Kitten a Go-Go

Pop Culture Haiku: Why, Len, why?

Len, Len, Len, Len, LEN. 
Yellow is not your color.
Don't wear that again.

Dr. Doom 1, Danielle 1

How do you like these apples, Dr. Doom?  Every last piece of tape that your assistant painstakingly placed on my foot fell off in the shower.  I'm still wearing my ugly ass sneakers (although I am wearing color in an attempt to match them - so much for my Morticia Addams style today).  You told me the tape would last.  You lied.  Point for me.

I will call your office when it opens and see if you are going to make me come in for more tape.  So you will have another chance for a point because I am a good and obedient patient.  Ball's in your court.

There's No Crying In Ballroom...

But it's apparently okay if the inarticulate hostess coughs on the talent.  Or takes a drink in the middle of her only job - to make uncomfortable chit chat during score time. 

I HATE SAMANTHA HARRIS.  SHE'S SICK.  SHE SHOULDN'T BE THERE.  BUT SHE'S TOO SCARED TO LOSE HER JOB.  SHE KNOWS SHE CAN'T TAKE A DAY OFF BECAUSE THEY WILL CHANGE THE LOCKS.  I BET SHE SLEEPS THERE.  BECAUSE SHE IS SCARED.  SHE SHOULD BE.  IDIOT.

Oh, sorry.  I got a little lost in the moment.  I want to comment on a few things.  Let's make a list.

1.  I think Karina is hoping near nudity will help with the geek votes.
2.  Shmark.  That's funny shit.
3.  Lil Kim doesn't do it for me.
4.  Poor Steve O. 
5.  I heart Chelsie Hightower.  Their routine was great.  She's doing well with that cowboy. 
6.  This season's football player didn't really do anything but walk.  That was all Edyta. 
7.  We missed DAG because of a DVR mishap that I don't want to talk about. 
8.  I heart naked guy and feel he truly deserved that perfect score.  And way to go costuming!  I'm loving all of the hose with seams.  Especially sparkle seams.
9.  My favorite is definitely Bachelor chick.  Mostly because she's got to be thinking she dodged a bullet with that guy that dumped her and now she is having a ball and probably making some pretty good money.  That's what they call a comeback. 

Wait, I can't help it.  I want to talk about Samantha Harris more.  Why does Chelsea Handler hate her???  Why hasn't Perez reported on this???

Dr. Doom 1, Danielle 0

I went to the podiatrist this morning.  I will simply say that an enjoyable time was not had by all.  I was told that my symptoms are too vague.  What?  I gave him an exhaustive list of my symptoms.  Apparently trick ankle was not enough for him.  He agreed that I mangled it (a sprain, i guess) last week in the shower and that led to a cortisone shot.  That was on the list of my top five most painful experiences.  I'll put it right up there with its next door neighbor, the tattoo. 

After that, we had a discussion that involved me not wearing beautiful footwear and looking like a gardener.  I heard him, but ... These conversations have gone nowhere in the past.  Why should he be different. 

He did trick me, so it is Dr. Doom 1, Danielle 0.  He said that he wanted to tape both feet to help with the pain.  I agreed.  I thought he meant stabilize the ankle.  Oh no.  Dr. Doom had other plans.  He wanted to fix something called pronated feet.  Something to do with flat arches.  So, my feet are taped into a most uncomfortable position. 

Now, I have to <gulp> wear sneakers for a week.  You see, this tape is apparently water soluble.  It will be on here for five to seven days.  Five to seven days of this incredibly painful tape.  and sneakers.  I'm now the little lawyer with sneakers. 

In conclusion, this sucks.

Will a Change Do Me Good?

Obviously, I can't sleep. Aren't you lucky, internet? 

So, I had that facial yesterday.  I believe the lady when she says that my face is an oil slick because the proactiv dries it out and things are overcompensating.  Long story short:  I can't afford dermalogica. 

Instead, I'm going old school.  Cetaphil, witch hazel and aloe in the morning.  Cetaphil, witch hazel and super organic wrinkle eating night cream that I found in Sunflower and super organic eye cream, also found in Sunflower.  (near that annoying singing guy mentioned in an earlier post who was looking at their vast array of vitamins, I guess.) 

We'll see how this works out.  In law school, I was getting really bad breakouts and the proactiv was the only thing that did the trick.  My skin seems to be changing again (into the icky wrinkled kind).  As I am not ready to inject shit into my face, I must look for alternatives.  We'll see if these potions work.  Since I just had the facial, we are working on a clean slate. 

(I wish I could afford microdermabrasion so that I could really be working from a clean slate.  I had a light peel one time and I don't think it did a damn thing.  Then again, it was the same she-devil known as Waxer Bitch 2007.) 

Mock-A-Sins be damned

Here's the background that you need.  Like a good episode of Lost, this goes here and there, back and forth.  You know the drill.

When I was 23 or so, I first realized that a good pair of heels was like a healing elixer.  Shortly thereafter, I found myself at the podiatrist office.  (Was it really my fault that the healing heels were a half size too small and I wore them all of the time anyway?)  The doctor, disgusted with what she saw said something about pronated hammer toes and splashed some acid here and there and told me:  you will wear new balance sneakers and clarks forever more.  I listened.  Briefly. 

Flash forward.  I generally wore sensible shoes through law school.  But somehow, I kept buying more and more impractical shoes.  I believe it has something to do with my friend Aleks and my first exposure to a special land called DSW.  I realized that this was tricky due to my old lady feet, but I couldn't help myself.  Who can resist the endangered metallic gold leopard?  No one, that's who.

