I'm Not Sure What the Topic of the Day Is

So, when I decided I was going to write a blog every day, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I was going to at some point run out of ideas. I just thought my mind was brimming over with ideas. Well, not so.

I've already gone on about ants, but I have more to say on the subject. They are like our house guests who won't go away. As I sit at the desk and write, I don't always see one on the desk, but I constantly feel one crawling on my arm. So, I just smush it, pick it off and throw it over my shoulder. It's enough to give me the heebies, because sometimes I feel a phantom ant running across my skin.

Anyway, last night, when I was watching TV laying on the futon next to a snoring FP, I felt an ant on my thigh. I picked it. But then I felt like I didn't get it. I didn't know if that was a phantom ant or real ant. So, I was getting tired. I had this half conscious dream that these ants would crawl up my coochie and nest in there. And I would have pain and lady issues before it was bad enough that I would go to the gynecologist. Then she would look up there and see a colony of ants. And it would be embarrassing, and she would say how did you not notice? And then they would take pictures to send to JAMA for pubication.

Yeah.

I tend to have very disturbing dreams. Usually, not about insectile infestation. Normally about trying to run away but I can't run fast enough because my lungs are too weak. Sometimes, they will be about two people from my past who I haven't thought of in a long time. Oftentimes, it will juxtapose people who don't know each other and are from different eras of my life. Which got me thinking. It would be fun to win the lottery and go on more vacations. But I could take friends with me, who would fit the trip. Say, if we went on a brewery tour of the west coast, there are several people from my past who don't know each other, I don't really know anymore, who would appreciate that trip. I could just send them a group message on facebook and ask who's in?
Or, if we wanted to go to Brazil for Carnivale, that would be a different group of people.

Anyhoo, whoever said money can't buy happiness obviously was dirt poor. Of course, there are problems that come with money, just as problems come without money. I don't need to buy friendship. But I could buy trips and drinks and dinner for friends. The closer they are, the more extravagant the gifts. Also, if I won the lottery, I could hire people to watch my dad 24/7. Oh, he would hate it, but he wouldn't refuse free help either. And in order to get someone to help my dad and not quit, that would be a very gleaming, exquisite penny, not just an ordinary pretty one.

But I don't obsess over money. Not too much. I do buy lottery tickets once or twice a week though. Quick picks. It would be more obsessive to have numbers to play, right? Although, I do feel embarrassed buying the tickets. Like people are going to think, she obviously is unemployed and using her unemployment check to buy lottery tickets instead of a bus ticket to a job interview. When I went to buy tickets yesterday, I bought a rainbow popsicle too. As if I was going for the popsicle and I thought to buy the tickets as I was paying. But, it was vice versa.

The popsicle was an added bonus for the walk home. Of course, I had to keep the wrapper on the elongated frozen treat, and I slowly slid it down as I consumed the icy rainbow rings. And I also snapped off bites of it rather than slobbering all over the thing. I didn't want anyone with a camera handy catching me sucking on it or licking it all Michele Bachmann-like. All I need is to go into a job interview and have them say, didn't I see you (at which point I will think they are talking about my TV appearance on a Cooking Channel series) on the internet deep throating a rainbow popsicle?

Why The Transition into the Golden Years Should Not Be Too Difficult

Dealing With Aging

So, my 28th birthday was one of my most memorable. My birthdays were not always the most lively because it falls three days after Christmas. People often are out of town, too busy with family, resting up for New Year's or burnt out by the time the 28th of December comes around. So, maybe there was some kind of numerology in play that year.

The Bridge Lounge in New Orleans had just opened and hadn't become a hot spot yet. So, we went there, and our group of friends took over the bar. And we got shitfaced. We got shitfaced all the time back then, but during birthdays we did it with more gusto.

The next year, I don't recall what we did on my birthday. I do recall that I was devasted that I was turning 29. It seemed like I was getting so old for not accomplishing anything that I assumed I would have done by year 29. My 30th birthday wasn't quite as bad because I was already over the shock of turning 30, having a year to deal with it.





And then Katrina happened. And then we moved to San Diego. For the month or so before we moved to San Diego, we were living under a curfew. Early on in our return to New Orleans, curfew was at nightfall. No one was supposed to be on the streets after dark. This was so contrary to the culture of the city. After power was restored, and business were opening, the curfew was moved to midnight. Some businesses like grocery stores were still closing early though, so I didn't really go out much past dark if it weren't for work or going drinking.



Going To Bed Early

So, when we moved here to San Diego, it took us a long while to adjust to the time change. We were waking up anywhere between 4 - 7am, and so we were going to bed by 8pm. The stark contrast of the two cities was unsettling. But, I still couldn't get past the habit of not leaving the house after dark. I'm not saying we never set foot outside after nightfall, but we did start drinking early, so we usually fell asleep a little after dusk.

My schedule when I worked at a french cafe here was 6am - 2pm, unless, of course, when the other cook showed up late. I worked Monday to Friday. The daily grind. I hated waking up early, but I sure loved getting off early (insert sexual innuendo here). If the FP were off, we would go to the local bar for happy hour, and be in bed (optional sexual innuendo insert here) by 9pm. The FP usually is home by 9pm, and back then, I would be asleep in front of the TV by the time he walked in the door.

So, I've established, in several paragraphs that I have kept the hours of the stereotypical elderly and enjoyed it. And I also established that I've dealt with the feelings of getting old. In fact, right now, I'm going through a midlife crisis. I've come to a standstill, an intersection in the road of my life. I'm self doubting and I have no idea which road to take, or which vehicle to use to get me there, and whether or not there will be a toll and if I have exact change for that toll.




Eating Habits

The other thing I will enjoy about becoming a senior citizen is the early bird special. I don't even know if this really still exists. I do however, like going to eat early, before the rush. Unless it's a special occasion, (why do I always have trouble spelling that word, occasion?) we like to sit down, eat and get out.

Also, on the point of food preference, we like a lot of the same food that the elderly enjoy. When I worked at the retirement community, I loved taking home the leftovers. I mean, we had to serve certain items once a month or week - prime rib with horseradish sauce, brisket, corned beef, spaghetti and meatballs. We had to also have Hebrew National hot dogs on hand all the time. The sides were all those typical comfort foods; mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, corn off the cobb.

Often, when we discover a new restaurant to add to our rotation or on our travels, we will look around the dining room and realize we are the youngest ones in the room. Take Lido's for instance. This is an old Italian joint. On weekdays for lunch, the specials are so that we can spend $18 + tip. Who else likes to go there? Old people. You can tell, a lot of them have been going there for years. Retired couples, old men, maybe military buddies, widows or widowers, or a whole table of 15 of them will flock to the place. By 12:30, the whole place is packed. But, we usually get there around 11am when they open. We like to avoid the rush. Although, there's usually someone already there before us.

Also, we enjoy going to our usual restaurants and have them anticipate our needs. At Lido's, one server will guess our order. I have a few things on my rotation there, but I definitely have the one default dish, rigatoni and meatballs. The FP gets spaghetti and meatballs, of course.



Sitting at Home Watching TV All Day, Talking To My Cats

Well, I have always watched a shitload of TV, but now that I'm not working, I watch even more. Of course sometimes, like when I'm writing a blog and having trouble concentrating, I will turn off the TV. I don't watch soap operas, but I find plenty of series, stories, if you will, that I get into and I have to watch.

And, of course sitting at home all day goes along with constantly talking to my cats. What am I supposed to do, talk to myself? That would be crazy.



Discussing My Digestive Tract and Other Ailments

I worry about fiber in my diet. I have a regular poo schedule, and if it changes, I wonder why. I check out my shit before I flush, to make sure it doesn't look abnormal. I describe weird ones to the FP as soon as I walk out of the bathroom. If I have a persistent medical issue, I worry over it and research it on the internet. It would have to be extremely dire though, before I would go to urgent care or set up an appointment with a doctor.




I Will Have Dentures Before I'm Eligible for Social Security

I haven't been to the dentist in ages. It shows in my teeth. I'm pretty sure they will fall out of my mouth if I don't go to a dentist soon. I think my teeth are getting to the point where they are a lost cause, and when I finally go to a dentist, he or she will yank my teeth out and give me dentures then and there. It's kind of embarrassing because people get veneers and stuff these days, so that makes my teeth seem even worse. But, it's one of those cases that I have put it off for so long that I don't know how I would even go about setting foot into a dentist's office.




I Like To Complain

So, things bug me, and I harp on them forever, but I don't take action. In our apartment complex, we have an assigned parking space. This space though, is behind the building. To get to it, one has to drive down the alley behind the building. It's kind of shady back there. Once a scary van was camping back there. Also, one would have to walk up twice as many stairs to get to the apartment if coming from the back lot. So, we park on the street out front. And other tenants do too. Often, late at night (around 9pm!) there will be very empty parking spaces on the street. The curb directly in front of the complex can accommodate three cars. As long as they all park economically. Most of the time, one car has parked selfishly, only allowing space for one other car to park there. This pisses me off. I always threaten to go out late at night, (say 10pm) and spray paint parking lines on the street, so people will get the picture. I don't know if they will, but it would be worth a try.


I already put an application in at Wal-Mart to be a greeter. I would like that job. Saying hi to people, putting stickers on their drinks. Or even better would be to check receipts. If I saw someone with a cartload of crap looking like they were in a hurry, I would take my time, be thorough, and make sure I saw everything in the cart accounted for on the receipt. After all, it's just killing time.

