Beachy keen

Because the last game of the year is on in just half an hour, I don't have time to write much. Yes, the Sun Bowl is the last time you'll hear me wax rhapsodic about UCLA football...however will you manage? (Those of you new to my blog didn't get a chance to enjoy the Sunday morning celebration/furiousness throughout the season...don't worry though, 'cause here comes Basketball!)

However, I couldn't let today go by without directing you to my first real life pic on little ol' Melanhead's lovely, lovely blog.

Yes, I am Person of the Week and honestly, I couldn't be more honored! I see that some of you have already commented there and I appreciate all the compliments...and yes, Mr. Blogger is muy handsome (actually even cuter than the pic looks, but hey, I was looking for one that was good of me, RIGHT?).

Let me explain the picture...

I generally HATE pictures of me and honestly had considered just using some cartoon or likeness of a cat to represent me or something. The only reason I chose it is due to what it reminds me of, more than what it looks like.

It's from the first time I went to London in 2002 and MB and I had known each other a little over a week at this point (post-food poisoning of course). We were right in the throes of the "holy-crap-I-am-completely-falling-in-love-with-this-person-who-lives-6000-miles-from-me-and-what-am-I-going-to-do-about-it?" phase.

We had decided to go down to Brighton that day. After a day's sight-seeing, we saw that they were setting up a Summer beach party on the lovely rocky shores and that they were showing Moulin Rouge on a giant screen.

We were actually just about to go back to London, but we decided to stay and have fun. But while others were prepared, we had no blanket, no thermos of hot drinks, no nothin'. And when the sun went down it was FREEZING. Like California in the middle of Winter, frankly.

But we were determined AND stubborn! We were watching the movie, dammit! It was romantic to get all snuggly anyway. Honestly, we just couldn't stop laughing at how freakin' cold it was and what the hell were we thinking! Thank God we had jackets in the car.

When it was over, and our fingers were blue and our noses were numb, we hightailed it over to a hotel bar for hot chocolate and were still laughing. But we loved it.

My hair is now a darker brown and I was able to talk MB into getting away from the middle-part situation (you know how women love to change the hair)...but in general it looks like us. And it looks like our personalities, which I thought was most important.

I still feel the same happy, frozen-body inklings when I see it, and what's even better is that nothing has really changed one bit. We still laugh. We're still stubborn. And we still love a good party and/or film.

Mostly, we still would rather be by each other's side than anywhere else in the world. I can't ask for more than that in life...and don't think I don't know that I am a lucky, lucky woman.

Happy New Year everybody and much love to all!

(And for one last time...GO BRUINS!)

By somewhat popular demand

Awww...look at all you sweetykins trying to make me feel better (and hoping against hope with me on the pregnancy thing). It's a truly beautiful thing and I am, as ever, humbled by all the kindness. Big hugs of gratitude to you all...

What I didn't have a chance to mention is that I ended up even WORSE later in the day yesterday when Dr. Phil's show was all about what makes a good wife. Some bimbo went on and on about how women simply can't have it all, and their duty to their husbands precluded them from thinking they could do the wife thing well enough, if they had the GALL to get a job as well.

Oooooo...I was MAD.

When Mr. Blogger got home last night, I was on the phone, so he read my blog and then came in the family room and gave me a BIG hug, saying "Oh my poor honey!". Yes, he hugged my non-showered, glasses-wearing, dirty-hair-in-bun self. Then he went out and got us In-N-Out Grilled Cheese sandwiches.

Take THAT lady.

But you'll be happy to know that today is a better day. I got up and showered and washed my hair and DRIED MY HAIR and put in my contacts and brushed my teeth and put on ACTUAL CLOTHES. How's THAT?! :D

I kind of had to since Mr. Grocery Delivery Man will be here this afternoon (what did I ever do before Vons.com?). The only thing I'm missing is makeup, but he'll just have to learn to refrain from screaming in fright.

This morning I also chatted with Mom (who immediately asked if I happened to be watching anything this time, so she could know if she was "interrupting"...way to work my guilt there Mamacita), Emily, Kona Girl and Ms. Fellow Bank Manager From the Company With No Soul. All that girl talk always helps to snap me out of my funk.

Commiserating in misery can also be a very cathartic thing. We ALL have our troubles this season, and as I told Em earlier, sometimes helping others can at least get you away from the wallowing in self-pity for a while.

Yes, I'm mighty good at the giving of advice...not so much on the receiving.

But, in the meantime, I thought I'd respond to a few things that some have asked for. (OK, my family members are the only ones wanting the picture, but may it at least make you laugh.)

Here is the pic that accompanies this very, very old posting where I wished KG a happy birthday and reminisced over our old high school group of little angels. No, really, we were freakin' AN...GELS.

My little face is peeking out in the middle, crouching down, to the left of the girl with the big blond curly hair. To keep everyone else's right to both privacy and avoidance of teasing over 80's styling, I won't say who else you may know. But aren't we too damn adorable?

Then, here's Mom's Sour Cream Tortilla Casserole recipe. Again, it's VERY sour-creamy, so if that's not your thing, I'd skip it. This is a direct cut and paste from the email she sent me. You must therefore love the very specific directions of the Mom...

Sour Cream Tortilla Casserole

1/2 C chopped onion; 2 T olive oil; One 1 lb. 12 oz. can crushed tomatoes; 1 pkg. Mexican rice seasoning mix (or chili sauce mix, or any such); 3 oz. can diced green chiles; 3 oz. can sliced black olives, drained (plus one more can for top garnish, if desired); 12 corn tortillas; 4-6 scallion tops, sliced; 3/4 lb. Monterey Jack cheese (or cheddar, or 1/2 each), shredded; 2 C sour cream; 1 t seasoned salt; ground pepper

Saute 1/2 C onion in 2 T oil until tender
Add tomatoes, seasoning mix, green chiles, sliced olives
Simmer 15-20 min.
Set aside

Cut tortillas into quarters, then divide into 3 equal groups [of 4 tortillas each]

Pour 1/2 C sauce in bottom of 13 x 9 x 2 baking dish
Arrange one layer of tortillas (1/4 of total) over sauce (they can overlap)
Top with 1/3 of remaining sauce, then 1/3 of scallions, then 1/3 of cheese
Repeat two more times to become, from bottom up:
1/2 C sauce
1/4 of tortillas
1/3 of (remaining) sauce
1/3 of scallions
1/3 of cheese
1/4 of tortillas
1/3 of sauce
1/3 of scallions
1/3 of cheese
1/4 of tortillas
1/3 of sauce
1/3 of scallions
1/3 of cheese

Combine sour cream and seasoned salt.
Drop by scattered spoonfuls then spread to edges of dish
Sprinkle lightly with pepper

Bake in 325 degree oven for 25 to 30 min.

Garnish with minced parsley, cilantro or sliced black olives or all three or whatever, after removing from oven
To serve, cut into squares

I served it with the sliced olives scattered on the top after I took it out of the oven and a side of sliced avocado. It's kind of like cheese enchiladas, but a lot easier and with a lot of sour cream. You could always add more cheese and cut down on the sour cream if you like. OH...and Mr. Blogger HATES scallions, so I eliminated those completely and it was just fine.