Flash forward.  Last year of law school.  Danielle gets a treadmill.  Since my ankles are weak and don't allow me to run like a normal person trying to burn calories through cardio, I decide to walk quickly at an incline of 12% every day for 30 minutes.  No, no, I don't warm up.  No, i don't cool down.  I walk, I go to work, I go to school.  That's how it went.  An annoying pain developed.  Back to the foot doctor.  Tendonitis.  Kind of bad tendonitis.  Like, wtf are you doing that made this happen?  Again, new balance with inserts and clarks for the rest of my life.  But what about my beautiful sculpture garden of shoe treasures?  Too damn bad if you want to walk.  Fine.  Exercise with stupid slant bored.  Exercise with stupid golf balls.  Do far less strenuous walking on treadmill.

Flash forward.  Licensed attorney.  Beautiful shoes continue multiplying in close to hide all sorts of other things going on internally.  And then there are more.  And then there are more.  and more.  and more.  So many beautiful shoes.  They sit together in color-coded rows, begging to be praised and gently loved.  Practical black heels get worn to work.  After a while, only three days a week because, by Thursday, the pain is far too great.

Flash in the middle.  Roller skating with ladies.  Oh dear roller skating jesus, what on earth is wrong with my ankle?  Why can't it lift up the roller skate without tremendous pain?  I just want to skate with all of the pre teens who think I'm lame.  Ow ow ow.  For days, the pain continues.

Flash to last week.  Pain from sports injury continues.  Ankle frequently rolls.  So annoying.  Curse at ankle frequently.  Court appearance and deposition appearance require appropriate footwear.  Not clarks.  Pretty shoes.  I believe they were Steve Madden and Nine West.  Nothing over the top.  Okay, maybe there was a small cork platform on the Steve Maddens.  But whatever, they are comfy and I won in court.  Good shoes make good lawyers, clearly. 

Flash to Thursday.  Shower.  Reach to floor to obtain bottle of conditioner.  Ankle rolls.  On slippery surface, which adds a bit of a twist.  Howler monkey shrieking begins.  PAIN PAIN PAIN.  Go to work with foot in ankle brace, hoping pants are long enough to disguise because of the hideousness (in addition to the clarks). 

Friday.  Continue hobbling.  Limping.  Slow walking.  Continue taking ultracet until I become too tired to take anymore.  Then continue with monster doses of advil.  Nope, still hurts.

Saturday, still hurts, but getting slightly easier to walk.  It only hurts super bad if i have to move foot forward (i.e., accelerating/breaking in vehicle.  ouch.).

Earlier today.  Go grocery shopping.  Last store, Smith's.  Jackass bagger didn't pack reusable bags well AT ALL.  Leaning into car to adjust items in bag.  With no warning, trunk decides to close on back.  OW OW OW.  While trying to get trunk back up and writhe in pain, somehow, twist left ankle, formerly known as the not messed up ankle. 

Present.  Both ankles hurt.  I took an ultracet, but I think I just threw that up.  (oh, sorry, we weren't going to talk about that, but whatever.  It happened.) 

Future.  Tomorrow morning, I work from home for a couple of hours.  Then I go to the new podiatrist.  I can't remember his name, so we will call him Dr. Feet.  I am not psychic, but I'm pretty sure I know how this will go.  New Balance and Clarks will be mentioned.  I'll bring up my side job as a shoe whore.  He won't care.  He will say, no no, Jimmy Choo bad.  I will slap him silly.  He will say Clarks.  I will say no, you can't make me.  NO NO NO.  He will force me to go to their outlet store and buy hideous mock-a-sins (no clue how to even spell that).  I will be forced to leave my post as Hello Stiletto Chapter Leader because I own such hideous beasties.  My life on Vegas in Heels will be a lie.  A very beautiful, tax deductible lie.  My sculpture garden will provide more joy to Batgirl than to me.  Sad times indeed.

If nothing else, I do hope that he uses some of that cool flesh eating acid to remove some problem areas.  I probably should also mention that I do self-surgery on my ingrowns.  (oh, you didn't want to hear about those either?  sorry.)  And that I spend most of my mornings filing off the extra layer of feet that tries to grow overnight. 

So, I expect tomorrow will be a very bad/sad day for me.  I'll keep you posted because I know that you care.  Deeply.

Why Can't I Find the Laundry Basket: Tales of my Sunday

Today, I slept in because I haven't been feeling well.  (More congestion, etc., which I'm sure plans to invade my bronchial areas.)  I needed to go to the office and run a massive list of errands. 

Off I went to CVS and the dollar store.  Then to work for a bit.  Then to Bed Bath & Beyond.  Then Sunflower for grocery shopping.  I encountered a really strange man at Sunflower.  He was listening to his iPod but singing very loudly.  I mean, VERY LOUDLY.  I just wanted some pears.  Then I just wanted some spelt pretzels.  Then I just wanted some wrinkle cream.  Every place I went, there he was.  Singing.  Very unsettling after our third run-in and then it just kept going.  Sigh.

Then I went to Smith's.  More shopping.  Got pissed because I couldn't find a bunch of stuff.  Then, the jackass bagger kid placed things in a way that ruined numerous boxes (Shredded Wheat was on sale and I was stocking up).  Annoying.  Then got gas.  Then went to CVS to return something.  That should have taken approximately two minutes.  It took 12.  I was NOT HAPPY as there were frozen things in my car. 