6 Years Ago

What more do I really have to say? Not much. The events that happened 6 years ago were life changing for a lot of us. Around this time of the day six years ago, the FP and I were walking around Canal Street in downtown New Orleans after the storm had passed. It was still really windy, and dirt and shards of glass and metal parts of signs were still blowing around. Countless windows were blown out, and brick walls were collapsed on cars. It was bad, but we thought the city had gotten off easy. We thought the power would be on in a few hours. That's laughable to think of now.

So, what has happened to me in six years. Well, a lot. Six years is a long time. We moved to San Diego. I was ready to leave, but the FP really didn't want to go. My parents wanted us to leave New Orleans. They told me there was no way we should buy a house or open a restaurant there. They tricked me into believing that if we moved, they would help us buy a house or open a restaurant in another city. So, we moved to San Diego. The chances of a hurricane hitting here are pretty slim. There are earthquakes here, but it's not like Los Angeles. And, there is drought here. But it's not New Orleans. Not at all.

We've lived in two different apartments here that were more expensive, but not nearly as charming as any of the places we lived in in New Orleans. I mean, the first apartment here only had occasional ants and flies. No roaches, mice, rats or gigantic spiders. Sure, it's beautiful here. It's beautiful there too. It's not the same here. Our circumstances are different here, and we haven't been able to connect in quite the same way we did in New Orleans. The great glue in New Orleans is alcohol...and food. Here, we don't go out as much, mainly because we can't afford it, and we don't have friends like we did in New Orleans. Obviously, you can't compare the two cities.

Our one cat, Chester, died within a year of moving to San Diego. He was a big loveable dumb cat, but honestly, the move from coast to coast was too much for him. That and his renal problems that he also shared with his brother Tiki Tee who had passed away the year before Chester. Chester had always been the follower, and he did not like being the protector and dominant cat to Stinksy, who was still a young cat when Katrina hit. Chester had survived the move from Boston to New Orleans with Tiki Tee, but New Orleans had become their home. He was eventually replaced with The Fuzz, who is also kinda dumb. I guess our fate is to always have one dumb cat.

When we moved out here to San Diego, I had to fly out after the FP and the cats, because I had gotten hit by another car and had to wait to deal with insurance. When I walked into the new apartment, Chester meowed at me and went to sit in the FP's lap. It took him a couple of days to forgive me. The Fuzz gets pissed at me and holds a 24 hour grudge when I give her a bath or flea medicine. I can't imagine how she would hold up if we ever moved out of state.

As far a jobs go, I've had a couple. None have been better than most of my jobs in New Orleans, but then again, I've never been truly satisfied with any job I've had. One job here paid me well, and gave me benefits, but I couldn't abide working for a crazy lady who didn't care whatsoever about proper sanitation practices. I know, restaurants in New Orleans are known to be dirty - but this lady was the dining services director for a retirement property. I swear there were spikes in the number of deaths during her tenure there.

The job after that ended up paying very well, but the chef there seemed intent on killing someone as well. He was just an old french chef who did what he did. Glass plate shattered in the cooler? Just clean the fridge out. Girl ingested glass? Hm... I don't know how that happened. I'm busy plating this salad and I got these raw chicken breasts on the cutting board that I need to portion out too.

The last job... I don't really feel like discussing this one. But here I am,unemployed. Six years ago, Katrina forced me into unemployment.

The FP has had the same job the whole time. It's been a great job for him, but the fact that he never gets paid regularly basically is a detriment.

As far as music goes, the move here has been great for us. We reformed our band and played gigs for over five years. And now we are working on another slightly different project. The FP has been in two other bands over the past couple of years. His musical knowledge has grown by leaps and bounds, and he has learned so much about recording.

And then, my mom's unexpected stroke which led to her death last year was devastating. This probably has hit me harder than Katrina, and it's been over a year that I've been dealing with my grief. My dad's issues complicate things even more.

Where do we go from here? Who knows. I have no idea what's in store for me for the future, but I'm going to try to get the most out of this life. No waiting around for things to happen. I could die tomorrow.

Oh, and I apologize that this one isn't funny.

Katrina Eve

So, 6 years ago today, the FP and I were scrambling around, preparing for the worst hurricane we were ever going to experience to date. (I'm not going to say that was the worst we will ever experience in our lifetime, because, I don't want to jinx myself.) We never prepared properly for hurricanes, but this was the big one, and everyone was taking it seriously. Some people who were going to stay decided to get the hell out at the last minute. The FP decided to check into the Marriott downtown, because he figured it was way safer than our flimsy little double shotgun. The roof was already leaking, so we were pretty sure it was going to come off.

We bought our supplies, packed our guitars and computers, and our cats and headed downtown. Once we checked in and got settled, we started drinking. I was drinking some cocktail, and I got shitfaced and passed out. When we woke up, Katrina had really started to plow through. It was quite surreal.

I imagine, with Hurricane Irene blowing through, there are a lot of people on the east coast who are drunk or hungover at this moment. Watching all those people at a seawall in Rhode Island made me jealous. They were all...having a good time watching the waves crashing around, and trying to get on TV. People have died. Houses are flooded. Streets have turned into rivers with an oil slick rushing through. Power is out. But you have to appreciate that it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

All the media and meteorologists were getting prepared to get some good footage and maybe get a little boost for their career, but it's not very memorable to be standing by the docks knee deep in water with a light breeze blowing. I think since every 3 out of 5 people have iphones, and the other 2 have a phone with a camera or a digital camera, the residents generally get more interesting footage than the TV crews in a situation like this. But don't worry, I guess there's another low pressure system forming, which when the time comes will be named Katia. Sounds kinda like....Katrina, just take out two consonants. That's a good name. I knew a Katia. And she could be a hurricane when she got the momentum going.

What we should do, is tear down all development on the coast and move more inland, because there's still plenty of land there. Then we can build these bubbled hurricane safe complexes on the coastlines where we can all go and vacation whenever there is an impending storm, from the safety of the bubbles, say in a casino, or hanging out by the swimming pool. You're probably asking, then why don't they just build these bubbles around current infrastructures? Well, because most of us can't afford property on the beach. This way, we could tear down all those lovely mansions, villas and condo rentals on the beach which we so covet and envy. And then we can set up some good old fashioned tacky beachside hurricane watching resorts. Although, there are going to have to be a hell of a lot more storms for this to be profitable. They might have to figure out how to simulate hurricanes.

So, I'll have to eat some smoked oysters in commemoration of the Katrina Eve anniversary, oh, and I should get shitfaced too. So, I'll drink a toast to all my friends who, since Katrina, I've separated from. And I'll drink another toast for every other hurricane people have had to suffer through since my lifetime. I better stock up on the booze.

On The Bus

So, the other band that the FP is in played tonight at the Che Cafe. It was cool, they were all ready to play and excited about playing, and they sounded great. The only problems were, currently, UCSD does not have school at this time, and they went first at 8:30. So, not really any crowd at all. For the last band, there were still only a handful of people there who were not associated with one of the bands.

Anyway, unfortunately for the FP's band, this is not about the band. I kinda try to keep somewhat anonymous, so if I give you the name of the band you can figure out who I am, if you don't know already. The other two bands were instrumental bands, like Explosions In the Sky, but of course not as amazing. The second band, who's name eludes me, was made up of 2 guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer with a minimalistic drum kit. One guitarist had the one rip in the jeans in the left pant leg. He also had long hair and a mustache. He looked like he would play metal. Well, some of what he played was more of a rock metal sound.

The whole point of this description of this guitarist, is that he reminded me of this kid in junior high who used to harass me. We will call him CJ.

So, I took the bus most of my junior high career. I was a very strange dweeby nerdy girl. I wished I could wear the latest fashions all the time, but my parents were very thrifty. Usually, when my mom got in one of her moods and wanted to go shopping, we would try to sneak our shopping bags into the house without my dad seeing. I think he was always waiting for us though. Even though my mom wouldn't tell him, he would know when we had been shopping. So, needless to say, I was not the most fashionable, most pretty or most desirable girl in junior high. I had friends who were very popular with the boys, but I was always one of the friends of the hot girl. I had these horrible glasses that were thick of course, and the bottom of the frame was like fishing line, so it looked like there was nothing holding the lenses below. These lenses started to pop out of the frame, and once that started happening, they were always popping out at inopportune times, although there's never an opportune time for that. Along with having to lug my sax case onto the bus, I was not a junior high sex symbol. There was no reason to believe I was going to be kidnapped and sold for human trafficking.

So, getting back to the guy, CJ, who kinda looked like the guitar player. He had longish hair, maybe halfway to shoulder length. And he had a mustache. In junior high. He was a year ahead of me, and I knew him in elementary school, but I didn't know how old he actually was. He was short, so even if he was a couple years older than was normal in his grade, one wouldn't necessarily know, if not for the stache. So, needless to say, he was seedy and sleezy. In fact, he kinda reminds me of a younger Mike Damone from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. One day, he got a boner for me. I don't remember how this situation arose. I felt like it was probably something he came up with to amuse himself. But he started hitting on me. I'd sitting there popping my glasses lens back into the frame with my feet propped up on my sax case, and he would come up and sit in front of me. He would tell me I looked good, and weird shit like that. I had never had any boy show interest in me at this point. Not overtly, anyway. And here was this dark, slick, older boy who I think smoked cigarettes and possibly marijuna too, harassing me on the bus. We got off on the same bus stop, so he would follow me a couple blocks and ask me for a kiss or other dirty propositions. So, I would wait and get off at the stop after. Or the stop before and have to walk really far.

