Duuuuuudes, the View-Master is 65 this year. 65! Does that make you feel old or what? They have gotten quite high tech since last I remember them...check 'em out.

Strange (or comforting...or something...) to see that Winnie the Pooh is still a hot seller even 25 years after little Bethy stared into her own clunky red View-Master with Pooh and Piglet. Props for this reel, which features "Rescue Heroes" with a rather hunky looking fireman on it.

Oh, and for those spelling geek kids out there, I bring you the virtual Speak 'N Spell!

 

On my bus to work today someone actually said to the driver, "Hey, did you know there's a pigeon on this bus?" And sure enough, there was -- just sitting on the floor catching a ride to the Westlake Station.

I have to think this forecasts a strange day ahead. How could a bus-riding pigeon not?

Think I am losing it. Just found out I am not going to be able to move for another week and a half. This is my own fault for packing everything up so far in advance. I look around and all I see are boxes. More boxes. I miss my stuff. I miss knowing where everything is. I'm tired of reaching for something and realizing "Oh right, that thing you never use that you thought you could pack away? The thing you now need right this minute? It's gone, honey."

I have no food because -- again everything is in boxes and why buy food when you're moving in a few days....except....now I need serious food because I can't live on dry cereal and bottled tarragon for the next ten days. WAAAAAAH. Moving sucks.

Almost feeling human again after 100 degree weather yesterday. That was unreal. Couldn't move. Couldn't pack. Couldn't blog. Just laid in bed with the fan going full blast for most of the day feeling sweaty and salty and nasty.

Did have to get my behind up and out for a lovely wedding that was quite fun and felt comfort in the fact that at least I didn't have to -- heh heh -- wear a lacy taffeta wedding gown in the mid-day sun all day.

Watched Celebrity Poker last night that featured the cast of Arrested Development. Love the show, love Jason Bateman, but dang if it wasn't snoooooozeville to watch them play poker for an hour. No witty banter -- no hilarious hijinks? David Cross had a few random and weird comments, but that was the extent of it.

I think it all could have been veeeery different if they had the guy that plays Baxter and Liza Minnelli (those two MAKE the show) pony up to the bar.

Also, what is Dave Foley DOING on this show? So much talent and he's spending his time talking to Hank Azaria about a straight flush? And can someone please tell me who the heck is Peter Facinelli and why is he on every single episode of celebrity poker?

Happy Birthday to yet another one of my junior high friends that enters into the thirtysomething experience today -- Have a fabulous day, Momma! May you find a single orange construction cone on an abandoned street in the middle of the night and saw it in half with the people you love!

On another note, I haven't slept a solid night in three days because of moving anxiety. Head hurting. Dark circles looming under eyes. Wheeeee!

 

Time once again for Frequently Asked Questions!

Q: Are there any good drinking games that I can play while watching Dawson's Creek?

A: Yes. I suggest that you set yourself up with a few episodes, your beverage of choice and take a drink whenever:

* Anyone uses the term "soul mate."
* Dawson touches his enormous forehead.
* A person crawls into Dawson's bedroom window.
* Anyone cries. Bonus sip if this person is Dawson.
* Grams says "Oh, Jennifah!" Bonus three sips if Jen replies back with "Dammit Grams! I don't want your judgment, I just want your understanding!"
* Pacey speaks in his really really bad Bawstan accent.
* Joey tucks her hair behind her ears and bites her lip and looks worried.
* Mr. Leery, AKA Meathead, is on screen. Five extra sips if Gail "Deep Conditioning Hair Treatment" Leery is on with Meathead. You'll need it to numb the pain.

I think you'll find yourself very happy by the end of the episode.

Anyone who knows me knows about my love of napping. I can block out a good 2-3 hours on a Saturday afternoon curled up in bed, snoozing away in perfect bliss. Which is why the folks at Metronaps are after my own heart -- napping stations for mid-afternoon escapes? Hello?

I rarely find myself in the Empire State Building is the main problem...and they're designed for 20 minute "power naps" which any professional napper worth her salt will tell you is totally worthless. Still, an interesting concept -- props to ljcfyi for the tipoff.

Okay Nordstrom Shoe Guy, I get it. I have big feet. Don't look at me with that snippy pursed mouth of yours and sneer that you don't carry those cute Steve Madden mules with the kitten heels in my size.
 
I mean, I was just askin'. No need for the attitude. I'll be taking my giant feet online where I'll shop without the 'tude.

Let's give a big ol' mature thirtysomething Happy Birthday to my friend Raquel Rashell, who leaves her twenties behind her today. Hope you TEAR THROUGH the years with laughter and joy and good good stuff.
 
Have a fabulous day, girl -- you deserve the best. Welcome to the old lady club.
 
 

Happy, happy day. As I was scurrying around doing errands today, I found myself absolutely obsessed with finding a bowl of Pho soup. Had to have it. Would die if I didn't have it. That type of craving.
 
I recalled about a year ago I had gone to this little restaurant in a strip mall when I was coming down with a foul, foul headcold. Sniffling and shaking and feverish, I ordered the soup...handed over my debit card and was told you had to buy at least $10 worth before you could use a card. I think I started crying. I definitely lost it. All I know is that the guy took pity on me and let me pay without the minimum.
 
So I returned to my little strip mall place, happy to give this nice guy my business again and satisfying the craving all at the same time, plus adding in a little squid with garlic sauce to the deal. DELISH!

Dear Caregiver Whom I Occassionally Reward With Snuggles:

Are you dense or something? That cheap-ass Safeway-brand cat food SUCKS. I mean, it really really SUCKS and that's coming from an animal that licks his own behind. You seriously couldn't have spent the extra three or four dollars for the Whiskas that I so much prefer? Have I offended you somehow?

Look, I've got my pride. I don't like having to meow and stare up at you pleadingly every single time you go into the kitchen in hope that you'll get the hint and toss out this foul cardboard masquerading as "food." But I've also got my huge hairy orange belly to look after. And sister, it's shrinking up from the crappy food.

I deserve better.

Sincerely,
Thomas the Wonder Cat, AKA Mr. Snuggle Bear, AKA Little Buddy, AKA Schmoopie, AKA Bunny Bun Bun

Isabel "Weezie Jefferson" Sanford died on Monday. I not distraught or anything, but it's still sad. She actually had a pretty interesting career outside of The Jeffersons.

It's also sad when you mention to someone that Weezie died and they reply back, "Sorry, I think that was before my time," making you feel about a billion years old. This aging thing, man, it hits you had strange times.

Damn but I do love David Sedaris. His latest essay collection made me laugh so hard tonight that my purifying oceanic clay mask cracked into a million tiny peices.

Grudges are funny things. You carry them around with you for years and years, like precious little gems. You cling so desperately to them, holding them near and dear to you out of fear, out of a desire not to get hurt again. And it's often not until you let go of them that you realize how much those little grudges have weighed you down.

