I Hate being Taunted by Dairy Cows

Source: Pearls Before Swine, July 30, 2008
Not that it has anything to do with the above comment, but I did have a run in with a highland cow once. Those are big furry buggers. I had the odd fortune to take a car trip to the highlands with a friend of a friend (because he had a license and I had the cash for the rental car). I saw Loch Ness. I saw sheep. And when Dale pulled over to the side of the road to have a piss, I saw COW. I never learned to say "cow" properly in Dale's opinion. It has an enormous number of vowels, actually. But he drank Longneck Bud, so I'm not sure he had any cultural superiority there.

Everybody's Got to Leave the Darkness Sometime

Source: I'm So Happy That I Can't Stop Crying, Sting

Sting also put out a 4 song EP of this with the song "This Was Never Meant to Be", the theme song for my ex-boyfriend and me. We were right and how.

Meanwhile, I hope that he's right. Seattlites are used to darkness, at least in the physical sense. It does take over many psyches around here it would seem. Perhaps that's why you can't swing a dead cat (and boy do I have a candidate for that) without hitting at least one therapist. Some parts of town, you'd take out 4 or 5.

Having all one's music collection on one hard drive is a NEW experience. I must admit that a LOT of stuff remains in the corner never to noticed, but I see a lot more of it and think to myself "Self, you haven't listen to that in a long time. Pop that baby on rotation."

I'm tired of straddling that fine line between love and hate. It's beginning to chafe.

Sometimes, I'm the one with the awesome lines. Not sure exactly where this came from. Not sure I'd share if I did know.

I do know the Bastard Neil is an even BIGGER Bastard as of today. Not ONLY is he not sure he'll be back by October 1st, he got free friggin' tickets to the Police/Elvis Costello show. I know he sold his soul, but why is he STILL reaping the benefits. His soul can't be worth THAT much.

Some things are better left than understood

I Don't Care if You Love Anymore, The Mavericks
Continuing the Chris theme of "don't be a dumbass". Not that I'm a dumbass. Just going on a theme. I do that. Really. Don't call me a dumbass. Regardless of the inherent truth in the statement. I'm in denial, help a girl out, ok?

Look at me! I'm overdressed and ugly!

Dead Sexy, Tate Hallaway
Wiccan chick-lit. Wasn't sure it would work, but it was as tasty as any brain candy out there.

Anyway, this is the way the heroine, Garnet, describes the house she lives in. The owner had a fit of metrosexualism and apparently this is what the house screams.

Unsuccessful custodian of 26 Chickens

We went to see Andrew Bird and Josh Ritter at ZooTunes last night at Woodland Park Zoo. Andrew Bird has a song on his latest CD called "Spare-Ohs". Before he played it last night, he explained that it's not at all abstract. He had 26 chickens at his farm, and a predator (wolf? fox? I don't remember...though fox sounds right) got in one night and ate them all. Ok, then he got a little weird with how the sparrows built nests with the chicken feathers, blah, blah, blah.

Gotta say, I didn't like Andrew Bird for a variety of reasons. I think his latest album is ok, but I was unimpressed with him in person.

Anyway, perhaps I'll wax all fan-girl on Josh Ritter tomorrow.

Are you stupid or just a little slow?

Source: Knock 'em Out, Lily Allen
A song that blows off a man in a bar by telling him among other things that she has herpes and that she's pregnant. Nice.

This continues yesterday's theme. It's a rhetorical question. I haven't decided what my answer is quite honestly. I'm hoping it's the later. Slow is curable. Stupid? Not so much.

Venturing down that path will lead you on a bumpy, nauseating ride that will deposit you right where you are now without a refund

Source: comment from Chris on continuing to beat one’s head against the proverbial wall

What does one do without a Chris in one's life to simultaneously make you laugh and tell you not to be a dumbass? And to make one laugh when one returns, head hanging low, to admit that one is indeed a dumbass?

There will be drama...

Yeah, yeah, I know. Color you surprised at the thought of drama in Debi's life. But my most beloved Beetle is in the shop again. Yesterday as I was driving up the hill on my way to Starbucks (another huge surprise for you), the temperature light started flashing red. ARGH! The manual is supremely UNHELPFUL.

So, I park it and take Mike's truck to Starbucks. Until someone at the dealer tells me if I can drive it or not, it's not going anywhere. Even better, we have stuff three adults and a Chihuahua into the truck for the trek to Vashon Island to see Mike's 100-year-old grandfather who just drove in from Nebraska (more on that later).