(Trust me, if I could make it, anyone can. )

I'm off to shock the crap out of my husband by performing my "wifely duties" through cooking and cleaning this place up. Frankly though, he doesn't really care.

He's much more about the other wifely duties.

Blahg

Today I am hit by a very somber mood.

The sky is gray and I'm in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt.

Amy had a miscarriage on Judging Amy, and The Notebook made me cry, AGAIN.

I've sent out resumes to numerous financial institutions and I haven't heard much. Well, I heard that they received it, but not much else. I know, it's the holidays, but I'm still worried. It's my nature.

I got mad at my Mom because she called three times in the space of an hour and I was trying to watch a movie. I feel very bad about that.

I told Mr. Blogger that it honestly hurts me to look in the mirror these days. I can't figure out when I got so unattractive. So I cried some more.

I'm aware of it being about a week to go until this month's attempt results in more wasted pregnancy tests.

I don't feel like washing my hair or cooking or doing anything in particular. Even though I had promised to make more Nuts and Bolts.

I am a slob and a lazy bum, and it bugs the crap out of me. This isn't me. Some sloth-like creature must have taken over my body. And I'm embarrassed for her to greet my husband when he gets home.

This is either one MEAN bout of PMS (in which case I'm all the more depressed) or I really am just that much of a downer. I can't decide which is worse.

Merry Un-Christmas

I hope everyone had a lovely holiday and enjoyed everything the season has to offer!

Our Christmas was frankly the strangest one we've ever had. But we loved every minute of it.

Since Mr. Blogger was off from Friday through Monday, that alone was reason to celebrate. And when it got to Christmas day, we just decided, at the last minute, that we were perfectly happy together. We didn't end up going to L.A. to see my aunt and uncle and cousins and their guests, and I did feel bad about that. But when we had awakened that morning, we were both just really tired and kind of worn-out, and not up to the long drive.

I of course called them and apologized, and I thought we must be nuts to have only a two-person Christmas.

But that works for us.

I cooked a sour cream tortilla casserole that was my first attempt at Mom's recipe, but turned out very, very yummy. I made Nuts and Bolts, which is kind of like homemade Chex Mix with slightly different ingredients, but holds a much more special place for me. My Gaa made it every Christmas (before there was such a thing as bagged Chex Mix) and it always reminded me of the holidays.

I served hot cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. I put every possible condiment, veggies, avocados and cheese on our favorite Morningstar Farms veggie burgers, with the biggest buns possible.

Basically, I fed my husband 'til he burst. And he kept asking for more.

We watched tons of movies and played Scrabble. We listened to the whole two hour replay of Ricky Gervais' Christmas Eve broadcast on BBC2...just lying in the daybed in the computer room and laughing at every word.

We had only Mom's and Kona Girl's presents to open, since we're saving everything toward our January London trip. But they were wonderful, thoughtful presents and plenty for us.

We probably won't have too many Christmases like this in our future. Hopefully they'll be filled with children and family that might actually fly out to see us for once (hint hint to the Mom and M-I-L).

But for now, we just enjoyed each other. That's enough of a present for me.

No one can have too much friendship...or cuteness

I have to dash off here because the woman who waxes my brows just called and moved my appointment up two hours. Yeah, back to frivolity today.

But in regards to the comments you all wrote yesterday: it is truly amazing to see how compassionate and open-minded you are. I am awed by your words and thoughts. Who would have thought that people from all over the country...oops, world...could find each other in such a way?

It has made me like, all Christmas-spirity and stuff now.

I can't tell you enough how much I enjoy reading all of your blogs, and how my day just hasn't started until I have time to sit down and go through them. I keep wondering how I'll be able to keep this up when I go back to work.

But I'll find the time, because I NEED to. I need to write AND I need to read.

I love knowing that there are others out there with such interesting points of view and that we are lucky enough to have a forum to voice them.

TB reminded me that having a less-than-even-remotely-emotionally-available father didn't mean we couldn't break the cycle.

Ditsy Chick makes me laugh my ass off. Every day.

John is adorable and young and has so much life ahead of him. I can't wait to see what he does with it.

V-Grrrl is wise, a great mom and understands the life of an expat in Europe.

Melany is my fellow Bruin and has the most adorable little boy you'll ever see.

Tink and Jess and Wordgirl and Debbie and Amber and little sister and Mrs. Harridan and #1 dancer and Shrinking Violet (oh crap...did I forget anyone??) are all amazing and interesting and full of advice to a woman they've never even met. I love your children, your pets, your trees, your spouses and your words. I will not forget your kindness.

Lissa. Well you know how I found out about her. Or rather how she found me. And I continue to hope she stays in my life.

And Emily, who suggested the whole blog (sorry Mom, COLUMN) idea to begin with, continues to keep me going when, in her HIGHLY inimitable way, she reminds me that I was a pretty good manager and should therefore be ok in the whole job hunt nightmare.

(Mom and M-I-L? You KNOW what you are to me...may I suggest you start a blog???)

As my little Christmas gift to you all, I present to you the cutest thing EVER.

I didn't know everyone's taste and sizes.

Can you feel the love tonight?

Elton John got married today and I couldn't be more thrilled for him. I am happy on so many levels...

1. Same-sex "civil unions" are now legal in the UK.
I knew there was something about those Brits I liked. Besides Mr. Blogger of course.

When we lived there, I learned first hand that they're just so much more relaxed about these things. I even saw Tony Blair being interviewed this morning and wishing Elton and David the best (!!!). Can you imagine our dear Leader of the Free World doing the same? Cough. Choke.

But I mean really, WHY WOULD YOU NOT WANT PEOPLE WHO ARE IN LOVE AND COMMITTED TO EACH OTHER TO GET MARRIED? No really. I don't get it.

2. I'm an Elton fan going way, WAY back.
The first album I ever bought on my own was Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. It's absolute genius and to this day I can pop in the CD (obviously since purchased in order to keep up with technology) and be utterly transfixed.

I was so young, but I was fascinated by all the illustrations and lyrics included inside (you kids who have never known anything but CDs have really missed out on the artistic possibilities only albums can produce) and I spent hours singing along to EVERYTHING. I even mock played all the piano riffs, long before I was actually good enough to really play it.

I remember a slumber party I went to in 3rd grade where the mom was horrified to find out the actual lyrics we were all singing. She quickly confiscated the album, but thank God MY Mom was more progressive than that.

Which brings me to...

3. I have long been a supporter of gay rights, thanks to Mom.
Yup. She's cool like that.

Her best friend/my "uncle" was a huge influence in my life from a very young age. After he moved to San Francisco, we spent many a weekend road-trip going to visit him.

We spent an entire summer painting the inside of his house "Royal Robe" (I will NEVER forget the name of that paint even though I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 at the time...it was a god-awful garish purply-red color, which I of course ADORED).

We would string together beaded necklaces and eat tuna sandwiches (which I shared with Uncle G's dog Gazella) while listening to The Beatles.

We had grown up dinner parties filled with fascinating, warm and educated people...all of whom treated me with respect and welcomed my opinions, unlike most adults I knew, who would tend to "baby" someone of my age.