Lesson learned: Sometimes you have to just bury the hatchet and leave it behind you. It's just not worthy carrying around all the time.

Okay, so I may have gotten a little overzealous about Jam Fest. While I did indeed make more than a dozen beautiful pots of strawberry and raspberry jam, there is still an entire half flat of blackberries and blueberries sitting in my fridge awaiting....something. A pie? A cobbler? Muffins?

I need to think of something and fast -- the only problem is that I out-Martha-ed myself with the jam and I'm in no mood to cook anything for a while now. Hmmmm. Time to consult some cookbooks...

Damn, but if our culture just can't get enough garden gnomes these days. Those little suckers are EVERYWHERE and I guess that's not a bad thing. Or is it?

If you feel strongly that gnomes should be liberated, go here.

If you'd rather just experience a new gnome every day, go here.

Get on down with your bad gnome-y selves now...

Preparing for Jam Fest 2004 this weekend, where I'm going to hunker down with about 100 pounds (kidding!) of fresh blackberries, raspberries and strawberries and attempt to make about a billion pots (maybe not kidding!) of jam.

Will you be one of the Chosen Few to receive a souvenier from Jam Fest 2004? I'm not against taking bribes of coffee and/or beer from the locals to see if I can't get you up on the list.

Thanks to LJC for her easy instructions on how to make jam here.

So this is depressing -- book reading is apparently becoming a lost art in America. A report by the NEA finds that Americans (surprise surprise) aren't big readers -- it finds that less than half of us read literature in 2002.

This saddens me. I admit I'm an enormous book geek -- I'm passionate about books and words and language and punctuation. Talk to me about the semicolon and I'll get all shivery. Books and writing are intrinsically part of who I am and how I experience the world. A life without books in it is just...empty in my eyes.

I once had a friend who, when looking at my overstuffed bookshelves, comment that she'd rather live certain experiences rather than just read about them. That's fine, I guess. But for me reading about experiences and living them are closely intertwined. Literature chronicles our lives, our cultures and our experiences -- it makes the world a more fantastic and imaginative place to live, which in turn helps us to view and experience it in different ways never before possible.

I'm buckin' the trend. I'm a rebel with a literary cause. I'm heading to a bookstore this weekend and doing my part to get between the pages of a good novel.

Hold the phones. Hold everything. BREAKING NEWS ALERT!

While I have yet to confirm this personally in the stores, I have been alerted by Concerned Blog Reader #590-J that they are reintroducing PUDDING POPS. This is huge, people!

X-Entertainment, an amusing site on its own, profiles my beloved and long-lost pops here.

Falling asleep on top of my laptop. Six a.m. flights SUCK SO MUCH. Might very well be in bed by before 8 tonight.

Panic has started to set in about moving. To counter this, I'm debating about doing a giant strawberry/raspberry jam-fest this weekend. I've not been very Martha-like lately. Too tired to think about it now though.

My eyes hurt. ZZZZZZZZZZ.

Things that are good to do when visiting the homestead:

The popcorn shrimp platter at Red Lobster
Go check out the fancy new Wal-Mart
Stroll by the creek you once waded in as a child
Ice cream cones near said creek
Two words: The Mall
Iron Chef on the Food Network (theme: Giant 9-pound Lobster)

Trip to Denver was good, but remind me again why I selected flights that leave at 6 a.m.? A few observations/suggestions about the people I've seen on flights during this trip:

* No animal-themed clothing, people. Ever. I don't care how much you like deer/wolves/kittens/horses, if you're over the age of 12 you don't get to wear them on your clothes.

* Enough with the tapestry luggage already. That goes double for the woman with the tapestry luggage with kittens on it.

* If you see a group of attractive upstanding college-aged guys wearing suits in the airport at Salt Lake City, remember the old rule that "it's probably too good to be true." Sure enough there were more than a dozen Jehovah's Witnesses on the flight.

Good News/Bad News about moving:

The good news is obvious -- it's a new place, new scenary, new neighbors, a fresh beginning.

The bad news, especially when one moves into a smaller place, is that one becomes overwhelmed and freaked out over the massive amounts of sheer crap that accumulates over the years.

The good news about that is that the crap accumulation (CA) leads to a massive purging and dumping of said possessions. Which, if one is thinking positively, will lead to a feeling of tranquility and zen-like simplicity. Maybe. Sort of.

I have to get to Goodwill before this ideal little fantasy wears off and I want to become reunited with 20 boxes of knick knacks.

At the eleventh hour I've decided to head to Denver for the holiday weekend -- soak up some suburbia, veg with the parentals and see some good friends. It'll be hard to cram everything into three days...but the alternative of staying here with the Wonder Cat with not much planned seemed seriously lame. Actually looking forward to that Olive Garden hospitaliano.

On another note, a shout out to my H5 home girl who headed back to the East Coast yesterday -- safe travels. Good luck on your journey, sista friend. I'll try and send out good vibes your way for some tranquility (i.e., hoping things chill the heck out with EVERYONE) and prosperity (i.e., hoping you make a buttload of money) while you get settled.

How many times has this happened to you: You're sitting there, eating a banana, and suddenly you realize that not only are you eating a nutritious piece of fruit, but also a prime spot of advertising real estate?

If you said never, then welcome to my club. And yet, the other day, right on my banana was a tiny little sticker that said "See Garfield: The Movie!".

Advertising on bananas? Really people? We've run out of media outlets and now we're pushing messages and ads onto fruit? I need some Remax-sponsored green tea to deal with this...

Open Letter to the Group of Men at the Gas Station This Weekend Wearing Nothing But Electric Blue Hot Pants and Platform Boots:

Gentlemen:

Sorry for the staring and gawking. I forgot it was Pride this weekend and as diverse as my neighborhood is, you threw me a bit. The body glitter didn't help either. It's not often one sees a trio of 7 foot tall men with chiseled abs walking around in hot pants. Many could argue it's not often enough.

Anyhoo -- hope you all had a fabulous day and found somewhere to have dinner. I disagree with your intital choice of Subway and hope you found someplace nicer to go.

How amazing is Stephen Merritt?

He's pretty darned amazing. Picked up the new Magnetic Fields CD this weekend and have fallen for them all over again. Really, anything that features songs like "I Don't Really Love You Anymore," and "I Wish I Had An Evil Twin" is an instant hit with me.

For some nice reading material, The Onion has a kick-ass interview here with Mr. Merritt.

Blissful, blissful Saturday. The sun is shining, it's warm and summer-y and I've got lemon sherbert, so all is well with the world.

I experienced a pomogranate mimosa for the first time this morning at brunch. Deeee-lish. Made me feel like I was drinking something healthy, with the added benefit of alcohol in the morning.

Headed to Portland tomorrow for a business trip, so sit tight kids while I'm away from blogging land for a few days...

