Happiness is seeing 2010 in the rear view mirror!

Can you believe another year has come and gone?  I know you are all dying to hear about MY family's exciting year!

TheManTheMyth has had a pretty good year, work-wise.  The construction industry seems to have gotten its second wind so TheManTheMyth has been kept quite busy, which is such a relief because there were a couple of times I thought I would actually have to go out and get a job and we all know how I feel about THAT.  "Work" is one of those four letter words I try to avoid.

TheManTheMyth also had a great racing year.  He ended up 4th overall for the 50+ age group, which is one of the most competitive in our racing district.  Those old guys still haul butt.  He also competed in the Kenda National Hare & Hound Series and will carry either the N5M plate for next year or the N6M plate.  We're not sure because it turns out there are two separate versions of the Official Final standings and nobody seems to know which is which but they better get it straightened out pretty quick is what I'm saying.  We need to order the special National plate and N?M just wouldn't look right.

2010 was the year Thing 2 decided to retire from playing hockey after 8 years.  She had made it to the Championship game on various teams more times than we can count but was always the bridesmaid and never the bride.  We knew she was done when during her final season she pretty much played what we liked to call, "Watch hockey," where she mostly just skates along and watches everyone else go after the puck.

 As you can see from this picture at her final (unsuccessful) shot at the Championship, the enthusiasm was GONE.  Since her retirement, Thing 2 has become quite the accomplished cave dweller and by cave, I mean her bedroom.  She has also been working hard on her power-sleeping and considers it a perfect night's rest when she can remain comatose until the afternoon without anyone trying to disturb her beauty rest. She's a real go-getter, our Thing 2 is!


We lost our Lucy back in February.  Well, we didn't really "lose" her; I know exactly where she is and that is in a lovely box in my curio cabinet, along with a couple of other deceased pets and fathers. 

6 weeks later, we made an impromptu drive to Alhambra and came home with Gracie Lou:

She keeps us on our toes and does her Daddy love her!  Except when she pees on the patio instead of the grass.  Then the love goes out the door. 

I'm still a steward for AMA District 37 Off-road Division.  It keeps me off the streets and out of the bars although I did take a year-long sabbatical from the races.  And liked it.  And am no hurry to go back to the desert.  I also took a cruise from Seattle to Vancouver and back.  

And got seasick.  Again.  And missed the dress-up night.  Again.  Can't wait to take my next cruise!


Out of all of us, Thing 1 had the most eventful year.  He got his new KTM 250XC on January 1st and on January 2nd he did this to his kneecap:

which put his racing on hold for a couple of months.  Two weeks after he returned to racing, he did THIS:

The boy is not a cheap date.  In June, Thing 1 graduated with Honors from Los Alamitos High School:

In September, Our Little Boy started his freshman year at California State University Long Beach, where he will major in Environmental Studies.  2 weeks into the school year, he was riding his bicycle home from school when he was mowed down by a hit-and-run driver:

The bike did not survive.

Kevin also put all those "Is he gay?" rumors to rest by getting himself a real live girlfriend!

The highlight of Kevin's year was being chosen to race in the historic Catalina Grand Prix, where he finished 4th overall.  Unfortunately, we don't have any photos because the photographer was too intoxicated to be able to tell if the camera was focused.

Being college students, Kevin and several friends decided to experience the infamous Halloween festivities at UC Santa Barbara.  As they drove off, I gave everyone two pieces of advice:  1) Don't die and B) Don't get arrested. 

Turns out the Santa Barbara Police Department did not find a drunken 18 year old stumbling through the streets while dressed in a $12 pirate costume all that amusing.  Luckily, they did eventually decide that a night in County Jail was punishment enough and dropped the charges.

Well, 2010, I'd just like to say "So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodbye!"  And don't let the door hit ya in the ass!

Putting the X in Xmas

Christmas, or "Xmas" as I like to call it because I'm all about the religious aspect of this overly commercial holiday (I'm not) and also because, well, I'm not Christian although my nephew is.  Christian I mean because that's his name and anyhoo, it's over.  The holiday.  Not my nephew.  Although I think at times he's SO over his crazy aunts and where was I?

So.  Back to the topic on hand.  Which is the fact that Xmas is over.  It was a lovely Xmas.  Well, for me at least.  Because I got a new 27" iMac!  Oh, it arrived about a week after Thanksgiving but still.  It's bee-yoo-tee-ful!

I also got an Amazon gift card (yay!) a Borders gift card (yay!) a couple of DVDs including some starring my boyfriend, Jason Statham whom I LOVE:

because he is HOT and some Chinese Fortune Telling Sticks.  Chinese Fortune Telling Sticks you ask?  Why yes.  You see, somehow my family has started to refer to me as "Gypsy" (long story) so of course they have to take that and run with it 

 and I even have a real crystal ball, which I use while moonlighting as Madame Berserka, Fortune Teller to the Stars:

Okay, I don't really moonlight as a Gypsy fortune teller but if I did, I'd have the crystal ball and Chinese Fortune Telling Sticks on hand and now that I think about it, maybe I SHOULD go into bizness as a Gypsy fortune teller, illegally of course because you know, my business license is for selling off-road light kits but if you think about it, fortune telling IS kind of a see-the-light thing so I should be golden and my, haven't I gone off an yet another tangent that has nothing to do with Christmas, which is nothing new here, folks.


Oh! And I also got a new computer desk chair and this thing is a throne!  It is the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in and the rest of the family agrees.


It took us all of 5 minutes to open gifts on Christmas morning and 4 of those minutes were for TheManTheMyth to open his gifts, which consisted of Dickies work pants and Safety Orange t-shirts.  He gets the same thing every year although the color of the t-shirts can and may vary.  He also got a new pair of shoes and when he opened the box with said shoes, the look on his face was all, "You've got to be kidding me" and I'm all, "No really, PUT THEM ON" and he finally did and while they may not be the most stylish of shoes (an understatement), they're what he needs when he's not wearing his Red Wing work boots or motorcycle boots and after walking around in them, he admitted they were the most comfortable shoes he's ever worn:

 Thing 1 received new tires for his road bicycle and a new wardrobe, which is what he asked for but still feels he was robbed despite an entire new racing wardrobe and various parts for his race bike arriving from his sponsors but I guess he wanted a G I Joe with the Kung Fu grip or something.  Oh, and both he and Thing 2 got lots and lots of cash and some DVDs.


Thing 2 received a Playstation 3, which is what she asked for, and found out the hard way that it won't play her old PS2 games so now she has the new PS3 and nothing to play on it.  Ho. Ho. Ho.


Here's my lovely family shortly after they opened their gift(s) and were under overwhelmed with their haul:

We went back over to my seester's house for a Prime Rib Christmas Dinner and a lovely time was had by all:

As you can tell, we don't dress up all fancy for Christmas.