And come to find out, I was in the middle of the Haight-Ashbury district in the late 60's. (Who knew I was so cool?) I LOVED it.

What I never knew, until I was far more grown-up, was that just about everyone around me was gay. And because a lot of them didn't have kids, they doted on me and nurtured me with love and affection, because frankly, I was one of the few children around. I was introduced to music and art and literature from some true connoisseurs.

All I knew was that these were good and decent people. (To those who flip out about gay teachers or coaches, or other such nonsense INFLUENCING their children, I love to say I was raised by a whole lot of gay men and look at that...I turned out just fine...AMAZING.)

And when I was getting to be the age where I started looking at colleges, Uncle G was then a Dean at UCLA and took me on a tour. That was it. Decision made.

I've marched with some friends in a Christopher Street parade while in college. I helped some come out of the closet to their families. I had MASSIVE fights with my first husband who was a Naval Pilot and VERY anti-gays in the military.

And when all the hullabaloo started over same-sex civil unions, I just didn't get it. Again, exactly HOW does this hurt anyone? Aren't people who are devoted to each other a reason to celebrate? Why should I, by virtue of my being straight, get to have some kind of monopoly on the benefits of joining my life to another's?

I generally shy away from posting anything too terribly controversial, but not in this case. If I get hate mail, so be it. Much like my feelings over animal-rights, this is something I will NEVER be afraid to defend.

So to Elton John and David Furnish: May you experience the same kind of joy I had on my wedding day to Mr. Blogger. It knows no boundaries.

And to my Mom, Uncle G, and all of his friends: Thank you for helping to teach me what love meant in the first place.

Let's hear it for the girls

Trying to write this quickly and quietly, while Miss Kona sleeps. This must be a first in our friendship, however. Through all the sleepovers and slumber parties in the last 25+ years we've known each other, I don't think I have ever, EVER gotten up before she did. That's what the not-sleeping thing will do to you.

I got up with Mr. Blogger (poor guy has to go to work after all our shenanigans last night). I showered, dressed, PUT ON MAKEUP (it's shocking, really), and even went out to get fresh bagels. And still no Kona.

I've watched the Today show, commented (and added some more to my list) on all my Blog-A-Ma-Rollers...and still no Kona.

(Before I forget...THANK YOU for all your kind words yesterday while I was in my funk/frenzy. Mom called to say, "I just love what everyone wrote in response to your column today! They're all so wise!". Yes, my column. He he!)

But poor Miss K must be all tuckered out. She does have three boys, after all.

I'm so glad she came down though, 'cause we all had the best time at dinner last night. After being so down and dumpy, I had forgotten what your bestest girlfriend can do for you. We even pulled out the ol' yearbook, and although she did want to kill me, we laughed and laughed.

So, just like it says in those forwards I always get in my email, it is true, my friends, that you should NEVER forget your girlfriends. Your spouse may be your life and your love and the reason you're who you are today (and he is...BELIEVE ME), but your gal pals know who you were before, and can appreciate what you've become. They love you...no matter which incarnation, or hair color, or personality you've had.

And I've had A LOT of different hair colors.

There's a reason it's called "work"

Soooo incredibly down today and there's just frankly no time for it. Kona Girl is coming from Seattle this afternoon (to stay overnight), I've been up since 4:30AM and my stomach is completely jacked.

I need to go grocery shopping, do laundry, clean the house and I feel NO motivation to get my ass in gear.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to company (she IS my BFF after all), but I think my IBS has kicked into overdrive due to my massive stress explosion last night. I am so wrapped up in the fact that I need to go back to work SOON, and I even applied for a motherfucking bank manager job on Saturday night. The money would be great, and I certainly seem qualified with the umpty-gazillion years of experience I have in the field, but it just seems like I'm, yet again...STUCK.

I knew this would happen. When I was at our bank on Saturday, as I stood in line and observed everything from a knowing perspective, I suddenly thought, this is it, isn't it? I'm stuck doing this for the rest of my life, because it's where all my experience lies. And unfortunately, seeing as how we're also trying to get pregnant (nothing like stress on top of stress), I don't have the luxury to go take some low-paying-but-at-least-in-my-desired-field kind of job.

Even though Mr. Blogger keeps me in plenty of Heinz Beanz and $70 bras needed for my mighty-mightiness...it shouldn't be all up to him anymore. I've been off long enough.

I was just now interrupted by Mom calling and telling me to calm down. She knows how I am when I'm getting all riled up and the last thing she wants is for me to go down the path that put me on disability to begin with. (Did I mention that I used to throw up EVERY SINGLE THING I ate? Not on purpose, but because my stomach was one giant pit of acid.)

She's trying to get me to break everything down, piece by piece, and handle it accordingly. But when I'm like this, it's as though each individual task is the most important issue to deal with and I have lists upon lists of what to do and I worry it won't all get done.

Man, am I coming off like a nut-job or what?

I spent most of the morning looking through more job postings and it is SLIM pickin's out there folks. Outside of the one I've already applied for, I can see maybe a couple other possibilities. The irony is that if I don't get the job, I'll be stressed and if I DO get the job, I'll be stressed. I'm worried about no one contacting me, when in fact, I'm dreading going back to the industry to begin with.

WHAT THE HELL???

I need to chill the fuck out now though. With my luck, someone will call for a phone interview when I'm in this frenzy. And won't THAT make a lovely impression.

Serenity now

First off...

I've added even more of you rockin' writers to my Blog-A-Ma-Roll, so take a look. I don't know what's happened lately (don't get me wrong though...I like it!), but I've received comments from some random readers out of the blue and when I've gone to check their blogs, they seem to be of like minds. Or at least senses of humor. So thanks to all and you are now on my daily "must check" list! (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone...)

Other than that, I was in a pretty pissy mood today due to the need to battle the weekend Christmas shopping crowds, and I REALLY didn't even want to blog when I got home...I was THAT mad.

To you dear shoppers that annoyed the living shit out of me today...fucking RELAX. There will be plenty of parking spaces for us all. You do not need to run over any small children or sideswipe the Salvation Army bell-ringer in your haste to get there before me. I know you're stressed. So am I. And your incessant horn honking is NOT helping anyone.

All I wanted to do was go to the bank and the grocery store, but even those areas seem to be overrun with you freakin' morons. The tellers are moving as fast as they can (and having been their manager previously, I KNOW THIS for a fact), and the grocery clerks are doing the same. Ms. Checker cannot help the fact that the woman with all the coupons would like to argue about her toothpaste purchase and how it IS the correct size for the two-for-one deal.

If you sigh ANY louder behind me, I swear to God I'm going to drop my case of water on your toe.

A little PATIENCE...I beg of you. Or we're all gonna come armed with Uzis next year, and THAT'S not Christmas cheer now, is it?

Watered down

Since everyone seems to be making confessions lately, here's my own odd and startling admission...

I HATE water. To drink, I mean. It's all Mom's fault since she hated it too. It literally made her gag.

But people can never understand this. What's to hate, they say? It doesn't taste like anything, they offer. You're insane and I cannot be friends with crazy people, they threaten.

Sorry folks. That's just the way it is.