Theme for this evening is change. I'm thinking of moving into a new place, and just got back from viewing some potential options. Most were smaller than I envisioned. A lot smaller. Which isn't bad, it's just...different. I'm sitting here trying to picture all of my furniture in a new environment, and then wondering if I might have to get rid of some things.

But. So. Hmmmm. Just contemplating potential changes in life and my environment. Very perplexed now. Change is hard. I think there's a reason I've not moved in eight years...this is really taxing my brain tonight.

Oh Morrissey, you're just having a tough time these days, aren't you pal?

First people are all up in a wad about your recent remarks about President Bush. Now they go and cancel Lollapalooza?

Well I still believe in you, old friend. Sure I haven't bought your new album yet (or the last one before that) although when I walked through a record store recently and they put the new one on, I got all nostalgic and excited and angsty.

Hang in there.

Okay, phew. I'm done with my open letter writing for a while now -- due in part to the adorable turquoise handbag I found to make up for my frustration. It's all better now....

I've been very zen all weekend and have even started a new knitting project -- yes, it's another scarf and no I'm not ready to move on to any projects that involve anything more complicated than a straight line. It's really the only productive thing I can do in this heat -- I feel like a giant lump of inactivity.

All in all, the weekend tally:

Adorable Handbag Count: 1
Infomercials watched: 400 +
Naps taken: 2
Cleaning, organizing or other productive activity performed: 0

Open Letter To the Buyer For The "Women's World" Department Of My Local Department Store:

Dear Sir or Madam,

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm fat. I don't like admitting that very often, and I don't like writing about it to Buyers for my Local Department Store, but after my shopping experience yesterday I have to ask, what gives?

What's with the elastic waist Mom Pants, the denim romper dresses, the Hawaiian print blouses, the "Best Nana Ever!" sweatshirts and the boxy, shapeless Real Estate Agent jackets? Do you assume that everyone over a size 12 checks their fashion sense at the door and gives up entirely? Also, is everyone over a size 12 70 years old and colorblind?

Believe me, if I could take my business elsewhere I would -- in a heartbeat, but it seems that Banana Republic, J. Crew, Abercrombie and The Gap don't want my business since they all seem to be selling exclusively to sizes 12 and under.

All I'm asking for is some well-made alternatives to Grandma-wear. Given the non-stop media coverage about this country's obesity crisis, I can't imagine I'm alone on this one. Surely there are other -- I'll say it again -- FAT women like me who haven't given up on looking chic, professional, hip and dare I even say SEXY?

Gentle Buyer for My Local Department Store, please take a lesson from stores such as Lane Bryant and Torrid who understand that while I'm not a size two, I'm still not a candidate for Mom Pants.

Until then, my "Women's World" sized behind will have to take her business elsewhere.

So I am home again, thankfully, and back with the world's most snuggly kitty EVER. Away from the humidity and the wife beater shirts and the bleating frogs, which I have tracked down here.Those little suckers are LOUD.

Can safely say I have no desire to return to Florida anytime in the next, say 100 years or so.

So this is Florida. Phhhhht. Swear to God, Hank Hill is next door to me right now yakking away loudly in the hallway to Boomhauer. The accent is dead-on. Sounds like they are right outside my door. Everyone here seems to wear baggy wife beater shirts.

Also outside my room, right in the 'crik outside, there are dozens, if not hundreds of frogs -- how can I say this -- BLEATING outside of the hotel room. It sounds like sheep having very loud sex. Very loud, angry sheep sex. I was very freaked out my first night here and almost attacked my room service lady about the noise ("WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SOUND? ARE WE NEAR A POWER PLANT OR SOMETHING??").

My air conditioner makes this weird sound when it powers down that is exactly like a typewriter. I hallucinated that my laptop was typing me messages in the middle of the night. This. Cannot. Be. Good.

Welcome to Florida -- State Motto: The State Where People Come To Die.

Hmm. Last day at home before I head to Orlando for four days of sun, relaxation, beach time and fruity drinks. No wait. That's not right. I meant to say, four days in Orlando at the convention center with frumpy clothes and sore feet and gritted teeth and the constant reminder to myself WERE YOU NOT GOING TO GET IN SHAPE FOR THIS THE LAST TIME??? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GREAT PROFESSIONAL CLOTHES YOU WERE GOING TO BUY TOO, HUH???

Still, a trip's a trip even if its for work and it really is nice to see people that you don't see very often. Thomas the Wonder Cat has seen the big black box come out that means Mommy Is Going On A Trip and he's already acting weird. Tiny walnut-sized brain and yet 90 percent of it seems dedicated to anxiety over being left alone. Siiiiiigh.

Phew. Spirits slightly higher than yesterday, which can't be too difficult a task. Totally ideal morning, in which I slept in, read the Sunday New York Times leftover from last weekend, got some tidying done and then spent a good four hours watching more Dawson's Creek with Stacy while eating brie and French bread with a good Merlot.

Really, does it get better than that? Well, sure. I could have spent the day lounging with my amazing, brilliant (imaginary) boyfriend discussing politics and literature, or walking through the streets of London soaking up art and tea...but a girl has to start slow and I think as long as brie, friends and Dawson is involved it's all good.

Worst. Day. Ever. Work sucked in so many different ways today. I'm exhausted emotionally and physically. Want to crawl into a hole and never come out. I feel about an inch high.

Feel myself falling asleep and its 9:04 on a Friday night. Just watched the Reagan funeral for two straight hours on C-SPAN, which seemed about right for my state of mind. Seeing Nancy start to cry and collapse over the casket -- with Ron and Patty and doughy Michael running up and hovering over her -- all while cameras clicked by the dozens in the background...Somehow I feel dirty and invasive for watching it.

I'm going to bed. Let's get the day over with as soon as possible.

So tonight I'm blond again, thanks to some home coloring action and a desire to spruce things up for summer. Felt vaguely depressed while doing it -- I realize that coloring one's hair out of a box may disastrously impact my hipster street cred. It's just not something that the cool kids do; I should be at some hip salon being dismissed by a tattooed stylist who scowls at me and charges $200 for chunky highlights.

Okay, so I'm not cool. I'm blond though, and it only cost me $8. So eighth grade inferiority complex aside, I think I come out on top with this decision.

Clearly I'm going about this dating thing all wrong. I need to just hook my ass up with a Sugar Daddy -- which apparently this dating service can provide.

Possibly the creepiest thing I've seen in a long time.

Two random items/thoughts this morning:

1.) My houseguest/oldest wisest friend Jen packed up her ENORMOUS backpack and headed back home today. Sniff. So good to see her again and have more than just a rushed dinner together over the holidays. The importance of just hanging out and being with friends cannot be overemphasized. I forget that too often -- that it doesn't have to be some complicated elaborate swirl of activities...its just the quiet chill time that is often the best.