This morning I called the dealer, and they said to put a cup of water in the coolant resevoir to see if it's a low coolant issue. Sure, make it sound easy. Except that they seem to have used an air wrench to secure the top of the coolant resevoir. Honestly? A hammer and a screw driver to turn the silly thing (there's a LARGE channel running down the center, but no room to lay down anything for leverage).

A cup of water helped. Mom and I dropped it off at the dealer. They probably won't get to it today, and maybe not tomorrow. The service advisor teased me with the idea that it might have been a bubble in the coolant line. When the bubble finally pops, it can lower the level a lot. So again, it will be $100 or $1000.

Update: My car has a "coolant flange" and it's leaking. Only $185. WHEW. I also have an oil leak, but they're fixing it under warranty because I'm the first owner. I had a 2-year/24,000 mile warranty, so I'm unsure how at 8 years and 85,000 miles it's being fixed under warranty, but I'm gonna go with good karma at this point. I can't have it until tomorrow, but it's CHEAP!

I wished I could draw my inspiration from mother nature’s well, but to tell you the truth, the bitch leaves me dry

Source: A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz
A-friggin-MEN! I hate nature. Not looking at it so much as being in it. I LOVE looking at a pretty blue sky as Chris and I walk from our office building to Starbucks. I like looking at Mt. Rainier as I drive to Ikea. I love it from a path in the city. Around an urban lake. I love the sound of the surf. I love it from a secluded beach in the middle of no where. So, I guess more precisely, I hate being stuck in non-coastal nature.

The reason is simple. I don't like being dirty. And when you're in nature, you're dirty. I don't dislike dirt altogether. Gardening is fine. But I can come inside and have hot water and soap immediately. Florida's coast, where I grew up, doesn't have much in the way of actual dirt, just sand. Sand can get in uncomfortable places, but if you wipe it off, you're essentially clean. No organic residue left. There's seaweed, but you can always eat that if you get lost.

I can do it. I can appreciate it. It's lovely. There's nature I'd put up with just to see the sight, like the Grand Canyon or the Outback. Hell, I put up with desert all through Israel, and I'm not even sure I complained all that much (except about the rocks in my Birkenstocks). But if I had to choose my nature, I like my deck in the middle of Seattle (or any of several back yards I'm lucky enough to have invitations to on a regular basis). Until the next time I'm stupid enough to say "Let's go camping." That was only two weeks ago. Today, I still remember why I hate nature.

Don't you have places to go, communicable diseases to catch?

Source: 9 Chickweed Lane,7/17/08

I'm sure I'm breaking all kinds of rules, but read the strip here. I wish I needed a book of notarized testimonials about something!

Mormons make missionary position clear

Source: Headline about the Men on a Mission calendar

Ok, I don't typically go for cheap headlines, but the copy editor had a good time with this one. Do they not call it the missionary position in Australia? And thank you, news.com.au for giving me an excuse to stumble across the trivia that Thomas Aquinas spent time thinking about this particular position?!?

Anyway, back to Mormons Exposed, the name of the website. Yeah, that's going to endear to you the elders. Apparently, Chad Hardy bores no ill will toward those that kicked his undeserving ass to the curb. Possibly because the 10,000 calendars he's sold in 2008 is NOTHING compared to the bank he's going to make on the 2009 calendar...

The story goes on to say that "The men are photographed in traditional missionary garb and share their religious beliefs in biographical sketches." Why does this make me think of Playboy and their biographies? "I'm an Aries and my turn-ons are genealogy, potluck dinners, and dreaming of the good old days when great-grandpa Clem had three wives". And precisely how big is the picture of "traditional missionary garb" versus the beefcake pose?

Finally, I went to the website and clicked on all the pictures. You see the "missionary garb" pic first, but then you get beefcake. Do Mormon men have naturally hairless chests? If not, exactly what is the modest way to go about having one's chest waxed in this day and age?

Update: Chris, who knows most things I know, and everything I don't, says that all Mormons are hairless. Having spent many years in Mormon country, I guess he would know. Perhaps because Mormons naturally spend a lot of time exposing their chests???

