So, fair warning. Yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted, and yes, I’ve written about 30 different blog posts in my head. So many things I’m thinking about, so many things I’d like to say, some of which I shouldn’t, some of which I won’t. I had been thinking, OK, let’s get back in the swing of it, put the thoughts to keyboard, and had planned on writing something today.
Just not about this.
Fair warning again. It’s so gross.
I got some things done this morning, met a rep for lunch, and went to the grocery store. Got my car washed, filled up Mimi with gas, and headed home. I’ve got a lot of work to do this weekend, but I’m also looking forward to my evening out with knitting peeps and having some laughs. I decide to leave Mimi in the drive, as that will make it easier to get the groceries in, and after all, I’m heading back out later.

None of this is interesting, or of note, or even that different. I push open the door, the alarm warning goes off, the dogs greet me, and I walk through the breezeway and into the dining room. I am carrying as much as I can, and it’s funny how your brain multi-tasks: Make sure dogs don’t go out into the garage (as they could get out of the house or, more likely, attempt to eat all the dog food out of its bin.) Have a very short amount of time to get to the alarm, which we don’t have right by the door on purpose, so don’t dilly dally. Note that answering machine is blinking. And through all of this, Olfactory Gnome wakes up and starts sending up red flags. Alert! Alert! Something smells…… and something smells …… BAD.
Then I see it. Because now I’m across the dining room and about to enter the kitchen, only it is a mine field of dog diarrhea. One main source, but there was some travelling and then some tracking to boot. The smell is overwhelming and the alarm is still going. I think, “Do I tell the alarm company when they call that I just couldn’t cross a river of dog shit to turn it off? Would they accept that?” I think, no, I have to turn this off and so I do my own version of a Highland jig through our kitchen, screaming “BACK! BACK!” because Tripper is now eagerly following behind me and I all can think is we’re both expanding the cleaning area exponentially. I get the alarm turned off, the dog has retreated, and I repeat my jig back across the tile, breathing through my mouth.

Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, Philosophical Gnome asks the question, “Which would you rather clean up? Dog vomit, or shit?” Well, duh, the answer is neither, but I’m going with vomit. Unless it’s just hardened overnight poop, which is unpleasant but nothing compared to the chore ahead of me. I get the rest of the groceries in the house, shut the garage door, and strip down to skivvies to handle the worst of it. (After all, nobody needs their clothing dragging through it to boot.) Paper towels everywhere, and copious amounts of plastic grocery bags. Yes, they may be evil but lord help me, this is why they’re on earth. I get out two trash bags. The Swiffer Wet Jet, a huge stack of mop pads, and I tackle it.

Partway through, I realized I sounded like Darth Vader trying to say the word “Halal.” (Hey, we don’t know if Darth needs his meats butchered according to Muslim law.) For to just breathe through one’s mouth is not enough – the stench was so horrific. I was trying to block my sinus passages with my tongue, which leads to very raspy, labored-sounding breathing. hhhhhhhaaaaaaaa….lllllaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllhhhhhhhhh. The anal-retentive chef from SNL has nothing on me. Everything is multiple-bagged, and then I mopped. And then everything went into another trash bag, while I still hhhhhhhhaaaaaaalllllaallllllllhhhh’ed around and took the trash to the garage. I’m dripping with sweat, I shoo the dogs outside while holding back dry heaves, and get the rest of the groceries put away. My phone’s ringing, I’m having a Silkwood Shower in the sink, I get a candle lit to put on the stove, and finally sit down in front of the fan to cool off.
Only to hear a huge clap of thunder roll overhead.
Dogs are hurried back into the house, and I throw my top back on, because remember? Freshly washed car sitting in the driveway. At this point? I can’t be bothered with pants. Yep. I did a SWAT-team-esque run to my car (only potentially being in-sight of someone driving by for all of 3 seconds) to get it put back into the garage before the heavens opened up.

Which, fifteen minutes later, they have yet to do. I didn’t need to crouchingly shuffle to my car half-dressed, but I did. And I didn’t really care if someone happened to drive by at that exact moment.

