Overheard at the Subway/TCBY as I grabbed a sandwich on my way to work this morning:

Guy: "I'll have a small chocolate frozen yogurt."
Clerk: "I'm sorry sir, we no longer carry chocolate."
Guy: "Well what do you carry then?"

I'm guessing what they carry is, you know, what's written on the sign in front of his face. But I could be wrong.

Clerk: "We replaced it with coffee, sir. It's very good."
Guy: "No, that won't work. I hate coffee."

...

Guy: "What's it taste like?"

Two points to the clerk for not saying, "Coffee, sir. Oddly enough, it tastes like coffee."

And thus was December 29th declared to be angry grrl music day.

*disclaimer - this mp3 is in no means meant to imply any subversive rage directed at anyone I may or may not know. It just means I'm pissed off today and have been listening to this CD very loud. :)

So I stopped into the office today to polish off a little work and email some work home to myself, and while I was there I decided to pay a few bills. I pay most of my bills online now, and the spiffy T3 connection is hard to resist. I stopped by the Sprint PCS website to pay my cell bill but their site was acting quirky and wouldn't display my total due. So I picked up the phone and called their 800 number listed on the site and heard,

"Hi. You're reached your wildest fantasies and hottest dreams. If you stay on the line, one of our operators will be right with you...."

And my first thought was, 'Wow. I had no idea Sprint felt that way....'

....

Of course, my second thought was, 'I really hope they don't look at the office phone records and wonder why I just called a phone sex line from work..."

The Americus Diamond narrator spoke over stylized and spinning diamonds in necklaces and rings.

"Some men need that little extra nudge to know what a woman really wants for Christmas."

Funny, and I thought I wanted a Pentium III 850 with a 21-inch monitor.

Silly me.

It's foggy and drizzling outside, but the cat is warm and purring, the couch fluffy with pillows and blankets, and a stack of movies and fresh-baked cookies await my attention.

Merry Christmas!

(and a squeak from the orange cat...)

Dear Discover,

I hate your new ads. Did it occur to you that perhaps insulting your target audience isn't a way to raise credit card applications? I see a marketing guy somewhere saying, "I know. We'll make these sort of funny ads about shopping, and people will see them and say, 'That's me!' and then we'll imply... no wait, we'll almost directly say that they're idiots and can't manage their finances... and then we'll offer up the Discover card as a solution!"

Maybe I just resent them for years ago, on the same day, both turning me down for a Discover card, and upping my Sears card limit by $2000. Since the entire point was that, um, I didn't want to shop at Sears.

At 5:30 this morning I stumbled out of a dream about airplanes. I've had airplane dreams for years, never nightmares - but always anxious dreams. If I board an airplane in my dreams, inevitably it never leaves the ground. We taxi down the runway, gain speed for take-off, and at the last minute, the pilot changes his mind and we take off driving down city streets. Sometimes we clip buildings with our wings, or see nice views of the cityscape, but no one is ever hurt. We just never manage to gain enough speed to take off, even though the pilot keeps saying we will.

I woke up anxious, in a dark and chilly house lit only by the blue flame of the wall furnace and the green glow that said I'd left my computer speakers turned on yet again. Chet hopped up on my chest and curled up, nudging my hand with his head, and watched me with huge black eyes as I rubbed fur tinted blue by the darkness. Blinking slowly as he purred, he kept an eye on me until I fell back to sleep.

Don Lapre of informercial fame has found a job at my local Starbucks.

I was a bit early for work this morning, so I decided to drive through and pick up a nice Venti Carmel Frappucino, with no whipped cream. (Because when you're drinking a gallon of frozen espresso, whole milk, and caramel, cutting out those extra calories is important. uh-huh.) This is what met me...

Susan is, with no small degree of talent, putting on mascara in the rear view mirror while she inches the car forward to the drive-up speaker.

Disembodied voice (henceforth, Don Lapre): GOOD MORNING!

Jolting at the volume, our heroine slathers mascara under her eye.

Don Lapre: HOW YA DOING THIS MORNING!?

Susan: Um, I'm, uh, fine.

She works at rubbing mascara off her cheek and notices she also managed to flail some up onto the sun visor.

Don Lapre: AND WHAT EXACTLY CAN I GET FOR YOU THIS MORNING?

Susan: Umm. A venti caramel frappucino with no whipped cream, please.

Don Lapre: GREAT! A CARAMEL FRAP VENTI HOLD THE WHIP! IF YOU PULL UP TO THE WINDOW, I'LL HAVE THAT RIGHT OUT!

(Note: I think no matter how you order at Starbucks, they must be instructed to repeat it back to you in a different style to make you feel like a dork.)

