My Third Nipple
The poison ivy on my arm has reached colossal proportions, and now, one blister is so big, fat, round and... pink, I'm tempted to pierce it. I don't know .. think that's sexy?

I must be a geek
Three times in the past 18 hours I've been told I am either a geek, or if I do something I will look like one.
Last night, Deb told me I was a geek because of the many different email lists I am on, including a doctor dictionary word of the day. (Stop me if I am revealing too much.) And Becky at the eye doctor (who I just met at Nancy and Chrissy's -- lovely couple, she and her wife, Laura. Nice peeps. Cute kid.) was nice enough to tell me that she'll help me pick out new eyeglasses on Saturday so I don't look like a geek. Deb also agreed to go with me to help me over the apparent-to-everyone-yet-unbeknownst-to-me handicap I have when trying to be fashionable. Finally, at CVS, Robyn insisted I get the clear Caladryl, not the pink stuff, so I don't look like... yep, a geek.
And here I was, all this time, thinking I was suave... cool.. hip.. groovy. Apparently, I'm retarded.

Let it be known that Benadryl sucks on poison ivy. Now I've got 3 toes covered with the stuff, and I can barely move my arm without it itching. Good thing it's not on my hands or I wouldn't be able to ... write. Gotta go get some Caladryl. Hopefully, that will do it. hmmm.. now I'm starting to spend way too much time in CVS. What is it with that place??

Evil Forces 3, Laura 0
If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone is deliberately trying to aggravate me. In the past 2 years I have changed my cell phone number no less than 3 times because I am constantly deluged with wrong numbers. First, for about 2 months, I had some lunatic call my voicemail everyday and leave me soccer scores -- in Spanish. So I changed my number. Of course, my new number was now the same as a local radio station in CT -- except for the different area codes, so I had song requests and contest "losers" calling me every goddamn hour. So I changed it. Thinking I was outwitting the evil forces, I only gave my number out to less than 10 friends and family. Now, this week, apparently some fucking moron is selling his fucking Subaru and wrote MY fucking phone number down on the car's For Sale sign. So now I've had no less than 25 calls today. I just changed my voicemail from my usual tone reflecting my radiant bonhomie to quite the hostile notification that the caller has the wrong goddamn number and I'm not selling any car. If I actually answer the phone, the caller will be notified that the car was stolen and to please alert the police if it's spotted.
Ha.

The f'n poison ivy spread. Now it's all over my right arm, left arm, and for some stupid reason, the big toe on my right foot. And I forgot my Benadryl this a.m., so right now my arm is so itchy I want to rip it off and beat someone with it.

Things You Really Don't Need to Know: Version 1.0
Just checking in on Eric's blog, and was commenting on one of his posts and realized -- hey, this would fit in nicely as my own diatribe on chlorinating the family gene pool. Eric was discussing some old food his wife Bon had stumbled across in her parent's frig (20 yr old broccoli), when I recalled what I recently had the distinct displeasure of unearthing in my own parent's frig: aspirin suppositories for children that were for my sister when she was sick ... 32 years ago. Yes, SUPPOSITORIES. As in anal. (Are there any other kinds?) I know my mom's a bit on the sentimental side, but this ... this... was too much. I mean, was she thinking she could still use them? Did she want to pass them on to her future grandchildren? Saving baby rattles, shoes, blankets, locks of hair I get - but aspirin suppositories?

I typed myself up a to-do list at work today. I no longer use my palm pilot to help me remember everything I'm supposed to do. I bought it to get organized -- something not so easy for someone with a serious "case" of ADD. Anyway, I would forget to bring it with me everyday (again, ADD) so really what's the point? So, back to tiny scraps of paper stuffed into my pockets. I pulled out said to do list when i walked in the door earlier, and Deb quickly snatched it away from me, read it and scribbled "start a load of laundry" on the top.

Ya know...

And the phone just rang -- it's her. "I'm on my way home -- did you start the laundry yet?"
"um, ah, ummm.. oh... I was just heading downstairs to do it!"
Duh. She can hear me typing.

Crap.
Deb's at her grandmother's for dinner, which means I am on my own. And I'm not in the mood for a sandwich, cereal, or fast food (still doing the WW thang..). The combination of a growling stomach and my not so impressive culinary acumen only proves that my resistance to learning how to cook may be futile. In other words, I'm starving and there's nothing to eat except fat-free chocolate chip cookies.
Where's the milk ...