Oh I've tried. BELIEVE ME. I drank gallons of Evian when I was anorexic. But I also drank it usually with a sugarless gum chaser and that made it seem somewhat flavored. It was more about trying to fit in with my fellow gym rats perhaps. I never did like to stand out in a crowd.

Then I used to drink lots of Crystal Light, to try to trick my body into thinking it was getting something healthy. But even that never lasted long. My addiction is carbonation and I NEEDED the Fresca calling my name (original Grapefruit flavor, thank you very much...not this newfangled Black Cherry or Peach crap).

But when we lived in London and I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to get with the aqua-filled program. I was so determined to be healthy, that even I would give in to the need for hydration. And I found the trick!!

The UK had the greatest thing ever, which did NOT contain artificial sweeteners, and didn't just taste like water with the slightest hint of flavor. OK, it had a bit of sugar...but not much. I was desperate, people!

Volvic Touch of Fruit was my savior. I drank so much that we had to buy it by the case at Makro, which was kind of like Costco, but a little less overwhelming (would you believe the layout of the London Costco was EXACTLY the same as the one I went to/go to in San Diego?).

Of course, after I miscarried, I shouted at God through my mass consumption of Diet Dr. Pepper, but eventually I missed the watery goodness. Unfortunately, at that point we came back to the US.

Every time Mr. Blogger makes a trip to London though (which is every few months to see his kids), he brings me more six-packs of the elixir, weighing down his suitcase with an extra 10 lbs or so, but continuing his angelic, wife-supporting ways. But here's proof of the wackiness that is my superstitious mind....

I WILL NOT touch it until I get pregnant again. So we have tons of it just sitting on the shelves. I CANNOT be swayed.

(Plus I've now gotten hooked on Fruit 2 O, but that has Splenda, which I won't have in pregnancy. But at least for now...it's water. You have no idea how impressive that is for me.)

I just noticed unfortunately, that a couple of the Touch of Fruit packs have a November '05 expiration date, which makes me sad and only further reminds me of the two other miscarriages and subsequent inability to make a Brooke or Mr. Blogger junior.

So what do I do? Dig in and partake of the reminder? Choke it down through tears over the breaking of my vow? Dump it in the sink 'cause it's not good anymore (I do have more that isn't expired)?

Am I being ridiculous? Of course. But when you're trying to get pregnant, you have no idea of the deals you'll make to yourself. And to whomever may be in charge.

Then again, maybe you do.

Have Yourself a Movie Little Christmas

'Tis the season for good films. But then, Christmas has always meant movie time for me.

When I was little, we had to incorporate the blended family's Christmas requirements in creative ways. We celebrated on Christmas Eve day with Mom, step-dad, step-brother, Gaa, Grandpa and me. Then on Christmas day, my brother went to his mom's and I went to my dad's (did I lose you yet?), which left Mom and step-dad free to go have fun.

They always spent it seeing the latest release in Westwood Village, which in the 80's, was THE place to go see the newest movies. You know, when they had single screens, not multiplexes. It's still where they have all the Los Angeles movie premieres. (It's also home to UCLA, but we're talking movies today.)

Mom used to joke that it was the best time to go out 'cause the lines were short and they'd often hit the best Jewish deli in town after. And they'd come home raving (or conversely, ranting) about what they'd seen. (Well, there was also the time Mom came home in hysterics after seeing Gallipoli. I beg of you not to watch that if you're already depressed.)

So a tradition was born.

Thankfully the film industry agrees and tends to put out great releases at Christmas time. There's a lot I want to see, and heaven knows when we'll get around to it, but here are just a few from my wish list (and yes, some of these have been out for a little while, but we've been lagging):

1. Brokeback Mountain
Thank heavens Mr. Blogger wouldn't be the type to freak out, but this cracked me up.

2. Capote
Mom already saw it and loved it and I trust her judgment implicitly.

3. Pride & Prejudice
I admit I'm an Austen fan...Austenite...Austenophile??

4. Memoirs of a Geisha
Although I'm afraid I won't like it as much as the book. Plus what's up with casting the three main Japanese geisha leads with Chinese actresses?

5. The Producers
I saw it on Broadway with Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane and I'm interested to see if the hilariousness translates to film...TRULY one of the best times I have ever had in the theatre.

6. Match Point
I usually can't stand the latest Woody Allen film, but this seems VERY different.

7. Walk the Line
We need to catch up and see most of the Golden Globe nominees, although I freaked when I realized it'll be on while we're in London!

Some I'm not too sure about...

1. King Kong
I had no desire whatsoever to see this until I started reading all the positive reviews. But still...

2. Syriana
If I'm in the mood to concentrate really, really hard.

3. The Family Stone
It appears I do need a comedy to cleanse the palate, but this may be a bit too contrived.

And proof that I'm really not as big a snob as it may seem...

1. Wolf Creek
Oh how I do enjoy my horror movies...and it's BASED ON A TRUE STORY!

So what do YOU want to see???

Piece of cake

Disclaimer: The following was written with much love and appreciation for my husband. Honest.

After the excitement of our beans-on-toast dinner (don't laugh...it's one of my favorites and one thing I actually miss about living in London...Heinz Beanz...mmmmm...oh and I think my husband was in one of their commercials when he was a kid or something), Mr. Blogger suddenly exclaimed, "I'd like some cake!"

Where that came from, I don't know. But this was the conversation that further transpired:

"Well, if you run to the store and get me a cake mix, I'll make you one."

I was thinking of something along the lines of Duncan Hines.

"Cake mix! That's ridiculous. You just need flour and eggs and sugar. I used to make them all the time."

"Well go ahead then!"

The gauntlet has been thrown. And my pride in baking wounded, if you want to know the truth.

"OK I will! Now, where is the flour?"

"Everything's in the cupboard. Are you sure you know what you're doing? I don't want to waste all the ingredients."

"Of course!"

I'm deep into the season finale of The Amazing Race, so I let him have his fun. But part of me keeps wondering what the hell he's putting in that thing.

"Is this going to be just a plain cake? Are you frosting it or something?"

"I can whip something up. We have chocolate in there somewhere."

"Only if you plan to melt down a Cadbury Fruit and Nut."

"We have cocoa powder though, right?"

"Um, no. I think you're confusing our cupboards with the one we had in London."

The last time I had seen any cocoa to speak of.

"Aaahhhh!"

He runs out the back door. Is there a cocoa plant out there that I didn't know about? He returns with much fruit in hand.

"Lemons...I'll make it a lemon cake! See! Oh and look...did you know we have oranges?"

No. No, I didn't. But then when Mom came to visit and upon about oh, two seconds in the backyard, presented me with both fresh mint and rosemary to smell, I hadn't known we had that either.

"OK, well I used to make a really good Lemon Jello cake with a lemon glaze on the top, so I can show you how to make that part."

I have to get my expertise in there somewhere.

"Do we have a cake tin?"

"Not really. Just use the 9x13 that's in there. It should work."

After much clanging about in the kitchen, I turn around to see him pouring batter into a small, square 8x8 glass dish.

"Did you grease and flour that beforehand?"

"No. It'll be fine. Trust me."

The batter is barely enough to fill the pan.

"How much did you put in there? Did you measure the ingredients?"

