likes the idea of our child being named with an "H" - so I'm game and since he'll be the one enduring HOURS OF LABOR - I don't see why I can't let him have his way.

Especially since, if we happen to have a boy - it'll be Harry the Fourth.

"C'mon and get your supper, lil' QUATRO!"

hee hee

Obligations and Frustrations

It's Friday so I'm feeling compelled to write some interesting tidbit for all to read before the weekend approaches.  However - my life has been a big pot of boring soup as of late.  And that about sums up my feeling of today, of me and of my life in general.  As busy as I am and as life seems - I am BORED.  Even my lunch today is yawn-inspiring and a tad juvenile:  PB&J and  a cup of orange jell-o.  No one would trade lunches with me today - and I don't even have a nutty buddy to sweeten the deal.  Nope.  I plan on eating my lunch in solitude - sitting in my Jeep watching the first season of Grey's Anatony and drooling over the McDreamy himself - Patrick Dempsey.

On another thought, my lunch was almost non-existant today.  After carefully wrapping my sandwich in multiple paper towels and seperating my jell-o cup from its friends, I plopped both in an old Kroger bag ( a high-class sign of corporate America's workers) and headed to work.  I'm half-way to downtown when I look over and see my class books, notebooks, laptop case, umbrella - and - that's it.  No Kroger bag.  Now, I have a choice to make.  I can go on to work, forfeiting my painstakingly packaged lunch or I can do a massive illeagal U-turn in morning rushhour traffic and fly back down Rt. 60 to my house and capture my elusive lunch.

I have two seconds to make the decision.

I turn in front of a Honda-bug and hop and pop through Stogie's drive thru and the 24 hour landramat before landing back on the road, squealing on less than four tires and heading back home.

One really can't waste a perfectly good peanut butter sandwich on the mere happenstance of a possible tardy to a job one doesn't even consider important - especially when faced with the horrors of lunch-time drive thrus! 

                                           

Have a great weekend!

--Holly aka "O-Boring-One"

Grrr... I'm a Franken-pumpkin!

Okay - I really need to stop - but this is cracking me up!

BEHOLD! MY INNER PUMPKIN FACE!:

You Are

A Franken Pumpkin Face You would make a good deformed pumpkin.

What's Your Pumpkin Face?

Crayola Connundrum!

I just took a quiz:

 

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

 

I think I'm going to go steal Cindy's crayon - her's was Phlegm Flu Green... hee hee

Wii, Wii, Wii, all the way home...

My hubby is all excited - they've confirmed the release date and price of the new Nintendo Wii.  For those of you not living with man-boys - I will reiterate - it's the new NES console - only cooler.  It comes with a remote joystick thing that you must wave around like a weirdo.  It's supposed to be phenomenal - and cause carpal tunnel. 

So - I'm really glad we're getting this because, number one, I love Mario - he's so cute and he does 'shrooms - so he's like one shag haircut away from being a ADHD stoner-kid.  Number two - we just don't have enough electronics around the house what with the four Ipods, six televisions, four soundsystems, Nintendo, Super NES, game boy, game boy advanced, gameboy ds,gameboy lite,PSP, Playstation Two, Dreamcast, Gamecube, Xbox, Modified Xbox, Extra Playstation two, Extra Xbox, Xbox 360, and, I'm not sure - but there may be an Atari somewhere in that Electonic Minagerie. 

I worry that they will revolt and attack me in my sleep.  It's my fear that I shall wake up in the wee (wii? hee hee) hours of the morning and find myself surrounded by dusty gamesystems ready to whap me about the head with their controllers and plastic guns.  I fear them.

                                              

All Hallow's Eve - where no one escapes unscathed...

I.

Must.

Have.

THIS:

                                   

Upon wrestling the ears on my little bundle of furry joy - I think she would come out - all four teeth bared - and gnaw my fingers off - and then stick the devil horns on my head...

 

Of course, there's always this option, too:

 

ahhahahahaha!

This Halloween is going to be so much fun - even if I do lose an eye in the process!

 

9/11 Deadline

Okay - so by now you may be wondering "yeah - but DID she finish her book?"  Yup - it's done.  Well - it's done in the sense that I've already edited it and am now just transferring it to the Word file - but done, done?  Nope.  I gave myself an extension until Friday.  Why?  'Cuz I'm the boss - and I can.