2.) Dahlings -- who among us doesn't want to be toting around their goodies in a Hermes Birkin bag? And yet who among us has a spare $8,000 laying around? Are you kidding? For a BAG? Check out this great site that offers adorable knockoffs for a mere $50. I feel its my civic duty to offer this resource to the Birkin-impaired.

Went and saw Super Size Me last night. What a terrific movie -- terrifying and hilarious at the same time. True to everything I've heard about it, it does indeed make you never want to eat fast food again. Ever.

You can check out Morgan Spurlock's blog here and the Website to the movie here if you're not able to scamper out immeadiately to the theatre.

Allow me to sum up the weekend in 3-word phrases:

PT Cruiser convertible.
Floating boat sushi.
Best Sheraton EVER.
Fabulous Skoah massages.
Lush shower gel.
Hon's Wonton soup.
Dill pickle chips.

Need I say more?

YAHOOO -- Onward this afternoon to the fantastic metropolis of Vancouver. Cannot wait to be walking around with the fashionistas on Robson and sitting down to a floating sushi dinner served on tiny boats.

Looking forward too to the thrill of driving there -- it's the simple things for a girl like me...a rental car in my command, floating dinners, goodies from Lush, you know, the basics.

Still have today to get through first, but soon enough it will all be good...counting down...

As trite as the phrase is, sometimes there really are things that restore your faith in humanity.

Thanks and good karmic vibes go out to the kind stranger who found a certain item of mine on the street and mailed it back to its proper owner.

It's National Spelling Bee time. In proof that I am indeed a enormogeek, I felt a tiny secret thrill when I saw that the kiddies were starting to assemble in our nation's capital for the 77th Annual Spelling Bee.

You can look up who is representing your state here and cheer them on. Go, Andrew Lokomaikaikeakua Kaleohano from Wenatchee, Washington, Go with your bad-ass spelling self!

Ahhhh, memories of sitting in my elementary school classroom practicing words with my friends Jenny and Virginia and Nathan and Leon, visions of spelling stardom welling up in my eyes. Send good vibes to these kids. Vibes that include lots of complicated, Latin-rooted origins that can be used in sentences.

The Internet never fails to amaze me. Today I was looking for some amusing sites about Dawson's Creek to help me on my newfound obsession and lo and behold --- here are a few gems to share with my public:

You can actually make a custom mix CD with the songs that are featured on Dawson's Creek here, in the event you can't possibly ever get enough of that Paula Cole song.

In addition to the bios of the stars, crew, etc. (which seems easy enough to find), you can find the HOME PAGES OF THE CHARACTERS, including Dawson's home page, Joey's home page, and Pacey's home page.

There is also a (rather extensive) personality test (it's under "Fun Things") to find how which character from Dawson's Creek you most resemble. I, not surprisingly, am Joey.

Classic Beth Moment.

In which our hero decides to rearrange her furniture in order to create the Ultimate Living Space only to find half way through the ordeal that there's literally only one way that furniture can be arranged in that room, which is, the original way that things were when the adventure began.

Siiiigh. Oh, and I joined the lemmings and finally read The Da Vinci Code. Its kind of alarming to hear how seriously people are taking this book. Do a Google search on it and find out for yourselves. It's fiction, people, get a grip.

Not sure where this came from, but I spent much of today watching old episodes of Dawson's Creek, a show I never really cared much about previously. I know this severely affects what minimal street cred I had up to these point. I'm not ashamed.

Maybe I'm feeling nostalgic for my teen years spent off Cape Cod when I was a scrappy blue collar waitress in love with my childhood best friend soul mate who viewed me more as a sister than an actual woman? Or can a girl just watch too many really bad infomercials before she snaps and rents bad WB dramas?

Television Without Pity, a great site on its own, has perhaps the best commentaries about the show here.

I'm in love. I'm smitten. I'm giddy. Remember the episode of Sex and the City when Miranda fell in love with Tivo? Well I have fallen in love with Flexcar. I have a huge massive sticky crush on Flexcar. How did I live before this? Everything seems...better...now that I've met Flexcar. I get butterflies in my tummy when I think about our next encounter.

Flexcar, you've taken me to places I never thought I'd go again. Like Trader Joe's. You've given me convenience, safety, ease of use and airbags, all things I lacked previously. Oh Flexcar, you're so dreeeeeamy....

The downtown Sephora opens today. I could not be happier. Endless shelves of potions and balms and scrubs and creams, right here in my little neighborhood for me to poke around with. Loveitloveitloveit!

Ah, the official end of an era. Cleaned out my car, bid adieu to the Honda of Joy and thanked Chad The Service Guy for all of his help. My voice shook as I talked and I knew I had to get out of there fast.

As I walked back home, in the pouring rain, carrying two garbage bags that consisted of everything in my car, I found myself crying and whimpering like a school girl. What a sight I must have been. I missed my car. It hit me once and for all that...it really is OVER.

Sniff.

I am all shades of whiny and sulky and pouty single womanhood, so consider yourselves warned.

It just...really really really SUCKS sometimes to have an off the record crappy-ass day at work and then take the foul-smelling bus home alone only to come home to an (empty) apartment that smells like garbage because you forgot to take it out that morning and then have to cook your tired and cranky self dinner for one...only to then take about 40 pounds of dirty laundry down to the basement to find that someone ELSE has hogged the two washers/driers for the entire night, thereby eliminating your chance of doing laundry.

JEEZ. Is it so much to ask for a housekeeper/chef/errand runner/masseuse/soulmate? Really, people?

Two hour season finale of The Swan tonight.

Yes, it's offensive. And ridiculous. And demeaning. And insulting. Yes, the women often end up looking like busty drag queens with too much hair and make-up.

Will I be watching? YOU BET.

Ah, the world of those without a car. Such insight into their worlds! Here a few valuable lessons learned over the weekend:

1.) Don't buy more than you can comfortably carry around for a mile, if not more.
2.) A box of Tide, coupled with a Sunday New York Times, is an example of what NOT to lug around for more than an hour while you do your errands.
3.) Cute shoes are great if you have a car, but slightly ridiculous if you're hoofing it carrying four bags of groceries plus a box of Tide and a Sunday New York Times.

A sherpa in Nepal today climbed to the peak of Mount Everest in 8 hours, 10 minutes, beating the current record by more than 2 1/2 hours. Think about that. That's, like, a day at the office. A normal Friday at the office. How is it that this guy climbs MOUNT EVEREST in 8 hours and I can't seem to get through my email Inbox?

Also, take a quiz and find out how much of a hipster you are. I'm about 70 percent hipster, which sounds right to me.

That Nepalese sherpa is 100 percent hipster, by the way.