The tightly-wound part of me would have found a recipe on-line and used the exact measurements. I can't handle his free-form. But he seems to be enjoying himself immensely. I need to stop criticizing.

The cake comes out of the oven. It looks...INTERESTING.

I show him how to make the lemon glaze and we pour it on. He does not wish to wait for the cooling, so we cut a slice.

He hands it to me to take a bite.

It looks and tastes just like cornbread. With a hint of lemon.

"Um. It's good. It's very, um, dense. And yet spongy. Hmmmm."

He takes a bite.

"It's not bad."

I don't know whether to feel vindicated for me or bad for him. I choose a happy marriage.

"Um Honey, did you put any oil or butter in this?"

"No. I never needed it before."

"Well, next time try that. I think that's all that's missing."

"I don't know why it turned out like this. It's always been fine when I've made a cake with these ingredients. You don't like it, do you?

"Well, it's fine."

My face apparently says otherwise.

"Here."

He hands me one of our oranges instead.

Perhaps I'm just working my way towards being on London time

Man, is my sleep pattern royally screwed up. This tends to happen if given enough time, but unfortunately, today I fell asleep at 9:00AM and woke up at 3:00PM.

I blame part of that on the book I couldn't put down, but honestly, most of it is due to nightmares. (Daymares??)

The last couple weeks or so, I've gone back to a horrible pattern of night terrors so bad, I'm then afraid to go to sleep. This is usually a result of upping my meds or something, but I went off of them before we started trying to get pregnant again a couple months ago, and honestly, I've really been ok. (This freaked me out. But if I feel like going back on them after any baby is born to avoid post-partum depression, you better believe, MR. CRUISE, that I'll do it. We "Brookes" have to stick together.)

Then the panic attacks returned. This is what thoughts of my old job do to me, people.

What constitutes a nightmare for me, you ask? Well usually it's people trying to kill me, with whole lot of chasing and running going on. But lately they've all been about betrayal. Strange.

I keep dreaming about these elaborate scenarios in which I'm dating some guy (who's always fairly vague and is definitely not Mr. Blogger) and he usually ends up cheating on me, hurting me and then mocking me for it. All my friends end up taking his side as well. I keep getting accused of "pushing him into it".

He usually flaunts it in front of me and I keep crying and shouting and asking how he could be so cruel. Really, it's far more disconcerting than I'm making it out to be. I even woke up the other night with tears streaming down my cheeks.

So any ideas on what this means? Mr. Blogger is somewhat horrified that I keep dreaming about this, as he's given me no reason to think he would ever do such a thing. And I know he wouldn't. Dreams aren't that clear cut.

There's some bigger message here that apparently my subconscious would like me to grapple with. Come on Mom, you're usually good at this stuff.

I'd really like to be able to go to bed and not be so panic-stricken at the thought of falling asleep.

Plus, I'm running out of books.

HTM-HELL

Since I can't sleep and have nothing better to do at 4:00 in the morning, other than to continue my cycle o' denial regarding finding a job...I played around with my blog template a bit today. (John, yet again you inspired me. Still mulling over the ad idea though.)

But then I remembered how bad I suckity suck suck at HTML and I could only accomplish some SLIGHT changes. I had forgotten the nightmare of setting up this page to begin with. It's what I get for not using a Blogger-approved template though.

That's me...gotta make things difficult.

Anyway, if you look down the side bar now (or is "sidebar" one word...see, told you I sucked at this), you'll see new categories.

I have "Good Stuff", which consists of non-blog sites I pretty much check out daily. Many of these are media/pop-culture related. What can I say? I'm addicted to keeping up on the latest in entertainment. Even though I hate Paris Hilton with a passion, I seem to have to know she was voted "World's Worst Dog Owner".

It's a sickness, really.

I blame my grandmother for first getting me hooked on old movie magazines at a VERY young age. She even read People every week up until she died from cancer at the age of 84.

Fun fact about my Gaa though (long story but suffice to say I couldn't say "grandma" and it stuck)...guess who she read about and saw on TV and absolutely ADORED?

RU-FREAKIN-PAUL. Loved him, er, her! (I don't know what's PC among drag queens these days!)

Apple. Tree.

Back to the sidebar. Side bar. Whatever.

After that section, I have the "Blog-A-Ma-Roll" (named in honor of Toral's incredibly lame suggestion of "Blizzamarole" on The Apprentice). This would be a list of all the blogs I can't spend a day without. Kinda like sunshine. Only wittier.

Some are friends I know in real life (as opposed to "fake life"?). Some are people I've never actually met and couldn't pick out of a line-up, but I still consider friends. Some are people who've just recently commented on mine and I liked what I saw. Some are random sites I've just come across and now HAVE TO read.

You figure out which one you are.

(And if anyone would like me to take theirs down, please let me know. I promise not to be offended. Much.)

Then we have the slightly controversial choice to publish my new, specifically blog-related email address. We'll see if I live to regret that decision. But did my "borrowed" disclaimer help to deter the crazies? Most likely not.

If it's gone in a week, you'll know why.

So check out the sites and/or blogs. You might like what you see and then feel free to come back and blame me for getting absolutely nothing accomplished in your day.

Beats working, I suppose.

A little ass-kissing never hurt

Wow...you people are NICE. (And I would hug you all if I could.)

Thanks for all the encouragement yesterday, since after perusing yet even more ads last night, I was positively ready to go be a Store Manager at Party City. No joke...that was listed.

(And if you ever wonder why I link so many items that may seem like common sense to you, more often than not, it's for my British Mother-in-Law to know what I'm talking about. Otherwise she ends up Googling things like "Aqua Net". No, really. She did.)

If the links didn't work for you yesterday (Kiwi), the job that I really wanted was as a Copy Editor at Hay House. (The old link doesn't seem to be working today.) I mean, I've read tons of Louise Hay's work, especially You Can Heal Your Life. Don't laugh...it's good stuff.

Plus we all know what an anal freak I am about punctuation, grammar and spelling (not in blogs, so chill on the pointing out of previous errors). Tell me I couldn't do that job. Well, don't, 'cause I'm sure I'll hear enough of that on my own.

Well, I could do it...except for the part where I can't type all that well, have no qualifications in the arena and have no freakin' clue what the Chicago Manual is.

But I'm pretty sure it's not a companion book to the musical.

The funny thing though, is that when Mr. Blogger was reading yesterday's entry he immediately said, "Hay House! They're one of my customers!"

REEEEEEALLY?

I may ACTUALLY type up a cover letter with much obsequiousness and begging, and attach it to a resume for him to drop off. He even said he would talk to someone if he could, although I don't hold out much hope. Maybe there's a job being a go-fer or something, and I could work my way up?

Sure. 'Cause life's just that kind. And fair. And I'm sure they'll place the greatest of trust in whom to hire from the man who meets all their first-aid needs. (But thank you for trying Honey.)

A couple weeks ago, I even wrote emails to every private eating disorder clinic/psychiatric hospital in the area to see if there were any clerical openings (again...just trying to work my way up to what I really want to do) and NO ONE WROTE ME BACK.

But after just getting off the phone with a former fellow-Branch Manager at The Company With No Soul, I KNOW I can't do that shit ANY MORE.

It's truly soul draining.

Funny how she just called out of the blue today though...hmmmm.