So there.

Oh - and I will share the title:  "Super Bunny; A tail of trials and tribulations."

(hee hee)                                    

 

Pretty skirt!

I opened my Newsweek this morning and snickered as I saw President Bush wearing a pretty blue skirt!  Ha!   The actual picture is longer and you can tell it's a partition - but at first glance - IT LOOKS LIKE A SKIRT! 

ahahahahahah!

 

Make a wish...

A (birth)day in the life of Holly K.:

1.  Go to work and eat ice cream cake in a twenty minute quickie birthday party in the large conference room.  Point and laugh until I snort when the leftover cake reads:  "Ha Birth Ho!"

2.  Leave work and go to class where someone notices my wedding ring set, "Oh my GAWSH ARE THOSE REAL?!"  Try to be polite by saying quietly, "Yes, my hubby loves me very much and spoils me profusely. Blush unseemingly when the speaker then says:  "THOSE ARE BIGGER THAN MY WHOLE HEAD!"  Heh.  Okaaaaay.  Now the whole class thinks that my breasts are conversation starters.  Sigh....

3.  Leave class and head toward 'rents home to drop off papers and to get birthday snuggles from my niece.  Summer brings me a tiny loaf pan filled to the brim with broccoli and cauliflower casserole.  Since I've just ordered myself a "happy birthday to meeeeeeee" pizza, I try not to eat too much of the delicious cheesey casserole.  Ten minutes later I look down and amazed to see that the majority of the toasty treat is gone. Stunned, I check the ground, my shirt, my lap and even my cleavage to see where it could've gone to.  It's a mystery I tell ya, a mystery...

4. Go home and head to the lower level to check out how the renovations are going.  It seems that while I was at work up to my elbows in DQ ice cream cake, Johnny, my bud and resident water damage expert, had taken it upon himself to move all the furniture back into the room!  He even put the television back in, the two HUGE display cabinets full of miniature sets of Springfield (what?! My hubby's 26 going on 12 - what's it to ya?) and to rehang the framed and autographed posters of Harry Potter (what?!  I'm 28 going on 13 - what's it to ya?) - in the correct order!  I was amazed!   It was the best birthday gift ever!   He even managed to get the very large, very heavy and very mostrous display cabinet that held all my blenko glass pieces, back together and pushed back against the wall!  Harry's going to have so much fun putting all the little glass bits back in there!  (tee hee!).

5.  And now - I'm back at work - wearing mismatched clothes ( I was half-asleep when dressing this morning) and trying to convince everyone that wool socks are indeed appropriate attire on 80 degree September days.   Yeeeeech.

----Thanks to all who wished me a Happy B-day!  It was Wonderful!

 

I've lost my birthday suit - can I have yours? tee hee.

Welcome to my youth!

I am 28 years old today.

Two years away from 30 and 12 away from 40.  I dare not think beyond that.  I thought I'd feel more different at 28 than I did at 23 - but I don't.  I'm still in love with the same guy and still cherish the same things.  So - what's changed?  Dunno...

Yesterday we had a little dinner in my newly painted kitchen.  It was a Happy Birthday to Me dinner in which we had honey ham, chicken, taters, and brownies, ice cream, cake and pie (What?! it was MY dinner and I'll gorge if I want to!). 

Tiffany decided to bring over some crazy straws, the flippy, bendy straws of our youth whose colors inspire one into delusions of straw grandeur. 

I believe those straws were cursed.

Tiffany stuck one in her cherry coke and turned away - it spewed like Mt. St. Helen's all over the white countertops of my sink. 

Stacey reached for something on the table and her straw flipped and somersaulted out of her glass like it was a bulimic gymnist in search of scraps of food. 

Finally, Summer went to hand Tiffany the camera (in which the essence of my evil was supposedly captured while Harry force-fed me scoops of raw vanilla cake mix) and the crazy straw attacked!  Coke flew to the left, the glass to the right and emptied all of the soda on to the clean white tile. 

Really, though?  Would it be a my party if SOMEONE didn't spill SOMETHING? 