Now I am home.  I am still frazzled and annoyed.  I blame that lady at CVS.  She made me consider changing alliances to Walgreens.  I got over that quickly and realized she is just the worst CVS employee ever. 

I am exhausted.  Feels like I have accomplished next to nothing today.  Sigh.  Boring day.  Cranky me. 

Guilt over a lack of yeti arms

Today, I decided to splurge and get a facial.  Mostly, because I direly need one.  My face is gross right now and the change of seasons usually requires a facial.  I liked the girl who did it.  She spent an ample amount of time on massage, when I far prefer that time be spent on excavating congestion.  (Is that the PC term for it?)  I need all of the crap dug out of my skin and about a layer of skin removed so that we can start fresh for spring.  But fear not, she did all of that too.

While there, vanity kicked in and I had her wax my yeti arms.  (yes, I am a natural blonde, but my arms still look like that of a yeti).  I feel it was extremely brave that I tried waxing them again.  Or, I am very stupid.  It's hard to say.  You may all remember the incident now known as Waxer Bitch 2007.  If not, here is the photo to remind you of the cost of my vanity (and the poor technique of the waxer bitch who was in charge of de-yeti'ing my arms that day).  This was only a couple of weeks before the wedding.

 

That did not happen this time.  Plus, no one is allowed to get near the tender chubby underbelly of my arm with hot wax again EVER.  New lady's wax looked like very thick pepto.  It was sort of weird.  She did a damn fine job though.

Then I got home and there was another bill sitting in the mailbox for something unexpected.  I now feel bad that I spent the money on myself and on my vanity.  (plus, my sinuses are killing me and i am poor humor anyway.)  So, I don't have yeti arms and I am still a little pink from the facial, but I feel guilty about it.  Should have saved the money.  Right now, I feel bad over every non-essential purchase and think I need to save the money.  Sigh. 

What's done is done.  I'm going back to reading my library book now.  While my eye waters and I sniffle incessantly.

In honor of my favorites: Jeopardy! and Microserfs

What are your ideal Jeopardy! categories?  Mine are:

1.  DWTS Turns 8 [The daily double would be to name the first hostess before Samantha Harris]
2.  Hereinafter "Legalese"
3.  The Nudist Sphynx
4.  Name that immunologic disease
5.  Lowbrow Art
6.  90s Alterna-chic Rock Rhyme Time

Jeopardy! You just got schooled Pawson-style

Well, tonight was the culmination of a year's worth of obsession with Jeopardy!  The second day of the Tournament of Champions.  It was a kick ass game between Ms. Larissa Kelly and my new Boston BFF, Dan Pawson.  I was extremely excited to watch it.  I could tell from all of the hits on this blog asking if Aaron Schroeder is gay that a lot of people were watching and interested.  (As I have repeatedly said, I don't know if Aaron is gay, but I think he might need glasses because he seems to squint when look at far away stuff.) 

I am sad for Larissa, but I've become quite a fan of Dan Pawson over the past weeks.  I liked him when he was on and thought he was a freaky right answer robot.  He seemed super confident tonight.  Look how fast he wrote down Who is George?  I would be dead if someone asked me about British Royalty.  (Or presidents.  or anything historic that isn't American after 1900 or art related.  I'm good at books and I kicked all of their asses in the french confections category last night.) 

So, Larissa, I could see your disappointment.  I am sad for you.  But Dan Pawson, I congratulate you.  You made it look oh so easy.  Good luck building your house fund!

DWTS: Sequin Samba Edition

Tonight, Bruno said too many important things to just ignore them.  First, he called the tiny gymnast a beautiful bejeweled hummingbird.  Then he told naked guy that he was throbbing red hot poker.  It was an interesting night for Bruno. 

Let's get down to business.  I need Samantha Harris to be fired.  I don't know how to get the job done.  Everyone I know hates her.  Including my pretend friend Chelsea Handler.  I do NOT understand how she has stayed on the show this long.  My beloved Tom Bergeron is everything a host should be.  Charming, quick on his feet and literate.  Samantha, not so much.

My proposal is that we fire Samantha and bring on Cat Deeley.  There's clearly quite a bit of cross-over now with So You Think You Can Dance, so I don't see why they can't share everything, including hostesses.  My only purpose for Samantha Harris is to see what she is wearing and look at her jewelry.  They could dress Cat Deeley in those dresses and bejewel her.  She can read.  She's appropriate when interviewing.  If her dress has a pocket, she doesn't constantly have a hand in it so that you are always reminded that there is a pocket.  (Did you think I didn't pick up on that last week, Samantha?  I did and I didn't like it.  Not one little bit.)  Cat Deeley could even bring some of her weird costumes, like when she was an African Princess or a fairy or a ballerina.  It's all fine.  Just get rid of Samantha. 

Pop Culture Haiku: Dan Pawson, Jeopardy! Wizard

Dan Pawson, you rock.
You bet Twenty-Two Dollars
And pissed Alex off.

Jeopardy! More on Champions, Larissa and my new friend Dan Pawson

Today, I had a killer day at work.  I do not blog about job specifics, but there were depositions and oppositions and other things ending in -tions.  I worked all weekend.  I expected to have a very late night because of one of the -tions.  I got out at seven.  As I stumbled toward the elevator, I had on thing on my mind:  TONIGHT WAS THE FIRST NIGHT OF THE TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS FINALS.  (and note, west coast people and Alex Tree-beck, it's tour-nament.  not turn-ament.)

I got home.  I happily started steaming cabbage.  (Have I mentioned that there is no food in the house because I worked all weekend and didn't have time to grocery shop?  I had spelt english muffins and cabbage for dinner.  A fine combo, but I digress.)

