Narcoleptic Squirrel

Eek…suddenly I feel like this blog has something to live up to.
First of all, a lot of pressure came here:

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I mean, how can I explain my random use of punctuation now??? I know how to use it, I just can’t bring myself to…oohh…I bet this means I also need to be more vigilant of the typos, and should be careful not to be a malaprop anymore. Oh wait, that wasn’t me. I’ll just stick with the typos and the puctuation.
Beyond that, it seems people may actually be reading this thing. There are links on other sites. Sites, that until yesterday, I never even read (which now I have, and I apologize, and you shall get your just props). There’s part of me that feels like I have to kick this bad boy up a notch. Be witty. Add esoteric references. Be more political. Then there’s the part of me that figures if this drivel is already being read, why bother. But then there’s the part of me that would like this blog to be all of those things.
Well, call me Sybil.

It’s The Apprentice finale tonight! I totally got sucked in to it, including all the drama. I think Bill will win. He has the skills, and the experience. I like Kwame, but think he needs more real world experience.
So, one less thing for me to get sucked in to every week.
I am trying to decide on a color-scheme for our office/guest room. It needs to coordinate with G’s Ep 1 posters, and all of our fun stuff (like action figures, etc.) I was thinking pale blue & red, with touches of white and black, but am worried it will get too patriotic or Nautica in here. Oh, and it needs to match our furniture, which is mainly dark honey colored wood of varying types. Hopefully G and I can get the room ready for painting and whatnot tomorrow. The painting would probably have to hold off until next week, since I will be at our Congressional District convention Saturday, and G will be gaming . Sunday we will probably be recovering.
I really need to space these things out…you know, to make it nice. For the people.

I wasn’t sure I should post this here, but I figured that everyone’s going to find out anyway. I apologize if anyone is hurt, there’s a lot of excitment around here right now.
We had a feeling about it on sunday, but it became official Tuesday morning.
Gis not the father, but has already gone through the adoption process, and the father is okay with it. Since it looks like Uma Thurman anyway, no one will really know (like I’d be dumb enough to tell them)
Yes, we are the very proud parents of Kill Bill: Volume one. She’s adorable, and we love her very much. We will be seeing her younger but equally attractive sister soon. We aren’t ready for visitors yet, but we may just have to have everyone over to see her.

Wow, part of me thinks I have such a great post entry, I can hardly stand it. It’s a lot like feeling like I have to pee, and I can’t get to a bathroom…not even a public restroom! Only I know I don’t have to pee because I just did, so it has to be the blog. Now, I could just post, and I could be like the version of the Heathers I went to school with.
It could all get v.v. grade school ’round these parts.
But, there’s part of me that isn’t sure I’m supposed to be involved, and there’s the other part of me that thinks that the point is to revert to the grade school nonsense, and finally the part of me that says I should do what I always do and < mommy voice > i-g-n-o-r-e </mommy voice > .
Sigh, maybe I’ll just go watch some Ben Stiller.

So, yesterday was Easter. Wow, if that line won’t snare you into reading this thing, I don’t know what will. Those words just scream thrill a minute, don’t they?
Anyway, to start off, we partied on Saturday night. My hubby, the festie, was invited to a party for the troupe he’s in (which I think consists of all the cool people at the fest, except for a couple…meaning a couple of cool people at the festival, not that any of the puppet troupe isn’t cool, cuz they are, or I wouldn’t have gone). I wasn’t sure I was going to go, but I had a lot of fun. We stayed until 6 something in the morning…EEK!
Needless to say, we didn’t go to church on Sunday. (we had planned to go to this church G has been wanting to check out..yup we were going to be those people). Heck, we woke up after we were supposed to be at Easter dinner, OUCH! Fortunately, dinner was only a few blocks away, so we weren’t too bad in terms of tardiness. The food was good. But, my in laws are boring. No traditions or anything, just eating dinner together. I wish my family were closer, so we could go there, but alas, the 12 hour drive makes it tough. They do fun stuff. On saturday night, the eggs get dyed. This involves taking white crayons and writing each person’s name on an egg, which they get to dye any color, and cross dying them, and making patterns with the dye, and all sorts of wacky dye adventures. The eggs get hidden by the bunny, while the fam is in church. The eggs get hidden outside, unless it is absolutely pouring rain. Inside, baskets are hidden, each person getting at least one basket, full of goodies, and some bigger presents. The easter bunny is always crafty in the hiding. I really miss that. I miss everyone getting dressed up for Easter, and taking pictures of the activities and whatnot.
Sigh.
We ate dinner and sat around. Brother talked about his new scheme du jour. This time it’s a bar. Yawn. Golf was watched. Brother went to get chick du jour to have her sit while we ate dessert and look bored out of her mind. We went home. V.V. exciting.
However, the Easter bunny left baskets. Mine contained a Sylvester toy in a bunny costume, which was the same stuffy I got two years ago…and the bunny swore it was just decoration. More importantly the basket contained Cadbury eggs, and Friends: Season 7.
G had a hard time finding his basket, due to lack of practice as a youngster, but his had LOTS of treats, and a big head dog. For some reason he thinks they are super cute, so he got one.
Today, I am recovering from the weekend. Hopefully, I will be functional tomorrow. Key word : Hopefully.