This had been strictly a bus thing, but then slowly it started to seep into school. If he saw me in the hallway, he would make a kissy face at me. Then he started approaching me and talking to me. He would call me baby. In school. In front of other people. I was so embarrassed, and I guess that's what he derived pleasure from. Then, he started grabbing my ass. Boy do I remember the first time. I was wearing my Express pants, that it was probably a huge deal to finally get. So, they were kinda baggy, not sexy whatsoever. Not that anything an eighth grader puts on should be sexy. And I believe I had just walked out of Chemistry with Mr. Chestang, the dick switcher. He would grab his dick and move it from one pant leg to another. I think that's what he did. Either that, or he had crabs. I was walking out of Dick Switcher's class and it was busy. There were so many kids in that hallway, that I had to wind my way through the hall. And out of nowhere, I felt my butt cheek being cupped. It was a very shockingly uncomfortable feeling. I turned, and there he was, CJ, with a big smile. I'm sure I was stoplight red, and he took it as a sign that he could do it again. And there he was, stalking me at school or on the bus, trying to play grab ass. I really don't know how it ended. I guess I decided to erase that part from my memory. I probably yelled at him and said something horribly insulting. I probably cried. I'm a big crybaby. The things that people remember from seeing someone that barely looks like a ghost from the past. Huhn. I just tried to google him, and it turns out, he was only a year younger than me. And he may live in Ocala now.

Hurricane Blues

Would it be wrong to say I miss hurricanes?

I think it would. I don't quite mean I miss hurricanes, as much as I mean I miss watching them progress, but hoping there wouldn't be mass destruction. I guess, I could say I miss having more diverse weather, that's more euphemistic and PC. Here in San Diego, the weather is pretty spectacular, but we get very spoiled and complain if it's a little cool when we want to go to the beach. If it's humid and hot and we are just laying around the house and can't catch a breeze because a large portion of the population doesn't have air conditioning. It hasn't rained in forever here. Our landing is kind of falling apart, the plaster is crumbling off the wood supports, and today, when the FP stepped on the bottom step, the concrete on the edge broke off completely. I think everything is so dry it's deteriorating in the heat.

Going back to my childhood, I remember huge rainstorms and having the power go out for hours. It was fun. We would stumble around looking for the emergency candles and votives and light them. We would each get a candle to carry around, even though I was young. I always loved playing with fire, so that was part of my excitement. I remember watching some sitcom when I was little in which they had to eat the ice cream when the power went out. I think power outages meant eating ice cream while holding a candle to me.

The next day, I would walk to the bus stop, and inevitably the street would be a lake. I thought that was neat too. I would walk around the edge and slowly stick my foot farther and farther into the middle to see how deep it was.

I haven't lived too much of my life around snow, but one of my most memorable days in Boston was the April 1st snow storm. The whole city was pretty much shut down. Pretty much. I didn't go into work, because I assumed it was shut down. I got a call from my boss asking where I was. He was cool about it, but he basically went in just to open the door for me so I could count inventory. My friends and I just trudged around downtown and went bar hopping. That was a great day.

When we moved to New Orleans, there was weather galore. Sometimes after a long steady rain the streets would be flooded, and I would be driving down a street wondering if I should turn around or risk driving further down the river. If you have ever driven in water, it's a scary feeling, because you're steering, but you can feel the car float, and you don't want to take your foot off the gas pedal, whatever you do.

Whenever there were hurricane warnings, everyone asked everyone else if they were evacuating. We never did. Too much of a hassle, we didn't have the money, we didn't know if our cars could idle on the interstate that long in all that traffic without conching out, we didn't want to travel with 2 freaked out cats, and we didn't want to miss out.....

There. I said it. One time, we were in Pennsylvania when a storm system was headed to New Orleans. Our flight home was scheduled on the eve of the hurricane. The FP's parents were trying to force us to stay there, but we couldn't get stuck in Pennsylvania and not be able to get back to our cats. So, our flight connected in Atlanta, but of course it was cancelled by the time we got in. So, we rented a car and drove back. That was the most empty drive on an interstate ever. There was some traffic going east. But no one, NO ONE, was headed our way. When we got in town, it was like a ghost town. The storm jogged east, I think, and we sat on the front porch and played guitar. There was not one drop of rain, but some pretty strong wind.

There was a tropical storm one night that was pretty bad. Once again though, we sat on our front porch and watch the rain blow in sideways, and the transformers blow out, one by one. It was like fireworks. It turned out, that our friends who lived across the street from us were also on their porch watching the storm. It was so black out though, that we couldn't even see each other.

I won't go into Katrina. If you know me, which most of you do, you know that we stayed in New Orleans for the storm, and we left the day after.

And here we are in San Diego now. The whole east coast is preparing for this Irene character. I'm going to come out and say it, I kinda feel left out. I know that's wrong. But I'm just being truthful. She seems to be falling apart, Irene, but you have to be prepared, right? She could reform. Anyway, If 77mph winds hit a city like New York, there could be some damage. There are probably some old buildings that aren't hurricane safe up the east coast. Lots of plants and tree branches could blow around like flying weapons. I don't want anyone to think I don't feel for these people and hope no one's hurt and damage is minimal. Waiting for storms is a big interruption and a loss of income even if it doesn't hit. They are a big pain in the ass no matter what happens.

It's been hot and humid today. The HOA in our complex was replacing the hot water heaters today, so there was a notice that the water would be cut off all day today. I had filled the brita pitcher to the brim, and I filled two pitchers for miscellaneous water in the kitchen. In the bathtub, I filled a little garbage can with water for flushing. Of course, they only had the hot water off all day. Most of the day we've had water.

We've had CNN on all afternoon. We took a long nap with the blinds flapping in the light breeze. As the reporters repeated the same information over and over on CNN, I slept hard. I woke up, and it felt like we were in New Orleans again, waiting for an approaching storm.

Walkabout

To update you on the Fuzz, she's almost back to normal. She will let me pet her, and she's sleeping out in the open on the bed again. She did jerk her paws away when the FP tried to pat them, and she pulled away when he tried to stroke her nose. She still is itching, but that usually takes a day or two to go away.

So, yesterday, after I wrote the blog, I decided to go to the zoo. We have a yearly membership, and it expires the end of September, so I want to go as much as I can, assuming I might not be able to budget a membership renewal into the finances. I had to pack my water bottle in a plastic grocery bag, and then I put that in purse. When I stopped along my walk and took the water out to have a drink, I felt self conscious like people were going to think I was drinking hooch.

I am so used to wearing flip flops, that I put them on, thinking they were the best choice for the excursion. I live in Golden Hill, and I totally miscalculated the distance from here to the zoo. I forget how long it is to get up the winding walking path on Zoo Place, and then to cross the street and actually get into the front entrance of the zoo. I thought it was a mile, mile and a half tops. I just now google mapped it. 2.6 miles. It took almost an hour. I am not a walker. I walk to the 7-11 down the street which requires going up and down 2 hills and I think that's an accomplishment.

Anyhoo, getting back to the flip flops. Not the best choice. Okay, they were a better choice than those terribly uncomfortable white mary jane stripper heels that I wore once, but I think it was worse than walking barefoot. I remember my sister walked from the garden district in New Orleans to the Bywater barefoot once. That's like 6 miles. But she was way more of a walker then than I am now. So, my flip flop strap on the inside of my left foot started to chafe on the way there. I was contemplating whether I could stay past dark and splurge on a cab, which I figured would be $5, but now knowing the mileage, I know it would have been closer to $10.

So, I went in and went straight for Big Cat Trail, with a stop at the ring tailed lemurs at the intersection of Front Street and Center Street or somewhere around there. It was after 6, and it looked like the cats may or may not have just had dinner. They were all lazing around bathing themselves. Not too exciting. The snow leopards started pacing, which used to be exciting until the last time we went to the zoo.

That time, all the cats were active. One snow leopard was pacing across the front of the cage, and the other was more erratic. It was hot and I think they were testy. Whenever the one would cross the other's path they would have a spat. The one time the claws came out and they roared at each other it was right in front of me. I was a little scared.

This time, this preteen or young teen girl was complaining to her mom in front of the snow leopard "enclosure". She said she was using too many pictures on the cats, and all they had to offer was drinking water and pacing. Her mom tried to explain to her that they were not circus animals. I wanted to pipe in and say, you should have been here the last time I came! Then this other girl asked how they clean the cage. Her dad explained how they have that smaller cage in the back that they lure them to, and then someone goes in and cleans. So knowledgeable, that dad!

After that, I thought about going to Panda Canyon, as I think the new exhibit is called. I didn't go, because my feet hurt, and I thought it would be special to share that experience for the first time with the FP. So, I headed back up to the Elephant Odyssey. I don't really pay much attention to the elephants. There are way more and they seem much happier at the Wild Animal Park, one of the few things there that are really exciting. Whenever we go there, we barely see any animals.

So, I got to the one area where there are guanacos, capybaras, and ducks. I was focused on the ducks, because the last time we went there was a mama duck with about 10 teeny baby duckies. They were so small and cute! So, I was looking for them in the water. On the higher side of the waterfall I saw regular sized ducks, but no babies. So, I don't know if they moved them to another exhibit or what. There were capybaras though, swimming and frolicking in the water. That was cute. There were like four or five of them, and they were playing like otters, of course not as graceful in the water as otters.

One went to the bottom of the falls and was using the falls like a whirlpool jet on it's butt. I had never paid these guys much attention before, but for the moment they were the most exciting thing I'd seen.



I progressed to the Jaguar, who was pacing in that front area like always. It's sad, because he's so pretty, yet so unhappy. The lionness next door was sitting in the small partition of the enclosure, facing the glass. Just sitting. Everyone was going right up to her, and she didn't bat an eyelash. One family had a discussion about how maybe it was a one way glass and she couldn't see us. People at the zoo have such dumb conversations and sound like morons, no offense. I know the FP and I have had dumb conversations that someone overheard and thought we were dumb. Can I say dumb anymore, anyway? Or is there a more PC term I should be using, Forrest Gumplike?