So have a happy day and send me happy thoughts - oh - and be careful of the second picture above - it was taken well before the application of the face this morning.  Yup - NO MAKE UP!  Aaaaaaaaagh!

 

     

My Voice(boxX) is back!

                                                      

Click on the "doubting" me above to read my latest entry in the VoiceboxX local magazine.  It's not the greatest - but it was what was on my mind -so that's what got published!

 

 

Weekend Delights

Non PG-rated entry follows.  Please do not allow children, pets, or socially inept individuals to read the following journal blip.  It may damage their mental capacity for sustaining intelligent thought.  

Last Saturday morning Harry and I both needed to shower, and since time was of the essence, we hopped into the teeny stall together.  Now, being a semi-quasi-newlywed I kinda had warped perceptions of what showering together would, and could, be like.  Instead, as Harry is gently sudsing my hair for me while I'm hogging the hot water he says softly in my ear:  "Wow, your hair's so long it's almost to your butt crack."

Romance went right down the drain.  :)

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda

I'm supposed to be artful dissecting a Robert Frost poem- but instead I'm on-line reading about Paris Hilton's DUI, John Mayer's hasty exit from the Simpson world and more pictures of the little Monchichi herself over at www.hollywoodrag.com.  I'm addicted to that site!

Another thing that keeps distracting me from my masterful dessection of "Design" by Robert Frost is the fact that IDIOTS KEEP CALLING!

"Good morning, Lawyerman, Lawyerman and Evil Lawyerman."

"Yes, is Evil Lawyerman in?"

"No, I'm sorry, Evil Lawyerman is not in today.  May I take a message?"

"Is he out today?"

I pause.  Count to ten.  Bang my head on desk.

"No, sir, Evil Lawyerman is out today.  May I take a message?"

"Will he be in tomorrow?"

"Yes, yes he will." I have no freakin' clue. 

"Okay - I'll call back."  Joy.  I wait with bated breath for tomorrow's conversation with the McMoron.

Sigh.

TomKitten v. The Monchichis

Everyone remembers the Monchicis - right?  Cute little monkey-ish things that lived in trees and wore diapers?   Yes - this is the crap tv of my youth!

                                               

So - anyway - I saw the cover of Vanity Fair and all I could think was "their kid  - looks  LIKE A FRICKIN' MONCHICHI!"

                                  

Wow.  It does exist...

Welcome to My Pre-life

I once told my mom that I thought I was the Danny Devito twin in that movie "Twins" with Ahhhhhnold.  Ya know - the leftover accidental crap stuck in the bottom of the test tube.  I have a messed-up smile, a gimpy leg, a bum galbladder, a chubby middle, a protruding butt and I'm about a foot shorter than the rest of my fam - see - I'm Danny Devito.

My mom, as supportive as she is, just leaned her head back and cackled.

I feel loved.

Bug-a-Boob

This one's up for consideration for my next piece in the VoiceboxX - and  - because Dan seems to enjoy entries that involve "boobies"...

                                                 Bug – a – boob

 <?

            I never seem to be able to go out in public without embarrassing myself profusely.  I am constantly dropping things, dribbling things down the front of my shirt or getting something caught in my teeth that is not noticed until an hour or two after a socialization stint at the local Wal-mart. For example:

            My husband and I were strolling through the Jefferson Outlet Mall in Ohio.  We had just left the Polo store and were heading briskly towards Nike.  All was well until a bug flew past my nose and made a beeline down my shirt, cuddling in the space between my bosoms. 

            “Aaagh!” I screamed and began swatting at my chest.  I supposed I looked quite like Tarzan calling to Cheetah as I beat myself about the breast and hopped around in front of the twelve-foot glass windows of Polo.

            “Honey?”  Harry said.  He looked at me questioningly, and a little frightened.

            “Ack! Ack! Ack! Bug!” Was my intelligible response.  I leaned over and began fluffing the front of my shirt, hoping that the big black bug would feel intimidated by fluttering cotton and vacate.  Finally, I pulled my pink, v-neck Old Navy tee down and grabbed the bug from between my breasts.  Flinging it towards the windows, it landed with a thud and then slowly traveled down the front, leaving a sticky gooey mess in its wake.   Straightening up I quickly examined my cleavage for remnants of bug:  goo, a leg, or even an antennae.  After I had thoroughly groped myself I turned back to my pink-faced husband.