Threatvertising

Source: Nedroid Picture Diary

The Bastard Neil sent me this link in an email whilst providing screen name fodder. I'm not sure, but this particular one may have caused laughter to the point of soilage for our favorite Bastard. This was a while ago because the Bastard Neil is still in the Rat Bastard State of Maine. He swears he's coming back, he just won't say when (wait...is that a song lyric??? No, really?). Not that I miss him.

Anyway, I'm running low on inspriation (and readers I'm sure). Got any to spare?

He should be able to speak at least one language fluently

Source: The Curse of the Spellmans, Lisa Lutz

The main character's mom has a list of criteria a man should meet if you date him. This is one of them. I think it's a good one.

Anything's better than posh isolation

Source: The Boy with the Arab Strap
Belle & Sebastian

I'm always on time, but a year late

Source: Erik Spiekermann in Helvetica

This is an interesting documentary. You know Helvetica. It's everywhere. The font is only some 50 years old but it helped to change the visual landscape of the world. There are artists new and old who consider it the pinacle of typography. There was at least one who said it represented the reason for the Vietnam war. Who knew?

Why there is no new screen name today...

I felt like I was starting to come down with something yesterday. I might still be. Mostly I’m beyond exhausted because my cat is the root of all evil in the universe.

3:15 a.m. – MeeeerrrrYOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLL is heard in the driveway

3:15:05 – Debi leaps out of bed with certain knowledge that Mycroft (aforementioned root of all evil) is lying in a crumpled heap in aforementioned driveway. Has forethought to grab glasses on way out of bedroom.

3:15:10 – Debi runs out front door and misses first step. Ow. With foot previously hurt two weeks ago. Ow Ow. She hits the second step with the arch of said previously hurt foot. Ow. Ow. Ow.

3:15:20 - Debi limps 10 feet to the driveway. No cats. Adrenaline coursing through veins. Root of all evil may be shuffling off mortal coil, but is not doing it in this driveway. Bastard.

3:18 – Debi limps back to bed. Debi’s husband says “where have you been?” Grrrrr…

3:20 – Root of all evil shows up on deck outside of bedroom. Debi rushes to let him in. Debi THINKS it is him…it is unclear as he launches past her at supersonic speed. He goes back and forth like this several times, and Debi decides that if he is hurt, he won’t know it for a while. Debi wanders back to bed.

3:22 – Debi realizes her foot is THROBBING. Tries to ignore it.

3:25 – Husband does NOT take hint when Debi says “I guess I should go get an ice pack.” Debi gets up and gets an ice pack.

3:27 - Debi whines "My foot is cold". Husband has no pity.

3:27 - 8ish...There’s really no getting back to good quality sleep after this. Adrenaline sticks around. For a good long while.

8:30 - Debi checks her work email, makes sure the world won't end without her (it never does) and tells everyone she's not around today.

9 - 1:30 Did I mention there's really no getting back to good quality sleep after this?

I was aiming for boho art major but was settling for nearsighted coke whore...

Source: Daddy's Girl, Lisa Scottoline
The heroine is on the run. She ducks into a gas station to bleach her hair...this is her assessment of the results. I literally had to pull over to write this down...I was laughing so hard and knew I'd never remember.

Enclave of Irritants

Please Update Your Scorecards: Due to its coming clean on its nuclear program, North Korea has officially been downgraded from the Axis of Evil to the Enclave of Irritants
The Wrap, Ron Judd, June 29, 2008

Isn't she Pretty in Pink?

Source: Pretty in Pink, The Psychedelic Furs
Today, I am a vision in pink! However...Mike left at 4:30 to catch the bus to work. Ah, the joys of having mom and Jeremy here and them needing a car and me needing a car. He kissed me goodbye momentarily waking me from my slumber. AND the birds were going BAT SHIT CRAZY with their daybreak singing. Friggin' sunrise.

Then? Mycroft (boy kittie) decided it was time to come in. And chat. Loudly. VERY loudly. Bastard. So, as I wasn't getting back to sleep I decided to get up. 3 hours early.

So, how is it a shoe whore like me has not a single pair of pink shoes? Not even a campy pair that I tried on and COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT?

So, off to Starbucks I go. In a metallic burnt orange Ford Ranger pickup. Me. A vision in pink. And decide that in addition to iced tea I need cappucino. Which I proceed to spill. All over the driver's side of Mike's. And my pretty pink skirt.

So, here I am. At the office. HOURS early. But did I metion I'm Pretty in Pink??