Anyway, the male lion was chillin out in the very back of the big enclosure. Much of a letdown after the last zoo visit, which was to be expected. Last time, the male was pacing the whole length of the front of the enclosure, and as he was heading toward me, he would be staring me in the eyes. He didn't just do it to me, but he would do it to everyone standing in front of him. That was an experience quite like nothing I've ever experienced before. Meanwhile, while he was pacing, the female was in that smaller enclosure area, pounding on the reinforced steel wall (hopefully that's what it was) that used to be a door leading to the jaguar enclosure. I mean she was using all her might trying to get in, alternating between pounding and scratching. When she pounded, I could feel the ground shake, when she scratched it made this horrible metal reverberation. The jaguar seemed to alternate between scared shitless and curious. He kept running in and out looking at that steel wall. That was something else.

So, the sun was getting low, and I had to make a decision. Did I walk around more and catch better action as the sun went down, and splurge on a cab? Or did I leave right then and try to make it up 26th street before the sun set? I took the cheap and painful way out and headed to the exit. As I was walking down the cactus walk, I realized the sun was setting fast, so I started walking faster, even though it was killing my feet. It was dark dusk by the time I got to that wooded part of the path on 26th street, going uphill. But there were still people running, so I wasn't too freaked out. Ever since we first moved to San Diego, and I realized that people live all around the canyons of Balboa Park, I've been scared to be anywhere wooded and hidden in the park after dark, especially after dark. I had this vision that if I didn't make it past that point before dark, a transient would grab me off the path and drag me into his lair and mug, rape me and make me cuddle afterwards with his stinky dirty flesh if he didn't decide to kill me.

Obviously, that didn't happen. I made it home. 5.2 miles to and from the zoo. I can't really estimate how much I walked in the zoo, but let's just call it .8 and say I walked 6 miles yesterday in my shitty nonsupportive flip flops.

Today, it hurts to walk barefoot on the tile in the apartment, and my ankles are the part of my legs that hurt the most. If I ever do this again, I have to remember to wear my Nikes.

My Cat Is Pissed At Me

So, I haven't really written much about the other cat, The Fuzz. She is the apple of The FP's eye, and honestly, if we had a kid I would doubt whether he could love a child more than he loves this cat. If it were socially acceptable and she would go for it, he would take her around in a papoose or a sling.

Anyway, she's very cute.

She's got short legs, but she's big and fluffy. She has medium length fur, except for on her tail, which is longer. She realizes that her tail is her best asset, and she really flaunts it sometimes. She will walk like the way models walk, and she will swish her tail or hold it upright.

She looks like a domesticated cat that has no survival skills for outdoors, like a persian, and she has no survival skills either. As my sister said, she's dainty. And she's not assertive at all. Whenever there are treats or people food to be had, she gets a quarter of it at best. When she wants to inspect or play with some object, she first gingerly paws/bats it with her tufty paw. Then she delicately sniffs it.

Her favorite thing in the world is cat food. So Stinksy has to be on special expensive prescription cat food because he is prone to crystals in his urine. It doesn't look very appealing, but she gets so excited when it's time to put more food in the bowl. She can be passed out deep in the bowels of the closet, but once she hears that telltail sound, she's up and on her way over. She does not like to eat when a human is standing nearby. She will wait until the human vacates a 6 foot radius. Then she takes that tufty paw and scoops a pellet onto the floor. She delicately paws it again, and then she takes it in her little teeth and barely chews it. Then the next one. But, she might only eat 15 kibble at one time. She likes to eat very small meals about 8 times a day. So, like every time she wakes up, she goes for the food bowl.

Anyhoo, getting back to her being pissed at me. She doesn't really trust us. Especially when we are standing. She does not like for us to pick her up. If someone so much as touches the pet taxi and she hears it, she goes into hiding for at least an hour. When she wants affection, she will come to us and demand it. Even if it's the middle of the night and we are passed out. Sometimes she will meow in my face and wake me up. I pretend I'm still asleep, but she will meow some more. Then she will nip my arm. It's cute and all, but I hate being disturbed when sleeping. The FP will wake up and throw his arm across me to pet her. So he's rewarding her negative behavior by positive reinforcement.

She tends to get fleas, although, I don't find the fleas, just rashy bumps. The vet said that she is probably allergic to the flea bites, so it feels just unpleasant really. So, I have to use Advantage on her. It really effects her on the first day, so I try to wait until I have to give it to her. So, it was getting pretty bad. She was on the back of the futon this morning, innocently hanging out. So, I thought that was a good time to sneak up and give it to her without assistance. So, I applied it, and she was off to the closet to cower for the rest of the day. Every time I tried to approach her, she would squint her eyes, as if my presence irritated her like the medication.

It really makes me feel bad every time I have to do this. She hates me for that first day. So, I had to sneak her some treats. I had to sneak them, because I could give Stinksy a whole bag of treats, but if he knew I were giving her some too, he might have to see how many she got and steal them. The treats were in the kitchen. So I turned the water on full blast. Then I also shook the rice in the plastic container. I oh so quietly took the treats out of the cabinet and opened the lid, making sure not to rattle them around. I reached my fingers in as quietly as possible and retrieved 4 treats. I gave them to The Fuzz, and she ate them. A few minutes later, she came out. When I looked at her, she gave me the old squinty face and ran under the table, where she is now. I guess that's progress. Hopefully tomorrow, she will come take a nap with me because she will have missed all the human contact she didn't get today.

What I Like To Wear Is What Not To Wear's Nightmare

So, I would say that if the FP had a chance, he would throw away most of my "wardrobe." I was dressing after a shower (I didn't take one yesterday, but I did on Sunday, so not that gross in my book) when I thought of my topic for the day. My horrible clothes.

I've had this fear that one day Stacy London and Clinton Kelly are going to walk in and unpleasantly surprise me. They would pretty much burn all my clothes, and buy me uncomfortable shit that I would barely ever find occasion to wear. I mean, really.

This is what I am wearing right now.

A moo moo or housedress. Well, I'm not leaving the house in this thing. Okay, I do use it to go to the beach sometimes. I bought this thing in Walgreens about 8 or 9 years ago. So, while it may be a product of a sweatshop, I guess those nimble little Chinese fingers didn't get all stuck and arthritic in vain. I gotten my $10 out of this dress for sure.

I really hope I didn't shatter your image of me, if you don't know me personally. Although, I still think only people who know me read this. My blogs about my life are so glamorous that I must seem like a member of high society. If you didn't know me, you probably pictured me stylishly dressed in the latest New York fashion with some stiletto Manolo Blahnik strappy shoes sitting at my Mac in my fashionable loft style condo with views of the Pacific Ocean from the cliffs of La Jolla a la Carrie Bradshaw of the west. Nope, I'm sitting here in a teeny Golden Hill apartment with views of the rest of Golden Hill in my moo moo.

Now, I realize it's ugly, and I'll probably change into a less flammable wardrobe choice when I cook dinner, but it's that part of the day where it's still warm, and I want to enjoy that shower fresh feeling, since it's such a rare experience for me.

So, I wear a lot of leisure clothes. And I buy them at Wal-Mart, Target and Ross, mainly. I used to go to thrift stores in my youth, but it's too much work. And I tend to wear clothes a couple of times before I wash them. I'm not working, and I'm not working up much of a sweat between my little morning jog, so, really, it's not that gross. I will walk out of the house with hideous old t shirts and my "coffee pants" (an old black pair of exercise pants) to go to the store.

Don't get me wrong, I do dress differently to go out or play a show. I kind of wear almost costumes when I know I'm going to play a show. Usually, I wear bright colors, matching or not, and striped socks or tights, maybe a Hello Kitty shirt or Paul Frank socks. These are some shoes that found me at Target. I was looking for flip flops, because the purple $1.99 ones I got at Marukai Home were about to go and getting really uncomfortable to wear. Of course, it's so hard to find size 7 flip flops in summer that aren't hideous. So, I was giving up and walking away, when these shoes sparkled at me.

This was the only pair, and it was my size. I wasn't even looking for anything besides flip flops, but I couldn't not get these. I mean, I was always looking for Hello Kitty shoes in my size at the gift shop in 99 Ranch Market, and they never had them in stock.

Here are my four bottoms that I probably wear the most right now.


These are my new house shorts.

I think I got them at the most horrible Wal-Mart I've ever been to. It had low ceilings and it seemed more disorganized than a normal Wal-Mart, and it just kind of sucked (more than a regular sucky Wal-Mart). Anyway, they were like $7 I think. I was looking for a $4 price point, but I couldn't find it. I have been wearing them mostly with one of my grey wife beaters, that I wear about 3 - 5 days before giving it up to the laundry basket.

Here's my jean skirt that I've had for several years now.

I think I got it on the clearance rack at Wal-Mart. This thing is great because it's a skirt, and it's jeans material, and it has pockets. My mom used to always go crazy for having more and more pockets, especially when traveling. I remember one time I think my parents were going to Israel and Egypt. They had gone shopping to buy stuff for their trip. My mom was ecstatic to show me this fishing vest she had bought for the trip! I mean she was so excited! She also had this bra that had zippers inside the padding to put money and ID and credit cards in. That didn't seem convenient, but she loved that bra.