So now, we've put the EX in Xmas because it's over and all that's left is the memories and the bills, oh God the bills and to look forward to New Year's Eve because for the first time in, I dunno, a decade or so, I will NOT be spending New Year's Eve in the desert but will instead stay home and party like a (pet) rock star with Thing 2 and Thing 1's girlfriend and assorted other friends and loved ones and I will FINALLY get to watch the NHL Winter Classic live...unless I'm feeling a tad poorly from partying like a (pet) rock star, which I probably won't because it's been awhile since I've partied like a rock star and I don't miss it to be honest because I'm so over being hungover because being hungover on New Year's Day is so, uh, OVER.

And with that, I'm outta here to go and work on my Brag & Gag for 2010. 

Oh, and I have no idea why the spaces are so huge between paragraphs. *I* didn't put them like that.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's been a LONG time since I've posted anything (not that anyone reads my blog much but who's bitter about that?) but I've been busy.  Doing stuff.  And getting all exciteapated for Christmas (Or not).  So much so that yesterday, which was December 22, I actually ventured forth into the flood waters to buy a tree since nobody else in this family wanted to get off their sorry butts and get one although they were all, "Waaaa, It's not Christmas without a tree, waaaa!"


Knowing that we have a dog who is a bit of a chewer, I was a bit apprehensive about getting a full-size tree because I was worried that Gracie Lou would have a field day with the ornaments and branches on the bottom so MY solution was to buy a small 3' tree that would go on a table and out of harms reach:

So I brung it home, had TheManTheMyth bring it into the house and put up on the table and I decorated it just so and I think it looks pretty cute but Thing 1 was all, "It's so Ghetto" and I'm all, "how's the tree YOU bought, brought home and decorated, huh?  Huh?  That's what I thought so shaddup!" because I am FULL of the Christmas spirit.


Early into our marriage, TheManTheMyth and I suffered a devastating fire right before Christmas and we were in no mood for celebrating and decided to skip on a tree.  But plans changed and we were tapped to host Christmas dinner so on Christmas morning, TheManTheMyth went out to scrounge up a tree and managed to find the only one left behind at the local tree lot.  We slapped some ornaments on it but it still lacked a tree topper.  The empty Coors Light can was my idea and gave the tree a little je ne ce quois and was pretty apropos for our family.

So, my oldest seester and her family arrive tonight to spend the Christmas holidays here in wet and soggy Southern California.  In our family, Christmas Eve is the Big Night because that was my dad's birthday.  We won't be eating turkey or ham or a roast, no sirree.  OUR traditional Christmas Eve main course is breaded pork chops because that was my dad's favorite and that was what Gramma cooked for him.  Sister Bippy uses Gramma's big-ass cast-iron frying pan and wears Gramma's apron while she makes the pork chops.  As my niece Sarah says in her Minnie Mouse voice, "It's a Family Tradition" and woe to anyone who suggests something different for a change. 

One year, Gramma thought maybe we would like something more "traditional" and roasted a turkey instead (and didn't warn us).  THAT went over like like a lead balloon as we all kind of sat there stunned, going all, "What. The. Heck?" and she never made that mistake again.

I'm about 98% done with my Christmas shopping and 0% done with my wrapping so I'd best get my butt in gear.

I know you all are anxiously awaiting my 2nd Annual Brag-n-Gag Family Newsletter but I must wait until next week so that I have more tidbits to include.  It'll be a good one, believe you me.

Perkins Family Christmas Portrait circa somewhere between 1969 and 1971

 

 Merry Christmas and Dog Bless Us, Everyone!
 

Here we go

For the last few days, I've had the most god-awful headaches.  Like I've been on one of those "Spin and puke" rides at 3rd rate carnivals.  I'm fine when I get up in the morning and I'm fine during my morning walk but around 10:00am, the headache kicks in and I feel like hammered shit and I don't know why.

Speaking of morning walks, I take Gracie Lou to the same place, the El Dorado Regional Park, Section III.  We like Section III because there's rarely anyone there early in the morning (read: other dogs since Gracie is positive that every dog wants to eat her) and it's quiet and peaceful (except for the screaming of the hawks and honking of the geese) and we get a good power walk in.  One of the down sides to Section III, though, is that it is frequently closed because both "Dexter" and "CSI Miami" like to film there and they have some weird thing about keeping anyone not associated with the film crew from invading the shoot and maybe trying to get themselves on camera.  Trust me, they have nothing to worry about with me.  I just want to get my dog walked and get over to Del Taco for my morning crack.  You go about your business and I'll go about mine and we'll be fine.  But nooooooo.  I've been stopped by more security guards and their answer to the age old question of, "Do you know who I am" is invariably, "Yes.  You're the person who HAS TO LEAVE."


Anyhoo.  This week, there was yet another film crew setting up an above ground swimming pool, of all things, in one of the parking lots and I'm all, "A swimming pool?  With bleachers on each side?  And a deck? In the parking lot?  But for why?"


The next morning, the film crew was in full force.  There were trailers lined up and down the road, wardrobe trailers, catering trailers, equipment trailers, trailers filled with all sorts of lighting and electrical stuff, people wandering around in bathrobes and I notice that the pool has a ruler thingy on the sides and there's a big sign advertising a Diving Doggies competition and then I notice all the cases of Bud Light being unloaded and I'm all, "Here we go!"  Especially since nobody In Charge forced me from the premises (again).  Suckers.


A diving doggies Bud Light commercial.  Starring the Splash Dogs.  Who I was all excited to see.  But who Gracie was convinced would try to eat her.  And let them know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going down without a fight.


Yeah, guess who disrupted the shoot?  


And guess who was asked to "Move along now, ma'am.  And your little dog, too!"

There we went.












 

You're welcome. I think.

Today, I received a letter in the mail.  It was addressed to me (my first and last name...spelled correctly) "and family."  Well I love getting real life mail that doesn't include a demand for payment so I excitedly opened it and it was a thank you letter.  A very lovely thank you letter and I must share it with everyone:

Dear Kelly & family,

A very belated Thank you! for the delicious brunch you and all your helpers prepared, (Thanks for the vegetarian version!) prior to Thanksgiving.  It was delicious!  My mother enjoyed it as well.  She was here, prior to setting off on a trip to several countries that she'd been planning for 3 years.  She's in New Zealand now.  

We all really enjoyed the meal together.  Than you for all the time and energy it took to get that all together and to deliver it and set everything up.  Thank you also to Josh who served it.

I am sorry this is so late!

Thank you also for everything you do for your sister Tracy and your mom Carol.  We have enjoyed attending the bible study at your house all these years.  It has really been a blessed life.

Love, 
Mary C.

