Monday, October 31, 2005

Bizarro Sidebar:

Well, this Halloween has been hair-raising, to say the least.

It stormed all last night, but not really enough to keep me awake. However, at 5:31 this morning, I came instantly awake. I looked at my clock, read the 5:31 thing, and groaned rather loudly. Then, I realized that I could see my entire room. For some reason, my bedside lamp was on.


This is a TOUCH lamp -- one of those you have to touch to turn on -- and I know I didn't touch it. It was just on.

Now, I've almost convinced myself that a power surge from the lightning-laden storm must have jolted the light on. I can even tell myself that the sudden light in the room is what woke me.

One thing, though: I've lived in this house for four and a half years now, with THIS lamp, and this has never happened. We've had all sorts of electrical storms. The lights go OUT; they don't mysteriously come ON.

Two things, though: I'd almost swear that I felt someone get up off the bed when I woke up. I'm not kidding. I've awakened to someone shouting in my ear before -- Dave was NOT home, it was NOT from outside, I felt the heat of a shout against my ear, and my ear rang with the volume. I've even thought I felt a cat or something walking across my bed. But I've never felt the entire bed shift as someone stood up from sitting right against my back.

Three things, though: Dave and I have known for quite a while that something ELSE is in this house. I think Dave brought it with him, because the place was quiet before he moved in. Heh. At any rate, we've had...disturbances. This...would just be one more.

But it was a power surge. I'm....91% sure. Really.

Then, on the way to work this morning, I nearly died. Seriously, six inches to one side or the other, and I'd have been a Geebie Splatter.

You see, one of the main streets in town has really bad storm drains. In a flash flood situation, there can be up to six inches of water standing on the outer edges of this road, and several hundred thousand people travel this road during each Rush Hour each day. Most of we locals know to stay in the left lane of our particular side of this four-lane road.

However, even I didn't know there was a good six inches of water on the opposite side of a slow, gradual incline. And when the guy to the right and a little ahead of me hit that dip full of water, I was suddenly driving at 35 miles per hour UNDERWATER. I am SO not kidding. I couldn't see anything for at least a block and a half.

Luckily, my brain can panic all it wants, but my body reacts extremely well under pressure. My foot edged off the gas and onto the brake, pushing lightly. My hands kept the steering wheel straight. I prayed the people to the right and the oncoming traffic didn't swerve.

I made it through. No one swerved into me. No one died.

Happy frickin' Halloween, ne?

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Dear Charlie:

Went to a Halloween party last night. Heh. Drank a lot to much "grog" and a little too much more cranberry juice and vodka. Had a great time, though. Found some horror movie afficionados like myself. Traded horror movie trivia.

Never did get drunk, though. Not until I got home. There's that weird GutterBall tolerance again. It's bizarre.

Anyway, I kinda went against my own inclinations and did a little bit of a cat theme. I've recently boxed up a lot of my old clothes and stuff for some future yard sale, so my options were more limited than usual. I thought about being The Monday Morning Quarterback, but my only current jerseys are Chiefs jerseys, and I couldn't find the chin strap to my old helmet. Of course, my hand-painted Chiefs helmet has a chin strap, but I didn't want to pirate it for my old helmet, ne?

Then, I thought about doing it all black and carrying around my handmade fake scythe...but it's like seven foot tall, and I wasn't sure I could get it into the car without knocking off the blade. Heh. Plus, I'm sure I'd have gotten tired of carrying it around. It's not heavy, but it's damn awkward.

So, I sewed a corduroy tail to the back of my favorite but least often worn black pants, sewed some corduroy ears to a headband, put the hair in curlers to style more nicely, and...*drumroll please*...did some make-up. Heh. I was gonna do a white face with the cat eyes and just some lipstick, but my white face paint was...weird. It wasn't BAD, but it It wasn't dried out, but it was...solid? Heh. Can't explain it, couldn't use it.

So, I just did regular foundation and eye-liner and eyeshadow. I guess it didn't look BAD, but I really don't like doing make-up. Never did get the hang of it. I did get compliments, so it can't have looked TOO bad, but more people grabbed my tail than noticed that the Make-up-less Wonder had succombed, if only for one day of the year.

I hope no one got a picture. *facepalms*

All in all, it was a good time, though. I wasn't sure how I'd go over there, as I'm still one of the new kids at work and this was basically a work party, but no one held it against me, and I really liked the hostess's friends who don't work with us. They were a RIOT. Too much fun.

*grins* I love Halloween.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Bizarro Sidebar:

As per Dave:

Man, sittin' and stewin' in this shit's like getting punished for something your cousin did.