            “What?” I said. 

            “Nothing.”  He said.

            “No, really, what?”

            “Absolutely nothing.” He stifled a laugh.  “These things could only happen to you, honey, only to you!”

            “Oh really?!  Well, I beg to differ, I am sure plenty of others have been viciously attacked by crazy-ass bugs while shopping!  TONS!” I threw my hands in the air for emphasis. 

            “Oh.”  He said.  “Well, let’s ask your audience…”  He pointed towards the bug-encrusted window where a half a dozen onlookers stood, mouths agape. Some were even pointing and whispering.   One older man stared blatantly at my chest.

            “Crap.” I said and grabbed Harry by the arm to drag him to the Nike store.  While pouting in the size thirteen Air Jordan section I realized that a rather attractive blonde woman was looking at me oddly.  I ignored her.  This was getting ridiculous!  I had a bug!  A bug attacked me!  I WAS THE VICTIM!

            “Okay lady!  FINE!  I flashed people!  I DID!  And the next show will be at four!  Line up early to see my tits!  I had a BUG!  A BUG! IN MY SHIRT! GEEZ!!!”  I yelled at her.  There, I thought to myself, showed her!

            “I, uh, I , um, well, I’m sorry, I was just wondering whereyou found your Nike Shox – my daughter wanted a pair.  Um, uh, never mind. Sorry.”  She sputtered at me and then went sprinting for the closest exit.

            I fell back against the mirror and crossed my arms over my infamous chest to continue pouting and staring at the floor.  A pair of size thirteen Jordans walked into my view.

            “Don’t say it.”  I warned to the shoes.

            “Only you,” they said, “only you!”  Harry sat down beside me and hugged me as two young boys wearing Polo shirts passed by, giggling and pointing at me.

 

I think I have Laryngitis...

I have another article due for the VoiceboxX and I can't think of a single story idea.  I could recant the recent "Nudie Cake" endeavour - but that would require an overuse of the word "Boobies" and I think that the kindly people at my publication may frown on such casual use of that term.  Maybe I could retell the tale of my first date - I think that it's been rehashed enough times, though.  I mean, how many times CAN you talk about the time you went on a date, your over-hairsprayed hair got stuck to his face and your leg fell asleep rendering them useless as you teetered and hit the sticky cinema floor, sporting an accidental faux hawk and landing with a soft thud on a pile of forgotten popcorn?

Wait - that just may do....:

                                           Dating for the Graceful-impaired

 

            At the ripe old age of thirteen I mustered up my courage and marched into the living room to argue with my parents.  I was old enough to go on dates, I told them.  I was way more mature than most other girls (lie, bold-faced lie!).  They reluctantly agreed.  I was going on my first date.

            His name was Sam.  He was “talented and gifted.,”  a label that was coveted in middle school society.  He read big books, and understood them.  And he liked me.  How could I refuse?

            We met at the movie theater at the mall on a Friday night.  I sauntered up to him wearing the outfit I had painstakingly picked out:  A green and purple plaid jacket with matching shorts and Bass penny loafers.  I had slicked back my hair into a side ponytail, using a whole can of Aqua Net in the process and knocking out my own personal hole in the ozone. 

            We bought tickets for “Far and Away.”  He paid out of his Velcro Levi’s wallet and we found seats near the front, not knowing that the “cool” seats were located in the very back near the stickier end of the theater.  We said nothing.  While Tom Cruise was being stabbed in the leg with a pitchfork, Sam slyly put an arm around me.  I laid my head on his shoulder and crossed my legs toward him. He put his cheek on my head. 

            I was in heaven.

            I was in hell.

            Two hours later, I was still in that same position.  My neck throbbed and began punishing me by sending painful spikes of pain down into my shoulder.  My left leg was gone for all I knew.  It had gone to sleep an hour ago and had not been heard from since.  The armrest with the words “CINEMA 6” was being branded into my side and I believed that I had drooled ever so slightly on to his Structure pique shirt.  He didn’t move,  so I didn’t move. 