Wasn't that just the nicest letter?  But here's the thing:  I have no idea who Mary is.  I never prepared and/or delivered a Thanksgiving brunch, vegetarian or otherwise and delivered to Mary and her mother.  While I do have a sister named Tracie (with an i e), my mom's name is not Carol.  It's not even close to "Carol."

And people who know me (and tolerate love me) know I have never hosted a Bible Study, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Coinkydinkily, yesterday, I received a Christmas card that had my address but someone else's name (that I don't recognize) and the sender had written "please forward" on it.  Ok.  Forward WHERE?

Nobody other than my family has ever lived in this house, at this address since the house was built in the early 1950's so it's not like someone hasn't received a change of address from their friends.

Isn't that just odd?  Unfortunately, the return addresses are illegible so now the OTHER Kelly is probably fuming that her culinary efforts are unappreciated and Mary will not understand why Kelly cuts her dead at the next Bible Study.


You're welcome.

Tell your friend Veronica

Have a happy, happy, happy, happy Hanukkah!!
 

Before I put on my makeup

Today, I'm going to talk about a deep subject, something that I'm sure many people who know me (and love me) would be surprised to see/read coming from me, Miss Shallow And Damn Proud of It.

Today's subject is Prayer.  I am not a religious person in any sense of the word.  I think going to church would be a whole lot more enjoyable if the whole religion part of it was removed.  Especially get rid of that whole, "My religion is better than your religion" aspect.

Anyhoo.  You don't need religion to pray.  You don't even need to believe in God.  You just need to have faith that there is a Higher Power and have a positive outlook.

Personally, I don't believe that the Higher Power gives a rat's ass about Bristol Palin success at clomping around on "Dancing With the Stars" or which sports team deserves to win a Championship or choosing which pop star wins an award.  

I also don't think God/HP does all the work for you.  I've known people who were going through difficulties, usually of their own making, and instead of doing something to change their circumstances, they said they're just going to let God take care of it for them.  Meaning, they're not going to do a damn thing but "pray" someone bails them out and then they'll chalk it up to God/HP answering their prayers.  WhatEVER.

Prayer is a very personal thing.  Some people prefer to use formal wording while others tend to pray very informally, kind of the, "Hey!  Can you please keep watch over Loved One?  I'd appreciate it.  Thank you" school of prayer that takes place as they're going for a walk, working in the garden, etc.


The latter example is pretty much how I pray.  That's right.  I said I pray and no, I'm not going to be struck down by lighting despite what SOME people may think.

Lately, I've been doing A LOT of praying for our young friend, Justin ImHof.  He is still in a coma after crashing while racing the Baja 1000.  A fund has been set up to help his family and I'm asking, no, praying that not only will he wake up and come back to the people who love him but that people will add him to their prayers and perhaps make a donation to his fund.


I'm also asking that people visit the Team Justin ImHof Facebook page and leave a message for him, his family and his girlfriend.  They could all use some positive thoughts.

"Each morning I wake up, before I put on my makeup, I say a little prayer for you."

Stuffed with thankfulness

Today is the day we give thanks for what we have in our lives.  And also the day when stuffing ones self with mass amounts of carb laden (is "laden" a word?) food is not only acceptable, it's positively encouraged.

Again this year, it will only be the four of us for Thanksgiving dinner.  And again, it'll be a spiral-sliced ham with a little turkey tit for Thing 1 since he's the only one of us who likes turkey.  I tried to find the smallest ham at Costco because it's only the four of us but the odds are very good that we will be having ham-based meals for the next week or so until we start oinking and rolling around in the mud.  And a spider spins a web saying, "Some pigs!" above the backyard gate.

This has been a bit of a trying year, what with Thing 1's broken knee, dislocated shoulder, getting hit by a car and the shenanigans in Santa Barbara over Halloween weekend.  I know he's very thankful that the DA decided to drop the charges.

Thing 2 is thankful that after several years of orthodontia, she finally got her braces off and now has a beautiful smile.  Let's just hope she is a little more enthusiastic about brushing her teeth to keep that smile beautiful.

TheManTheMyth is thankful that after months of one week of work, 3 weeks of no work, he's been working pretty steadily for the last couple of months.  Let's just hope it continues well into next year.

I'm thankful that I have a great family even though some members can be short on common sense coughKevincough, a doggie that has brought joy to all of our lives, that we still have a home with a new lower monthly mortgage payment ($400 a month less!) and many, many more things to be thankful for that I'm not going to bore you with.

But while we are giving thanks, we can't help but think of our young friend, Justin Imhof, who is still in a coma after his crash in the Baja 1000.  We are praying that he wakes up and can give his family the ultimate reason to be thankful.  We love you, Justin.  Come back to us.

Sleepless and Psychic

So, for the last 3 nights, this has been my sleeping quarters:

TheManTheMyth is still a snotty turdy head and it is impossible to sleep in the same bed while he's wheezing, snoring, gurgling, coughing.  So I've been sleeping on the sofa.  Which I hate.  The sofa, I mean.  And sleeping on it.  Because I hate it.  And it's uncomfortable.  Actually, I haven't exactly been SLEEPING; more like dozing because it's so uncomfortable, especially with a dog who insists on spooning even though there's not enough room.

Thing 2 graciously offered to let me sleep with her but I had to decline because she has a loft bed that is a mere 12" from the ceiling and there's no way I can sleep up there without smacking the ceiling every time I turned over and also because her room is like a tomb.  She keeps it as dark as possible and refuses to allow fresh air to penetrate the darkness so it's dark, stuffy and smells of her hockey gear.  I'd rather sleep on the concrete patio than sleep in her room.  But thanks for the offer!

If I was a mean, selfish type of wife, I'd insist that Typhoid Mary sleep on the sofa and let me and Gracie Lou have the snuggle bed but being the kind, considerate wife that I am, I can make do on the Sofa From Hell.  And remind him of my considerate thoughtfulness on a regular basis.


Ok, so yesterday was the Baja 1000 offroad race, which is a HUGE race, and several of our racing friends were, uh, racing in the motorcycle division.  We spent most of yesterday glued to the internet looking for updates on our racing friends.  Well last night, I had a dream that we were down there in Baja and in my dream, a kid named Justin ImHof, who was making his Baja debut on the Honda B Team, came up and was making gestures to his arm and everyone just stood there going, "Huh?" and he never said a word, just kept pointing to his arm.  When nobody did anything, he sadly rode away.  And in my dream, someone said, "What was that all about?" and I was all, "Duh, he was trying to tell us he broke his arm!"  


Remember that.


As soon as I woke up this morning, I ran to the computer to get an update on the race and get this:  the first thing I read was that Justin had crashed hard, was knocked unconscious and had also BROKE HIS ARM.  Hand to God.  Are you getting goosebumps because I sure as heck did.  


Anyway, Justin was badly injured and is on his way home to the USA on a chartered plane.  He's a really, really good kid, only 17 years old and a heckuva racer and if you have a minute, say a little prayer for him and his family.  


