Sunday, September 30, 2007

Bagged Lunch

I just realized that I never told you why sis was under that bag a few posts ago. 

Well, we were all sitting on the back porch eating Jim's Spaghetti bbq's (Jim's is a local favorite and their sauce is to die for and a highly guarded secret) but were having a hard time eating for the attacking bugs.

Every time sis would start to bite her sandwich three of four flies would hover and land on the about to be bitten portion.  She'd shriek and pull back and then try again.  We, of course, being loving family, laughed hartily at her expense as we dined on our fly-free food.

Finally, I tossed a Kroger bag at her and suggested she put it over her head.  

To my surprise, and merriment, she did!

So - the answer was "to keep the bugs off" and Cindy won an autographed picture of my dear sis in a bag.   That is, as soon as Summer forgives me for posting her plastic'd mug on the internet! 


Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Halo, Goodbye

       Not many people are blessed with the gift of incredible foresight.  To be able to predict events and happenings before the actual occurrence is an amazing feat of tuned second sight.  However, being able to predict when a loved one shall be lost is a rare and rather frightening gift.  How do I know?  Well, you see, dear VoiceboxX readers, I know exactly when I will lose my husband.   <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

        On September 25th, as the night deepens and the witching hour approaches, my dearest shall be lined up against a wall ready to be shot at, hunted and worse.  At 12:01am Harry shall leave this world and enter another; a universe full of unspeakable evil, pointy-faced aliens, rechargeable body armor and endless, bloody “Slayer” modes. Yes, as the clock rolls from night to morning, my husband will be standing in a Barboursville parking lot with a bust of the “Master Chief” held high above his “I don’t need a haircut” head.   Halo 3, after four years of anxious waiting, is being released to the sweaty and thumb-cramping masses.  One-by-one our menfolk will flock to their respective man-caves with tiny plastic cases (or giant helmets) clutched in their sweaty hands.  

        For two or three days I will be expected to deliver food and hyper-caffeinated beverages (tinted red and labeled as “Halo edition”) to the cave door.  I can rest assured knowing that romantic notions and tender conversations will be replaced with grunts of recognition and the occasional bursts of game-related fury.  “I got you, man!  I totally got you! Shenanigans!”

        A few nights before the Halo 3’s much anticipated release I wandered into the midst of a pre-game playing session.  My significant other, nestled in his over-sized leather “Man Chair,” was in a heated war with two of his good buddies.   I struggled to follow their high tech conversation:

        “What the- Where’d you get a grenade launcher?”

        “Where are you?”

        “Agh! You just shot me in the [buttocks]!”

        “Agh!  You just shot me in the [buttocks]!”

        “Ah HA!  Killed you!”

        “You committed suicide.”

        “Yeah, but I took you down with me!”

        Being the only feminine presence in the room I attempted to offer helpful advice.  “Hey sweetie – you two combined have as many kills as ‘Rage of Zeus’!”

        “Thanks,” Harry said as his green armored on-screen man erupted in a cloud of smoke courtesy of Zeus’ aforementioned grenade launcher.

        “Ha!  It’s funny to watch you get hurt – kinda like when you do it in real life and it totally cracks me up!” I cackled.  I may be a loving wife but have still not managed to figure out how not to erupt into giggles when my husband bangs his head on an open cabinet door.  I’m sure it hurts – but that doesn’t make it any less funny.

        Harry’s friend is struck down by a sniper bullet courtesy of the virtually indestructible “Zeus.”  He looks at me and then back at the screen.  “Kinda mean, ain’t she?”

        “Yep,” the love of my life said, and then “Die!  Die!  Why won’t you- Oh. I died.”

        Giggling, I left the men to their 2-D destruction thinking that, if nothing else, I was at least forewarned.  With bated breath and barely concealed sniggers, I will anticipate the coming of the alien invasion and the guaranteed disappearance of my sweet husband into a land of cold landscapes, evil invaders and the occasional death threat of his arch-nemesis, “Rage of Zeus.” 



Monday, September 24, 2007

Feeling Disconnected?

Comcast is, as one of my new co-workers stated, the devil.

All weekend I've been without net access?

I had to do things the ol' fashioned way.  I had to call to look up movie showtimes.  I had to, the horrors, look up a number in the phone book and finally I had to sit through an hour of a grinning and sadistic Ryan Seacrest in order to find out what happened with Britney's custody hearing!

Oh - the HORRORS!

Hopefully I'll get up and running by tonight.


Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Now - Summer Comes in Her Very Own Custom-made BAG!

Okay, instead of telling ya'all why my sister is eating with a Kroger bag over her face, I shall let ya'all ponder.  Whomever gets closest to the right answer (without being related to me, that is) will get, I dunno, an autographed photo of Ms. Baggerhead here!

So - guess away! 