So, when it comes to taking care of myself, I prefer a hands-on approach. For example, if I feel a pimple coming on, I must pop it, ready or not. If I find some weird bump, I must poke and prod at it until it is gone. I can’t just be patient and wait for it to go away. If I have some muscle that is in a knot, or a sharp pain, I have to knead the hell out of it, figuring that I will see stars permanently or I will somehow beat it in to submission. I also take great pleasure out of doing these things to other people.
In fact, this is one of the myriad of reasons I get along so well with my sister. We revel in sharing such things with each other. A possible conversation between us:
Me: Hey sis, I have this weird stabbing pain in my back, could you work on it?
Her: Where is it?
Me: Between my shoulder blades.
Her (feeling around) Here?
Me: No, but now that you are pushing on that spot as hard as you can, I think it’s worse than the other spot. Does it feel crunchy?
Her: Yeah, especially when I dig into it with my elbow.
Me: Wow, my arm is numb, and I can’t seee out of my right eye, you must be doing something right. Is there any way you can get more leverage?
My sister would then proceed to use knees, elbows, children, whatever, to try and get the knot out. Eventually she would get to the spot that I wanted her to work on. Then, when I can’t feel any extremities, and my vision is gone, I say, “thanks, that felt really good, I have this weird lump on my back, do you think it’s ready to pop?”
She would look at it, mumble something about it probably being a tumor, I assure her that it can be squeezed out, she works on it some more, gives up, then I go feeling around with my fingers (which are slowly waking up) sure that I can take care of it. I repeat this over several days, until the thing is gone or totally mangled. Let me tell you, G loves this side of me. Much the way he loves oral surgery and the flu.
If I see anyone else with a pimple, a part of me wants to help them out and pop it. The almost rational side of me talks the crazy side out of it. Heck, I’ve even thought about becoming an aesthetician, so that people would pay me to poke around in their pores. Charming huh?
Sometimes, I think I might have a problem. Like when my sister told me about a friend of hers. Their family was camping, when an abscess was discovered behind the daughter’s ear. They pack up and head home. The mom researches on the internet, thinks it’s mastoiditis, and rushes the daughter to the ER. It is mastoiditis, caused by a cyst that ruptured, got infected, became an abscess, and started eating through part of her ear and skull. She had to have surgery, and if they waited much longer the abscess would have started eating away at her brain.
So, Sis and I are discussing it, realizing if it would have been one of us, we would have been screwed. We would’ve been poking at it, trying to squeeze it out or something, and keeled over in the process. You would think that I learned something from that story. Nope. Although, I do hope that whatever I am poking at isn’t something that will kill me.
Please note: I do wash my hands before and after any of these little enterprises. I’m not that disgusting.
So, I have a stye one my right eye (yup, I’m a poet, don’t I know it). Of course, I figure I can pop it, like I always do. But this one is relly deep, and it’s bothering me (I only messed with it this morning, once). I want to just squeeze it out, but it doesn’t want to let me. I know that if my sister were here, she would fix it up good, but she is two states away. I could see a doctor, but that isn’t any fun. I may actually do the sensible thing, and apply a hot compress, and let it go away on its own. Imagine that.
Wow, I can’t believe I shared that. But, I did. So there. So, I’m off to lie down, with a compress.

I must say that starting the day by giving your cat a bath is invigorating. Hearing his cat screams and having him kick your ass…there’s nothing like it. Really…there’s nothing that can even come close.
Now, I am not a masochist. However, the cat had developed an odor. He actually had a green cloud around him, and flies were dropping dead around him. he could’ve given someone a fantastic case of stinkpalm if he so chose. I think it has something to do with his prescription food, but I will spare you the details. Suffice it to say, today was the day. Before I got ready for work, I decided that the bath was absolutely necessary. Silly me, I also thought I could handle the bath by myself. Heeheehee…after I developed a puncture wound that would make Dracula swoon, I decided to call for back-up. G got to drop the beast back into the tub, while I quickly closed the shower door. (this would be the one time in my entire life that I thought shower doors were a good thing) I caught my breath, whilst Ziggie shrieked and tried to conquer the shower door. We decided a plan of attack, and G held the tiny beast, while I washed. It was hard, it was smelly, the cat was pissed. But, he is much cleaner, and may forgive us sometime this century.
The next part of our plan involves combing and clipping his butt-hair. Yeah, that should be fun.
Note to self: When a ten pound cat battles a one-hundred-mumble-mumble pound woman, the cat will always win.