Sometime in my life I realized that I inherited the pocket craze from my mom. I kinda hate jeans. They are uncomfortable, and no matter what cut they are, they always cut into my muffin top. I've never had a fancy expensive pair of jeans, so I can't say what those are like. My BFF's ex-hubby had a pair of those $500 no wash jeans the last time I saw him. You know, the kind that you are supposed to freeze to "refresh"? He didn't actually buy them, someone gave them to him as a gift, but if someone gives you $500 jeans, you have to wear them. Just don't wear them to go farming or painting, I guess, which why would you wear jeans for those activities anyway? It was dark, so I didn't get a good look at them, but when his phone started ringing it lit up through his jeans emitting a nuclear like glow. Unfortunately for him, this is my lasting impression of him, as it is bound to be a long time until I see him again.

Anyway, jean pockets are great. If I don't want to bring a purse, I have pockets. One for money, ID and debit card. One for keys, since if we're going out, there's a 90% chance I'm driving home. One for cellphone. The "secret pocket" that no one knows about, especially policemen when searching for drugs, usually has a guitar pic or two in it. They usually just stay there, because when I WASH my jeans like any self respectable red blooded american who knows the value of a dollar and the toil of sweat, the pics don't fall out, but they get a cleaning.

Black cargo pants. from Target or Wal-mart.

Yeah, I love these. More pockets. Right now there's money in the cargo pocket that I discovered the last time I wore these. That's another great thing about pockets - hidden money! I bought these before our end of winter road trip to Sedona, the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas. There was that crazy cold front that covered the I8 with snow and we had to drive behind a snow plow all the way through the mountains. Anyway, the pants were for the Grand Canyon. I had to wear tights, stretch exercise pants and then the cargo pants on top to walk around the canyon. And still, when I had to step up to my knees in snow, it was a little chilly on my legs.

Oh, my sweatskirt.

I really don't know where I got it or when. But it's like an old friend to me. Okay, it's not really sweatpants material, it's not fuzzy inside, but it's soft and worn out like a nice pair of sweatpants. I really like skirts, because they have air conditioning. My legs get hot in pants. It's funny, because I don't really shave my legs, so I have this kinda long, fine hair on my legs below my knees. I guess the friction from skirts and stuff rubs the hair above my knees off.

So, this blog has been long enough. I won't photograph each fruit of the loom wife beater and old t shirts and dresses. You get the picture. Anyway, please, I beg you, don't pull a prank on me and sign me up for What Not To Wear. Now, I'm not writing this in hopes that someone will secretly do it. I mean, sure I would love to spend someone else's money on clothes. But it would have to be at the stores I like. And I would not buy a $70 T shirt. But, the main reason I would hate to be on that show is the way the show ends. When the victim has to go out to a party with friends and family to debut the new look. We don't have many friends here. If I were on this show, TLC would have to hire extras to fill out the crowd. How embarrassing that would be! I would rather go out in public in the moo moo.

Getting Old

I sprained my thumb yesterday. I was locking the front door on my way out, and something funny (funny painful, not funny ha ha, mind you) happened. We went for drinks, so I didn't worry about it too much, but it was a nagging pain. It looked like the tendon or muscle was sticking out more than usual. I woke up in the middle of the night, and it was hurting. So, I found some medical tape and wrapped it up so it wouldn't move.

When I woke the next morning, it hurt even more. So I taped my index finger to my thumb for more support. We have a band, and we usually have band practice on Monday night. Luckily for me, the singer postponed practice til Friday. Our drummer has had all kinds of arm/nerve issues for a while. His arm was hurting, so he was also relieved to not practice.

The FP decided he wanted finish this song we had been recording, so he worked on that all afternoon. I decided that I wanted to put a sax part in. Yes, I play sax, no, I'm not that good, and yes, I was a band fag. I had to unwrap my index finger, of course, but my thumb was still safely mummified. So, I recorded my sax parts, and my thumb wasn't hurting too bad. Then I recorded a bass part. This kind of irritated my thumb, but the more I moved it around it seemed to loosen up.

I took the tape off my thumb, and it didn't feel too bad. Of course, now that I'm typing this blog on the computer my thumb is not happy. I guess I have to wrap it back up.

The FP said, you know the band is getting old when the drummer has a pain in his arm, the keyboard player sprained her thumb and it's too late to practice after the singer gets off work around 6pm (she does live in Encinitas). Too bad we're not quite old enough for medicare to cover our aches and pains. I wonder if we will be playing music long enough that we get to the point where we have to wear Depends on stage because we can't wheel our scooters off stage fast enough to not shit or piss our high waisted poly blend pants. If that time comes, I'm going to form a band called It Depends. Maybe we can get a sponsorship from Depends and travel the country in a comfy RV playing to all the retirement communities, sitting room only, show start time 4pm.

I wonder if I should sue the landlady for faulty door locks. She'll just think I'm suing her because I'm jealous of her relationship with the FP, though.

The Saga of Stinksy and Pete

So, if you've been reading this blog, then you know all about Pete. To recap, our friend moved away and gave Pete, the betta fish, to us. He had a bowl with a big open mouth. Our cat Stinksy started fishing as soon as he saw Pete in his bowl. So I bought a small tank with a lid on it. I put Pete in the bedroom on a high bookshelf that the cats rarely jumped on. So, Pete was ignored by the cats. But he got lonely being in the bedroom all day with little traffic. So, I decided to put him on the dining room table against the wall. He survived one or two days with no interest from the cats. And then, Stinksy noticed. He would paw the glass to get at Pete, but this was not satisfying enough. He would move the tank.

Then this morning (this is where the update starts), I found the tank moved, and the lid was moved off it a little. Luckily, Pete was safe in his big seashell. So, Pete gets more interaction, but maybe not the kind he wanted. So, I needed to do something. I had a wood board that was supposed to be a little ledge for the cats, but I never put it up. I needed small brackets to hang it, and I never got them. So, I had another larger piece of wood. So, I sawed off two legs, then I nailed the three pieces of wood together to make a protective lean to for the tank. I put it over the tank, then I anchored it in front with a 15 pound dumbbell on each side of the tank. So, there is no room for Stinksy to open the lid, and he can only push the tank back against the wall.

Just now, Stinksy woke from a 2 hour nap. The first thing he did was jump up on the dining room table to check up on Pete. Pete was napping in his shell. Stinksy looked at the tank for a minute or two, then jumped down to have an afternoon kibble merienda. So, we'll see what happens...

How OCD are you?

So, I have never been to a shrink. I would love to go and get evaluated. I would also love to go to get tested for allergies. I have a feeling both would have interesting results.

So, if you read one of my other blogs, you know that I determined on my own that my dad has Borderline Personality Disorder. There is debate about this diagnosis, because some think it was a thrown together profile that doesn't exist, that they just combined a bunch of generalized symptoms, etc. Well, whether it was made up or not (and aren't all psychiatric disorders "made up") it fits. So, I could have that. I definitely fit the descriptions. Of course, children of those with BPD could have it, or they could just feel unstable from the reaction to dealing with someone with BPD.
Anyway, I have been aware of things that I do in keeping with BPD - like having overly strong emotional responses to situations, or having that feeling of abandonment. So, it's that Catch 22. Are you crazy if you know you are crazy?

I know I'm crazy, but it still makes me crazy. I definitely get OCD with things. Like locking the door. If I don't remember the action of locking the door, I wonder if I did lock it. Even though it's an automatic response. As far as locking the car door, I almost always double check, especially if the FP has the keys. We often arm the car alarm in silent mode, so if I didn't hear the horn, or the silent mode click then I doubt whether it was locked. And sometimes the FP might not lock it if he's carrying a bunch of stuff out, which he usually is - catering bins, groceries or musical equipment, or sometimes all three.

When I'm in the middle of some task and another unrelated task has to be dealt with, I always need to finish the first thing, or come to what I see as a certified stopping point. This is bad when it comes to working in a restaurant, because really, if you need a recook or something like that, it should be urgent. But, I tend to have an attitude when I'm cooking the line, which usually just has to do with control issues and doing things my way and me putting out unsatisfactory food.

When I set an alarm, I have to set it for what I call a "soft number". That just means an even number. I usually will set it for 5:48 instead of 5:45. I will use 0,2,6, and 8. I'm not sure what I have against 4, but I think it's too close to 5. 5 is way too hard for an alarm. 5 means that I will probably turn off the alarm and oversleep. I think the FP has this issue too. Weird.

The FP has his own mental things going on. The one interesting OCD thing that he used to have was 7s and stars. His conversations would have to be in syllables of 3 or 5. So if he was carrying a conversation with someone on the phone, he would draw a 7 (with a hook for 3 segments) or a star for 5 segments. If the other person finished his or her thought without finishing a 7 or a star, then he would say something with the correct amount of syllables to complete it. Weird huh?

Another interesting thing I used to do was obsessively monitor my food intake. I would count items as servings or units. So, say I ate an ice cream sundae with 2 scoops of ice cream, whipped cream, fudge and nuts. That would be 5 units. Or maybe 6 if I had a lot of whipped cream. My daily intake might be 12. But if I ate a regular sized sandwich, that might only use up 1 unit. But I also used to count individual things, like skittles or M&Ms or nuts. So maybe 20 skittles was one unit. I know this is similar to an anorexic way of thinking, but I have always loved to eat too much to become anorexic.

One habit I have trouble shaking is waiting until I get home to eat something. Say, if I buy a bag of chips, salt & vinegar (which make my mouth water just thinking about them), I will try not to eat any until I get into the house. I'm not sure what this accomplishes, because either way, I'm probably going to devour the whole bag. But, I guess, if I wait until I get home and I can sit and eat them in front of the TV, I can savor them more. Eating in the car is more of a mindless compulsion for me.

So, anyway, that's a little more insight into my psyche. Fascinating, huh?