Tonight was day one of the finals.  Everytone knows that I have a little lady crush on Larissa.  (She's up there with Detective Olivia Benson.)  I am still blown away by her eerie calm face and her furious button pushing.  Man, she was getting her whole body into it. 

I still like Aaron Schroeder.  But, internet, I repeat - I do not know if he is gay.  I apologize to everyone who gets here by wondering about this man's sexual preferences.  I just don't know and I'm sorry to everyone that I've disappointed.  (Ages ago, I used to get searches for a tampon instructional video.  Don't know why.  But it happened.  Same thing here.  Not something I've got for you, but good luck with your search and I hope you find what you are looking for.)

The person I want to focus on tonight is Mr. Dan Pawson.  Dan has freaked me out a little bit on past episodes.  I swear, part robot.  No emotion.  Right answer.  Right answer.  Right answer.  Never seemed dismayed, overjoyed.  He is a correct answering machine.  Tonight, he did the ballsy true daily double thing (always respectable).  Then, he pulled my absolute favorite move - betting a weird amount on a daily double.  Nothing pisses of Tree-beck more than when you bet an off the wall number. He bet $22.  I could tell that Alex was annoyed when he had to say $7,178.  Since Alex's presence annoys me more than anything on the show except the "clue crew" and their never-ending trip to Peru, I am always secretly pleased when someone ruffles his Canadian feathers.

So, my favorites are now:  Larissa, Dan and then Aaron.  Sure, I never composed an entry regarding Dan when he had his first run.  But perhaps that's why I didn't make him lose.  (Sorry again to Larissa and Aaron for that.)  Dan, I wish you good luck. I'm considering composing a haiku for you.  (Because that's when you know you've made it.  Or maybe it means that I am truly slipping over the edge due to lack of sleep and nonstop exposure to the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure.)

I wish you all well tomorrow, even though I know this was taped in January.  When I had a pass to CES, but didn't realize that I might be able to see Larissa Kelly.  (I would have gone ape shit crazy fan too.  I like to think she would have looked at me with her eerie calm eyes and said go away.)

Fortune: You like to travel and see stuff.

Every time I get a fortune cookie.  I get a non-fortune.  Telling me I like shoes is not a fortune.  Telling me I have pretty hair is not a fortune.  Telling me that I am awesome is not a fortune.  A fortune involves the word "will."  It has to predict the future.  These are my rules. 

Yesterday, I had lunch with Stef at PF Chang's.  I got a fortune.

NEW FINANCIAL RESOURCES WILL SOON BECOME AVAILABLE TO YOU (1, 11, 16, 25, 28, 49)

It is a proper fortune and I want it to come true.  I kept it.  I am going to continue keeping it.  I assume your fortune can't come true if you throw it away.

Jeopardy! Champion Style.

Internet, I could not be more pleased with the finalists in this year's Tournament of Champions. 

First, there is a gentleman named Dan Pawson.  I think he is part robot.  His expressions change little.  He is there to get it done.  He freaks me out a little.  But let's be honest, he never inspired a post before, unlike the other two finalists, Aaron Schroeder and my beloved Larissa Kelly. 

It seems that a lot of people think Larissa Kelly is sexy because I keep getting google searches for it.  And people want to know if Aaron Schroeder is gay.  In fact, one person was looking for gay porn with the Jeopardy! champ who is a graduate student in San Diego.  While I agree that Larissa works that sultry smart librarian thing, I do not know anything about Aaron Schroeder's sexual preferences, so I cannot help you. 

Of course, it is no surprise that I want Larissa to win.  She knows everything and she is still so freaky calm.  To the guys, I like you, but I want Larissa to kick your ass.  Good luck Larissa Kelly!  May you win almost a half a million dollars from the show that has the most annoying host on earth!

When left on my own, here's how I roll

Okay, The Boy is away at a conference.  (Thank you to all the saints for making it possible for me to not do domestic law.)  I am home.  I worked late.  I am really tired from work.  I've also got myself on a two day TV fast while The Boy is away.  I figure I should do things like blog, and talk to you, internet.

Here's what I've done since I got home. 

Facebook.  Duh.

Eaten.  Frozen oatmeal and a cantaloupe.  Have mild palpitations when deseeding cantaloupe because one of the seeds almost touched me.  must remember to wear gloves next time.

Discovered big dumb white cat locked in bedroom.  Picked up big dumb white cat and tried to get him to do the Single Ladies dance with me.  He politely refused.

Watch cats fight.  (funny because hairless cats make a very amusing slapping sound when they fight.  No fur to muffle their fury.) 

Consider cleaning up.  Decide not to because I am a slovenly pig.

Consider scanning photos.  Decide not to because I am the picture of sloth.

Now considering reading book until I am ready for bed.  New book club book.  (it better not suck because I'm going to be reading it before the new Christopher moore.)

My goals for tomorrow:
Get up early enough to exercise (i.e., jump on mini trampoline)
Win at court (I am covering a hearing for someone and I feel bad when I lose other people's stuff)
Finish monstrous pile of projects at work
Remember to take out enormous pile of recycling
Wear open toed cute ass shoes to court.  it's close enough to spring

That's it.  I am so lame and happy to be this lame.  It's a good fit for me.