I get on LOTS of kicks. Most of the time they last for a few hours, maybe a few days, and then fade away. Very few of them actually come to fruition. Examples:

I want a treadmill! I will become a hardbody!
I want a kitten to keep Thomas company!
I want to read all of the classic novels I bluffed my way through in high school!
I want an Indian cookbook to make Tandoori Chicken every single night!
I want to be fluent in French! And Spanish!

This morning I have determined that I want to become a librarian. Seriously. I love literature. I love researching things. I'm passionate about libraries. All it would take is a master's degree and roughly, oh, a million dollars that I don't have to finance my schooling and subsequent life of living on a librarian salary.

No mocking the Kick of the Day until the 48 hour "obsessive wishful thinking" period expires. Also, parties interested in funding Beth's Kick of the Day should email me immediately before the interest passes and I become interested in herbal soapmaking or something...

Okay, I'm a big sucker incapable of reading fine print. I'm also incredibly peeved right now.

I got on a kick this afternoon to upgrade my cell phone. Everyone else has these great funky phones that all but give hot stone massages, and I still have my weird little phone whose main feature is that it's BLUE.

So I found out that Sprint has an upgrade dealio where they give existing customers $150 towards a new phone every 18 months. Hello new phone! I had my eye on this one especially. I could send not only pictures, but videos with my phone. VIDEOS, people. I was practically foaming at the mouth.

Unfortunately my experience at my local Sprint store taught me that there are some catches to the upgrade deal and it turns out that...well...long story short the upgrade deal is still pretty cool, but it's not an instant gratification/ticket to an almost free phone sort of thing.

I feel so peeeeved right now at them for getting my hopes up like that. If I had a video phone I could email you streaming video of me sitting here ranting and typing angrily. Alas, it may be a while...

Time to play Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down:

Thumbs Up!
It's SIFF season once again and with it come the hoardes of bleary-eyed moviegoers weak from their popcorn binges and subtitle reading. Looks like lots of good stuff this year, now I just need to sit down with my matrix o' movies and decide when and where to go.

Thumbs Down!
You know what sucks? When you get those mid-afternoon munchies and you start thinking about how good a Toblerone bar would be right about now and instead all you have is -- of all things -- some leftover cucumber salad. Can I even express how NOT like a Toblerone bar that is?

So....yeah.

Spent a good portion of the day trying to find someone to take my car away, if only for parts...which made me feel productive, but on the other hand it also depressed me because several people -- and these are WRECKING YARDS, mind you -- DON'T WANT IT. I was surprised how few places were interested in my car...I felt -- I don't know -- insulted somehow.

In completely unrelated news, I found out today that the guy that played Squiggy from Laverne and Shirley is actually a scout for the Mariners. GO FIG.

In other unrelated news to THAT, the New York Times did a great spread on our new central library that's going to open next weekend. They're expecting 30,000 people to attend the opening. Of a library. Isn't that great? This is why I love this town.

Total slugdom today. Getting nothing done at all. I think I'm depressed about the car.

I did manage to watch all of season two of The Office last night, which was BRILLIANT, if only because the first episode starts out with an homage to the Muppet Show's "Ma Na Ma Na" song (you have to scroll down a bit to find the skit).

On the bright side, I spent a good portion of the afternoon reading the New York Times which I haven't done in quite a while. I forget how GOOD it is. Like a giant vitamin of information and style and culture. Did I really just say that? Sorry, I'm a little out of it today.

Car overheated again today while doing errands. Siiiiigh. Smoke coming out from what appeared to be the back end of my car. Thank God I was only about five or six blocks from my house and I was able to get it home.

I must say I'm getting all too used to being in an intersection, or driving along merrily and suddenly having my car overheat or smoke or make strange sounds. It doesn't really even panic me anymore. It's gotten to the point where I can just shrug and say "Here we go again." I know the Honda of Seattle guys by first name. Chad's been very helpful through this whole experience.

I'm sad more than anything. This is the final death toll for the car. These are truly its last days. O Little Honda of Joy -- you gave so much. It's time to say goodnight.

Must. Learn. Another. Language. Immediately.

I feel like an ignorant American this morning. A co-worker had a briefing with an analyst from Paris and conducted it entirely in French. Very suave.

I am now realizing that after six years of Spanish in high school, I can't really do more than ask Juan where the beach is. I need help. Anyone have any recommendations for language tapes/books/classes that can help me brush up?

In another shameless plug, I need to discuss Tom's of Maine toothpaste. I've been using this stuff for, oh, two tubes worth...however long that is. Didn't choose it for any specific reason other than it was there and I needed toothpaste and that was the only option at Trader Joe's.

And it was fine. Got the job done. I was pleased.

And then this morning I returned to my old standby Colgate and WHOA what a difference. It tasted...chemical and super super sweet. Where was the natural feeling? It was like brushing with sugar. Tom's makes a big deal of pointing out that it doesn't use artificial sweeteners in its toothpaste but it never hit me how...artificial my original toothpaste was...until I compared the two.

You go, Tom, with your natural unsweetened toothpaste! I am now a loyal customer that won't sway again.

All Hail the Almighty Flexcar!

Recently I've been debating whether or not to sell my car. It has huge, huge sentimental value for me...but the fact is that the Little Honda of Joy (aka, "Stan") has turned into the Little Honda of Great Displeasure in these recent years. I know its not the car's fault - it's old, it's wearing down and it's done a mighty fine job through the years, but the fact is, it's turning into quite the beater vehicle.

But, being an American who loves her car, I was resistant to sell it just because it left me stranded without a car. And Lord knows I am NOT a bus person. Enter Flexcar! With their hip little Hondas that you can use on an hourly basis to run errands and jog around town with. It seems like an ideal solution. No major decisions yet, but it's wonderfully juicy food for thought.

Book Review Time! Given my recent travels, I've had a lot of time to catch up on reading and here are a few highly recommended options:

The Solace of Open Spaces, by Gretel Erdrich. Amazing and insightful collection of short stories about Wyoming and the people who live there.

You Are Not A Stranger Here, by Adam Haslett. Whooof. These short stories pack a wallop. Heartbreaking, touching and hard to turn away from. They'll whack you upside the head and leave you begging for more.

No Touch Monkey (And Other Travel Lessons Learned Too Late), by Ayun Halliday. Funny and self depricating...I love this gal. Only downside to this book is that it bums me out that I didn't travel more when I was younger and more willing to head to exotic places without a second care.

Four days blog-free. So much to update. There were a FEW celebrity sightings at the show...but no one particularly exciting. A few people from Survivor and Ruben from American Idol. Candace Bushnell was supposed to have been at the show, but I didn't see her. I'm glad its all over.

The vacation part of wonderful and lazy and full of pooltime in the sun. Pleased to report that I did not return to Seattle with a third-degree sunburn like I did two years ago. Felt very old and out of it when we stumbled down to the pool only to find about 20 college kids on spring break in their tanned and toned and thonged glory running around with their cigarettes and daquiries. Keep it down, will ya? I'm trying to read my Marie Claire in peace and quiet -- and stop running so soon after being in the pool!