Basically? This is my life. I have a lot of good things in my life, and I’ve reflected a lot on the past year, over these past few weeks. Losing my job, almost a year ago, was really shitty. It was also really good. I haven’t done all the things I thought I’d do in that time, but I also haven’t gotten sick, had stupid office politics/turmoil with people clawing to climb over you or tear you down. Did you notice that first one? I haven’t gotten sick. No cold. No bronchitis. No walking pneumonia, for the first time in many, many years. I miss a couple of my clients, and I miss not worrying about money as much, but there’s really very little to miss about my former job except a couple of friends. The limbo, sometimes, gets to me. But I’m not all that different from most of the people out there. I noticed there’s a Facebook group making the rounds, “Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some sort of battle.” and it’s really true. These aren’t easy times. When stressed and/or depressed, it’s even easier to feel overwhelmed and hopeless. And alone. But we’re not. So many people are riding this same current, and so it’s those moments of connection, we need to make them and find them and enjoy them. Because when I was at the grocery store, the checker asked me to put the big sign on the end of her checkout stand, that said “THIS LANE CLOSED”. I did, making sure I put it right on the spot where the belt wouldn’t grab it. Helping someone out. So imagine my surprise, as I’m finishing up paying, I see this very old lady in my peripheral vision, standing next to me. I look down, and she’s got items on the belt. I actually did a double-take, like, WHa? I swear I put that sign there, nobody’s supposed to be behind me, and I look at the checker, who’s looking at me and has seen my whole WTF reaction. I raise one eyebrow at her. She starts giggling. My eyes shift over towards granny, then back to her. Oh yes, the sign was there. Granny just decided to say “Fuck it” to the sign and what was anyone going to do? I don’t have to say a word, my face says it all. The checker is shaking her head, she gets it too, and is shaking with laughter. I’m chuckling, still with an eyebrow hitting my hairline, and we went on from that moment. That moment, those are the moments I seek in life. When we can look at each other and just laugh because there’s no point in getting mad, there’s no issue of race, or religion, or age, or income, or anything, it’s just fucking funny.

And when the shit gets too high, just take off your pants, light a candle and breathe: Hhhhhhhaaaaaaaa….lllllaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllhhhhhhhhh.

Go hook up with that buff dude, you don’t need this pasty little vampire boy. He made you a dream catcher!

Oh have some pride, bitch.

(Me: well, that was dramatic.)

Singing: “I can’t live….if living is without Edward…”

Time Passes.

Get OVER it.

So dramatic.

(Me: She has bad dreams.)

She’s got a fuckin’ dreamcatcher, get that out.

(Me: She does!)
It’s fuckin’ defective! Whip out the receipt, take it back!

Nyuhhhh

Did you see Scordo’s post on Anchovies? (hello, Mr. Distracted.)

You’re freakin’ her out man, quit it!

You gonna try to get in harm’s way…

(Edward: Turn around)

Sings: “Every now and then…”

Is she on the back of his bike?

RAWR he’s strong.

Edward you’re fucking with her, knock it off.

OHHHHHH the rock hit. You missed the rock hit. (I was on Ravelry)

AW YEAH. Blood.

Hell she do on her period? Shark week! Vampires all over her ass.

(Me (singing): So haaard)

Singing: Yeah yeah yea You know dis

Love spelled backwards is love????

…So, this is a long-ish movie, and I could continue to fill this entry with his commentary, but you get the drift. I hope the action picks up soon, like the last one did!

Because Plurk/Twitter ran out of room! I’m sharing my thoughts on the Big Spendy Super Bowl Commercials b/c I got tired of keeping my character count low.

Final Final Update:

My apologies to Betty White. I started late and skipped the Snickers spot. Please don’t come and kick my ass. I saw you roast William Shatner and what you lack in football skills, you more than make up for with an acerbic tongue.

If you want to watch all the spots, here they are at AdAge.com.

Final Update,9:00 pm

Congrats New Orleans. Great, great defense, despite me wondering aloud to the dogs, repeatedly, “why so much tiiiime for Manning?” I’m sure the Chiefs will get there next year. (try not to snort all over your screen, k?)

Egads, yet another eTrade spot. Maaaake theeeeeem stopppppp.

Final flo.tv spot – funny, made the point, but it also made me think – really? Do we need to have television :everywhere: all the time? Heaven forbid you talk to you kids in the car, just keep ‘em hypnotized.

Update: 8:48 pm

WOW. N’awlens is gonna win this, I do believe!

Danica Patrick: you need to find some sort of better gig. Have a little pride in your accomplishments, not your accoutrements.

Denny’s Chickens? Now only require :10 to make me laugh. I reverse my earlier declaration that the campaign was off.

Update: 8:42 pm CST

OK. Ninja Dorito Tim made me laugh out loud. Nice touch with the chip-to-the-neck.

Bud Light Book Club – huh. A bit funny, made the guy look like a total cheesehead. (Hey, I’ll be fair!)