And he's RIGHT! Sure, the heater guy found the source of the godawful reek -- and if you laugh at the fact that it was nothing more than a maggot-ridden MOUSE, I'll personally hunt you down and throttle you with a fish -- and removed it, but the putrescence remains. In force.


I did as the guy recommended and dumped some baking soda down into the vents. I thought it had worked...until Dave came in and goes, "Oh, HELL no!" and turned a paler shade of mocha. Egad. Apparently, despite all will and probability, I got used to that stink.


But, it's nice and toasty warm in here. It's quite a change from the frigid 52 we woke up to this morning. *shivers* That...was not my favorite way to emerge from sleep. Heh.

However, I do like snuggling down under my covers with happy thoughts of my beloved sister's latest second-fiddle hero! God, is!

*droooools and goes to read the snippet again*

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Dear Charlie:

Okay, I'm open to suggestions.

Winter is nipping at our toes, and I don't DARE to turn on the heater. Why, you ask?

Why, because of the stench, of course.

What stench? Another astute question. That would be the stench of rotten meat and charring hair that erupts as soon as that heated air hits whatever the hell DIED in the vents!


It's just not cool! It's either turn on the heat and nearly vomit -- and I am SO not kidding! -- or leave the heat off and sleep in sweats and extra blankets until we figure out what the hell to do about a dead animal in the vents. I mean, it's not like Dave can just climb under there, find the rotting carcass, cut open the tube and yank it out! How the hell do you get something like that out??


In other news, just this afternoon, Dave made perhaps the most insightful comment I've heard all week. He said, and I quote:

"Marty Schottenheimer is the Joel Schumacher of football."

The light breaks. It's SO TRUE! You give Schumacher a bazillion-dollar budget, and he puts out Batman Forever. Give him a shoestring and a promise, and he puts out Phone Booth.

As for Schottenheimer? Give him a high-powered offense and a blood-thirsty defense, and he peters out halfway through the season. Give him a ragtag group of maligned ne'er-do-wells, and he comes up with the San Diego Chargers who, despite all odds, are kicking some serious butt.

So, Dave gets the Thought of the Day. Kudos, man.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Dear Charlie:

You gotta give it to my boys. The Chiefs dropped everything -- including heavy practice -- to run down to Miami to have their game before the hurricane...and pull out a helluva win!

*does a little dance*

That's my Chiefs! Nicely done, boys!

Although I hope that last 77-yard touchdown reception by the Dolphins underlines and bold-faces my continuous gripe about zone defense. I HATE that crap.

'S a good thing we were already so far ahead! Woo-hoo!!

Maybe this will give my boys some of the respect they've earned and have long been denied, ne?

Terrible Sidebar:


Thanks to an unforeseen combination of Hurricane Wilma and the NFL's bizarro take on local and affiliate programming, the Chiefs game will be TONIGHT and will only be seen in...Miami, FL and Kansas City, MO.

Why, God? WHY??

*would cry if she were capable of it*

This means, for us Chiefs football addicts, that the Chiefs basically have another bye week. Oh, they're playing, but they might as well not be. Unless we get a few highlights on Sunday, this is just a status game. They'll move to up to 4 - 2 or down to 3 - 3...but we won't see it.

*heavy sigh*

Needless to say, I'll be prowling for updates FREQUENTLY and scowling repeatedly when I miss all the good plays and killer take-aways and touchdown passes and leaping rushing touchdowns.

*puddles up*

*lip trembles*

Man, I've broken bones without this much eye-watering!!

Totally denied.

Edit: Okay, not TOTALLY denied. Check here for radio affiliates who'll be announcing the game. Not as good as WATCHING, but infinitely better than nothing, ne?

Edit #2: Okay, I'm gonna start checkin the web page before freaking out, ne? According to this article, the NFL will play a delayed broadcast on Sunday evening. I think it'll be on regular television -- unlike all other Sunday night games -- because the article goes on to list times the re-air will be played on Direct TV and cable and such. *crosses fingers*

Edit #3: Dammit. Looks like it'll only be on cable/satellite. Evil bastards. I think we local TV people ought to get something out of this since we're being hosed out of our game-viewing pleasure. *scowls*

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Dear Charlie:

Okay...NOW we got broadband. Before, only Dave had broadband. Stupid connecty-uppy lady.


So now, the hub he bought over the weekend and the cables I bought tonight actually WORK, and this bee-yotch is ON!

*does a little dance*

I got broadband! I got broadband!