And be in awe at my psychic powers.  I know I am.



 

Snotty turdy head

TheManTheMyth is sick.  He has one of those head colds where he wheezes, coughs, honks because his nose is stuffed up, croaks like a frog and is just a real attractive guy right now and an absolute joy to be around, let me tell you.

Last night, I offered him some coughing, sneezing, aching, stuffy nose, sore throat so you can rest medicine, which was not so much so HE could rest but so that *I* could rest because I knew it was going to be a long night but did he accept my loving, caring offer?  No.  He said he was fine with just his nasal spray.

So guess who got some rest and who Did Not?  That's right.  One of us slept the blissful sleep of the damned while the other listened to the snores, the coughs, the wheezing, the raspy, wet breathing until she was ready to use the Special Pillow to Shut. Him. Up.

The breaking point came when he was gurgling/snoring so bad that I reached over to see if he was on his back and if so, to push him over onto his side.  Unfortunately, he WAS on his side and worse, he was awake.  And not happy about me trying to roll him over.


Needless to say, one of us spent the rest of the night on our uncomfortable needs-to-be-replaced-if-we-could-only-afford-it sofa with the dog while the other had the king-size bed all to himself.


TheManTheMyth gets sick about once a year and it seems to be That Time of year for him.  And when he's sick, he's about as pleasant to be around as a wolverine and I'm not talking about the kind from the University of Michigan.  He's crabby and grumpy and wants to be left alone and I can forget about getting a good night's sleep.


It could be worse, though.  He could become a two year old and demand juice with bendy straws and ice cream and want to be coddled and pampered and demand to control the TV.


As much as I like retaining control of the TV, I hate sleeping on the sofa so I think I'm going to insist he take some knock-you-out cold medicine tonight so that both of us can get a good night's sleep.


And if he won't take it, I will.

A Couple of Princesses

As an unashamed Royal Watcher, of course I'm going to blog about the engagement announcement of Prince William and Kate Middleton.  It took 8 years of dating, break ups and and reconcilliations but Kate held out and she got her man.  And I think Wills made a very good choice.  Kate may not be a royal or even from the nobility but look how well THAT worked out when Prince Charles picked Lady Diana Spencer.  Diana was an uneducated, emotionally fragile teenager when she was picked for her breeding and virginity to be the Royal Bride and received little or no support from the in-laws or her husband who was in love with someone else and had no patience for Diana's issues, of which there were many.  Diana had fabulous fashion sense, a wonderful ability to connect with people, compassion for the sick, the poor and the downtrodden and did her best to raise her sons in as normal a fashion as possible.  And she was a mess who wasn't quite the victim she like to portray herself as, God rest her soul.


Unlike Diana, Kate knows what she's getting into and what will be expected of her.  It helps that she shares the same interests as Williams as well as Charles and it also helps that the Family likes her.


So, you Go, Kate Middleton!  Well done, you!

And SPEAKING of Princesses, My Little Princess, the one, the only Kaylyn, aka, "Thing 2" aka "Little Mama" aka "Her" finally got her braces off yesterday and she looks so beautiful!  Or as she puts it, "Duh.   I'm freakin' GORGEOUS!" because who suffers from Princess Diana self-esteem issues?  Not Kaylyn.  So behold, the beauty of Her:

Look at that smile!  Next step is getting her some new glasses and talking her into getting rid of that ghastly hoodie that she usually wears with the hood up so that she looks like Little Red Riding Hood meets the KKK.  And it flattens down her beautiful hair.  She is SO not joining the ranks of Princess Diana and the soon-to-be Princess William of Wales in the Fashion Hall of Fame.
 

Six degrees of conversation

You know that game, "Six degrees of Kevin Bacon" which is based on the movie, "Six Degrees of Separation" which is how everyone is somehow connected by six degrees to everyone else?  Got it?  Ok, good.

Well, Thing 2 and I recently realized that many of our conversations seem to fit this pattern.  Conversations that usually take place when we're driving somewhere because when we aren't driving somewhere, she is holed up in her cave of a room and therefore conversations don't take place.  

We will start talking about something, which will lead to something else which will lead to something else which will lead to something else and so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby. 

The other day, a simple question by Thing 2 about the Berlin Wall led to a discussion about Communism which led to the Russian Revolution which led to the Romanovs which led to Queen Victoria which led to a history of the Kings and Queens of England from the Tudors to the current Queen Elizabeth II which led to the Protestant Reformation.  

So, starting with the Berlin Wall = Communism (1) = Russian Revolution (2) = Romanovs (3) = Queen Victoria (4) = Kings & Queens of England from Henry VII to Queen Elizabeth II (5) = Protestant Reformation (6).  Therefore, the Protestant Reformation is connected to the Berlin Wall by six degrees.

TheManTheMyth was a witness to this conversation and he just sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

One time, Thing 2 and I were on our way to a high school hockey game and a commercial for the Carl's Jr. Six Dollar Burger came on the radio and before we knew it, we were knee deep in a discussion about wine.  Which is rather amusing considering I don't drink wine nor do I even LIKE wine but when you read as much as I do and watch "Jeopardy" as much as I do, you're bound to pick up on a few things to keep a conversation going.  And this conversation lasted almost the entire 45 minute drive.

I bet if I tried, I really could find a connection to Kevin Bacon in six degrees.  Because it's simple when you think about it.  Just like the Berlin Wall being connected to the Protestant Reformation.

And yes, sometimes I do have too much time on my hands.
 

The Right Pair

I have sensitive eyes.  No, I don't mean that I have sissy eyes, girly man eyes, I mean that they're kind of light-sensitive.  And no, I don't mean that they can take some teasing but will cry when the teasing gets out of hand.  Oh, never mind!

Anyway, I wear sunglasses any time I go outside during daylight hours, even if the sun isn't out and it's raining or foggy or whatever.  I don't wear sunglasses in gloomy weather to show how cool I am, I wear them because even the tiniest bit of glare will bother me.

I'm real good at not losing my sunglasses.  I don't know how many times TheManTheMyth will ask, "Have you seen my sunglasses?" because he can't keep track of them.  I've only lost one pair in all my years and that was because they flew off when I was in a terrifying boating accident at the Colorado River about 20 years ago.  So technically, I didn't LOSE them because I know exactly where they were, which was the bottom of the river.

I'm real picky about my sunglasses.  I don't care if they're $5 swap meet  "Designer Imposter Knockoffs" or $250 Chanel sunglasses.  It's all about the lenses.  There's nothing worse than buying a pair, going outside and the lenses are all wrong.  They're either too light or something in the curve of the lenses makes everything look like I'm looking in a funhouse mirror and I get all woozy and dizzy.  How they work inside a department store with fluorescent lighting and how they work outside in natural light tend to be completely different which is why I will buy 5 pair before finding the Right Pair.

