Revenge is a dish best served with pinto beans and muffins.

Dom and I got our buddy, Larry, to come sit on the baby last weekend so we could go to the movies and feel like real adults for a while. We went to go see the new Star Trek and then retreated to a wine bar. And we picked the wine bar just so that we've been to a bar together on a date without losing all that prestige and pompousness we've acquired all these years by using words like "pompousness" and "lacrimose."

That's beside the point, which is this: Star Trek was AWESOME. Maybe it was just seeing a summer blockbuster in an actual theater, or eating fistfuls of popcorn somewhere other than my couch, or maybe even just seeing Sylar with groomed eyebrows...but it was awesome.

Of course you have to go into it knowing that it's an epic space opera and is more of a headbang to the old 1960's series than a nod. Also, you can't say the words "space opera" and not expect me to start quoting lines from The Wrath of Khan in vibrato. I have done it, publicly.

Today's subject line quote is Armando Guittierrez, "Freakazoid!" (1995) {The Chip: part 2/Freakazoid Is History (#1.7)}.

Okay, I'll be the hungry lioness and you can be the baby gazelle!

Writing is still mad at me, ran off to Cancun with My Patience, and left me here alone with Crankiness. So I thought I'd just share a picture to let you all know that I'm alive...and have pretty hair.



Been doing a wild 'n curly thing with it, hoping it will make me look hot and not tamable--like a lion, even though girl lions look bald and it makes no sense for me to want hair like that. It also makes me less of a slave to my hairdryer, and therefor, my electric bill.

Today's subject line quote is Maggie O'Donnell, 17 Again (2009).

Well, you sound like a little bitch.

Me and writing haven't been getting along very well lately. I've always got some great thoughts dancing around in my head, but every time I sit down to type I'm just like, "Fuck you, Writing! What's you're problem? I don't need your shit." Then I throw a drink in his face.

Which is why it's a good thing I haven't been trying to blog at the Starbucks or somewhere public. People get scared when you yell at imaginary things and demand their coffees to go. Not a good way to make friends with the native Slidouchebags.

And see? That's all I've got for you today because Writing is being a bitch. And not in a good way, like Writing is MY bitch. No, just a typical drunk chick off the Rock of Love bus kinda bitch. Yeah Writing, I just gave you Herpes! How do you like that? Oh, well I didn't give you Herpes from me, I just...whatever. I'll just go clean something.

Today's subject line quote is Naomi Clark, "90210" (2008) {We're Not in Kansas Anymore (#1.1)}.

They say an elephant never forgets...but I forget what the elephant remembered.

The blog's been in a bit of a slump.

I realize and have now not only addressed the elephant in the room, I had a nice talk with her. She likes chick flicks, works for Nilla Wafers instead of peanuts, and is ironically afraid of clowns for a former circus performer. Maybe that's why she's camped out on my couch watching DVD's of Grey's Anatomy?

Anywho, I have some things I need to do for myself. Stuff I'm not really ready for the world to read about just yet. Pull yourself together! I know it's out of character. I'm so self-involved and intertwined with the internet reading about my life that Michael might actually be the love child of me and this blog. There's no blood test compatible for half-human-half-megabyte babies though, so Dom will just have to go on raising him as his own.

I did go back and read my old, angsty, teenage blogs for some clarity. Holy crapola on a stick! I had a lot on my mind circa 2002. It's a bit more obvious to me now what was bothering me. Wonder what made me so absorbed at the time that I couldn't see Jumbo playing Crash Bandicoot in my bedroom, scowling at my Cirque du Soleil poster?

Today's subject line quote is Ed, "Ed, Edd, and Eddy" (1999).

A vampire wanting to slay a demon in order to help some grubby humans? I just don't get it.

I read a book.

Don't freak out or anything. I know, it's shocking to me too. I don't think I've read a book for fun since Bush was president...Bush Senior. Perhaps not that long ago, but certainly pre-motherhood. And the last book I read and actually enjoyed was when I was still young and thin enough to pass for a background dancer in High School Musical.

My book club (which is just another name for my Mommy Meetup group that wanted another excuse to get out of the house) is meeting for the first time this Saturday. We all put up suggestions for the first pick and since vampires are the new magical wizards, I begged and pleaded for the Sookie Stackhouse books. To my dismay, everyone else picked Twilight.

Of course. I shook my nonconformist fist and grumbled in the background, but eventually picked up the damn thing to get a feel for it before next weekend. I started it around 5 p.m. last night, read between rounds of dinner, diaper changes, watering Dom after he mowed the lawn, and was about 2 chapters away from finishing it by the time I went to bed at 10. Woke up and immediately finished it between rounds of breakfast, diapering, and coffee/sippy cup refills.

Now, it's no secret that I have an affinity for the strange and elegant allure of a good vampire saga. Well that and cutesy robots that dream of being human. Who doesn't like a heartwarming robot story? Or cheesecake? I really love cheesecake.