My Big Fat Job Hunt

Lest I get too cocky and forget about exactly WHY it is that I've been on disability since September (you mean my job isn't just sitting at home all day and writing in my blog???), God likes to kick me in the ass sometimes to remind me.

Last night, the ass, she was kicked.

It's probably because I've been doing a LOT of thinking lately about how I really need to start contributing to this household's overwhelming consumption of cable television and long distance phone calls. My paycheck used to actually be the bigger one and after we get back from our trip to London in January, I need to get with the program.

Or rather, get with the unending treadmill of doom which threatens to envelop me in the uselessness of my not-really-chosen-but-accepted-by-default career.

Can you tell how excited I am to get back to banking?

So I had the full-fledged, knee-knocking, nightmare-inducing panic attack of the ages. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe, and my muscles were so tight that all appendages felt as though they were being twisted like a giant's wringing out of a washcloth.

Everyone tells me I don't HAVE to go back to the bullshit of an English major's attempt at a REAL career. But it's all I got people.

When I look at the job websites, I realize I'm qualified for nothing but this kind of crap, which is all I've done for the last 17 years. (Seriously, for those who know me...I'm going to end up taking that job, aren't I?)

What I really want is this, but they aren't gonna give it to me. I HAVE NO FREAKIN' EXPERIENCE. But I could do it...I KNOW I could.

So in the meantime I have dreams where customers are lined up to berate me, and my staff all threaten to quit and my new boss hates me for no reason whatsoever...oh sorry, that wasn't a nightmare, it was my reality.

And then I physically and mentally collapse.

Help.

Because one can never have enough demi-glace in one's refrigerator

Well no need to make the Baked Bean Lasagna last night (thanks V-grrrl, but you're right, it sounded gross), since we did have some pasta and spaghetti sauce in the cupboard as it turned out. We even had some Veggie Crumbles in the freezer...so Spaghetti Bolognese! And I even had some frozen cinnamon roll dough to make for dessert!

From white trash to lap of luxury in one fell swoop.

But if I've said it once, I'll say it a million times, I love my Mom. Plus she never fails to crack me up (intentionally or not).

She called all in a tizzy 'cause we had no food...a mother's worst nightmare. But that's what I get for putting it in my blog I suppose. I also may have over-dramatized a bit as it turned out.

But she made me STOP WATCHING THE APPRENTICE (sacrilege!) and immediately follow her instructions.

"I feel just AWFUL that I'm not there to help you, so here, go to your computer and look up this site."

"OK."

(Mr. Blogger is yelling in the background..."You're missing the good parts! The Outback Steakhouse guy just totally chewed out Randall!". Plus the cinnamon rolls had just come out of the oven and I was right in the middle of icing them when Mom called and THOSE ROLLS SMELL REALLY GOOD! He is not helping.)

"Are you there? It's www.homebistro.com."

Mom always has to say to full "www" part to make sure it's correct.

"Yup. I got it."

"Order some meals from there and I'll give you my credit card number to pay. There's a lovely Wild Mushroom Ravioli with Marsala Wine Sauce you may like. Or MB might want the Grilled Ahi Tuna in Asian Demi-Glace. The Chocolate Sabayon Entremet sounds wonderful for dessert."

I have no idea what she just said.

"Um, Mom, that's awfully nice of you but I think we might be better off just buying groceries if you're offering."

Mom never did lack for a gourmet's taste though.

"Oh you're right, and it wouldn't get there for a few days, so I guess that's not helping. How about you order that for a New Year's Eve dinner or something? My treat."

"Well, we might go out, but thanks. I might take you up on that."

I feel kinda guilty.

"How can we buy you groceries? I need to do SOMETHING for you."

I'm already on Vons.com.

"I can see if it'll work with your credit card when I order, but I'm not sure. They may require it to be from the person ordering."

"Well, tell them that your mother is coming to visit and had paid for the groceries, expecting them to be there when she arrived."

Way to work the "MOM EXPECTS IT" angle there, Madre.

"You don't actually talk to anyone. It's all on-line. But I'll see."

"OK, well try it and call me back if you have any problems."

After a good hour of setting up an account and shopping aisle by aisle, we're done. It actually worked. Plus we got the first time shopper's $20 discount. I'm getting more excited by the minute.

I call her back because she's called twice in the time it's taken us to shop and she WANTS TO MAKE SURE.

"OK, it worked. Our order will be here between 4:00pm and 8:00pm tomorrow."

"They deliver?! How marvelous! I thought you had to go pick it up!"

"Nope. The beauty of on-line shopping."

"Oh I feel so much better! Well, keep my credit card number just in case you run into any emergencies again. But let me know first if you're going to use it."

"No Mom, I'm going to get right on neimanmarcus.com and start ordering things without your knowledge."

"Well, I know, but I just wanted you to know you could use it."

I, of course, won't.

"Thanks though Mom. Really."

"Anytime. I wish you had called and told me."

"It's fine. Just a sticky week. We'll be FINE."

"OK, I love you."

"I love you too."

"Now go to bed. Your cold sounds worse."

Food, glorious food

One of the truly sucky things about my being on disability is that money is oh-so-tight. We manage, and I won't begin to equate myself with those that are truly suffering such devastation as Katrina or the tsunami and such...it's just that this week it's tighter than tight.

Tighter than my old Dittos in 8th grade tight.

You know how right after the first of the month, you've paid the (somewhat exorbitant) rent, the bills and car payments and that leaves you enough for perhaps one movie at Blockbuster and some store brand popcorn? If you don't get "buttered"?

I know John feels my pain, at least. (Hmmm...ads on your blog, huh? How's that going?)

Part of that is my fault for going a little hog wild on Mr. Blogger's birthday. But the man works so hard for our only paycheck and did so enjoy the $150 dinner for two at Trattoria Acqua (and I don't even drink...or eat meat!). He has such lovely, albeit EXPENSIVE taste, and he deserved it.

But that, and his new cell phone that I cannot pry out of his hands...EVER...and buying all the Christmas decorations has left us with that horrible "we-don't-get-paid-for-another-week-so-whatever's-in-the-fridge-is-what-we're-having-for-dinner" dilemma.

Last night's dinner therefore left something to be desired.

Appetizer - Lucky Charms

Main course - Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches and Tater Tots

Dessert - An Orange

We are officially white trash.

I keep trying to tell myself that it could be worse, and at least all the bills are paid, we have a roof over our heads and toasty warm heat for the still-sick Mrs. Blogger. (I haven't even mentioned The Cold That Would Not Die...it gets pretty old after a while.)

So we deal.

I may need to go find something interesting to make with lasagna noodles and baked beans for tonight, though.

Any suggestions?

I may have identified a little too strongly with Pig Pen as well

Last night at the Bloggers'...

"Honeeeeeeeyyyyyy hurry!"

"I'm coming!"

"But you're gonna miss the beginning!"

"WHAT?"

"It's starting!"

"I can't hear you!"

"Where are you???"

"I'M IN THE BATHROOM!!"

"Oh, ok, sorry!"

"Plus we own it on DVD anyway!"

"But it's not the same!"

"All right all right, I'm coming!"