Had the obligatory Hurricane at Pat O'Briens, which was NASTY, much like 20 ounces of Hawaiian Punch concentrate with rum mixed in. Please, kids, do not try those at home. Spent some quality time at Cafe DuMonde people watching and snarfing down beignets and frozen coffee slushies. Watched an angry clown shout at people. Note to self: No one likes to be around angry clowns.

Think one of the best nights consisted of staying inside our hotel room watching the last episode of Friends and eating pizza and oreos and Bud Light. I really am a simple white trash girl at heart, I think.

Overall, I'm so so glad to be home...sitting back here looking into my courtyard listening to Ryan Adams and chilling on a slow, sunny Sunday. Always interesting to come back after a long trip and see how it changes your perspective on things. You get a new view on your routine after you've been away from it for a while. A new appreciation for some things and a new motivation to change others.

Finally -- a big fat, sloppy HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to all of my friends that are (gasp!) MOTHERS. Hope you have a wonderful day...you all deserve the best.

Feet hurt. Joints hurt. back hurts. Head hurts. Tired of carrying this binder everywhere throughout the convention center.

No B-level celebrity sightings to speak of, either. Grrrrrrr....

Sad moment when you realize that yes, you are indeed yuppie scum:

You are in a Kinko's-like copy center, wearing a suit and holding a binder and a cell phone, and your checker rings up your copy order and the bill comes to, say $300, and your checker announces that that's more than she makes in an entire pay period.

I walked away feeling bad and guilty and sad for both of us, really.

The show hasn't even technically begun and I woke up with stabbing back pain, which makes me feel like I'm about a hundred and fifty years old. Could barely wash my hair in the shower because my arms didn't move that high up. This can't be good. There's a train that comes, presumably, down my hotel hallway at precisely 2:40 and 5:40 in the morning. Siiigh.

Paul Allen's enormous yacht, the Octopus, is parked outside the convention center. That thing is obscene. 413 feet long, which even for a boating novice like me, seems out of control. We saw a helicopter land on it on Friday night and stood there slack jawed.

Food report: Oysters on the half shell are a girl's best friend. Oyster shooters (a shot of vodka with cocktail sauce, horseradish and a fresh oyster) are a close second. Abita beer, a local brew made by a New Orleans bottled water company, tastes exactly like...bottled water. Refreshing yes, but definitely not beer-like.

I have arrived and so far things seem to be going pretty smoothly. Have I just jinxed myself by saying that? A lovely dinner last night in the touristy Riverwalk shopping mall complete with a waiter named "Jashhhon" that had a lisp. Kicked off the morning with Beignets coated with a good inch of powdered sugar and a scaulding cafe au lait. Can't talk about New Orleans without mentioning the food in every other sentence.

Weather here seems cool and (relatively) lovely given that the last time I was in this city it was 100 degrees and sopping wet. Feet are already sore from scurrying around the show floor and it hasn't even begun yet. Didn't I say a few weeks ago that I was hoping to be perkier and more in shape to prepare for this show...? Um, what happened with that?

I forget that fresh food is an impossibility here. Everything is either deep fried or slathered in gravy or batter to prepare for deep frying. Ah well, I won't care later this week when the vacation portion of this trip kicks in. Cannot wait to be poolside with a Hurricane getting some sun...but for now it's four day of workin' feverishly. Stay tuned...

Ahhhh. That is the sound of a relaxed and prepared traveler. The computer is fixed, the bag is (almost) packed and Beth is ready to hit the road for a week of Jambalaya in the Big Easy.

Thanks to all of you who have mocked me and asked if I will be leaving for the airport TONIGHT in order to make my flight for tomorrow. Very funny. I stand firmly by my nuerotic airport behavior. Let's see how you all like it when you're running to catch a plane while I am already sitting snugly (and smugly) aboard the plane in my seat, seatbelt firmly fastened low and tight across my lap.

Stay tuned for reports throughout the trip!

I am. Freaking out. BIG TIME.

Laptop at home is very grumpy and irritable. Last night it was all but spewing pea soup through its floppy drive. No Internet access. Mucho problemos with the ISP. Crashy crashy. Why is this happening two days before I leave and have to travel with it? Do laptops get nervous before trips or something? Is it boycotting something?

I was actually petting it and speaking in hushed gentle tones last night. "Come on baby, you can do it...I know you're old and tired, but let's give it a shot..."

God help any of my neighbors who happened to see the crazy lady talking to her computer and eating plain arugula at 11:30 last night.

According to the calendar right next to me, today is Anzac Day in Australia and New Zealand. Interested in reading more about this national holiday? Click here.

If you're not interested in reading more about that, and would rather, say, learn more about what Beth has planned during her stay in New Orleans, click here.

Don't say I never give my readers options! I am a regular Choose Your Own Adventure author. Remember those books from your youth? I was an enormous fan. Here's an updated version for our times.

Sitting here. Doing nothing. Haven't done laundry. Haven't cleaned my house. I leave for New Orleans is less than a week and I'm totally unprepared. Totally useless day.

Well, that's not true. I did have a darned nice brunch with my friend Steph over some killer bloody marys, so it hasn't been entirely non-productive. And I did buy a fun pair of pink slides from Payless for $7.

Was surprised to see that Jelly shoes are making a comeback. That is, if the Capital Hill Payless is any indicator of couture fashion and I believe it is. Those were such a bad idea, even when we were 10. The sweating! The slipping! The dirt! The imprints of your grimy foot on the plastic soul. Why would we relive this experience? I am all for fun, colorful summer shoes, but let's get a grip and not relive our jellied past.

Need to slide my pink (non jellied) shoes on and see if they motivate me any...

I noticed today that I've started getting the Home and Garden channel and with it has come a whole new world I didn't know existed. It's like getting a view into an obscure Aboriginal culture. Well, more like an obscure Aboriginal culture with in-ground pools and rooftop hottubs.

You'd think from this channel that everyone in the universe owned homes and had unlimited spending budgets to remodel, redecorate and redesign. As an apartment dweller, I couldn't know (or care) LESS about irrigation trenches and window installation and crown moulding. No trips to Home Depot for this girl. I like the absence of responsibility that an apartment brings.

Sure, every now and then I want to paint my stark white walls and install better fixtures and move a shiny new stainless steel kitchen into my place...but then that feeling quickly dulls away when I consider the $100K tab and months of construction that it would entail.

For now I'll have to continue observing this strange new culture from the safety of my sofa and my rented apartment.

Morrissey was right -- we DO hate it when our friends become successful. Take bands, for example.

Have you ever found a totally obscure band that no one has heard of and fall in love with them and then -- suddenly they hit the mainstream and they are EVERYWHERE and you become disenchanted and eventually deeply annoyed/hostile with them? Dude, I knew them when they were cool, you might say. (Or you might not, I can't say for sure.)