Only the pair at the bottom left was The Right Pair.  They were Ralph Lauren and I loved them and had them for YEARS until they got too scratched up and I went in search of a suitable replacement.  And failed.  Over and over.  And over.

Then one day, I found The Right Pair.  They were the right, uh, I dunno, darkness and the lenses didn't make everything all distorted and they came with a lovely green case and they were also very reasonably priced.  And I loved them.

And then I got sloppy.  Instead of putting them in their lovely green case in my purse when I took them off, I'd just lay them on the bookcase next to the sofa.

I think I've mentioned that I have a dog that likes to chew things.  Well. The other day, I'm laying in bed when Gracie Lou jumps down and goes trotting down the hall.  A few minutes later, I hear crunching sounds and the knowledgeable part of me is saying, "That little shit is destroying something" and the lazy part of me is saying, "Don't get your panties in a wad, she's chewing on her bone."  TheManTheMyth gets out of bed and Gracie comes running back down the hall, jumps back on the bed and pretty much dives under the covers.  She can't act any more guilty than if I had caught her in the act.  But do I get up to investigate?  Nope.

So TheManTheMyth heads off to work and Guilty Gracie and I catch some more zzzz's.  When I get up, I do a quick reconnaissance of the living room, kitchen and my office to make sure there isn't any surprises on the floor and everything looks good.  So I tell myself that I was wrong about the destructive sounds I had heard earlier.  Another hour goes by and I see the ink pen on the table that is all chewed up and I'm all, "A HA!  I KNEW IT!" and I give props to TheManTheMyth for not leaving it on the floor for me to find, the way he usually does when Gracie has left some sort of "gift."  But then, I notice what is next to the chewed up pen and a horrified gasp escapes from me and Gracie dives to safety under my bed.  Because THIS is what I see:

My beautiful Kate Spade sunglasses.  Dead.  She actually chewed a HOLE through the lens!  I wanted to weep.  It took me so long to find The Right Pair and now they were destroyed.  Because I left them where Gracie Lou could get her paws on them.

How many times have I lectured the kids for leaving their iPod earphones where she could get them and eat them (2 sets each, I think she has a taste for earwax or something) and how many times do I tell them "Don't leave anything where she can get it!" and who didn't listen to her own advice?

So now, I'm back to wearing my old scratched up Ralph Lauren sunglasses until I can find The Right Pair once again.  This could take days, weeks.  Maybe even months.

The future is not looking so bright.  And I gotta wear shades.

Five Plus One

Yesterday, June over at Bye Bye Pie asked us, her faithful and oft-times Huh-larious followers to list our Top 5 celebrities that we'd like to Do. As in sexually. As in, "Who would you like to be a slutty whore with?" and I'm all, I'm in!

So here's my list o' fantasy boink partners. It's all a fantasy because the odds of me ever hooking up with anyone on my list is slim to none although I've actually met two of the 5 but a girl can dream.

So. Without further ado, here's MY 5.

Jason Statham. The dude from the "Transporter" movies and numerous Guy Ritchie films. Hot and a half. And then some. You should see him without a shirt. Suh-wooooon!

If you did not read the name on the photo, this is George Parros. He's the enforcer (read: Fighter) for the Anaheim Ducks hockey team. HOT! I love me some hockey players. So much so that I'm still banned in Quebec over that silly Patrick Roy stalking incident.*

I actually met George about a year ago. You can read and laugh about that here.

Have I mentioned I have a thing for hockey players? #3 is George's team mate, Teemu Selanne. I got to meet him as well and the man is beautiful.

Shaun White. I dunno what it is about him but I think he's sexy as all get out and I bet he'd be a hoot and a half. And he's got great hair.

When everyone else was swooning over Josh Holloway (no relation to Natalee) on LOST, I was a-swooning over Henry Ian Cusick's sexy Scotsman, Desmond Hume. "I'll see you in another life, Brother" still makes me sigh.

And an Honorable Mention goes to:
Brad Paisley. I couldn't tell you a single song he sings because I'm not a country music fan but damn, he's mighty fine looking.

So there ya go. My 5 + 1.

*I'm not really banned from Quebec. Really, I'm not. Honest.

Babylon and On

I'm still unable to post photos in my blog.  I don't know if it's because of my ancient Mac or if it's because Blogger is being a poo head but until I can figure this out, you just get to rely on my sparkling wit and way with words to amuse and entertain yourselves.
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So, last night I was in bed, just drifting off to sleep when my cellphone rang.  I usually turn off my phone before I go to bed because the e-mail notification tone will wake me up when it goes off at 2:14am but I forgot to turn the phone off last night which was good (maybe) because when the ringing phone jarred me awake, it was Thing 1's voice on the other end instead of some stranger drunk dialing.


"Mom!" he says, "My truck won't start."  Thing 1 had gone out 2 hours earlier to meet up with his girlfriend at the local doughnut shop.  I assumed he was in the parking lot of the doughnut shop but no, they had decided to "go parking" at the duck pond about a mile away, those crazy kids.  And when it was time to leave, the Red Rocket had become the Dead Rocket.  Thank goodness for Auto Club is what I'm saying although I still had to go and retrieve Thing 1 from the park, interrupting my beauty sleep, which is DESPERATELY needed.  Kids.
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Last night, before I had my beauty sleep interrupted, I had been watching my hockey team, the Anaheim Ducks beat the crap out of the Dallas Stars and my boyfriend, George Parros (who is HOT) scored his first goal of the season!  George doesn't score goals very often because his job is to be The Enforcer so his goal was cause for celebration.  I love me some George.
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You know, I just love a good celebrity Train Wreck and Charlie Sheen is a-whistling down the tracks at runaway speeds.  What a ding dang mess he is.  He's the male version of Lindsay Lohan but unlike Lindsay, he's got boatloads of money to a) afford his messes and 2) pay for his "treatments."  I love how his publicist is claiming he had an "allergic reaction to medication" while the hooker who was with him is saying, "Blow and lots of it."  Charlie Sheen had Hookers and Blow?  I'm shocked, SHOCKED I say.  Oh.  Wait.  And can I use any more "quotation marks?"
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One week from today.  I am counting down the days until this election is over because I am so effing sick and tired of being bombarded non-stop by campaign ads on TV.  Yes, I'm talking to YOU, Meg "$140 MILLION DOLLARS" Whitman.  I don't want to vote for either of the candidates for both governor AND senator.  "None of the above" is the box I want to check.  Although it could be worse, we could have candidates that can't tell the difference between Hispanics and and Asians and wants to outlaw masturbation.  I'm starting to associate the Tea Party movement with cuckoo clocks.
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I've noticed something about the women homeowners who appear on all those HGTV real estate shows:  they all wear really, really ugly, clunky sandals.  That are not just ugly, they're Fugly.  What, have they not ever seen or heard of cute strappy sandals?  I'm no Fashionista or even a TJ Maxxinista but if you're going to be on TV, wear some stylish footwear, fercryinoutloud!
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The latest electronic issue?  My Verizon Webmail is not receiving e-mails.  Or if e-mails are delivered, they disappear after about an hour.  Luckily, I'm getting my e-mails through my Mac mail but there's a couple of e-mails that have to obtained and opened on my PC laptop and it's kind of hard to do that when they don't show up in my inbox.  Or spam folder.  Or anywhere I can open them.  Sigh.
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You know what commercial just makes me laugh every time I see it?  The Geico commercial where we find out just how much wood a woodchuck can chuck, "Hey, you dang woodchucks, quit chuckin' mah wood!"