I get a little obsessed when A Charlie Brown Christmas comes on. It just doesn't feel like Christmas without it. When we lived in London and I found out THEY DON'T SHOW IT EVERY YEAR, I just about had to go into a detox program. Thank god for DVDs.

So to celebrate the 40th anniversary of its original airing, here are some fun facts for you (gathered from many sources):

First animated Peanuts special.

The actors (all children) learned their lines phonetically, often not knowing what they meant, which led to the now familiar Peanuts delivery-style.

Linus' "the true meaning of Christmas" quote is Luke 2:8-14 from the King James translation of the Bible.

The version of the show broadcast on CBS-TV until 1997 and older video releases are edited; they leave out a scene where the gang throws snowballs at a can on a fence.

The original broadcast included some brief animated sections which included the logo of Coca-Cola, the show's original sponsor. These have been edited out of subsequent broadcasts and the video release. Right after the opening title, Linus (or Charlie Brown, sources disagree) crashed into a sign advertising Coca-Cola after being tossed by Snoopy. (Look at current versions and you'll notice that we never see where Linus lands!) The closing carol originally included the complete verse (instead of fading out) with a final on-screen "Merry Christmas from your local bottler of Coca-Cola" right after the United Feature Syndicate credit at the end.

Won an Emmy Award for "Outstanding Children's Program", and a Peabody Award for excellence in programming.

During his famed speech, Linus, who is well known to be dependent on his "Security Blanket", actually lets go of it when he recites these words: "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy".

Broke many of the rules prevalent for animated holiday specials during the 1960s: it didn't make use of a laugh track; real children were used for the character voices instead of adult actors imitating children's voices; and Biblical references were used to illustrate the true meaning of Christmas.

Just before her remarks about Christmas being a big commercial racket, Lucy refers to Charlie Brown simply as "Charlie". This is the only time she does this in any of the TV specials; every other time it's "Charlie Brown".

Everyone loves it, but the execs at CBS thought it would be a flop!

I think it's genius. And I always will.

I love everything about it. Think about it...a children's special with a kid who has a "Psychiatric Help" booth? A little girl who wants real estate for Christmas? A dog who gets first place in a "Lights and Display Contest"?

Plus have you noticed how Schroeder was one hot piano playin' fool? (I'm glad he could never be swayed by Lucy...she's not good enough for him!)

And every time they have the Christmas play rehearsal scene, which frankly consists of nothing but them all dancing to "Linus and Lucy" (go listen to it right now...I defy you not to smile!), I have to imitate each character's unique dance. My favorite is Sally's ska-like throwdown.

Tell me you don't get choked up when Linus says that the Charlie Brown tree just needs a little love. (And whoever thought of this...although they appear to be sold out...is my kinda people!)

It just makes me HAPPY. Simple as that.

My kids will one day watch this show with me and want to know why Mommy MAKES them watch it every year. Then they'll get it. And they'll love it too.

If they don't, they're going to have to watch it anyway. Mom's rules.

THAT, my friends, is Customer Service

Since Blogger was down most of the afternoon/evening last night, I'm not taking any chances here and plan to type very fast to hurry up and get this posted.

Never did find out what the problem was, but at least it's working...right now.

(And BOYS: look away...nothing to see here...)

Well, I'm not "one day pregnant" because I got my period last night, VERY surprisingly. (I have decided that the Pregnancy Goddesses have deemed it necessary for Emily, her wife and I to ALL BE ON THE SAME SCHEDULE.)

Remember how last month I had a 46 day cycle because of all the progesterone drama? Well apparently my body decided to catch up and try to get back on schedule or something, because I have now ended a 23 DAY CYCLE. Seriously, WTF???

I usually go around 30 days, so now I'm panicking because I am SERIOUSLY messed up.

But what made me really mad was that The Watch said I was fertile, only DAYS ago. Huh?? SO I wrote a strongly-worded email to the customer service department. And you know how I enjoy writing my strongly-worded emails.

To Whom it May Concern:

I purchased your watch last month and even paid for overnight delivery in order to have it in time for this cycle.

My first day was November 12 and I wore it faithfully and according to directions each day. It only finally stated "Fertile Day 1" on November 27, cycle day 16. It additionally stated "OV Day 1" on December 1, cycle day 20.

This had seemed very late for someone with a normally 30 day cycle and I did contact your company by phone on November 23 as I was concerned. I put it through the test mode as instructed and all was operating properly as far as my usage.

Today I have started my period. This is only day 24 for me, so it was highly unexpected. I realize that this is not your doing, but I do have issue with the fact that only today did the watch go back to "Not Fertile"...on the first day of my period?

I had thought things were a bit off when my body felt as if it was ovulating a full week before your watch said so, but given that I spent a great deal of money on your product to read correctly, I wasn't about to go out and spend more on OV sticks.

I now believe your product is faulty and not worth the money I spent. I would like a full refund and wish to know how to go about obtaining one. If I do not hear back from you via email, I will contact you by phone, although the last time I did so, I was on hold for 10 minutes, only to find out that someone would "need to call me back".

This is unacceptable.

I intend to let people know not to purchase this as well. It is far too costly and inconvenient to be this incorrect.

I await your swift reply.

Regards,
Brooke Blogger

Reply swiftly they did. Amazingly, not even an hour after I sent this email, I received a phone call from their Marketing VP.

I should mention here that this was the same woman who called me about a week after I had purchased it to tell me that they noticed I had done so only days before they came out with a new, more sensitive model. She would therefore be sending me one FREE OF CHARGE, WITH A FREE SENSOR (you get three sensors for three months' worth of readings when you order). She in fact did, and I had planned to use that one next month as I couldn't switch in the middle.

I was impressed. But now I was mad.

So this woman had obviously retrieved my email, looked up my name as a customer and found my phone number to call me, rather than email her reply. And it had to be about 9:30PM on the East coast.

Score one more point for OV Chick.

She was very upset to hear of my situation and she read back some notes she made from our previous conversation (!!!), asking if it could possibly have anything to do with the progesterone, etc. I said that yes, it very well could have, and my being sick may have also affected getting my period so early.

What I took exception to, however, was the fact that the watch should never have read that I ovulated not even a week beforehand. She agreed. She also agreed it was unacceptable.

Additionally, she told me that their customer service line was working on faster response times, so she apologized for that as well.

Since they have a 30 day money back guarantee, I just wanted to get on with it, but she asked if I would do her one favor. Could I give the more sensitive watch that she had sent me a try, for one more month, and if I was still not satisfied, she would extend my warranty and refund me IN FULL. After using their product for TWO cycles.

I couldn't argue with that.

She told me that she just believed in the product so much, and that it had even helped her to get pregnant, so she didn't want me to give up on it. She was VERY apologetic and said if I mailed my original watch back, she would upload the data from the sensor and see if she could gather what went wrong.

(Within minutes of hanging up, she also sent me an email with an address to send it to and a FedEx account number to use so it would be free of charge. Holy moly!)

So I'll give it a shot again. Can't see the harm.

She ended the call with, "I just really want to hear you're pregnant. That's all I care about."

You and me both, lady. You and me both.

Jury Doody

Apparently some are decrying my inability to "meet my responsibilities" as a Blogger, so I'm here. I'm pissed, but I'm here. I'm in mourning, but I'm here.