I am afraid of home invasions

Last night, The Boy went out to get my dinner.  A few minutes after he left, I heard the familiar whoosh of the sliding door/window sound.  I didn't pay much attention to it.  Except that a minute later, I heard a very loud crash on the back patio.  Quite simply, I lost my shit.  I tried to call The Boy to see if he was in the backyard for some unknown reason, trying to scare the bejeezus out of me.  No answer. 

So, I peered out of the dining room area toward the back door.  There were two very startled nudist cats staring at the back door too.  Neither of them doing anything that would cause a crash.  I considered going into the kitchen to obtain my weapon of choice (decided on the spot as the Rachael Ray chef knife).  But then I remembered that the blinds were partially raised in the kitchen and I was afraid the crazed killer would be more enticed to invade my home if he/she saw my presence and my threatening weapon.  (I assume crazy killers are more interested in invading homes when they are challenged with a shiny weapon.  i.e., I assume everyone is as competitive about their respective professions as I am.) 

Since I was too scared to move, I sat in the dining room, clutching my phone.  Eventually, The Boy returned with my In N Out.  I told him what happened and he looked outside and said nothing looked out of the norm.  I remained paranoid throughout the evening and he did another inspection before going to bed. 

At that time, he discovered that the window was open and the screen was out.  So, big open hole in our wall.  (hence, the whoosh and the crash.)  The Boy recalls opening the window recently.  I do not recall when the window was open because that is usually a magnet for dumb naked cats.  (They do enjoy the warm breeze on their naked tummies while they sun themselves in the morning.) 

So, I am convinced that someone is trying to rob us.  The Boy thinks it was something unknown (wind, perhaps?).  In conclusion, I have two points:

1.  I do not wish to be robbed. 
2.  Do you think Rachael Ray would have me as a guest on her show if I were to kill/maim a robber in self defense using one of her Furi knives?

Pop Culture Haiku: The constant object of my hate

Samantha Harris
I want to slap you silly
With your microphone

Missing you...

Dear Mommom,

You have been on my mind a lot this weekend.  Yesterday, I took Batboy and Batgirl with me to run a few errands.  (Because a trip to the special pharmacy feels exciting at 4 and 6...)  On the way back, we passed the airport.  Batgirl asked me if I flew on a plane to see you.  I said yes.  She then asked if you died.  I said yes.  Then, she said how.  I tried to explain to her in the best way that I could.  It was a very difficult conversation to have with a four year old. 

She then asked if my grandpa died.  I said no.  She said, were they married a long time.  I said yes.  She asked if he misses you.  I said yes, with his whole heart.

It was a short conversation, but it was so incredibly hard.  To explain emotions that are still so fresh and painful to a little child who doesn't yet have to comprehend death. 

I've been riding my dad about sending your buddha to me.  I have loved that buddha since I was a little girl.  I know you wanted me to be a good catholic, but I'm trying to be a good buddhist.  I have some very special planned for that buddha when it arrives. 

My reflexologist (who has the gift) told me that there would be some days that I am suddenly overpowered with how much I miss you.  She was so right.  I am overcome with grief. 

When we were in the car on Saturday, Batgirl said that she wished she could have met you.  I told her that I wished she could have to, and that I sent you pictures of them.  It was so final.  She won't have that chance.  Nor will I have that chance to see you again.  My heart felt so heavy. 

I really hope I make you proud.  I love you so much.  I cherish my memories of you. 

Love,
Danielle

I Need Cheap Swedish Furnishings

Dear Ikea,

Look, I've done my research.  I know you refuse to put a store in Vegas because we don't have 2 million residents or something.  Have you perhaps considered that we have a HUGE tourist population (even now) and that sort of makes up for it? 

Here's the thing.  I need an Ikea.  I, like many Americans, am living on a budget.  But I am also extremely OCD and I need my shit to be organized.  I like YOUR bookshelves.  I want them for my sitting room.  I do not want the books in piles on the floor.  I can't alphabetize them that way.  I can't organize them into my own library organization system.  I need YOUR bookshelves.  I also want some inexpensive kids furniture for Batboy and Batgirl.  FROM YOU. 

I hit Ikea when I go back east, but I'm not shipping bookshelves from Philly.  That defeats the purpose of cheap Swedish furnishings.  I need Ikea in Vegas.  Can you please consider accommodating me?  I will tell everyone about it. I will drive tourists there.  You will do well fiscally. 

If my begging does nothing, and you continue to refuse, I'm going to be stuck renting a large vehicle and driving all the way to California (boring drive!!) so that I can get cheap Swedish furnishings.  I don't want to do that.  That is an exhausting all day affair.  I do realize that I could probably hook it into a quick trip to see the ocean (because I like knowing it is there), but I don't want to do that. 

Accordingly, please obey my wishes and open a Las Vegas location.

Thank you for your consideration,
Danielle

We haven't talked about my hair in ages. AGES.

I know that absolutely no one cares about my hair as much as I do.  Perhaps Kristin cares a little bit because it is a small piece of her livelihood, but whatever.  I care about my hair.  Deeply.  So we're going to talk about it. 

I made the earth shattering decision recently.  I decided to let my hair grow out and go back to my natural color.  Here's my rationale.

My hair has been falling out in giant clumps on a daily basis.  This is thyroid related and, in addition, it is a side effect of Diflucan, which I take to banish the candida.  Because of how much has fallen out, it is growing back and my hair has lots of annoying little wispy pieces and looks broken.  I don't want to piss off those new hairs by immediately attacking them with hair color.  My natural hair color is still pretty light and doesn't have any gray yet (that we can see), so it seems like this is the time to go natural, while my hair grows back and gets stronger. 