That was me with the Barenaked Ladies. My friend Jen and I were listening to them when we were just high school punks buying CASSETTES at Wax Trax. We had to ask for them because they were so unheard of. Now, they're freakin' everywhere. They kind of bug me now. Not sure why. They haven't done anything to me. They still put on kick-ass shows that are hilarious. The lead singer Steve is still a total cutie.

Why am I going on and on and on about this? I found their blog site today. Check it out. Hope they don't annoy you. They were darned cool singing about Yoko Ono and Cruel Green Dresses.

Seriously people, not a single comment? At all? Sniff.

Siiiiiiiiiigh.

It's been a crazed couple of days at work, so I offer up a few warm and fuzzy ways to relieve stress:

1.) Virtual Bubble Wrap. Check it out. Enjoy the soothing popping sounds it makes. Note the "boss button" up top in case you need to switch over and look Officially Busy in a pinch.

2.) Poke the Bunny. Go ahead. Poke him. He seems okay with it.

3.) Singing Hamster. Need I say more? He rocks out with the best of them.

Today is the five year anniversary of Columbine. I honestly hadn't thought about it very much until Dateline whacked me upside the head with it on Sunday night. Then I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was a receptionist when it happened. My friend emailed me a link to a Denver news station that morning and said "isn't this in your old neck of the woods?" right as it was starting to unfold. I called my mom and we put her on speakerphone and everyone at work huddled around it while she repeated the reports from the newscasts. Later that week, as I stayed glued to the TV, I saw Al Gore standing in my old church back home at one of the funerals. It was very surreal and very terrifying.

This morning I turn on the news and find Katie Couric coming to us live from Clement Park with some parents sounding all sniffly and emotional. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us, she said.

The media scene about Columbine now just makes me ill. Thousands of press swoop in, gather up quotes and interviews with survivors and witnesses, and they fly home and wrap up their packages and their stories. Then they're done. Onto the next bit of news for the day. It becomes a story, not a reality.

Just makes me hurt, the tragedy that happened and the aftermath it brought.

Man I love libraries. I mean, I LOVE THEM. I love what they stand for, I love what they provide for a community. They just rock. When I lived in Denver, one of my favorite places was the downtown library they had just built at the time. One of the saddest things is to walk into a run-down library and feel all...icky...while you're there. It feels like a disservice.

There was a book/library convention here a few weeks ago and I was seriously giddy to see all of the library and book aficionados walking around the convention center with their cardigans and their book bags and their sensible walkin' shoes. Those are my peeps!

So I have to gloat and share that in just a few short weeks, Seattle is getting a brand spankin' new library right downtown. Check it out here. It's very cool looking.
I will be there with bells on when it opens.

Okay, so maybe muted bells so I don't get yelled at by a librarian.

In my dream this morning, I dreamt I was...in bed, just beginning to wake up. There was a guy next to me that looked like Christian Bale (but that's really beside the point). It was clear this was our first morning, ahem, together if you get my drift. Legs all tangled up together in the sheets. And it was that dozey time in the morning where neither of you are awake yet, and you just cuddle up into each other still clumsy with sleep. Everything's quiet and serene and not yet invaded by the rest of the world.

Christian Bale-guy got up, surveyed the room around him, and then came back to bed, all warm and snuggly.

Then I woke up. Next to my cat. And felt very sad and disappointed and lonely. I forgot how wonderful those mornings are.

Ladies and Gents, I bring you the joy of ExplodingDog.com. This is a great site and a surefire way to put a smile on your face. People send this guy titles, and he draws them pictures to match those titles.

My favorites so far have been "Don't Eat That Banana" and "Why Are You So Sad?"

The archives are especially nice as well. Check it out and see which ones are your favorites.

Things I Fear:

Death
War
Fire
Eels
Giant mutant goldfish that live in the sewers
Gutters (see above)
My parents getting sick and/or old
Spiders
Having blood drawn
Not being cool enough
Earthquakes
Tornados
Life without my car
Conversations about politics
Getting laid
Getting laid off
Meeting someone wonderful
Never meeting anyone ever
Spontaneous combustion
Heights
Drowning
Frat boys
The sensation that people might somewhere be talking about me
Heart disease
Getting evicted
Dark, unfamiliar places
"Schmoozing" or "Networking"

For more information about fear, and the scientific names for specific phobias, check this out.

As my love of processed food and great middle American cuisine continues to ripen, I include here a recipe for the Bisquick "Impossibly Easy Taco Pie" which I made recently, with great giddiness.

I could seriously eat this every day and not get tired of it. Note how I am able to say that without shame. That cannot be a good sign.

In perhaps the kinkiest/weirdest/most bizarre marketing concept EVER, Burger King has introduced the new mascot for its BK TenderCrisp, the Subservient Chicken. Go here and make him do pretty much anything you want. I've had him walk over to the bookshelf, tap dance and hop like a bunny.

He's in my control. He's very obedient. Make him your slave chicken as well.

Do you ever meet someone new and develop an innocent crush on them? And maybe, say, start thinking about that new person and how great the two of you would be together? And you keep thinking "It would be so fun! We could go to shows together! And movies! And frolic in the park like those obnoxious couples are always doing!"

And then someone, say, who doesn't know about your innocent crush/growing obsession, mentions how great said person's GIRLFRIEND is and you're seriously bummed out that your imaginary/nonexistent relationship didn't work out even though it never really began?

I mean, I that doesn't happen to me. I'm much too suave and sophisticated when it comes to relationships to be like that. I was just asking. In case, you know, it happened to any of you. To see, maybe, what that was like. Because I don't know. Seriously.

HUH. Check this out:

I found this site that appears to be a Netflix-type setup for books. You sign up, they send you books, you return them in a pre-paid envelope. Interesting idea -- I'm still trying to decide how I feel about it. I'm a huge, huge fan of Netflix and as one that is bad at returning videos on time, it was a perfect solution for me. I guess if you had a similar problem returning library books, this would work out well.

Looks like the company is founded by a bunch of former DC bigshots, including Marilyn Quayle.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Happy Easter, y'all!

Nice mellow Sunday filled with knitting and chilling on the sofa, in between seven loads of laundry. Phew. I can safely say that everything I own is now clean, from the duvet cover to the bathroom rugs to every peice of clothing worn over the past three months. What a huge sense of accomplishment.

I've potted my houseplants and have scattered them around the house feeling my green thumb glowing with pride. Check back in two months and see if they're still alive.

Looking forward to an Easter dinner of sushi and sake tonight. A bit non traditional, sure, but given the choice, who wouldn't prefer a spicy tuna roll to a sticky honey glazed ham? The choice is clear.