How To Bid On Ebay

Okay, so I'm not the most seasoned internet bidder. But I have been frequenting ebay. I'm looking for a keyboard, among other things I like to watch. Guess I'm mostly an ebay voyeur. Anyway, I've seen things sell for a pretty good deal and some things sell for not such a great deal. The FP bought his Fender Jaguar guitar for like $350 or $400, which is a really good deal. He won it on a Sunday the day after 4th of July.

Holidays and days after holidays are good days for ending auctions, especially if it's a weekend. Less people are on the computer because they're out doing real shit. Of course, now, everyone has smartphones and ipads and tablets, and there's wifi everywhere, so maybe it's not quite so easy to win an auction, but it's better on a weekend holiday than on a weekday. All you people who sit at a computer all day for a living get to pop in and out of facebook and craigslist and twitter and ebay. I get to right now because I'm unemployed, and all I do all day is sit in front of the computer, but I don't get the luxury of getting paid for it.

Anyway, I had been watching this keyboard - a Clavia Nord Lead 2X. It started off at 0 or $1.00, which is unusual. They usually start at $300 or more, with the reserve being maybe $450 or $500. So, I was excited to see where this one ended up, on the slight off chance hope it would stay low. So, it was listed for 10 days, which is long. The first couple of days, it didn't get past around $30. Then the next day it shot up to $100. It stayed around $102 for another day or two, then it shot up to $300. Now it's at $455 and there are still 2 days left. If no one else were to bid, it would still be a great deal. But that's not going to happen.

So, I guess, here's my strategy, or rather, my plea. Don't do the automatic bidding. Because you can raise the bid from $100 to $300 in one bid. And also, don't even bid until it's getting close to the end. Think about it. If only two people bid on an item in the beginning of an auction, and no one bid on it until the very end, whoever wins would always end the auction with a sweet deal. And also, it would force sellers to just start around the reserve. It's a little annoying when an item is listed as "reserve not met" and then the seller isn't able to move the product by the end of the auction. Then they have to repost it anyway.

I briefly looked at those newer sites like beezid, and those are annoying. When the bidding is counting down, the clock resets every time someone bids. So, it looks like you have to have hours after the official end of the auction free in order to get a fighting chance. Anyway, I like ebay. I'm like an old fogey used to the old sites. When a site like yahoo mail has a new improved browser or upgrades, I usually try to put off changing over as long as possible. I mean, look at my_space. It was doing great, pretty much running friendster into the grave, and then the spam came. And more spam. And right around that time facebook appeared. I really preferred myspace over facebook because it was more music-centric. The music player was right there on the page. But, everyone migrated to facebook. So, myspace tried to look and act more like facebook, but it was confusing and ugly, and really it was just too late. If myspace had squarshed the spam right away and not given so many options for skins that might take several minutes to load on old slow computers, maybe myspace would have thrived, rather than just surviving in a hospital bed in a coma. Of course, there is Justin Timberlake, who is supposed to perform CPR on the site. But I don't think CPR works on coma patients, does it? Well, we'll see. I think my gage of how successful myspace gets will be if it appears on the "Popular" drop down list on my Safari browser. If that happens, do I have to send Justin Timberlake a thank you card or flowers or a present? Or can I just let it go since he was just doing his job?

On the Homefront

So, I've been "taking time off from work" the longest time now, since I joined the real workforce. It was nice the first month, the second month was kind of hectic, the third I started to get ansty, now I just feel like a big loser. Thankfully, I've had the food blog for a few years, so the $1.00 in ad revenues I get from foodbuzz really helps! So make sure you go to the foodblog and click on the ads often.

Seriously, I love working, but right now I don't miss it so much as the occupation of time and interacting with human beings. My companionship when the FP goes to work is The Fuzz, Stinksy and Pete. The cats mostly just sleep all day. At least they sleep on the futon so that they are in the same room as me. Pete just swims around in his little tank. He also takes naps too in his shell. I did feel like he was lonely, since he always swam up and down in a zig zag fashion whenever I walked into the bedroom. With the cats not really taking naps in the bed anymore, I thought I would move Pete into the other room with us. The only viable space is on the dining room table against the wall. He's not in the middle of all the action, but it's better than nothing, right. I think he's happier, except this morning Stinky finally noticed that Pete had been moved. He pawed at Pete on the glass (plastic) and then he was messing with the lid too. Pete got scared and hid in his shell for a couple hours. He's out now, lazily swimming around, so I guess he recovered.

I don't know if Pete realizes how lucky he is, he gets to swim around all day, and how cool would it be to sleep in a seashell? Plus, he doesn't have to shower. I mean, I don't have a problem with showering, but if I primarily leave the house to go to the grocery store, why do I need to shower, right? I mean a lot of people who go to the store are way waaaay stinkier than me. The only thing that is annoying is that it's pretty warm out, so now that I've been on this exercise kick, I get sweaty every day. I don't like hanging around all sweaty, so I've been showering daily. Before the exercise, I was averaging 3 days without showering. I think the longest I went without was 5, but I may or may not have gone swimming in a pool or ocean once during that time, so there was a possible flushing with water.

Anyway, instead of being repulsed by me, you should applaud me, commend me, and follow by example. We are in tough times now, and conservation is important. So, I like to take long showers, really scrub out all the crevices. So less showers curbs a lot of water usage in the household. I also make sure I use old water sitting in an old glass to water the 3 sad little plants I have. I suppose I should invest in a few more plants. With the carbon load that we put out, we can't neutralize our very large carbon bigfoot prints, but it would spruce up the landing area.

We technically live in a condo, but we rent. So, in the past we had been spoiled by the maintenance around here. All the trash cans were put on the street for every trash day and put back right away. The common areas were cleaned a couple times a week and the plants (succulents that take less water) watered as needed. And the whole property was cleaned with a leaf blower ever Tuesday around 11:30 pm. This used to annoy us, because we were always eating. But, times have changed, expenses have gone up, and now, no more annoying leaf blower. When the FP gets home and we have a beer outside, I talk about how I'm going to sweep the "porch" the next day. I never do. I'm not going to complain about the lack of maintenance. The exterior generally still looks nice enough. I'd rather not get my landing blown then have to have my rent raised to pay for it. I mean, we've been here for 3 years now, and our rent has not been raised once. How did we get so lucky? Oh yeah, my husband is the landlady's boyfriend.

Don't get me wrong, there's some cracks in the concrete and the walls that weren't there before, holes in the walls, like termite holes, and in the wood beams, nails that stick out. But, generally, it's an okay apartment. We used to move a lot before we moved to San Diego. We lived in houses - big ones, or a loft, or an uncool apartment complex in Metry that had a swimming pool. But, we've learned to live with way less shit, and neither of us are housekeepers, so less shit, less room for shit, less cleaning.

Another thing that I love about this complex, is that we are some of the more boring residents. The original maintenance man used to live in the front unit next to us. He was a big loud and boisterous Mexican who talked a lot. But he was nice, and he fixed shit. One day he was with some younger woman and a little girl. He said, look, I married this girl! We just got married! So we said congrats. This lady and her daughter didn't always seem to stay there though, so who knows.

Anyway, one day there was a big sting operation with swat team, police, maybe the FBI and INS. Well, let's just say they were all there, DEA too. There were like 9 cars. And they took the maintenance guy away. The busybody old lady who lives at the very back of the property in condo #1 said that she thought the landlady (FP's girl) framed him. I highly doubt that, because he was a shady guy. He was using the landlady's white station wagon to haul stuff, so he would keep it overnight. It was all banged up. The trunk was smashed in at one point, and after a couple weeks it appeared in the lot with a red door on it, good as new. He had a couple shady compadres who would be appearing at the door all hours of the day and night. Sometimes late at night there would be someone banging on his door. So it was either him trying to get in because he lost his keys, or maybe someone wanting to engage in some kind of legal activity. He definitely seemed like he could be doing crack or meth. We often would be behind him at the corner grocery store at 9 or 10 am. He would be buying a pint of whiskey, you know, an eye opener.

I think I already discussed the current residents in that unit - the other guy who got hauled away in a police car, but that was only one car.

The lady who lives in #1 one day had some guy in a suit knocking on her door. He asked me if she was home or if I see her. I told him I see her come and go a lot. The guy left, and I saw her walking up. I told her some guy knocked on her door, and she got all suspicious. Who? Why, what did he want? I don't want some guy knocking on my door.

The guy that lived in the first unit on the other side got foreclosed on. This was a long time coming, because before we moved in, I googled the property. His condo was listed, but it seemed like in was sold. Apparently, that sale must have fallen through. He's a nice guy, he had this religious roommate. One day the roommate asked the FP if he had a few minutes to help him move something. The FP said sure, and next thing he knew he was helping the guy move this basketball hoop into his car. He had set it up at the end of the road. Our building is the last on the street, and then there's a fence and then the 94. So, the guy was bringing the hoop to his church.

Anyway, lots of people would knock on these guys' door and tape notices and envelopes on the door. Finally, one day, they had to move out. The foreclosure sign went up in the window. Luckily, the owner's brother owns the condo below him, so he moved in. But, the brother seemed to get notices and visits too, although not as often. They never seemed to have had regular jobs. I know the brother downstairs said something about them going into business together - import export or entrepreneurship or some sketchy generic thing like that. A week ago, two big muscular eastern european guys were knocking on the brothers' door loudly. They asked the FP if he knew them and if they were home. He said he didn't know, that he saw them come and go. The big dudes waited for 30 minutes before they left. The brothers' cars were there, so they were huddled inside. I guess the dudes didn't know which cars were there. Now the brothers pretty much stay home all day, and then they sneak out at night for a while.