I'm curious to see what it looks like.  It's been a really long time.  From the top of my hair, it still looks beige.  More like the color of wet sand since it is a really ashy blonde.  So, we'll see what happens.  I hope that it isn't hideous as it grows out.  My beloved Kristin (now at Suite One in Summerlin) will put a toner on it when it gets too two-toned.  So, brace yourselves.  In a year, perhaps we'll see what my hair should actually look like.  (and i'm sure I will immediately want highlights!)

15 minutes a day went into overtime

I mentioned that I was trying to accomplish some goals with the fifteen minutes a day method that I learned in my Time Mastery CLE last year.  Well, taking fifteen minutes really motivated me to just get the dreaded chore done. 

We have a room that I like to call the home gym.  It's a den on the first floor and that's where The Boy's bowflex lives.  Until today, it has also been a pit of junk that was never unpacked when we moved in last year.  There were books.  Paintings.  My law school class binders.  So much junk.  On the rare occasions that the cleaning lady comes, we would just throw everything into that room and put a sign on it that said not to clean that room. 

It has been one of my goals to get that room organized.  It seemed like it would be a monster because there was simply too much stuff.  Well, it's done, more or less.  There are still a few storage containers that will be transitioned to a room upstairs.  (the spare bedroom.)  All of the books are in the sitting room in our bedroom, waiting patiently for some bookshelves from Ikea.  (which I don't have in Vegas, but that's a different post.) 

There is a massive pile going to Goodwill.  I dismantled all of my law binders and there is a mountain of paper to recycle.  We're talking five or six bankers boxes full of paper from law school and other various things.  (I hope they take it all on Thursday.) 

There is so much more to do to get organized, but I am VERY HAPPY with the progress I made this weekend.  It's coming along.  A year after moving into the house! 

Wanna Be My BFF?

Dear Seemingly Cool Woman Standing behind Me at Smith's,

Remember when you were four and you could start talking to anyone and be BFFs in a matter of minutes.  If someone looked like a good match for your particular self (perhaps she had the Purple Pie Man and you had Strawberry Shortcake and you wanted to battle...), you just walk up and start talking to said little girl and there you have it.  Friends for life. 

As I've gotten older, I find it so hard to make new friends.  I am shy and I won't put myself out there, but if you talk to me, I will answer any question that you feel fit to ask me.  (Go ahead.  Test me.  There's a whole lot you don't want to know, but if you dare ask, I will tell you how it is.  That's how I roll.)

Today's errands went like this:  Dollar store for newspapers, Borders (for Kelly Clarkson and Christopher Moore book), Sunflower, Smith's.  I was flying through Smith's because I didn't want The Boy's mozzarella to go bad (as it is already boiling hot here).  While in line, I gave the nice cashier person my cute reusable bags from Whole Foods.  The check out begins. 

You were behind me in line.  You were super nice and struck up a conversation about my cute bags.  (They are the "I Used To Be A Plastic Bottle" bags that were always on Top Chef.)  We chatted more and you showed me your cool coffee mug without poison plastic that can be microwaved and I was very intrigued.  We discussed green things.  I checked you out.  Nice hair.  Properly groomed eyebrows.  I couldn't judge your shoes because of the stupid cart in the way, but I was wearing sneakers, so I was in no position to judge. 

And I thought to myself, Hi, want to be BFFs?  But I couldn't do it.  You seemed cool and I think you would have said, sure, let's be BFF.  I could have handed you a business card and we could have been friends.  And, maybe, just maybe, you aren't a lawyer or in any way related to the law.  (I love all of my friends dearly, but we are not a diverse group when it comes to occupations.)  (And I need people like Leslie to keep my yuppie whining in check because she works for a non-profit and knows that I need my ass kicked for my aforementioned whining.)

So anyway.  I wish I had asked you to be friends.  I wish I still had that four year old courage to just ask interesting people to be my friend.  But I don't.  I am self-conscious and shy.  If I ever see you at Smith's again, I am going to strike up another conversation and attempt to be friendly and maybe then...

Your Future BFF,
Danielle

15 Minutes Per Day

Last year, I took a time mastery class for CLE.  It was an amazing class and I kept up with things for a while and then ...  life got sloppy again.  My dear Stef said that she has been using the methods we learned in the class and it is helping her.  I realized that I needed to get back to those basics too.

One of the things we learned was to take fifteen minutes a day to accomplish a goal.  Just fifteen minutes.  I've been doing that and I am making progress.

My number gripe is not having enough time to get everything done.  Cleaning always gets pushed aside.  I don't particularly enjoy it.  Okay, I hate it, unless I can make a list or alphabetize something.  The house is becoming cluttered and gross. 

Each day this week, even with the death plague, I have spent at least fifteen minutes de-cluttering.  Last week, I cleaned out my car and removed so much stuff that it must be at least 50-100 lbs lighter.  (Yay for fuel efficiency.)  I've gone through stacks of old magazines for recycling.  I've slowly been transporting stuff from the junk room (i.e., stuff that never had a home after we moved in - more than a year ago!).  It's getting there.  I finished a bunch of personal filing.  I cleaned off all of the kitchen counters. 

In fifteen minutes per day, I'm making significant progress on my most dreaded activity.  I'm hoping to spend a lot more time this weekend getting things put away into proper homes.  Maybe I'll even get some art onto the walls. 

It is 1:30 a.m. and I am not asleep. This is not good.

Okay, I took four prednisone this morning.  Shit was melting for a while and then my brain just didn't work.  Now my brain is on fire and it won't stop working SO THAT I CAN SLEEP. 