Sunday, October 16, 2005

Dear Charlie:

I think Shannon Sharpe just made perhaps the dumbest statement in football announcer history. Lemme see if I can recreate it from the half-time report. This isn't a direct quote, but it's good enough for government work, and the last sentence is directly from the horse's ass. Errr...mouth....

Kansas City got three turnovers. Sacked Brunell four times. Priest Holmes got a hundred yards receiving, sixty of which came on this TD run right here. Santana Moss got a buck seventy and two TDs.

The 'Skins dominated this game in every aspect but the scoreboard.


How is that dominating in every aspect but the score?? I mean, no one dominated ANYONE in this game -- except perhaps for Jared Allen, who did, in fact, dominate the hell out of everyone and damn well better have gotten the game ball.

This was the most back and forth game I've seen in a long time. It was never more than a one-score game. No one dominated.

Especially when the much-maligned Chiefs defense forced three turnovers [woulda been four if not for a questionable penalty on Greg Wesley's endzone interception], one of which they ran back for a touchdown. Especially when we did indeed sack Brunell four times. Especially not when every time the 'Skins got a little momentum, we snatched it right back -- though they did the same to us a couple of times.

And especially not when that last, critical factor -- the scoreboard -- read 28 - 21 CHIEFS.

*shakes head*

Something tells me Mr. Sharpe hasn't quite buried the hatchet with his old division rival. Once a Bronco, always a Bronco?

At least it was an awesome game, though I'm sure my beloved sister will again label my boys the Cardiac Chiefs. Heheh....

Friday, October 14, 2005

Dear Charlie:

*cue angelic chorus* INTERNET! Wah-hoo!!


Of course, until he gets a splitter or a hub, I'm subject to his bouts of "City of Heroes" -- which can last HOURS -- but since he has class every Monday through Thursday evening....

*does a little dance*



*eyes current dial-up*


Your days are numbered, Dial-Up. You'd best start countin' down.

Be prepared. As soon as I can crow-bar Dave from the glorious throes of broadband, I am SO through with you!


Saturday, October 08, 2005

Dear Charlie:

I'm drinking "Cozy in a Cup".

I've invaded poor Pesh's house, and the poor soul is nice enough to share her special hot cocoa with me. It's October -- my favorite month. It's chilly -- my favorite temperature. And I'm drinking thick, yummy Cozy in a Cup -- my new favorite drink. good.



Yup. Damn good.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005


I was talking to Pesh on the phone yesterday, and -- bless her heart -- she admitted that she was surprised to find me so chipper. I asked what the heck she meant. She reminded me of my post and said she thought I'd sound more...depressed.


Folks, I'm no where NEAR depressed! If so, I'd have had to be depressed for the last, oh, ten or fifteen years! This is not something that's weighing me down. It's just...on my mind.

Almost always is.


See, I understand full well that most people live a normal life. They pay taxes. They go to work every day. They eat (or don't) and drink (or don't) and get 7 hours of sleep a night and get married and have 3.5 kids and a dog. They do laundry twice a week. They make an extra payment on the mortgage twice a year.

They live a normal life, and that life is good.

Don't get me wrong. Life IS good. I have such a good time, even the few times I get bummed about something. I don't dwell.

But every once in a while, just like the Little Mermaid...I want more.


And there's nothing wrong with wishing for it, nothing wrong with striving for it. Surely that's what we were put here for, ne? To reach for the impossible?

Isn't that human nature?

So no, I'm nowhere NEAR depressed. I just...wanted it a bit more the other day -- enough so that I was compelled to blog.

*zombie voice* Muuuust...blooooooog.....

Monday, October 03, 2005

Dear Charlie:

Have you ever just wanted to be...worthy?

Worthy: (wûr´ thē) adj. 1. Having worth, merit, or value. 2. Honorable; admirable. 3. Deserving. [The American Heritage Dictionary, © 1983]

Being worthy is not the same as being likeable. It's not the same as popularity or wealth or fame or even power. It's having honor. It's being good enough to earn affection, admiration, respect...whatever you crave. Whatever will make you worthy.

A lot of my stories are about worthiness, in some form or other.

Right now, I am shoulder-deep in debt and bringing in a very scant paycheck. I like my new job and am thankful for it, but I don't like the environment in which I work. I already had one of those "God, I don't want to go to work today!" days, and it's only the first month. My fridge is basically empty except for a case of Coke, a case of bottled water, and various condiments -- jelly, mayonnaise, butter, etc.

I'm a football-aholic who would rather watch Oakland vs. St. Louis [OUCH!!] than the news. Or reality TV. I don't exercise enough...or at all, sometimes. I forget to eat. A lot. I don't take vitamins.

