If you celebrate on the 4th (or if you have the Jolly 3rd like I did growing up) I hope you have a wonderful weekend. And thank a soldier for the sacrifice; they’re the reason we have this long weekend holiday.
Don’t ask, let’s just say my MIL and I are both going to hell for our sense of humor. At least we’ll know someone once we get there.
She’s taken oven my kitchen, which is fine with me. I still haven’t mastered the subtlety that is lasagna making. I try, and it ends up an ugly mess.
I got a few more pages done on the new-new story I started writing. Clio and I basically started over from scratch, and it’s going so much better for the both of us. And she’s not jealous of the new character, which is always a bonus; having Cliodhna dislike you is bad for your continued health.
If you haven’t heard Sound of Pulling Heaven Down, I suggest you listen right away.
Now, time to get off of here, and so safe my kitchen from my MIL. She’s a great cook, just a little accident prone.
They don’t make men like him anymore. Or Tyrone Power. No, no, now all Hollywood can offer is an effimenate male who looks way too high maintenance for anyone who doesn’t have a six-figure paycheck.
Seriously, if Zac is what is considered sexy, I’ll take someone who is ugly any day of the week. He creeps me out. I think it’s because he’s got better hair than me; guys aren’t supposed to have great hair that requires a lot of time and a blow dryer to style. Guys aren’t supposed to style their hair period, but that’s just a personal opinion 
It was another beautiful morning in Georgia, and I took Thunder Butt for her walk to try and get her tired for the day. Which was going great… right up until the garbage truck drove up. Then she was hell bent for leather to get away from it, and had no qualms about dragging me across the pavement to get away. Yeah, me and running, we don’t mix well.
After she finally calmed down from the Big Bad Garbage Truck, it was time for two joggers to spook her into attacking. She didn’t actually bite anyone, but not for lack of trying. My question is this: if you see someone walking a large yellow creature, that walks on four legs and has a tail, and is bound to have rather big teeth, are *you* going to run by without a word, a mere four inches from the stranger with the big yellow thing on a leash? Or would you hang further away and possibly even cross the street to avoid scaring the thing that can bite through flesh and muscle like it’s taffy?
Maybe I should just walk her on the tank trails, as that seems to be the only place where she doesn’t freak out. My dog is too much like me, we like space and quiet and room to run in circles if we want.
Family is coming down today, so I’m trying to get all my whining/bitching done early. It’s never good to do that during visits.
Going to try and finish up the FLS today; I just have the sleeves left, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to be just about done!
My father reminded me of something this weekend when I was saying Little J. was getting to smart-mouthed for her own good some times.
“Marissa, what are you doing?”
“Talking to Bandage.” (Bandit was my grandparents dog, and while I could say “bandage”, “bandit” eluded me, so Bandage the dog became.)
“Oh? What’s he saying?”
“Silly Daddy, dogs don’t talk!” At which point, I ran away while my grandparents started laughing and he stood there like ‘well shit’ for having been out-witted by a toddler.
This, my dear friends, is why I worry about procreating. They always say that your children are worse than you ever were.
I wasn’t around when The King died. I love his music, but to me, Elvis has always been someone who was listed in the “taken too soon” category.
But Michael Jackson has been performing since before I was made. The year he busted out the moonwalk was when I decided to make my appearance. And I remember trying to moonwalk across the carpet of our rental house. Of watching the mini-movie of ‘Thriller’ every Halloween on VH1 or MTV (you know, back when those stations played music). Trying to imitate his dance moves in Beat It and Smooth Criminal.
I know it’s silly to say that music holds our memories, but in this case, it does. He has been one of the few artists who transcended my mother’s generation to mine, and was there for each year.
My mother and I sang along with the Jackson 5 on road trips; I did Studio 22’s Thriller In the Park for Halloween the year I was on comp team.
Goodbye Michael. You will be missed.
(the video that proved to my younger brother that Michael and Janet were not the same person)
Well, not failed so much as I just couldn’t bring myself to finish them. Which, if you know me, sounds horrible. I sat through SCREAM, horrible special effects and all, so it’s not like I don’t have the ability to finish what I started.
Just couldn’t do it.
Here are the two most recent.
The Devil Wears Prada. I like Anne Hathaway, I like Meryl Streep, but the two of them together bored me to tears. My mother loves this movie, I’ve heard great things about it and the book, but neither film nor paper could catch my interest. I tried her “Chasing Harry Winston” as well, and ended up giving it away to someone else.
Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. I sort of knew going in that I wouldn’t dig this movie. My view of the plotline from Underworld had been shredded and rewritten for this movie, and I couldn’t help but think they were trying to cash in on it while they could.
Enjoy. I’ve had that on repeat lately (well, Debussy, Tchaikovsky, Chopin, and Mozart), probably because I cannot find any station down here that plays classical music. I thought I’d found one… until they started reading from the Bible. Yeah, not what I was looking for.
Finally figured out why I have such crappy sleep here at Casa Vhizzo; the dog and cat play a game of hunt and evade all night long that involves a lot of running down the stairs, jumping off the bed (in the case of Sphinx the Cat, running full speed across my butt with claws out. I’ve got a great set of scratches on my butt that make sitting a new lesson in uncomfortable), and hissing/barking when their quarry does something unexpected.
The background noise was good for the writing though, I got a lot done on the new story last night. Which means nothing when I’ve got to get work done on Cliodhna and Cyndra, but they just weren’t coming to me last night and the new girl was more than ready to tell me everything.
I’m going to head to my own home soon, and take a nice long nap before I clean.
I was afraid to log in yesterday; I’ve been getting a lot of emails about spam comments left for me on here, all of them advertising one of two things: porn or a larger penis. Since I do not have a penis, and I’m not about to throw some porn up on here for the under 18 crowd to find, I’ve been trying to figure out how to have spam comments deleted straight off instead of having to wade through them.
It’s been running 90 degrees or hotter down here, which means I’ve got to be out the door before 0600 to get Thunder Butt out for her walk or it’s too damn hot to take her anywhere other than an air conditioned track. Which there isn’t one.
I overslept today, and took my own walk after one p.m. Stupid me. In my defense, I did take a large bottle of water with me, and kept hydrated, but now I’ve got a heat headache from hell that is threatening to have my head coming off at the dotted line.
Reason for having overslept is that I was up late working on a new story. Like the werewolf and the vampire don’t take up enough time, I had to start a new one. What can I say, I’m a glutton for punishment. Either that, or an idiot, but I’ll just go with glutton for now.
That we went from this being considered the epitome of sexy:
to this being what females should strive to look like (on the left for the wise asses who are going to tell me women shouldn’t look like men):
Now, excuse me while I go feel like a feminine failure since I don’t have the thigh ‘breeze way’.
One thing about summer time in Georgia; you’re either too bleeding hot, or it’s raining hard enough to bruise your skin if you’re stupid enough to go outside. Which makes for interesting times when I have to take Thunder Butt out to do her business. She will *not* go into our back yard when it’s raining hard. Won’t even leave the patio. So I have to take her out on the leash; she won’t walk into the rain of her own free will unless she’s taking someone else with her to get soaked to the bone.
Writing is going well; I didn’t scrap everything I had on Clio #2, but I did start a new version of it that I’m liking a lot better than the one I had going. I’m going to keep both versions and see which one flows better.
Off to go see Sphinx; one way or another, she’s going to get used to Thunder Butt, if I have to move in there for the next two weeks.