So there ya go, Wednesday's Babbles.  Where I Babble On and On.  It's what I do.

Bitchslaps for Jesus

Maybe I'm going to hell in a bucket but this was one of the funniest things I have seen in a long time.

I Don't Get It, Round 3

Here are more things I don't get:

1.  People who pile stuffed animals in the back windows of their cars.


2.  How a political party can manage to find so many nut jobs as their candidates.


3.  Sunroofs in cars.


4.  The idea to mix fish juice with tomato juice.


5.  Mixing fish juice with tomato juice and adding it to beer.

Someone has pissed off the Electronic Gods and that Someone Seems to be Me

Once again, the technology slash electronic Gods are having buttloads of fun at my expense, both mentally and monetarily.

My stupid Motorola Droid phone is still refusing to deliver e-mails in a timely manner.  Oh, and the new thing is, the little notification chime will sound, it'll say I have 1 new e-mail and when I open the e-mail app, there's 27 e-mails waiting.  12 of which I had already deleted 5 times in the last week.  Now, I may be mathematically challenged but I do know that 27 minus 12 does not equal 1.  Obviously, someone in Droidville is even more mathematically challenged than I am and that is really saying something, believe you me.  Stupid Droid.  I hate this phone.

And then last week, my ancient iPod Shuffle, the one that resembles a pack of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum, decided it no longer wants to live up to its name, which is Shuffle.  It now wants to play the same 10 or 15 songs over and over.  Which would be fine if I wanted to hear The Partridge Family's "Bandala" (don't you judge me), Wall of Voodoo's version of "Ring of Fire," Queens of the Stone Age "Millionaire" or Little Walter singing, "My Babe" over and over and sometimes I do but after the 3rd or 4th go-around, I kinda want to hear something else.

The latest technological woe is actually one I've been having all year.  My laptop.  That I hate and despise because it's not a Mac.  I've had more trouble with that stupid Not A Mac laptop.  The latest issue is that somehow, someway, my Adobe program that enables me to read PDF documents and lets me convert documents of my own to PDF files has decided to disappear and will not allow me to reinstall the program.


This all started when I went to open a PDF file that I needed and a little pop-up window pops up, which always causes me to wince because it's a crapshoot on whether or not something is about to go Very, Very Wrong, telling me that I need to update my Adobe Reader program to Adobe Reader 9.4 before I can open said PDF file.  And that is when things went Very, Very Wrong.  Not only was I not able to download and install Adobe Reader 9.4 but I was informed via pop up window that I, my laptop's Administrator, has insufficient privileges to access the file and the installation cannot continue and I need to contact the Administrator pronto.


So, I contact the Administrator, oh wait!  That's ME! and I have to inform myself that I'm shit outta luck as far as installing Adobe Reader because of Error 1303, which when I went to Adobe's troubleshooting section of their site, informs me they've never heard of Error 1303 even though that's what it says on that pop-up window from MotherFucking Hell Windows 7 (same difference).


So.  For whatever reason, I can no longer open PDF files which is going to cause serious problems as far as business goes and I cannot convert files to PDF which is going to cause serious problems as far as business goes.  And I don't know how to correct the problem, which is causing serious problems as far as my sanity goes.  This wouldn't be an issue if I had a new iMac because nothing EVER goes wrong with a Mac.  But I don't have the $$$$ for a new Mac at this time unless I sell a kidney or one of my offspring and lately, the sale of one or both of my offspring is looking a little more preferable than the sale of the kidney because I like to pee and my kids are pissing me off.


And Blogger is STILL not allowing me to upload/download/sideload photos in my blog.  When I try, I get an "Add images" box that looks a helluva lot different than it use to and when I choose an image from my stash of photos in my computer to upload, nothing happens.  Oh it SAYS it's uploaded but there's nothing there.  "Add images" just wants to fuck with me.  And is doing a damn fine job of it.  Bastard.


In other news, that effing bitch who mowed down my kid and fled the scene has been charged with criminal charges by the City of Long Beach.  People vs. Camille Wickersham and guess what?  She's on Facebook.  Feel free to send her any nasty message you want.  Like, "Hey, hit any kids in crosswalks lately?" or "I"m looking for a bike.  You got any stuck under your car I can have?"  You have my blessing.  Camille Wickersham.  Get her!

I Don't Get It Round 2

More things I Don't Get:

1.    People who replace the letter "s" with a "z." 

2.    The obsession with Marilyn Monroe.
3.    The trend for super elaborate and ridiculously expensive cakes. 

We're In a Fight

So, for the past week or so, Blogger has decided to totally fuck with me and is being a total butthead.  I am unable to post any photos, which kind of makes it hard to tell a story if pictures can't be included.  It just kind of loses something when there's no visuals.  And then today, my Dashboard is all kinds of messed up and is making it difficult to read the blogs I follow.  Why you gotta be hatin' on me, Blogger?


So Blogger, I'm letting you know that you and me are in a Fight. But get in line behind my Droid phone because my Droid and I are also in a Fight.


So Droid, you were supposed to be Verizon's answer to the iPhone, which is why I traded in my BlackBerry when it was time to upgrade.  But you've let me down, Droid.  In a BIG way.


You don't allow me to answer incoming calls because of that stupid "Slide to Unlock/Answer" feature WILL NOT slide to unlock and answer so I keep missing calls.  Well, I'm not actually missing them, I see the call as I'm staring at my screen while frantically trying and failing to answer and feeling utterly helpless as the call goes to voicemail.  Only then am I able to "slide to unlock" when it's day late, dollar short there Droid.


And let's talk about the e-mail function, shall we?  My old BlackBerry totally kicks ass in the e-mail category while you, you're a miserable failure at that.  In fact, you downright suck.  I'd really like to know why you refuse to deliver my e-mails for as long as 24 hours.  Oh, and then to make matters worse, you deliver the same e-mail over and over and over and over despite me deleting said e-mail over and over and over and over.  What's up with THAT?  And, it's always a SPAM e-mail that won't go away.  What, are you getting a kickback for every SPAM e-mail that shows up in my Inbox?