Oh yay, more weird eTrade babies. I didn’t even understand that one.

Yay, the Amazing Race starts next week!

Update: 8:37 pm CST

And Tracey Porter will live THAT moment for the rest. of. his. life.

Audi’s Green Diesel car – nice spot. I’m the recycling nutjob in our house so it resonated.

Taco Bell – kinda lame. Star power be damned, Charles Barkley. Yes, I said it. Please don’t show up on my doorstep.

Update: 8:30 pm CST

I have to say, this has turned into quite good football game.

Dante’s Inferno only reminds me of LEEEEEEROOOOOY Jenkins.

Budweiser colt/calf? Gotta have the animal spot.

Honda – interesting I suppose – got the nooks & crannies and a fit for everything message across.

Denny’s follow-up spot – now, this is good. Especially on the heels of Leroy Jenkins, who at least has chicken. The screaming chickens, fleeing respective cities, and the Oval Office scene should make this one of the top-rated spots tomorrow.

Update 8:10 pm CST

Vizio’s new tv? with video apps? WAAAAANT. Pretty cool spot and loads of tiny details for the web-devoted.:cough:

Emerald Nuts & Pop Secret: funny. Odd combo. A bit confusing at first, but I’ve seen enough EN commercials to know they always deliver- gotta love the people-as-dolphins, and kudos for including a dude.

Update 8:08 pm CST

Did you know that in this huge chunk of tv time we call the Super Bowl there’s really only about 11 minutes of actual football PLAYING TIME? There’s just a lot of standing around and getting ready, but not so much action. (article in Wall Street Journal a couple weeks ago.)

NFL: Nice spot, using Arcade Fire automatically makes me feel connected. Except it got used a LOT for the movie “Where the Wild Things Are” and I went to put that in our Netflix queue.

Second time Air Force ran their spot – it’s good. Obviously aimed at chilluns who can read that shit faster than me, on the bottoms of their surfboards and boogieboards.

Time Warner Cable: Wife is swooping in and making you scrapbook if you have Direct TV. Fuck. My. Life.

Quick Trip (local spot) – funny.

Update: 8:03 pm CST

Kia Sorento? Loved it. Sock Monkey is a scamp. Entertaining. The tattoo scene was the best.

Roundup: What are you doing in here? It’s February. We have snow everywhere, not weeds. I hope you didn’t pay a lot.

Budweiser 55: Huh. Eventually beer will be devoid of all flavor, calories and color. It will be called “water”.

Update: 7:59 pm CST

Census: Yay, look at my favorite actors from Waiting for Guffman, etc.

Google! You pretty much rule the school and own the world. Spot gave me goosebumps. Googlebumps?

Update: 7:52 pm CST

Michelob Ultra with Lance Armstrong? Huh. Surprise. Memorable, if only for the surprise factor. Whodathunk he’d spokesperson for beer?

HomeAway.com – good takeaway, disarming to see the stars from movies I saw in my formative years looking like my grandparents.

Bridgestone – whew, I thought we’d have a mysogyny-free 3rd quarter, but good! Way to keep it revived. Message?  We’d rather keep the tires than our wife.

Coke! I love your ads, sorry I forgot to give you props for the earlier awesome Simpsons ad, and this safari trek was nifty.

eTrade, thanks for bringing up the rear there with another bitchy woman-in-form-of-toddler ad. Thanks! Because you weren’t creepy enough.

Update: 7:43 pm CST

Miller HighLife – made me chuckle, but not compelling enough to go to the website.

Football: Hank Baskett is gonna re-live that moment for a long, long time. Woof.

PunchBUG! I love it. Nice touch with Stevie Wonder at the end.

Denny’s chickens? Kinda freaky. I kept expecting some sort of fried-chicken dish, much as I oppose putting live animals in juxtaposition with cooked product, so was relieved it was eggs. (good thing no pigs had cameos, given the side of bacon…)  I couldn’t tell you what the timeframe is for the giveaway, but I’m sure it will be just as successful as last year’s.

Halftime Show:

I’m not kidding. It’s like one giant run-on ad for the three CBS CSI properties. Coincidence? I think not. Someone had to dust Roger Daltrey off and wake him up.

Update: 7:12 pm CST

So, I’m back. And I’m wondering if CBS, the NFL and the Super Bowl realize that women watch this game, too. (About a third of the audience is female)

The Dodge Charger ad? Meh, fine, all you guys are put-upon and we nag the shit out of you and you agree to do it because, in the end, you get a speedy car. Just to be a bitch (and as someone who knows more about car models than a lot of guys), that rear window is a real challenge to see much of anything, so if it comes with a rear camera option, take it. I found myself going nuts trying to place the voice. (Dexter’s Michael C. Hall, if you were also wondering.)