Anytransition, back in the day I was nearly to the level of obsession that involves licking the television screen every time I saw David Boreanaz on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So, holy freakin' bloodsucker...I need me some more Edward Cullen. I've actually been pacing my house because Dom took my car today and I can't continue from the New Moon sneak peek in the back of my paperback until he gets home and I can go get the full version.

Can you blame me? It's got all that excitement of falling in love that gives your stomach flutters, danger and damsel in distress rescues, and the guy sparkles in sunshine. Yes, I not-so-secretly daydream about being saved from death by incredibly handsome undead men who are then shocked when I suddenly kick their asses in a very slayeresque manner for doing so. Because clearly, I don't need saving but I want the best of both worlds.

Today's subject line quote is Bookstore Owner, "Angel" (1999) {Are You Now or Have You Ever Been (#2.2)}.

I hand selected them with careful consideration to group dynamics.

Social circles involve all kinds of horrific and annoying people. Not all are the same level of civil atrocity and depending on what person you are, "the worst" is always subjective. Over the years I've met rainbow of headaches in the form of people. I'm guessing most of you have met someone that could fall under one of these categories too.

The Escape Artist

He or she is a master of self-defensive maneuvers, and by that I don't mean a wicked set of karate chops and sweep kicks. This person has an excuse for everything. They've given stubbornness a face and it's staring you right in the eyes. These types have a million problems they have to share with you, but secretly like their troubles because of the attention they receive. Here's an example:

EA: "My foot is on fire."
Joe Schmo: "Throw water on it!"
EA: "I would, but I don't want to get wet."
JS: "Fire extinguisher?"
EA: I'm allergic to things that might help me. I'll just wait it out.


The Therapist

This Dear Abby will undoubtedly get tired of the Escape Artist's shenanigans quickly because he/she is an advice giver to the point of needing a real therapist. "Therapists" think their crappy experiences give them the authority and heroic calling to inform everyone that "What you need to do is..."

One-Uppers

Have a really great story involving dancing elephants and a tour bus breaking down in front of your house? Great, but the One-Upper had Dinosaurs in tutus drive a trash truck through a neighbor's window.

I'm naturally a bit of a One-Upper. It's not intentional or as extreme as most true OU's, but I do feel compelled to share story for story. I've met a new group of moms via meetup.com recently. They're normal. All pretty down-to-earth and even sometimes funny. More importantly, they laugh at my humor instead of just staring at me with a why are you still talking look.

Which is why I'm trying to mute myself every other conversational topic. Not everyone has to hear EVERY story I might have been reminded of. That's what I have a blog for.

Today's subject line quote is Hodges, "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" (2000) {Lab Rats (#7.20)}.

And Australia's still like "WTF, mate?

I am not dead! It's been an eventful and interesting week of which I will now address; however, Dom made me watch this again last night and since I, too, am le tired I feel like pronouncing everything with a Group X quality French accent.

So I have declared that le blog should be read today out loud with a French accent. Is funnier, no?

First off, the inspection I was yelling at the laundry about went fine. They have now registered that we have a "mostly outside" cat that "we made the mistake of feeding once." In other words, we never told them about Opie and instead of staying outside after I threw him over the fence in the back, he came back whining at the back door.

Also, our oven broke the day before the guy showed up. And since I'm still waiting for a call back, I'm going to have to contact them myself. We also must have been right in the middle of a light bulb kamikaze mission because they ALL burnt out the same day. No one has that many on hand unless they're Mormon or a Boyscout.

Then our internet got scared of all my yelling at the laundry and ran off again. After spending 2 hours on the phone with tech support with the cable company and a man in India that works for Linksys, my internet still didn't work. Well the net did, but the router was still effed up. I fixed it by myself without having to call another Indian man for 2 hours. I am le awesome.

You forgot to continue with the accent! Hm? It's ok, I reminded you. Come on "reminded" is an especially fun one to say all French and fancy pants.

Now for the better parts! Did (most) of our taxes and we will be receiving a large refund. I'm not surprised, we do have a walking rebate trying to poop in his diaper right now. But we've decided to pay off a credit card with it. We managed to pay off 2 in the last year! Now if we use our refund, that will leave us with minimal credit card debt and can actually eliminate that by next tax day!

So we celebrated by buying a few frivolous (do it French) items. We never really do that! We have a monthly allowance that often gets neglected because we're so frugal now. Frugal is just another word for "guilty about spending."

Anyway, Dom got a new Playstation 2 since the one we bought used a few years ago died a slow and painful death. It's been refusing to read discs more and more. Since we just bought an assload of Guitar Hero stuff at Christmas, we just couldn't bring ourselves to get another platform. We felt a bit frugal about it.

And guess what I got! Did you say iPod Touch? Why, yes! I did get an iPod Touch!! It's le sweetness. I'm totally turning into one of those people that's always on the internet via a mobile device. Prepare yourselves for me becoming a total asshole. That's why I'm having you pretend I'm French today.

Today's subject line quote is from "But I Am le Tired" by Group X.