I think you do this stuff on purpose, Droid.  I think you and Blogger are in cahoots to annoy the crap out of me.  I'm kind of stuck with you, Droid, because I just got you a couple of months ago but Blogger?  If you don't get your shit together, I just might blow this popsicle stand of a blogging site and take my wit and wisdom and 3 followers over to WordPress or TypePad and then won't YOU be sorry you were mean to me.


Uh huh,who's running scared now?

Image problems

I had a really hilarious blog post all ready today because over at June's place, it's Pieces of Humiliation Wednesday and her faithful readers/devotee/worshippers sent in embarrassing photos for everyone to snicker at.  And of course I included one of my own from when I had "Glamour Shot" photos back in the early 90's when they were all the rage, along with "Boudoir" photos.  Remember those?

Anyhoo, I was all set to post a more detailed example of my lovely Glamour Shot photo session, where all my pictures not only made me look 25 years older than I was but also made me look like I was a lounge singer in a third-rate hotel in Reno, performing Carpenters and Vicki Carr songs to tired, drunk and broke losers.  Which was not the look I was going for.

Unfortunately, Blogger has decided to Not Cooperate and is refusing to allow me to upload any photos to my blog.  Bastards.  And we all know a blog is just not the same without photos to accompany the witty written word.

How else will people have the opportunity to laugh themselves silly at my expense if they don't have a visual of my embarrassing photos?

I have no idea why Blogger is being such a Butthead but they better get their act together or I'm taking my Blog and hitting the road in search of a better host.  One that doesn't have image problems and allows me to express myself with pictures accompanying my brilliant prose.  Not that anyone reads it but if they did, they'd want the pictures.

So, please, bear with me all of you 3 readers.  Hopefully this issue will be resolved and I can continue to astound you with my hilarious views of life.  With pictures.

Some lube would have been nice

Or, Good Times at the California Department of Motor Vehicles.

And no, I'm not talking about Florida and James and JJ saying, "DY-NO-MITE!!" Good Times, I'm talking about what should have been the simple act of transferring title.

At the end of 2009, like, December 30th, we purchased a previously owned KTM 250 for Thing 1 to ride in the Kenda National Hare & Hound Series.  2 days after getting the bike, Thing 1 had his little tip over and ended up with the broken knee cap.

So, we were kind of slow in getting the title transfer taken care of.  Flash forward most of the year and Thing 1 tells me he needs this done before October 10.  Which is in 6 days.  According to Thing 2, I "don't do ANYTHING" during the day so naturally, it fell on me to take care of this issue.  Even though it's not MY dirt bike.  Although it is now as it's MY name on the new title since I was the one who had to endure the DMV.

Anyway, our local Auto Club does not handle off-road vehicle registration/title stuff so I had to make an appointment with the DMV.  I made this appointment about 2 months ago and today was the first available appointment.  Why wait to the last minute, right?

And this is when the fun starts.  For starters, we are having a rare day of not-quite-rain but a really, really heavy drizzle.  Which is kind of bizarre considering exactly one week ago we had record breaking temperatures.  So I'm driving to the DMV, which is located a couple of towns away and since people in So Cal do not know how to drive in the rain, it's ugly out there.  Couple of cars spinning out and one off into the iceplant and oh, it's just lovely.  I had a vague recollection of where the DMV office was so I asked TheManTheMyth and he told me it was right off Bellflower and Woodruff.

I don't know what crack he was smoking but the DMV is nowhere near Woodruff.  Why he didn't just tell me it was a little ways past the now-closed, infamous "Fritz's, That's It!" titty bar, I don't know because EVERYONE knows where Fritz's' is/was and I would have been fine.  But he didn't tell me that so I ended up going in the wrong direction and by the time I figured it out, I was a few miles from my destination and the clock was ticking down for my 10:40am appointment time.

I pull into the parking lot and spent the next 10 minutes circling and circling and circling to no avail.  There wasn't a single available parking spot.  And the streets where the DMV is located is permit-only parking and the little Ticket Truck was having a field day writing up tickets left and right for all the non-permitted cars belonging to people who had business at the DMV.  The City of Bellflower made quite a nice chunk of change this morning, just in parking tickets.  I think the DMV is in cahoots with the City of Bellflower by not providing ample parking thus causing people to park illegally.  Bastards.

I finally park in the parking lot of a church a couple of blocks away, but not before checking very carefully for any "No Parking" signs.  Ok, I'm safe.  So I hoof it to the DMV, through the heavy, heavy drizzle and I'm getting all wet and cranky and I get to the DMV and there's a line stretching the entire length of the building.

Well, I have an appointment, I don't need to stand in no stinking line and I walk up to the door and the doorman slash security guard tells me I have to go back and stand in line.  "But I have an appointment," I say and he says, "That's nice now go back and stand in line."  Bastard.

So I'm standing in the heavy, heavy drizzle, getting wetter and crankier and seeing my appointment time come AND go and I finally get to the door and the doorman slash security guard asks me my business and I say, "I have an appointment for a vehicle registration" and he says, "You didn't need to stand in line if you have an appointment" and I'm all, "But...but...but" and I go up to the Window and they ask when my appointment is and I say, "10 minutes ago" and they tell me I'm late (Duh!) and I'm all "Dude at the door wouldn't let me in" and they give me a number and tell me to wait.

FINALLY, my number is called and I present my pink slip and sign here, here and here.  Oh, and don't forget to sign here.  And then, Mr. DMV Registration Guy says, "That'll be $269.00" and I'm all, "Exsqueeze me?" and he repeats, "269.00" and I'm all, "American Dollars?" and he does not "get" my humor and repeats, "$269.00."  And before I know it, I am bent over and grabbing my ankles as I get royally screwed by the DMV.  Without lube.  Or a drink first to loosen me up.

TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE DOLLARS in American Money just to change the name on the title on a friggin' used dirt bike.  I was expecting a fee of, oh I don't know, $50.00.  Not TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE.  And no, there weren't any late fees.  But wait, it gets better.

The guy we bought the bike from gave us the pink slip but he didn't sign it to release the title.  And he wouldn't give us the red sticker that is required by law until we changed the title.  Because of this, the DMV would not give me an operating permit OR new red sticker because the paperwork is incomplete.  And of course, this was relayed to me only AFTER I paid.

So now, I'm out $269.00 and I still don't have a valid title or operating permit.  And without the operating permit, this bike can't be raced this Sunday.  Lovely.

Anyone know how long it will be before I can walk normal again?

Adventures in Jury Duty, Part Duh.

So, every night this week, I've had to call in to see if I needed to report for Jury Duty.  And every night, I heard the same message, "You do not need to report in tomorrow" and I'm always all, "Yeah, baby!"