The kids below us are college age. They would have friends over starting at around 9 on weekdays, maybe earlier on weekends. They would blast the techno music and party. They smoke cigarettes, so a few would stand outside and have a loud chat. Or they would laugh and party and joke with each other very loudly inside. Around 11pm, the place would go silent. And then around 1:30 or 2, the music would be pumping again, getting louder and louder. The cigarette smoking would increase, the conversation would get louder, more shrill, more voices. There would never be parking on the street. And they would party til 4 or 6 am.

One night, the music was the loudest it had ever been. Then all of a sudden silence. So, I don't know if a neighbor complained or called the cops. But now, they don't ever blare music and there are way less kids that hang out there. So, I don't know if they got a notice from the HOA, but it's nice. I never thought I would become one of those old people who hate those crazy kids making noise. I mean, I didn't care too much about their noise, because the acoustics from one unit to another are much quieter here than other places. But, every once in a while when I was already predisposed to insomnia but trying to sleep, they were annoying.

The people who live directly behind us are relatively quiet, except for the fact that they will play this driving game for hours in the afternoon, and it's really loud. The first couple times I heard this, I had no idea what it was. It was this hum, like on the freeway, but constant and close. One day it was pretty damn loud, so I walked outside to try to find the source. I could see the video game on the TV through the security gate. Once I knew what it was, it didn't bug me as much.

The women who live across from the foreclosure brothers are nice enough, but their dog is horrible. He's like a cocker spaniel or some kind of spaniel, and he's ugly and he barks all the time. Whenever someone walks by, he barks at the door and scratches and pushes against the door with all his might like he needs to get out. When they take him for a walk, he pulls at the lease and barks at anyone who walks by.

The guy that lives in the front who was arrested, him and his wife have two little poodlelike dogs. They look out the window and bark at everyone walking by. When they are taken for a walk, same as the spaniel, tug at the lease, trying to get free to attack. One time we were walking into the complex and the dogs were about 15 feet away. They started barking and ran as close as their leases would let them. Then one dog's lease snapped and he was free. He stopped for a split second when it snapped. Then he realized he was free and he went after the FP. He ran up to him and grabbed his pantleg and shook. The guy got the dog and put him back on his lease and apologized profusely, but I think we were just laughing. That little guy was a menace, but he was just shaking the pantleg. He might have broken through to the skin, but not a big deal.

Anyway, that's the exciting story of where we live.

It's dry out there.

So, it's ant season. We recently had a roach problem, that currently seems to be at bay, but now we have ants. Roaches are not as common here in San Diego as they were on the eastern side of the country where I came from. So, having roaches come into one's abode here, when there were no roaches previously means one is a dirty fucker, or the neighbors brought them in. The roaches did start to appear sometime around when the neighbors who share an adjoining wall with us moved in. So, I'm going to say it was their fault. I mean, after all, the husband or father or whatever did get handcuffed and hauled away in a police car one morning. He did come back, but, still. If you can get arrested, it's possible you imported roaches.

So, the roaches were coming out in the kitchen and we tore the kitchen apart. We didn't see any evidence of nests, but we put roach gel and boric acid and bait stations everywhere. After a week or two, I started seeing dead roaches on the floor under the cabinets. It was gross, because some of them had their miscarriages laying next to them - undeveloped eggs with translucent teeny babies scattered around. Roaches are one of those examples in the animal kingdom where babies are not cute. I mean really, that goes for all insects. Anyway, every few weeks I have to redust with boric acid, and knock on wood (that is hopefully roach nest free) we haven't had an outbreak.

But, the ants. Every morning there is a trail of ants to this little piece of food that dropped on the tile floor. And so the FP sprays with that ecofriendly spray, and then the whole place smells like a pine forest, because it has peppermint oil and rosemary oil. Right now there's evidence of a mass ant genocide a couple feet away from me under the shelving unit that needs to be mopped up. I do believe in reincarnation, but I don't really follow Hinduism or Buddhism. I guess I just liked the idea of having an alternative ending to heaven, hell or purgatory. Also, I have met so many people over the years who look like someone else, or have a similar personality or mannerisms, that reincarnation makes sense to me. Although a more plausible theory would be that there is a limited number of human characteristics that a person can have, of course they could be mixed and matched, but then personalities who resemble others would be encountered quite often.

The part about reincarnation that I guess I don't worry about is the killing of lives. Pest lives of insects and vermin, that is. So, if someone is a human in one life, and he or she comes back as an ant, doesn't that mean that his or her karma was not good in his or her past lives so he or she is suffering the consequences. So, if ants or roaches that I kill were humans, then they were most likely not good people. Also, if I am shortening their lifespan, then am I not giving them a chance for another more interesting life sooner?

Although, I do feel like ant ghosts are haunting me. I have had many an ant crawl on my skin, so now I constantly feel like there's something crawling in my hair, on my arm, or my leg. It's really irritating, and I probably look like I have turrets or I'm going through withdrawal. (I love turrets syndrome. That will be a great topic for another day.) So, I do believe in ghosts as well. I never really contemplated how ghosts and reincarnation fit together in the scheme of things, but I'm not really a deep philosopher. Contemplating squirrel poop is one thing, but thinking about the beginning and end of the universe and the meaning of existence is too much for me. In fact, I think I scored poorly in the subject of philosophy. Anyway, I just like to patch together general ideas that I find desirable to make up my own little twisted world view. I just want to be in the sun and water as much as possible, and to be irritated as little as possible.

No. 8 or Numero Ocho for the Latino Readership

So, I've made it over a week! That is a huge accomplishment for me. But for today, I'm not sure what to write about. I feel not so funny today. I wish there were a douche for that.

Girl: Mom, do you ever feel not so funny?

Mom: Oh, honey, that's natural. I use Summer's Eve Humor Wash. Here, let's go to

the bathroom and I'll show you how to use it.

Girl: Isn't it like a douche?

Mom: Well, yes.

Girl: How will it make me feel funnier? It just smells like rotting fish that has

been fermenting for a week in the sun.

Mom: Yes it does, and that's hilarious.


See, not funny. I mean, I could just write about something depressing, but I don't want this blog's foot to step on my other depressing blog's toes. So, we'll try to think of some funny shit.






Here's a funny fact. I must go on Facebook about 10 times a day. Although, most times I just click it on because it's like a tick. If I post a comment or something, I'll check to see if anyone liked it or commented. Yeah, I do that. Other people do also. My total time on FB probably doesn't even amount to an hour a day though, unless you count the times that I have multiple windows open and one of them is facebook. Okay, that's really more of a sad fact, and maybe it should go on my other blog. :(






Maybe this is a funny fact? I talk to my pets like they're people. Every time I walk into a room where one of them are hanging out, I'll say, "Hey Fuzz!" or "What's up Stinky?" His name is really Stinksy, but we call him Stinky, even though he only stinks when he lays on dirty towels. If I walk into the bedroom, I'll say, "Hi Pete!" Is that funny or sad?






I googled funny facts. I didn't really see much stuff that made me even crack a smile. Fun facts aren't necessarily funny, I guess.

Well, here's a funny nugget. I'm in the habit of calling people the FP's girlfriend. Like, say, several years ago he was into watching Nancy Grace. So, I would say, oh, your girlfriend's on TV. A little while ago it was Chelsea Handler (who is a funny fucker, btw). So, for the past several years, since we've lived in our current apartment, the FP's main squeeze has been our landlady. She's a nice lady, to us anyway. When we first met her, she liked me right away, but she didn't really pay attention to the FP. I believe her husband was a diplomat and they lived in the Philippines for a while, or they visited there, so that was why she liked me. If you don't know who I am, which seems impossible if you are reading this, I'm a Filipina- American. Oh, and also the FP is my husband. If you want to know what FP stands for, you will have to read my food blog, which you will find when you check out my profile page. I'm not sure if I'm first generation or second generation Fil-Am, because I've googled it before and different people have different interpretations.

Anyway, the landlady is very hands on. She will be here all day kneeling in the dirt in the front replanting the landscaping. Did I tell you she was old? It seems like it's unPC to say old now, right? You're supposed to say elderly or something else? Well, this lady is pretty damn elderly. She's like an octogenarian. She doesn't walk very fast, but she will work all damn day long. And she always wears pants and sneakers and a shirt, and a sweatshirt on top of the shirt. So, she will be weeding or planting or watering or whatever all day long, winter, spring, summer or fall, with a sweatshirt on all day long. I have no tolerance for heat any longer. If it's 80, and I walk outside, I feel like I'm going to pass out. But she'll be at it all day in the baking sun, no problemo.

So, she is a grandmother, well probably a great grandmother. And she wears grandmother undergarments, or granny panties, if you will. So, she gardens and stuff (not uphill though) and she's bent down in the dirt a lot. And sometimes her granny panties are riding up. So, the first time, I caught the FP staring at them. I mean ogling. I mean undressing her with his eyes. Maybe even some foreplay with his retinas, definitely second base with his rods and cones.

So, I called him out, and then we (I) decided she was his new girlfriend. On top of that, she found out he was a private chef and taught cooking classes. This intrigued her as it intrigues most women. OOh, a handsome man who can cook?!? So, he would be leaving for work, and they would have a long conversation about what he would be cooking that day. And when he would have a big event he would be bringing in a lot of groceries, so she would ask about that. Then the day after she would ask him how the event went. It got to the point that when I saw her, she would ask me how his event or cooking class went. I was reduced to chopped liver. But, I'm a liberal wife, so I've allowed this relationship to go on, literally under my nose.

Unfortunately, she has lots of properties, so she will spend lots of time at one, and then disappear for months. So, the FP doesn't have the most steady relationship with her, but whenever he gets a chance to see her, he lights up like the Las Vegas strip. Why do I put up with this? I guess he's being honest at least, and who wouldn't fall for her? Also, I'm hoping that maybe she'll eventually cut him in on her will. You know, just a small token...