Monday, September 17, 2007

I-Phone - home?

Harry loves his new I-Phone so much that he feels the need to use it all the time.  Even while driving down the road.  Hence this message that was sent to me as he careened down the backroads of WV:

57 minutes till I get to come home 57 minutes to go, you sit around and kill some time 56 minutes till I get to come home 56 minutes to go, you sit around and kill some time 55 minutes to go

I love you

What do you want to do for dinner?

Do you want to see any movies?

Whacha doing

I am sitting here missing you

What are you going to do for lunch?

Are you working hard?

I'm not!!!!!

I bet you would have never guessed that though

48 minutes to go

No this email will never end

Ok maybe it will soon

I love you and hope you have a good day!

Love you!

Yeah, he's a sweetie.  But I'll kill him if he ends up killing himself while sending me a text message about, oh, I dunno, the crazy man next to him talking on a cell phone while shaving and driving at the same time!   :)

And, yes, honey - this post was all for you - be careful - OR ELSE!  :)

Sunday, September 16, 2007

My Chi.

Standing in the well-lit and almost clinical aisles of Target, Stacey and I faced a wall of torture devices that double as hair straightners, curlers, wavers and crimpers.   My straightner and I have shared a love/hate affair that has lasted about a year.  Now, though, my Conair love has decided to shut down every twenty minutes leaving me with a head full of half-fluffy, half-smooth locks.  

It's time to move on.

But, to what?

"There are so many," I said, my mouth hanging slightly open as I looked at the wall of appliances.  "And I'd like one that actually, I dunno, works!"

"This one's pink," Stacey pulled one from the wall and looked at it.

"Oh, I like pink!   And I really need a good one.  I don't care to pay a lot for one if it'll actually straigten my hair!"

"Oh," said a voice from my right.  "You need a 'Chi'."  A pretty girl with bloodshot eyes interrupted our conversation with helpful advice.   "It's the best straightner ever!"  

Sure enough, the pink hair appliance in Stacey's hot little hand was, in fact a "Chi" - and it cost $149.99.

"But it's only $149.99!"  I whined to Harry later that day as he ate his Chicken Biscuit from Tudor's (a blatent bribe from yours truly).  And, with a little coaxing and more than a little pouting, we ended up at the Huntington Mall looking at tiny hair straighteners that were pink, black, purple, bling'd , graffitti'd and, my fave, a Wee Chi (which sounded more like a bathroom issue than a ceramic iron). 

"Which one do you want?"  he asked, edging toward the door.  

"I dunno - the pink 'BLING' one is cool..."

"Okay, get that one."

"But didn't one of them come with something?  Like heat protector or something?"

"Yeah,"  Harry nodded.  "Get that one."

Since he was being no help, I picked up each box, trying to figure out why the plain black one was ten to tweny smackeroos cheaper than the other ones of prettier color scheme. A nice sales associate finally moseyed up and explained that not only was the black one cheaper (coming in at a respectable $119.99) but it came with a bottle of hair silk treatment and heat protector, too.


I handed over my dad's hard-earned $50 (Happy B-day to me!!!) and Harry's hard-used American Express and clutched my new purchase to my chest with visions of smooth hair and perfect flipped ends dancing in my head.

And, as soon as I figure out how to harness my new Chi, I, too, shall be the possessor of that ancient Chinese secret - straight hair!


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Twenty-five Years Young (Plus four)

As I awoke this morning in a groggy fog and tangled in the yellow sheets I realized with a start that Micheal Buble was not, in fact, in bed with me singing his lovely song at me, but that it was my tiny pink phone ringing from beneath my left boob. 

"-ello?"  I yawned into what I hoped was the receiver. 

"HAPPYBITHDAYTOYOUUUUU!" My sister, now known as "The One Who Shall be Killed" bellowed into my morning-sensitive ears.

"Agh!" I screamed.

At that exact moment, the power fluxed and my doorbell chimed - three times.

"Arrrrrgh!" I cried again.

"Um - kay!"  Summer said and promptly hung up.   I wandered, pink phone still clutched in my right hand, into the bathroom where I was greeted by a portly spider hanging out in my bathtub.

"ARRRRRRRGH!"  I screamed as I sprayed it with Windex (if nothing else, he will be shiny enough to spot later).

Well, here's hoping that there's some old wives tale is written that starts like this "And on the morn of her twenty fifth plus four birthday, there shall be a banshee (Summer) a chime (doorbell) and a large, not seen oft' in nature, hairy spider (the large, not oft' seen in nature, hairy spider) and she shall, by the eve of her twenty fitfh plus four birthday, become known world-wide as the most wonderfulest and wittiest gal in all the world."

Or - ya know - something like that.

Oh well, wives tale or no wives' tale - at least I've got this:


Saturday, September 8, 2007

Just call me "Brownie"!