I'm a die-hard, stubborn-to-the-core Chiefs fan.

My house reeks of whatever animal died in my air conditioner vents a few days ago and is now merrily rotting in the unseasonably high temperatures we've been enjoying. My toilet is on the fritz. Again.

I give most of my off-work energy -- some would say too much -- to my friends and not enough to my family, whom I love dearly but rarely call. I scramble for time to write [I admit to cranking out 8 pages, single-spaced, last night and 19 pages, single-spaced, the Sunday before, but not what those pages entailed] and finish the quilt I promised a friend and draw pictures I promised others and keep up with all the odd little hobbies I have but don't have time for...but forget to do important stuff like wash dishes and clean the bathroom and vacuum the living room. And dust. I occasionally bake, but only when someone finally guilts me into it by reminding me that I promised this or that and forgot to follow through. And I love to bake, dammit.

I try not to cuss so much, to be nicer to people who maybe aren't so nice to me [cold politeness, I can do, but niceness is sometimes a stretch], to not have naughty thoughts about, say, Bill Goldberg, who recently got married and should therefore be off-limits even in imagination.

And it's not enough. It doesn't fulfill. Even writing, much as it releases the pressure that would otherwise swamp me for sure, doesn't completely fulfill me all the time.

Maybe I've just read all the wrong books because I pray, every night, to someday be worthy.

Of what? I dunno exactly. Of something better? Probably. Of someone? Maybe. Of forgiveness or grace? I suppose. Of admiration? You tell me.

How can I strive to be worthy if I don't know what I wish to be worthy of?

Without invoking that terrible Chinese curse about living in interesting times, I wish with all my heart for just one opportunity to truly prove my mettle. To be worthy. To be brave, to be true, to stand. [Thank you, Stephen King, for such noble words.]

I want to defeat Darkness, to salvage something precious, to drive away the Bad and raise up the Good, to be part of something bigger than bills and taxes and laundry and an office job and running-over toilets.

I am mundane. There's nothing wrong with being mundane. Not a damn thing.


But...deep down...I want to be...a warrior. I want to be a spy. I want to thwart a hostage crisis. I want to defuse a bomb with 12 seconds left. I want to be a martyr. I want to feel a heart start beating again after I've performed CPR for three minutes straight, to feel that spark of life return and thrive. I want to touch the stars, to figure out controllable fusion for an endless and stupidly cheap power source, to create a teleportal, to cure cancer, be... be worthy.


Don't mind me. I'm sick, on my period, not best pleased with my work situation, and living too much out of my head lately. I hesitate to even post this, as it smacks of melancholy, and I've long since determined that this blog will never be my wailing wall.

But...this has been close to my heart for a long time. I very nearly dropped everything and drove to New York after 9-11 to help with the clean-up. Even the very real possibility of losing my job over such a stunt only held me here when I remembered that I have bills to pay, a mortgage, stuff. I also gave long, serious thought to heading to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. Only the fact that I was starting a new job on Labor Day kept me here. Again with the bills, mortgage, and stuff.

I'm strong. I'm not squeamish. I could have helped.

But I'm mundane, so I stayed. I sent supplies. I donated money and blood. I gently encouraged others to do the same, if they so chose.

But I stayed.

Having merit. Honorable. Admirable.

Did I miss my chances to be worthy? Will I get another? Is God so generous as to offer again what has been turned down twice before? [No, I am NOT asking for another disaster, in case any weisenheimer out there wants to dicker with words.]

Will I be worthy?

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Dear Charlie:

Long week. Whew.

You know it's been a helluva week when I don't even put my football picks up, ne? Heh. Plus, I'm sick. Dammit. I hadn't had a sinus infection for MONTHS...but a few weeks in an office and I get hit HARD.

Stupid sinuses. *hawks snot*


I oughtta be posting a chocolates delivery for my beloved sister, who didn't place in her latest contest, but I can't decide which hottie to send her. There are so many to choose from, you know. I may stick with her favorite from last time, Aragorn himself...but I dunno.

I'm workin on it.

I also watched Serenity last night. More about that when my brain isn't simmering in snot. Ugh. I'll post a nice review of it soon, though. It was a fun movie. Lots of fun.

"She is starting to damage my calm."

Gotta love those grunts. Heh.

Anyway, the snot is diverting my concentration -- I particularly hate that sucking feeling in my cheekbones as it starts to drain -- so I'm gonna sign off before I get any more graphic and people start chucking all over the place.

Hardly complimentary.