Susan pulls the car forward to the window.

Don Lapre: THAT'LL BE $4.28. HOW'S YOUR MORNING SO FAR!!??

Susan: Um, fine. Great. Thanks.

Don Lapre: HERE YOU GO. YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY, OKAY?

Perhaps the last person who should be working the coffee drivethru is the guy who's been at the espresso since 3 AM. I nearly grabbed him by the throat and pointed out that while he may be all caffed up and perky, I had yet to actually have any caffine.

But I was afraid he'd start trying to convince me to sell tiny classified ads from my one bedroom apartment...

And might I add, "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia", while dated, does contain a bit of very sage advice.

"Don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer."

I mean really, that's advice to live by, isn't it?

It's musical "blast from the past" night at my house! (Courtesy of Napster... home of obscure, I-wouldn't-have-a-clue-where-to-find-this-stuff-on-CD, music...)

It started out with a little tour through my college girl, dance club days with Digital Underground's "Humpty Dance", Young MC's "Bust A Move", and a little New Order. Ohhh, I can almost smell the dime draws of stale Bud Light and see the image of my fake ID - the one that said I was 5'10' with blue eyes. Ahhh, back in the day.

Moving along backwards, I grabbed Al Jarreau's "After All". When I was 17, I dated a guy who spent evenings DJ-ing at a local, non-profit radio station. In a moment of inspired teen romantic panache, he dedicated the song to me on the radio one night. Granted, I was probably the only person in town listening to his show, but still... it's the thought that counts. (Unfortunately, he turned out to be a bit of a schmoe.)

And then, the jewels of bizarre mp3 downloads. I have no idea what possessed me to get Vicki Lawrence singing, "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" and Cher's rendition of "Dark Lady". I remember listening to those 45's when I was very young. In the mid-70's era of trash disco, they were the first time I remember hearing songs that were dark and bleak and somewhat disturbing.

It is somewhat comforting to know, however, that I'm not the only person out there hunting out embarrassing mp3s. After all, someone out there took the time to actually rip them as mp3s, right? Whew.

Certain things that at the right moment can, in fact, be better than sex:

1. Double hot-chocolate. (Two packets of mix, half the water, equals chocolate goodness and double the marshmallows!)
2. A long empty stretch of highway and a very loud CD in the stereo... and a heavy foot on the gas.
3. Dancing around to earsplittingly loud music in your living room.
4. Napster - the hours of searching for the perfect mp3 and the payoff of finding it. (OK, this one was contributed by my audiophile friend Greg.)

Oh alright. I'm not kidding anyone here. But the double hot-chocolate comes damn close, alright?

OK, yes. We did have a wicked-ass ice storm here in Texas last night.

And yes. Gore did just concede to Bush, clearing the way for The Dub to pack up the U-Haul and move from a big white mansion in Austin to a big white mansion in DC.

And, well, yes. The 'hell freezing over' jokes stopped being amusing a few hundred jokes ago.

Now I know why I kept my leftover, Northern winter, plastic bottle of Ice-B-Gone pellets...



Unfortunately, I didn't keep my ice scraper.

By the way, my latest addition is in no way meant to lessen the fact that I had a wonderful time in Mooville this last weekend. It was great to see my old friends and be reminded of how kickass all of them are! I had a great time - even if I did lose too damn much money at the casino. Sigh.

One of the great annoyances of my life is my tendency to cry when I'm frustrated. A very child-like reaction that I've just never been able to shake. It has nothing to do with my being sad really, just frustrated and unwilling or unable to 'fix' whatever is bothering me.

I don't know whether it's a full moon, or the thing in my life that's frustrating me, and that I can't change through sheer power of will, but all day I've felt like I was mere moments away from crying.

So, you know, it's not just you, Bear.

Steve Martin has done more for the word 'obsequious' than anyone. Every time it pops into my head, I hear Steve Martin singing, "Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant"

For some reason, 'obsequious' keeps popping into my head this morning.

Things I Will Never Be (an ongoing series)

1. A woman who drives around with Beanie Babies in the back window of my four-door car.
2. A Girl Scout mom in an SUV.
3. Organized enough to date more than one person at a time.
4. Capable of buying my Christmas presents during the summer when I have more money.
5. Caught dead in a suit.
6. Able to leap capital "T" in a single bound.

The downside to amazon.com wishlists - when you are checking all your friends' lists for gift ideas and you notice that they all have purchased items, and realize you don't. Wishlist envy!

I'm going to go buy myself something from my wish list so I don't look lame. I think it's sort of like buying myself flowers...