Here's my pseudo-new look - much needed after the romantic interchange between Harry and I in the shower a few months ago.

"Wow, honey," Harry said as I held my breath under the head of the shower. "Your hair has gotten long." 

I turn around to give him a slippery hug and then he finishes his thought.  I really wish he hadn't.

"Yeah, it's almost to your butt crack."

I was sick, too, of getting trapped by a large man at 2AM who is snoring in my face as he pins the majority of my hair under one rather nicely defined bicep.  So - I cut it off.  And I'm loving it.  I can wear it up again!



A Kick While I'm Down? Thanks - bunches!

With Phoebe hitting the big catnippy cloud in the great beyond my days have been a little less fun than I had hoped leading up to the big 2-9.  Case in point - I arrived at work yesterday with a slight tickle in my throat. By the time I was done at the hairdressers (they surgically removed 80% of the poundage that was my hair and colored it a nice dark brown - au natural!) I was miserable and coughing all over my newly arrived from NC hubby.

A kindly Dr. visit and two prescriptions later I arrive home and go to bed.   I have a viral/bacterial infection.  JOY.  Now, since my new job entails me spending 90% of my working hours on the phone screening references for employment I am wary of any infection in my throat.  Not to mention it hurts!  Ugh. 

So, yeah, I'm being kicked while I'm down.  

To make matters more complicated, my tabulating expertise is needed at a local pageant tomorrow.  Harry's going to go with me.  Mainly because he has no choice and hopefully because he loves me enough to not leave me in a room full of skinny people for too long - who knows?  I may get hungry and eat one!  

Oh - and we saw "Superbad" - it was crass and full of questionable joke material so - of course - we loved it!  

Even though I wasn't feeling very social this evening - we still managed to meet the most peculiar little fellow at dinner tonight.  He didn't say much but he was very unassuming- his name is Rollllland.  :)



Thursday, September 6, 2007

Defending Her Title

Even after death, I'm trying to defend Phoebe's title as "Cutest Kitty in the World" by entering her in the CatFancy Contest for Cutest Cat.  I don't expect you guys to make yet another account to vote for her - but should you already (by some crazy chance) have an account - go find her picture and vote for her!

I'm sleeping okay by the way -I just have a hard time when I wake up and look at the left side of the bed to find that there is not a sleeping husband or a purring kitty for company.   We get her back tomorrow.  We pick up her little blue urn and will find someplace close to us to keep her forever. 

On a happier note, my bestest bud in the whole world (we've known each other for 26 years - no joke) came over and we had salads and played WiiPlay.   A cunning new take on "Duck Hunt" popped up on the screen and we used our wiimotes to blast away targets, ducks, cans and the occassional space alien.  Oops - did I say "we"?  I meant TIFFANY BLASTED THEM ALL AWAY!  We played four times. I won once - barely.  And I think she let me.  But that's okay.   Next time I'll just make sure to let her Mii get kidnapped by the space aliens!


Tuesday, September 4, 2007

I'm Alone for the First Time in Seven Years

Harry and I got Phoebe as a hand-me-down kitty right after we started dating.  Our first fight?  Phoebe was there, purring and settling things down.  Our first pizza at midnight?  Phoebe was there eating the cheese off the box lid.  Our engagement?  Phoebe was at our feet trying to figure out if what was in the tiny black box was edible.  Our first house?  Phoebe was there, running up and down the stairs like furry greased lightening.

She's kept me company for years - and here's where it all started, in a tiny cottage near Marshall University with poorly chosen decor of orange walls, blue furniture and leopard sheets:

Blue carpet, white cat = bad combination:

Me with dark hair, Phoebe with less hair:

Phoebe was a champion snoozer:

"You will love me and alllll my 2000 furry parts!":


Thanks to everyone out there who sent me kind words - you guys can't know how much that helped!   The loss of a family member, be it fleshy or furry,is a devestating event for all involved...

Wish me luck.  Tonight is my first night sleeping alone in seven years.   Expect an IM around 2:30 AM if it doesn't go well!  :)

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Catnip and Furry Little Angel Wings


After many months of trying to hang on and enduring meat-coated pills, funky tasting medicine and more than a few coughing fits, our Princess Phoebe slipped away as we passed her tiny and shrunken body over to the vet at the Animal ER at 5am this morning.  It was a horrible and gut-renching experience and her miniscule body and large presence will be sorely missed in the Holly and Harry household.  

Here are a few pictures for everyone out there in J-land and beyond to remember her, and love her, like we do and did:




She was our baby, our furry child, the only one who would keep me company on those long nights when my hubby's away on business.  Phoebe brought laughter to our lives, tears to our eyes and happily held her place as Nermal's Nemesis for the Cutest Kitty in the World.

We will miss her, but never forget her...