Please consider that I have taken the following:  klonipin, celexa, ambien (10 mg), nortriptylene (50 mg) and a tylenol PM (my normal nighty night cocktail).  On top of that, Dr. Garcia gave me the good cough syrup (phenergan or something like that).  So i added that to the mix.  NOT WORKING.  I am tired.  I have soooooo much to do at work tomorrow. 

I think i am strongly going to reconsider taking a provigil tomorrow morning.  (my wakey wakey cocktail, along with corvalen and vitamins.) 

Dammit.  I'm tired.  SLLEP, monkey mind, SLEEP.

A pinch of budgeting and a dash of bronchitis and a question at the end

I fell off the wagon a bit with spending during this pay period.  Since I am confined to activities that involve very little moving (breathing is still quite an effort) and minimal mental involvement (thank you prednisone), I have been trying to green things up.  I have been making sure that all of the bills that I get are on email delivery.  (This is also part of decluttering the house since I will no longer have to file all of that paper that I barely review anyway.) 

During my analysis of things, I reviewed our mortgage account online.  Kind of wish I hadn't.  It makes bronchitis seem friendly.  I realize that I am unable to do much heavy thinking right now, so I made a basic excel spreadsheet and realized, dude, our escrow payment needs to be way higher each month.  When we bought the house, we assumed that this was the case.  Then they did an escrow analysis and it seemed we were paying way too much into escrow and stopped.  Well, that money needs to be paid again.  In fact, instead of the $150 extra that we were paying before, it should be about $200. 

So I called the nice folks at IndyMac and they were kind enough to do an accelerated escrow review.  I know what they will say, but I want to see the adjusted payment from them. 

Once that was done, I immediately pulled up my super duper budget spreadsheet and tried to figure out where on earth I am going to get that money and still have any realistic chance of paying off my Chase card by the end of the year.  (As you may recall, my student loans can only stay in forbearance until February of next year, so I have to ensure that I have adequate funds available to cover that $338 payment.  Part of my goal is to pay off the Chase card, which would free up the extra money.)  I just slashed my wireless plan's minutes.  I occasionally go over, but not that frequently.  I will start tracking that better now that The Boy is no longer in my network.  (although, yay for BB Messenger.  That is saving me a ton.) 

Must go hardcore on the grocery costs again.  I have been lax because of the weird diet that I've been on.  I need to do a better job purchasing meats on sale and not wasting food.  Or, I could completely give in and start eating nothing but shredded wheat.  Honestly, I think I'd be fine with it.  That is bound to save some money....

But here's the good sign.  I am not throwing a tantrum right now.  I am pretty damn calm, which is not usually the case when I deal with money.  I am going to work all of this out and it will be fine.  Perhaps this is the prednisone, but this is a pleasant side effect, unlike when it looked like everything was melting earlier.

This leads to a final question - is it "icky" to have a garage sale?  i.e., will you judge me for having one?  I think we have a lot of stuff that we can get rid of, including as ass load of children's clothing and other things.  It seems like having the cash on hand would be as beneficial as a tax deduction.  It's not like we won't still make donations to other places too.  It just seems that we could make $500 easily on a garage sale.  Or has the economy affected garage sale returns too???

BUI: Blogging under the influence

Dear readers, I have to tell you - I hate prednisone.  More than anything, I hate the first "big day" dose of prednisone.  It makes me utterly nuts.  I don't mean my endearing color-coding, list making, hyper nuts.  I mean, head over there, shouldn't be on the computer interacting with people and hallucinating nuts.  But here I am.  At my computer.  The key is that i am not at work.  Which is good because, well, who knows what might come to life.  Being friendly, I'm sure I would talk to the exhibit binder with legs or a telephone that starts dancing.  That's why i am home.  The other tricky part is driving.  I might blog while under the influence, but even I know not to get in a vehicle like this. 

Anyway.  I feel slightly better.  I can breathe more through my mouth now.  last night, even that was difficult because my lungs were so heavy with goo. 

Have I mentioned that the Prednisone is making my eyebrows itch?  So annoying.

I think the computer is melting, so I am going to get into bed with the cats.  I wonder what they are going to morph into.

Not a good day

For the past month or so, I've been dealing with the plague on and off.  It was really bad for a few days and then it drifted off.  Last Friday, it got bad again.  Each day since, it has progressed with new symptoms.  Today, I felt like pure crap and stayed home from work.  I had a fever that was rather high for me (99.6, which is high considering my normal temp is in the 97.6 range because of my thyroid). 

When I went to the doctor, I told them my symptoms.  They did their intake business and before you know it, I was inhaling from the nebulizer.  I have bronchitis.  This is mildly humorous because my mom always says, "well, you're prone to bronchitis."  So, yes, I am prone to it and I have it again.  I got scolded by the doctor because I waited way to long to come in.

There was a reason I waited - I didn't want to take antibiotics.  So, I hoped by delaying the visit, it would simply go away and leave me alone.  you see, antibiotics are probably one of the main reasons that I battle with candida.  I spent close to two months getting it out of my system and now I'm tempting fate again and will probably need to do another round of the fast and diflucan when this illness has run its course.

Even more fun, I've got to take prednisone.  Uh, yeah, that shit makes me hallucinate, so I am not really interested in taking it.  I am rather busy at work right now and I really want to be in the office, getting things done.  This is obviously putting a damper on that.  I am not sure if I will be able to get to the office tomorrow.  I can do things in tiny spurts.  Going to the doctor and CVS just about killed me.  I came home, fever had gotten higher and it feels like there is a giant weight on my chest. 