            The credits began to roll and people began standing and stretching and heading down the red-carpeted aisle.  Sam released me from my torment and started towards the exit.  I stood, took one step and belly-flopped into the aisle.  People laughed and stared at the girl lying face down in a puddle of coke in the middle of the movie theater. They were all wondering how a “special” girl like me managed to get a date with a “gifted” guy like Sam.  Sam rushed back to me and tried to help me to my feet.  He chivalrously brushed the crumbles of ancient popcorn off of my plaid-encrusted body.  Sam then looked at me with a twinkle in his eye.  I knew he was smitten.  Somehow, through my impression of a blind diving horse, he had fallen deeply in love with me.

            “Your hair is messed-up.”  He said with a chuckle.

            “Oh, okay,” was my clever and witty response.  I reached up, wincing from the pain still present in my neck.  The hair I had shellacked down was now revolting from the hair spray and was standing straight up.  I, covered in coke and popcorn, was now sporting a Mohawk worthy of MTV.  My bangs must have gotten stuck to his cheek.  Mortified, I grabbed his arm and hobbled towards the white doors at the end of the aisle, hoping no one would notice the big wet spot on his shoulder.

            Outside, on the curb, we waited for our parents to pick us up in silence.  I was busy picking various things off of my outfit and patting my hair just to be sure that it was, indeed, laying flat again.  Sam put his arm around me again.  I winced,  wondering which body part would be sacrificed during this cuddle time. 

            “You’re funny.”  He said, looking into my eyes.

            “Thanks.”  Once again, the clever banter ensued.

            “No problem.”  Are my toes tingling?  Are they going to sleep?  Images of the same theater patrons filing out and seeing me, again, spread-eagle, face-first on the concrete outside of the cinema filled my head.

            He kissed me then.  I can’t recall the exact feelings I had, and can only remember the spit-swapping and braces banging only lasting a few seconds.   The date officially ended when my father pulled up blasting the soundtrack to the “Beverly Hillbillies.”  I limped to the car with what was left of my dignity and vowing never to date again.

            Sometimes, I wish I’d kept that vow…

 

 

I'm Just Wild About Harry!

I think I have an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder when it comes to the Harry Potter stories, movies and actors.  I think it has something to do with an amazing plot, well-planned environments and, of course, this:

 

                       

Luckily for me, seventeen year old Daniel Radcliffe (aka "Harry" ) is of legal age in the UK. Yet another glorious reason to go to London on Holiday.  Which I need.  Badly. 

What can I say - I love me some Harry's!  :)

Have your cake... And eat it too...

Well - I kinda wimped out on making the perverse pastry and ended up buying an ice cream cake with plain white icing from Baskin and Robbins.  YUM.

While Harry showered and prettied himself for the strippers - I pulled the cake out of the freezer and tried to determine if I should put the paper on the cake and use the black spray icing to spray just the mudflap girl on it, or if I should use the mudflap girl and spray the REST of the cake with the icing spray. 

Decisions... decisions...

Harry comes running into my newly green-painted kitchen wearing a towel around his waist and another draped around his shoulders. 

"What're you gonna write on it?"  His eyes are sparkling and I can tell he wants nothing more than to grab the icing from my hands and attack the cake with a culinary cunning worthy of the finest eccentric pastry chef. 

"What do you think I should put on it?"

We debated while the cake started to sweat.

"Tick tick tick?"  he suggested.

"It's not a time bomb," I said.

"Ya know, for her biological clock," he explained. 

"Yeah, I got it, just didn't think it was funny."

"Oh."  He rubbed at his arms with the towel.  "How about 'Cockbite'?  Ya know - for 'Red v. Blue'?"  Harry quoted the obscure Halo cartoon.

"Um, no.  How about 'Have your cake' at the top and 'And eat it, too' at the bottom?"  I smiled at my rather artful manipulation of the phrase.

"No.  Mike doesn't think things are funny like we think things are funny," Harry stated.

"What?" 

"I don't know."

"You don't know what that means?"

"No."  He smiled at me.  I picked up the red tube of icing and wrote "Mmm... Boobies." and then, as an added touch "have fun" was sprawled at the bottom.

"There."  I removed the Mudflap Girl outline and smiled.

Then frowned.

"She has no legs."

"Well, huh,"  Harry said. "It's okay, she still has boobs."

And there, ladies and gentleman is the true psyche of man.