But THEN, flo.tv? I hate you. Women remove their men’s spines and make them go underwear shopping. Huh. Does this actually happen in the real world?

Teleflora – women are backbiting bitches in the workplace, too. Sweet. I guess the beyotch getting evil flowers in a box from someone in prison was ‘justice’ but still. I kept hearing the arrows whizzing past me at the male target.

Intel – poor man’s Paul Giamatti. Sorta flat. Nice touch at the end though, putting people behind the trademark notes and electronics/brand.

Second flo.tv with the will.i.am re-mix was much better, but it’s too late, I already hate you.

All the Budweiser ads have been meh to me as well. The human bridge was kinda freaky, the Lost spoof was amusing but predictable.

Oh, and Danica Patrick? Please. Someday GoDaddy will just…GO. Away.

6:33 pm

Ads so far: LOVED the Letterman Show spot, with Oprah and Jay. Like, mind-blowing for a dedicated Dave fan. Awesome.

I liked the Dove for Men ad. I would buy it for the Wo.

Let me take a minute to school our friends at the Dockers home office. If you are going to run an ad (a rather weird ad, but it had a great lead-in with CareerBuilder’s startling workplace with underwear-wearing employees) that states “Free Pants” DURING THE SUPER BOWL, you are going to need a bigger server. I immediately typed in the dedicated URL and waited. And waited. After several minutes, it loaded. I clicked on “Men” and the whole fuckin’ thing crashed. Yep, it was me. Guess what – people watch TV and they multi-task. I guess if you wanted hits as your measurement of success – yay! You got it! But how annoying to not have the party ready when we all showed up.

The Doritos ads are… meh – though the shock collar one did make me chuckle. Right now I have two dogs begging to be fed, so I’m going to pause & be back shortly.

“I think Donald Sutherland is fairly sexy, in the same way I find Christopher Walken and Tommy Lee Jones all Old Man Sexy.”

“No, you find him sexy in a Kiefer Sutherland kind of way.”

“NO, he is like a wiser, more experienced, less DRUNK kind of Kiefer, and that IS sexy.”

I think if both the Sutherland men were smoldering their eyes at me and asking me to choose, I must say, my early-onset proclivity for Walter Cronkite and Ted Knight would win out.  That and the fear Kiefer’s foreplay would consist of ripping a lamp cord from its base and shouting, “WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?!!!!!”

…the more they stay the same.

On Friday, James was home & out front, cleaning out the gutters. You know, normal work for mid-November. (What is UP with the blowing hot & cold?!)  He suddenly darted in, whispering, “The Pee-er! She’s Back!”

Sure enough, we could see her blue-green coat through the now-leafless branches, rise as she stood up, and exited the neighbor’s yard, adjusting her kerchief and resuming her morning walk. Kinda strange, but there is a fire hydrant right there. I suppose she’s developed a…habit.

Then, tonight, I was driving home after some afternoon knitting with friends, and the road rises and falls as it approaches our house. I thought I saw a little red twinkle, and wondered if someone on the block had perhaps taken advantage of the nice weather and put their holiday lights up a bit early. Oh, silly me. One more small hill and it was abundantly clear that the lights were coming from emergency vehicles, blocking the street in front of Crazy Cat Lady’s house. A fire truck, a police cruiser, a paddy wagon and an ambulance. Light show spectacular. So here’s a snapshot of the crazy:

Just another weekend in our mix of a neighborhood!

I just went to the front door to put a Netflix movie and a thank-you note in the mail, and I saw, across the street, a figure standing back from the road, moving behind some shrubbery. Before I opened the door, I waited and watched. A spry senior citizen, in her magenta jacket, emerged. She adjusted the kerchief on her head, and as she walked back out to the road, finished tucking her shirt in her jeans. Striding off down the road, she continued on her walk.

Morning Constitution, indeed.

I have to write this down, like, right now. I nearly offered to take a picture as evidence, but that would have just prolonged the crazy.

Doorbell rings. I’m thinking maybe a package, other than that we don’t exactly get the pop-ins in our neighborhood. It’s Crazy Lady’s Daughter, from across the street. The ones who like to scream and such. She’s got a handbag & a small drink from QT, something red, and she is soaked to the skin, like a drowned rat. I thought about ignoring her, because hey, it’s the weekend, it’s been a crazy week, I’m enjoying the Cold Case Files on A&E, playing some Word Whomp on PoGo. But I instead say (through the windowed door), “Can I help you?”