One trip to Home Depot and I am feeling like a gardening beast. I decided this weekend to throw away some money on some new houseplants. Right now all I have is a plant that I have literally owned since college and a sad, sickly little umbrella tree that I rescued from my work. That's it. Not good.

So I trekked on down to my neighborhood Home Depot to pick up some cutesy plants that would brighten up my place and bring a bit of spring into my world. First off, I need to report that you Home Depot people are INTENSE. You are totally unforgiving with your giant palates of drywall and 800 pounds of cement mix. I felt like a complete amateur. Little apartment-dwelling Beth was clearly out of her league in this environment.

$23 later, armed with some potting soil and 4 new additions to my plant collection, I returned home feeling content and connected to Mother Nature. Amazing what a little greenery can do for a girl.

I think a nice warm round of applause is due for the Mental Health Day! Is there anything better than taking a day off from work just to lounge around the house and chill? I think not.

Absolutely gorgeous day today -- a clear, blue, sky from beginning to end. I scampered out of bed bright and early (8:15! For those that know me, you know that's practically the crack of dawn in my world!), headed out for coffee (yes, OUT for coffee -- impressive, eh?) and then got sidetracked by a major allergy attack in the car that left me with weepy red eyes and violently angry contacts. I passed on the coffee idea and just went to get some gas and a car wash. So it wasn't super busy or glamorous, but hey, I wasn't at work like the rest of the world, right?

I am ashamed to admit I watched "The Swan" last night on Fox. It was a combination pitiful/horrifying/embarrassing viewing experience, which of course means I'll be hooked for the entire season. Let's hear it for plastic surgery, extreme liposuction, and 3 months of physical and emotional isolation in order to win...um...a beauty pageant! Who says we women haven't come a long way?

An appreciative shout out before I forget to the Easter Bunny that sent a delightful little basket my way. You're awesome.

Ah, the nostalgia bus! I was cleaning out some of the files in my computer and came across some old letters I had written to folks. In one I was super giddy because it was the first time I was writing anything on my laptop. ("Look at me! Using a laptop! Look at all the fonts it has!")

Some were really angry peeved off letters, mostly to old boyfriends. Those were amusing in their own way, but only because I've got the distance and closure to laugh about them now. I felt really bad because in one I spent a good half a page telling one person how amazing he was and how much I loved all of the great things we were doing together and...looking back now...I honestly can't remember ANY of the things I was talking about. Oopsie. It was like reading your high school yearbook with all of these inside jokes that were like a secret language to you then, but incomprehensible jibberish to you now.

Sorry man. I'm sure we had fun, didn't we? At the time?

I got nothin' today. I mean, NOTHIN'. My mind is a big blank white canvas. Puffy white clouds are drifting through it. Can't concentrate on anything. I stare at my computer. Type for a while. Erase what I've typed. Stare again.

I've got a three day weekend ahead of me and nothin' planned for that either. Surely the blankness has to stop at some point? I need to check out the Roadside America Sight Of the Week for inspiration.

Since all I can do lately is bury my head in the Al Franken book about liars, it would be remiss not to link to Air America Radio, the recently-launched liberal oasis in the talk radio world.

Check it out and spend a few minutes listening to my main man Al Franken tell it like it is...

From the "As If I, An American Woman, Didn't Have Enough To Consider In My Current Beauty Routine" files -- I offer up Belly Button Love Potion Fragrance. Which is fragrance. For your belly button. Seriously.

You can also buy this stuff here at Sephora for $34, which, if the concept of this product alone didn't upset/confuse you, then surely the price will knock your socks right off.

$34 for belly button gloss endorsed by Jessica Simpson? Clearly I am getting old, or rather getting cheap AND old because this seems like a lot to pay for something you literally stick in your belly button, even if it DOES taste yummy and even if it DOES attract nice morally upstanding men like Nick Lachey.

Sigh. Just had the most UNREAL phone conversation. I was relaying to my father my weekend, where I mentioned my giddy trip to the beach yesterday.

Him: "That sounds fun, who did you go with?"
Me: "Nobody. Just me."
Him: "Really? Just you? That's so great you can do that. You do a lot of stuff by yourself."
Me: "Yep."
Him: "It's so great you can do that. I mean, I can't do that. Like when (my wife) isn't in town, I could rent a movie, but I couldn't, say, GO to a movie. It would be too weird to sit there by myself."
Me. "Hmmm."
Him: "But then again, you've been single for 30 years. I mean, you're probably used to it."

Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you the amazing SINGLE WOMAN! For a limited time! She not only sleeps by herself, but manages to grocery shop, put gas in her car, go to work and even SIT ENTIRELY UNATTENDED IN COFFEE SHOPS! Do not be fooled by imitations! This is the genuine article!

Today was so good it was just...silly. Just downright silly.

First of all, I was the recent recipient of not one, but TWO random gifts from people. Random gifts rock! They're just like little hugs in a package (that sounds really corny, but its true)...just knowing that someone was thinking of you and wanting to send something your way is enough to put a goofy smile all over your face. Thank you so, so much. You know who you are and how much you rock.

So, giddy from my recent gifts, I decided to take advantage of the first official sunny warm day in Seattle and headed for Alki Beach. Alki is my happy place. It's like a slice of Venice Beach right here at home. There are cars lined up for miles just cruising the main drag, there are rollerblading bikini clad girlies, there are bikers looking mean, there's even an ice cream truck. I parked far away and walked towards the beach...literally GRINNING because its warm and sunny and the city looks beautiful and the Sound is this unreal shade of blue and HEY I got two random gifts recently! It was truly a nice day to be alive.

Laid out for two hours, sifting the sand through my fingers, listening to the waves. It was allll good.

Just got done watching LOTR The Two Towers. Lesson learned: War is bad. Also, trees can only put up with so much before they just get pissed off and vengeful.

So today at lunch I went with Stacy to grab a fish burrito. And the next thing you know we're talking en Espanol. Which seems hilarious. We're giddy about saying things like "necesito una cerveza este noche," etc. I realize that's kind of sad, but when you can randomly start speaking in Spanish to someone with no explanation, it's a very amusing thing.

So later on in the afternoon, still high on the hablando-ing en Espanol kick, I mention that our mascot should be BumbleBee Man from the Simpsons. Which brings me to THIS which is the Official Website for BumbleBee Man from the Simpsons.

Is there anything out there that's NOT on the Internet I ask you? Viva la Internet!

I'm feelin' the urge to be crafty stirring up inside me. The craftiness, it's a callin' to me, big time.

Check out the paper window shades here and here -- how CUTE are they? So often I see that fancy, funky paper in stores and think "Huh, well that's nice, but what would I do with it?" and the answer is clearly to make it into a window dressing. Now we'll see how long it takes before I actually follow this through....

April already. 2004 is already a quarter OVER! Where does the time go? (Beth, the time gets sucked away when you organize photos for six solid hours on the weekends...jeez)