Well, last night (Thursday) I completely forgot to call in so when I got up this morning and went to check my e-mails, I saw my jury summons and was all, "Crap! I forgot to call in!" and immediately called, expecting to hear, "We don't need you because it's Friday and who decides to start trials on a Friday?" message.



Ha ha, right. This time, I hear, "You are to report for jury duty at 7:45am this morning" and I'm all, "CRAP!!!" because it's 6:30 and I haven't had a shower or fed the dog or made Thing 2's lunch (yes, I make her lunch every day) and I'm all, "Crap, crap, crap!"  It felt like such a dirty trick, making me think I'm home free only to have someone, the voice on the automated system, yell, "PSYCH!!"

I have just enough time to shower and throw on a pair of pants and shirt but no time to apply any makeup other than mascara, which really made no difference so I don't know why I even bothered with that, grabbed my purse, a book, a pad of paper, a couple of granola bars and hightailed it out the door because by this time, I had about 20 minutes to make it from my house on the east side of Long Beach to the courthouse located downtown.


But first, I needed to make a quick trip through the drive-thru at the local Crack House for My Usual because I was STARVING and I could just eat while I was driving.  That didn't work out so good because I managed to drip salsa verde on my lap AND down my top and I'm all, "Crap!" although that's not quite the word I used but we'll go with it.

And then, because there's traffic construction every other street, I pretty much had to take the Ho Chi Minh Trail to get to the courthouse because every time I made a turn, I'd hit yet another "Detour" sign that would send me in another direction and at one point I could have sworn I ended up driving in a big circle thanks to the stupid "Detour" signs.


So I finally get to the courthouse and totally make an illegal left turn into the parking garage and me and my stained clothes scamper to the entrance where I pretty much have to disrobe to go through the metal detector and people are staring at my chesticle area because of the big stains and I'm all, "What, you've never seen green sauce from Del Taco before?" before tossing my clean but mostly uncombed mane of hair and heading for the escalator.  Which isn't working.


Anyone who's ever been to the Courthouse in Long Beach knows the place is on the verge of collapse and really should have been condemned and torn down in a massive display of pyrotechnics years ago but no, no such luck.  Ironically, in today's paper there was an article about how the Long Beach Courthouse is the worst in the state.  Half the time the elevators and escalators are out of order, like this time.  So I start hoofing up the non-moving escalators which is a weird feeling because the steps are different heights and it really throws your balance off.  But I make it all the way to the 6th floor without having a coronary and arrive in the jury room with the other 50 or 60 Law Abiding Citizens who didn't ignore their Jury Summons the way I've done a time or two.  Uh, I mean, put it aside and forgot about it.  Yeah!  That's it!  I FORGOT about it.

So all of us Chosen People are sitting there, staring at each other or our cellphones in various states of irritation, exhaustion and resignation.  Then we're instructed to take out our jury summonses because they have to be filled out and turned in and guess who didn't have her jury summons to fill out and turn in?  That would be me.  Mine was still sitting on my desk back at home.  Of course.


So I tell the nice lady who's in charge that I didn't have my summons with me to fill out and turn in and she tells me I have to go and talk to "George" and I go and talk to "George" and tell him I forgot my jury summons that needed to be filled out and turned in and he gives me The Look, sighs heavily and looks up my name on the computer and prints out a new one and I return sheepishly to my chair to fill it out and turn it in as everyone is staring at me because I was the ONLY person to have forgotten her paperwork.  Or they were staring at the big stains on my boobs.  No, I'm pretty sure they were staring because of the paperwork issue.


By the time everyone had filled out and turned in their paperwork and/or been excused for whatever reasons, it was 8:45 and it was Break Time until 9:15.  So I went out onto the rooftop deck, which is really the only redeeming feature because it overlooks the Long Beach Harbor and I look down on Ocean Blvd, watching the cars go by and then I look out toward the harbor and watch the ships in port and then I jot down some notes and then I stare out at the harbor some more and then it's time to go back in to the jury room and wait.


Around 9:30, 9:45, about 15 people get called to go to a courtroom.  I am not one of them, which on one hand, I'm all, "Whew! Dodged another one!" but on the other hand, I'm all, "Dang, I didn't get picked."  So the Unchosen of us sit there and wait.  And we wait.  Aaaaand, we wait.  Those people who didn't bring laptops or netbooks are either reading, dozing, staring stupidly in to space or are on their phones.


Even though I had brought a book, I wasn't in a hurry to start reading because the last time around, I brought a book that wasn't a quick read and by the time I was finally dismissed, I had read about 2/3 of it and my neck was stiff from looking down at the book and my eyes were aching and my head was blurry.  

I tried to keep occupied by checking my e-mails, posting status updates on Facebook, commenting on other people's status updates, responding to comments about my updates, texting my kids even though they were both in school, texting my favorite non-biological son Adam who was at work but was as bored as I was, surfed the web, played the Yahtzee app on my phone a dozen times, looked around the room but not make eye contact with anyone, played  "here is the church and here is the steeple" with my hands and then I did that thing with my hands where you clasp your hands and then flip one hand over so that the two middle fingers wiggle and I looked at all the pictures on my phone including a picture of my new Boyfriend and then I Google more images of my Boyfriend because he's THAT HOT but I had to stop doing that because I was Heavy Sigh-ing a little too loudly which drew even more stares and I'd post pictures of my Boyfriend but Blogger is not letting me post pictures at this time (Bastards!) so if you want to see my Boyfriend just Google "Jason Statham" and you'll see what I'm talking about.   HOT is what he is.


So by this time I'm about to go nuts (and No, I do NOT have ADD or ADHD; I was just bored) and am thinking how I will last until we break for lunch at noon but at 11:00, we're dismissed for lunch, which means I have 2-1/2 hours to kill.  I could have gone home but then I wouldn't have wanted to drive back so instead I went to my sister's house and hung out with her cats and ate some lunch and called TheManTheMyth to find out what he was doing (finishing concrete with no time for idle chitchat).


Back to the courthouse at 1:30 and I finally decide to read my book after making arrangements to have Favorite Son Adam pick up Thing 2 from school (this is why he's The Favorite and Thing 1 is Not).  Just as I'm getting into my book, we're dismissed and told we have completed our annual Civic Duty.  It's 2:15.


So let's see, we sat around for an hour, took a 1/2 hour break, sat around for roughly 1.5 hours, took a 2.5 hour lunch, sat around for 45 minutes and that's it.  We're done.

Despite my inability to keep my mouth shut which, for some reason, is frowned upon when one is serving on a jury, I really would like to experience being on a jury at least once.  But, something tells me that probably won't happen because of the whole, "Don't talk about the case" rule they have and we all know, it's not in my genetics to stay silent. 

But as long as they keep calling me, I'll keep trying.  Because it's my Civic Duty.