I am hoping that I will wake up tomorrow and be fine.  If that's the case, I will be happy.  I do not want to go through another day like this.

I'm frustrated because of having to take the antibiotic.  I'm also frustrated that I let it go this long and hoped my depleted immune system would somehow fight whatever is lurking within.  Should've known better. 

I am making changes when I am done with this.  I cannot handle being sick so much.  I cannot handle catching every little thing that makes its way through the office.  I am going to make a much bigger effort to take care of myself.  That includes the whole me, emotionally and physically.  I need to learn how to shut down and reboot, just like the foot psychic said.  I'm running on empty too much of the time.  Must eat better.  Must get into an exercise routine.  Must be more diligent about taking care of me. 

Oh, and I am also pissed because I didn't get to go to the Lucky shoe party and I don't own Kelly Clarkson's new CD yet.  My life sucks without it, dammit.

My Husband Gets All the Laughs

I am home sick today.  I have the plague (again) and it is awful.  (I will be at the doctor in under an hour, which is why I am typing because I am attempting to sit upright again.) 

Earlier today, I made a video of the cats with my phone.  When one is bound to one's bed, there is only so much available for entertainment.  Around lunch, I forwarded the cat video to The Boy.  Honestly, I forgot that I sent it because the video was not particularly exciting and The Boy ignores most of my emails anyway because either (a) I am not funny or (b) he is busy. 

Time passes.  My phone begins playing the Batman theme song.  The Boy is calling!  To check on his sickly wife!  How sweet!

The conversation goes something like this.  (Although, let's be honest, the plague is killing me, so I am likely paraphrasing most, if not all of this.  This does have the general flavor of the call even if the words aren't exactly right.)

Boy:  Hi.
Me:  <garbled sickly moan>
Boy:  Guess what just happened?
Me:  <looking for the light>  I died?
Boy:  No.  Remember that video you sent me?
Me:  <thinking hard>  Yes. 
Boy:  Well, I know you do these things just to spite me, so I hope your happy.
Me:  What?
Boy:  I start to play your stupid video and I turned on my speakers.  Somehow, I hit the phone and hit "all call" into the office on speakerphone.  So, the entire office heard you cooing at your stupid cats.  Wanna know the best part?
Me:  <No response due to laughter>
Boy:  There were clients in the conference room and THEY HEARD IT TOO. 
Me:  <still unable to respond>
Boy:  So then, X & Y walk in and say, um, what was that?  I explain that it was a video that you sent me.  Then, they ask me if it was a porno because you were saying "Good Boy."  I showed them your stupid cat video to prove it.  THERE WERE CLIENTS IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM.  YOU ONLY SEND ME THESE STUPID VIDEOES BECUASE YOU ARE TRYING TO TORMENT ME.  I HATE YOU."
Me:  <still unable to respond due to laughter>
Boy:  [more generic declarations of hate and paranoia.]
Me:    That is soooo funny.

Needless to say, I quickly received an ex parte communication from a friend at The Boy's firm to ensure that I knew what happened.  Of course, I sent her a voice note (gotta love the BlackBerry) saying Good Boy, The Boy, Good Boy, just in case she wants to use it at a later date when he is being difficult.

In conclusion, I'm hilarious even when I don't try.  That's the sign of a true gift.

Breaking up with someone via blog post is so tacky. I'm sorry.

Dear Trader Joe's,

Since I have been doing this stupid yeast elimination diet, I have been trying new foods.  Most specifically, I have been enchanted with spelt.  It's a grain or something.  I rather like it in tortilla form.

But Trader Joe's, you are really far from my house.  It's such a long drive and the parking lot makes me tense. 

Today, I discovered Sunflower Farmers Market.  It's kind of like a smaller, slightly less expensive version of Whole Foods.  I was extremely pleased with my shopping experience.  I found all sorts of products that were mentioned in my new favorite magazine, Body + Soul. 

They had spelt english muffins.  Mmmm.  They had spelt pretzels.  Since i hate regular pretzels, I don't have a ton of hope for these, but I'm going to try it.  The Boy is happy because there was a whole lotta stuff involving dead bison.  I liked the produce, although I couldn't find a pepper, which was annoying.  The selection is somewhat limited, like Fresh and Easy, but I am much happier with them than Fresh and Easy.

Trader Joe's, the nail in the coffin is that Sunflower is WAY closer to our house than you.  I'm sorry, but our relationship is essentially over.  We'll see each other from time to time when The Boy needs seed filled vegetable juice or frozen salmon with skin.  But otherwise, I am with Sunflower now. 

It's been fun.
Danielle

I am a gross packrat.

I am cleaning today.  That includes my car.  Here's a brief list of the things I found.

- An infinite number of plastic water bottles.  Some were unopened.  Some had a sip or two taken.  This shameful mess has been emptied and recycled.

- Three cardigans

- Two pairs of red shoes

- Four novels that disappeared ages ago

- Four deposition transcripts from a case closed months ago

- An infinite number of directions from google maps

- Way too many freebies given at events that I didn't want.  I recycled what I could and I will not take the stuff that I am not going to use in the future, just out of a need to be polite. 

- Besides banishing the clutter, I was trying to lighten the load to improve gas mileage.  Well, I found a pair of ankle weights.  Yeah, nothing like finding weights weighing the car down.  Such a dumbass.

- My briefcase, which has been missing for ages.

Gross.  I'm afraid of the other things I'm going to find while cleaning today.