Well. This turns into a fifteen minute conversation (actually more her monologue with me saying something short here and there) about how she was pissed off at the people down the street who have the basset hound, and they have an ATTITUDE and she went to talk to them about how their basset hound chases her cats and THEY TURNED THE HOSE ON HER.

She wanted me to help her. I told her she needed to call the police. She asked if this was assault. I said she needed to call the police. She wanted me to open the door to feel how wet she was, stating as she pulled her tank top out from her stomach “I am not a villain!” I told her I could see clearly she was dripping wet. She wanted me to join forces with her. I told her there wasn’t anything I could personally do, that she needed to call the police and that I didn’t have that kind of power. She then informed me that she was quite powerful. She told me numerous times how my fella sent our big dog out after that basset hound to chase it off the property, and she thought he’d seen her swinging her fist in the air, cheering him on. I could only nod at this point. She said he’d called our big dog back and she’d come right back because our dogs are VERY obedient. I could only nod in agreement, grateful she had revised her opinion from six months ago.

Then the house phone starts ringing. Clicks off. Then my cell starts ringing. This is JWo’s M.O. for reaching me, and all I can think is, “How on earth can I get this woman off my front porch?” I told her again to go call the police, and if they want to interview me, I’ll tell them that she was soaking wet. That they would probably go ask the people down the street what had happened as well, and if they’re on drugs and high as a kite (as she also reported to me), then they would see that and be able to act on it. She finally accepts this and dodders off.

I called James back and said, “You will never in a million years be able to guess why I couldn’t answer the phone.”

I was right. He almost peed his pants laughing. Probably a good thing he wasn’t here, either. (Oh because she wanted to talk to him, too.)

I’ll let you know if KCPD’s finest want to take a statement from me as to how wet my neighbor was. That would be kind of exciting, it would make this a real COPS kinda week here at the house. I hope the rest of the weekend isn’t this nutters, though.

OK, I’ve been watching this show all night, and was driven to liveblog when the Red Hot Chili Peppers hit the stage. It was like their geriatric dopplegangers had taken over. Hey-Oh, not really the Song-Oh to whip everyone up, my friends. Don’t get me wrong. I LURVE the RHCP. And they can have their slow-em-down-catch-a-breath ballads, but fellas, this is not representative of y’alls. OK. They just won and yay for them. Back to the performance: Freschie cut his hair & yodeled a bit too high but let me just say something to the producers of the Grammys and their ideas of cool: THERE IS SUCH A THING AS TOO MUCH CONFETTI. Seriously. The standing-up and swaying crowd (and let me point out once again, that is not, nor should it be, the typical RHCP crowd reaction) was actually getting annoyed with the buckets of white paper being dumped. And Queen Latifah just extracted some from her cleavage. ‘Nuff said. I stayed up for you guys and I just didn’t get what I expected. Sigh.

In other highlights: Kudos to the little cutie who won & got to perform with Justin T. She was dynamite and held her own as much as anyone could with the consummate performer. I loved the little interview clip with JT where he said “What Goes Around” was about A FRIEND. Ha! Nobody believes you honey, but you do try to be a gentleman, don’t you. It only makes you cuter.

WTG Dixie Chicks, repeatedly winning on an album that undoubtably cemented the Great Right Dislike of you. And I actually found Mary J. Blige endearing. Xtina Aggalaggaboomshackalackalackalara needs to avoid the excessive spray-on tan: it does not match the skin showing in the part of her hair, and in fact, is a frightening shade of orange.

Wha? Scarlett Jo is recording an album? Egads. Will she be sucking Justin’s face after the show? Hi, that exchange between SJ and Don Henley: awkward city. Here we go. Album of the Year. (I figure I’ll just finish out the night here.) Hm. I’d like Gnarls Barkley to win something. Oh, it’s quite a filled category. Oh come on, Justin. You can win it sweetie. Nope. Dixie Chicks again. I think Natalie M is afraid to speak. Dude, they have the biggest hippie in their band. Nat, well-spoken. I believe this was a rewarding & at the same time, humbling, experience for them.

Whatever you think, the great thing is, you can say it.

This was kind of fun to do. Can’t imagine how enormous this post would have been had I done it for 3.5 hours! Maybe I’ll start practicing so I can work up to the biggie: Oscar.