Man Do I Need To Get A Life

Am I saying that my work defines me? Yes, I guess so, to a point. I mean, when you meet someone, what's the common questions? Where do you live? What do you do for a living? How big of a loser are you and should I even spend 2 minutes getting to know you?

Anyway, one of the clues that I have too much free time lies beneath the ocean. Okay, it's really freshwater. I am referring to our fish, Pete. Our friend and former lead guitarist of our band (which is now on hiatus) moved to Indiana so he gave us his betta fish. He brought the fish in a plastic pitcher, and the plastic gems and a big shellfish were in his bowl, which was like a big margarita glass. So, he poured the fish back into the bowl, added some tap water and that was it. He brought some fish flakes and water conditioner too. He didn't really give many directions. He just told us to feed the fish once a day, and that he likes to be where he can see the action. They forgot to feed him once for a few days and he lived, so no problem.

So, a few minutes after we acquired Pete, our cat Stinksy went over to the bowl and started drinking the water. When he realized there was a fish in there, he tried to stick his paw in the water and grab the fish. This is when I decided we needed a tank with a lid on it.

I didn't have much time, so I went to the evil Wal-Mart. I stood in the fish supplies aisle for about 10 minutes trying to choose a tank, out of the 6 possible choices. I went with the one gallon triangular job with the undergravel filter.

So, I went home, read the directions for the tank and set it up and relocated Pete. I put him on the bookshelf in the bedroom because Stinksy never goes up there. After I had done this, I went online and read about keeping bettas and maintaining tanks. Of course some people said they are perfectly happy to live in a teeny tank, and other said a 1.5 gallon to 5 gallon tank was sufficient. Then I was reading about "cycling a tank". This stuff started to scare me. Was I going to kill this fish overnight? Well, I figured he was pretty traumatized already from the plastic pitcher ride in the car to the relocating addresses and tanks. So, I slept on it. I fully expected to wake up to a floating blue fish carcass, but he was alive and swimming.

Anyway, it's been about 6 weeks and he's still alive. I probably spent a total of ten hours online reading up about fish, even though I haven't done much. I do worry about him, because if we don't go into the bedroom much he seems lonely. As soon as I walk into the bedroom he swims to the closest side of the tank. If I move from one side of the tank to the other, he follows me. I wish I had unlimited finances and knowledge to build a a tubelike extension to the fish tank that could go all the way across the apartment so he could hang out with us more often. I don't have the unlimited finances or knowledge, so I just go and visit with him when I think of it during the day. And at night when he's tucked deep in his seashell, I try not to wake him up when I go into the bedroom. So, here's my question for the day: do fish have feelings?

Squirrel Poop

If anyone is reading this, please respond with some answers!!!!!! I've been wondering where squirrels poop, and what it looks like. When I google this topic, there is no answer that satisfies me. One person said they shit in their hollow trees or from the branches of trees and it disperses and is so small you don't notice. And someone else said they can go while in motion, so it spreads out and you don't notice. But really, where do squirrels shit? And does anyone have photographic evidence of it?

In high school, my friends and I gave my BFF this flying squirrel she had been eyeing in the pet store. I don't recall seeing this thing take a shit or even what the shit looked like. That is an altogether different case though - a wild animal in captivity. That was an unfortunate purchase btw. This thing was freaked out and scared shitless. And I think we got like a 10 gallon terrarium for it, which obviously wasn't big enough. It escaped when we brought it to her, and it was a nightmare getting the thing under control. It crawled all the way up one friend's leg, totally freaking her out. So, the flying squirrel was named Satan, I believe. Poor thing didn't last very long, although I don't imagine their lifespan is very long anyway. The things one used to be able to find in pet stores way back when....

My first apartment in Boston was across from Boston Common. I can't tell you if there were more hippies walking around out in the open smoking weed or more squirrels there. But the squirrels were used to handouts from people. One time, this squirrel jumped up on the back of a bench as I was walking by. It was like begging for food. So, I happened to have a bite sized snickers. I don't know if I had been eating one, or maybe the squirrel's little keen nose smelled them in my back pack. So, I unwrapped the bite sized Snickers and offered it up to the little fella. He/She grabbed it out of my hand and started nibbling on it, no fear, no shame. It just gobbled it up. No one ever believes that story.

Here in San Diego, America's Finest City, they were poisoning squirrels and gophers at Balboa Park. So, because people who use the park were directly or indirectly feeding these animals, the populations grew. The park was being overrun with these animals and diminishing visitors enjoyment of the park. So, they were poisoned. I am not sure what the stance is currently. I know a lot of people put up a big stink so it was stopped at least temporarily. I wonder if that's ever been a proposed solution to the growing population of transients here in America's Finest City? Just throw out a bunch of poisoned pizzas on every street corner downtown and in the bushes in Balboa Park, and let it do it's thing. Well, it's just about as outrageous as leaving poisoned bait in a public park...

What time do they close the bouncy castle?

So, I live in a predominantly Mexican neighborhood. So, if you're not familiar with the culture of the Mexican family, every time someone has a birthday, they have a backyard fiesta with music, tons of food and drink and they rent tables and chairs and tents if they don't own them. If it's a kid's birthday party, they rent a bouncy castle. The family next door rented a Justin Bieber bouncy castle. They were inflating it around 11 am this morning. So, now, it's 10:10 pm, and I hear the scream of little kids, then silence. So, I guess the bouncy castle closed at 10 pm. Which is the normal time that hotel pools close, so that makes sense.

Speaking of Justin Bieber, it makes me think of guilty pleasure TV shows and movies. So, let's make a list of guilty pleasure stuff that I like in no particular order. I am not going to include obvious shows like Family Guy, because, most everyone watched those at one point or another. Guilty Pleasure suggests that it's embarrassing, even though I'm not really embarrassed of what I watch.

1. Degrassi. If you've never heard of it, you're missing out. It's like the preteen/teen show that was edgy, before My So Called Life, Freaks and Geeks, 90210, The Secret Life of The American Teenager, etc. I watched Degrassi Junior High when Spike was pregnant, and then wheeling a baby carriage with baby Emma around school. Then several years later, I learned that there was a Degrassi The Next Generation, with Emma and her pals as the stars. There were issues like stds, homosexuality, and bullying and school shootings. This later morphed into just Degrassi. I admit, the cast and plots are a little lacking the last few years, but I still watch. Right now there is a new episode Monday thru Thursday. The hot new topic is a female teacher/ male student relationship.

2. Twilight movies. I don't have much to say about these, just that I watched the first two when the FP was out of town. I do not believe he could tolerate more than 2 minutes of one of these movies, so I wouldn't even attempt to subject him to them.

3. Frankly, I can probably watch any teen high school or college comedy/drama. For a while Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared was on TV around midnight, so I've now seen most of those episodes in the past year.

4. Breaking Bad. I only started watching it this summer when all the previous seasons were on, 3 episodes a night, every night leading to the season premier. I recorded and watched every one, except I missed episode two or three from the first season. This show is so addicting, ha ha. But hasn't everyone always wondered what it would be like if a really amazing chemist decided to make illicit drugs? Well, I'm sure this is the case. I like to believe that the people who make those beautiful sheets of acid that produce this mind expanding life altering inspiring trip are these amazing brilliant minds that just do this for the benefit of mankind on the side when they are not curing cancer. Does acid even exist anymore, anyway? Not that I've done it, I'm just asking. I know that a lot of this stuff went around in the 60s, I think, and I heard it was groovy.

5. Tosh.O C'mon. Who doesn't find this show mind numbingly piss your pants funny? And I'm pretty sure there's a running joke as to how many gay jokes about Daniel Tosh can be fit in an episode, along with the one mandatory naked scene by him in every episode.

6. Chelsea Lately/ After Lately. Honestly, I like After Lately more now. But, both are funny and while I would die to work with Chelsea Handler, I would die if I had to work with her. I don't think my nerves could handle it, as I'm already kinda paranoid to begin with. I would have to just drink like she does and take massive amounts of anti anxiety meds and sedatives.

7. Jersey Shore. Yes. Really. Love it.

8. Locked Up Abroad. Amazing show. It's about people who get jailed or held hostage in a foreign country. It's such a shame how all the ones who got caught with drugs were innocent helpless creatures who didn't have a choice or felt forced into it or thought it was going to be pot but it turns out it was cocaine or heroin instead. Anyway, if you haven't seen this show, watch it.

9. Vanished with Beth Holloway. Thank goodness that the mother of the teenager, Natalie Holloway, who was murdered by Joran Van der Sloot in Aruba, got herself a job. But actually, this is a great show about unsolved mysteries of people who disappeared. I guess Beth Holloway is just following in the footsteps of John Walsh with his America's Most Wanted show.

10. Fatal Attractions on Animal Planet. OMG! Such a gory good tragic show! It's about people who own exotic pets who end up maiming or killing them. People getting eaten by their own snakes and wolves and stuff. There was the one lady just in the news, Charla Nash, who was the subject of one episode. Her friend's chimp ripped her face off. Such a great show. Which still doesn't dissuade me from the idea that if I were to come upon a lion or tiger in the wild that they wouldn't kill me, they would just want to snuggle up with me and take a nap because we would have a mutual understanding.

There you have it. Guilty Pleasures.

One parting thought. Is there any adult bouncy castle bars? Hm... you wouldn't be allowed to have a drink in the bouncy castle I guess, and if you were drunk you might throw up in it. So, maybe it's not the best idea. But every once in a while, it would be nice to have a late night bounce. Boy, I miss my BFF's trampoline.....