I'm sick as a dog and can't take any cold medicine on the OFF chance that I'm oh, about one day pregnant...BUT I'M HERE.

As far as Saturday goes, well, you must have seen the score by now and there's no point rehashing old pain, fresh in the mind as it may be.

But I would like to say this.

After paying $60 to park and then deal with the asshole Trojans who continually chanted "O-VER RA-TED" at us, I may never go to a game at the Coliseum again. The thing I really REALLY hated is that when we were fucking losing by 66-3 at one point, they STILL felt it necessary (and we're talking people only a row or so away from your face) to point and laugh at you and shake their keys and tell you it was time to go home...and then when you did finally give up and leave, they yelled "AW...where you going? Had enough? HAHAHAHA!".

They have NO FUCKING CLASS.

I can remember, not that long ago, some games where we were skunking the crap out of them, and yet our cheering was not a derision and a literal outright in-your-face attack. It was a CELEBRATION.

There's a difference, you assholes.

I give USC every prop in the world for their team. They win. A LOT. They're obviously doing something right and I can't take that away from them.

It's the fans who can go to hell.

When we were walking back to our car, I was miserably sneezy and stuffy and obviously just DONE, so I held onto Mr. Blogger's arm and had my head on his shoulder for support. We were minding our own business, when some fucker in cardinal and gold yelled at me, "Yeah, you BETTER hang on to him!".

Or WHAT?! You gonna come over here and mess us up or something...because WE LOST? Does that make any sense??? That's my point, how can people STILL be yelling at you when you are NO THREAT WHATSOEVER AND THE GAME IS OVER???

So I flipped him off.

Anyway, "Overbearing in Victory" doesn't even begin to describe it. So I ask everyone here to cheer as loud as you can for Texas in the National Championship Rose Bowl game on January 4th, so SOMEBODY knows what it's like to lose. For once. Goddammit.

Ok, I'm done. On to the Sun Bowl. Yippee.

So today both MB and I had Jury Duty. More yippee. (And, yup, on the same day.) But when the alarm went off at 5:00AM and I still couldn't breathe, I knew there was no way that was happening, for me at least.

MB headed off to fulfill his civic duties and I told him to bring my summons so he could postpone mine. He battled traffic, paid for parking, and navigated his way around downtown San Diego. He checked in, changed mine and sat for Orientation.

Then he found out that you can't serve if you're not a US citizen. Whoops.

Back home he came and back to work he went. So much for all that. But as much as we said this would work out well having it on the same day as we could carpool and keep each other company, it's a good thing I didn't go. He would have had to sit there with me until I was finished, which knowing how my last service went, wasn't until 4:30, when they finally let me go after no one wanted me.

That's what happens when the first question in voir dire is "Who in your family is in either the law, or law enforcement?"

Two FBI agents, a retired LAPD detective and a Superior Court Judge for a dad (for STARTERS) don't get you very far. And yet they keep summoning me!

Good call on inviting a British Citizen there too, oh people of the government.

You must hire a lot of USC grads.

We are sons of Westwood...and we hail the blue and gold!

Shit shit shit...I woke up late because I FEEL LIKE UTTER POO, and now I barely have any time to blog before I have to shower and pack for this weekend.

Where are we going, when I have not a nostril to breathe out of, you ask?

THE BIGGEST GAME OF THE YEAR.

Seriously, if I don't have time to do anything but this, I will say to you...my friends, family and assorted wacky internet buddies...

IF YOU DO NOT CHEER FOR UCLA, I MAY NEVER CONVERSE WITH YOU AGAIN.

It's THAT serious.

What makes it TRULY horrific this year however is the fact that:

A. It's at the Coliseum (meaning it's a home game for USC...we trade off every year)

B. USC is ranked #1 in THE WHOLE COUNTRY

C. They are currently undefeated and we have only one loss, yet UCLA is being tapped to lose BY THREE TOUCHDOWNS

WHAT WHAT WHAT??????

The UCLA-USC rivalry dates waaay back and has been known to divide Los Angeles in a way that would rival the Civil War. Families have split (and yes, my first husband and father were both SC grads...does this tell you anything?), alliances broken and friendships lost forever over this particular game.

EVERYONE knows how important it is. You may scoff, but trust me, this is more than bragging rights. This is a chance to show up those snotty, no good, obnoxious Trojans...well, that or to go home bawling my eyes out.

(My sorority sister The Original MB is married to an SC grad and yet emailed me the other day to say..."OK......3 days to THE GAME!!!!! Or......"The upset of the century" as I've been saying......Hope reigns supreme.")

My Mom's favorite quote is:

USC: Overbearing in victory, surly in defeat

They make fun of us, and hang cute little bears in effigy. They tell us that powder blue is a color for babies. Their tailgate parties consist of full silver and china place settings and candelabras, which they use while wearing buttons that say "My maid went to UCLA". They remind us how it costs, oh, 80 gazillion dollars more to attend SC than UCLA...as though that was the sign of a good education.

They're just generally SO MEAN THAT I CAN'T EVEN BEAR THE THOUGHT OF WALKING THROUGH THE COLISEUM TOMORROW.

I accept that it's not exactly the greatest chance in the world that we'll win. But if we do, can you IMAGINE what a party that will be???

So I will be there DAMMIT. As Kona Girl said this morning, upon hearing my lovely, germ-infected voice, they'd pretty much have to have me strapped to a hospital bed with an IV to keep me from going (and that is, in fact, the EXACT reason I wasn't able to go to the '82 game!).

I will scream until I have no voice. I will jump up and down on bad knees that never have fully healed. I will make deals with God when it comes down to the final touchdown to win.

And when I get home, I will either not speak to anyone, or blog like there's not enough words to describe the elation that is my true-blue Bruin heart.

(Now, for your official initiation into Bruin-dom, please click below, turn on the speakers and sing along even though you don't know where to come in...)

GO BRUINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's not the cold and flu season...it's the cold and flu LIFETIME

I knew it. I have a full fledged cold as of this morning. What a shocking turn of events.

But in the effort to quell the development to full-fledged flu/strep/bronchitis, Mom has been throwing Zicam swabs at me like they were made of some magical elixir. Perhaps they are. (Of course, she also won't come near me 'cause god forbid she catch it herself.)

Now, look at a these things, won't you.

(Oh sorry, was just interrupted by her coming in here with a Sugar Free Halls for me. Did she pack a medicine cabinet in her suitcase or something??)

Zicam is a Q-tippy kind of thing, with a blob of gooey zinc on the tip. You break them open and SWIRL THEM AROUND IN YOUR NOSTRILS. Ew ew ew ew ew. Plus, it tickles like crazy. Then again, EVERYTHING tickles me like crazy, so nothing's new with that.

But Mom swears by them, so who am I to question a mother's judgment. (Oh how the laughter engulfs her at this moment...)

So swirl away, I do. Every stinkin' four hours or so. We'll see if it works.

In the meantime, I have promised not to flake, for once, and will still take her out shopping today before she leaves tonight to see friends in L.A. I don't think she'd much appreciate me lying in bed all day.

But then again, being my Mom, she'd be used to that.