The Yard
I need to go back to bed. Now. Yesterday we spent the entire morning and afternoon weeding and overturning soil (that means lugging 15 40-lb bags of new topsoil and manure from the driveway to the garden -- opposite sides of the house), re-planting vegetable and fruit plants, fending off suicidal dive-bombing bees, and screen-sifting over 500 pounds of sand (to cleanse it of detritus and cat shit) from the sandy pathways around our Zen-inspired garden ... My arms are about to fall off. The only reason I know they haven't is because they are itching me like crazy -- I've got a poison ivy rash from Saturday's landscaping extravaganza. An entire truckload of hemlock mulch was spread all over the perimeter of The Yard where we've got dozens of high-maintenance plants left over from the landscaping fanatic from whom we bought the house (the man did nothing inside and apparently spent all his money and time on The Yard). They are beautiful - don't get me wrong. But I bought a house with a fenced in yard because I have a dog who loves to run. Now, I have a dog who loves to run through rhododendrons, azaleas, tiger lilies, bleeding hearts, and rose bushes every time a squirrell rears its little gray head. Needless to say, I've become a reluctant landscaping expert. Through no fault of my own, I can now discuss lawn care with the best of them: the wonders of Diazanon, insect identification and classification (grubs=bad, mantis=good), proper watering techniques, how and when to apply lime, the Scott's Step program, grass blade identification, etc. etc. I've also become a "regular" at Home Depot and Agway -- and that last one is the scariest.
Of my 3 1/2 days off, 2 1/2 were spent on The Yard.
Some people claim yard work relaxing. Sure, I guess you can call a near coma-like state the day after working in The Yard relaxing... Excuse me while I drag Robyn back over to CVS for some Calamine lotion before I scratch my goddamn arms right off.

Live at the Acoustic Cafe!
If you're around the CT area July 13th, then you MUST be at the Acoustic Cafe in Black Rock!
My sistah Karen and her band Eystone are finally playing here in southern CT, and we're hoping to pack the house!
Opening up for Karen is her old bud Joe Christino -- some of you may already know Joe -- he's regular at the AC and has been building up quite the following!

Show starts at 8:30pm and tix are $8 each. Drop me an email soon if you're interested -- I've got a limited number of tix available and after that it's pay at the door and I won't be sure I can get you seated with the rest of the us!

Once again:
Eystone and Joe Christino
Saturday, July 13 8:30pm Acoustic Cafe in Black Rock, CT.

Is it completely wrong that I was grocery shopping at midnight last night? What's funny is that I ran into people I know. I can't deal with grocery stores - actually I can't deal with the people in grocery stores, so I try to go when no one is there. Midnight definitely fits the bill.
Hey Mik- I saw Andie in Stop & Shop -- another maniac shopping at the witching hour -- for a sec I thought she was with you this w/e, but forgot -- it's Ricky's weekend. I can't keep track of who's visiting Casa Coppola. Say hi to my new best friend Joey Joe Joe! at The Bookstore.
Today's task: hang blinds and plant my veggie garden. Then another soiree at Nancy and Chrissy's. Anne's liver is still in recovery, so she wont be attending. Pity. I won't have anything to blog about tomorrow...

The Red Sox are kicking the Yankees ass right now... 8-2 in the 7th. (I'm watching it on espn.com) Someone should have bet me ... looks like the best the Yanks could do is tie the series. Sigh.

After a late inning rally... the Yanks tied it, only to lose in extra innings. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Well, I'm done for the day. I love working from home! (started at 7:30). Now to enjoy Memorial Day weekend! Taking the bike out for a ride along the beach... hopefully there isn't a lot of traffic on the main roads since I-95 is presently shut down due to a bad truck accident/fire in Milford. Fun.

A good friend of mine told me last night I am a bit revealing on my blog. I denied it. Hell, if you only knew what goes on in my head/life and I don't write about ... and then I went to smattering.org for today's Friday 5, and of course, it's all about dreams ...

1. What's the last vivid dream that you remember having?
Well, I'm going to plead the 5th and agree with my friend and not answer that.
2. Do you have any recurring dreams?
Yeah. Planes crashing. Usually in my backyard or into buildings. I'd personally like to thank the assholes responsible for 9/11 for that one.
3. What's the scariest nightmare you've ever had?
See above. They're not exactly the kind of recurring dreams I'd like to have.
4. Have you ever written your dreams down or considered it? Why or why not?
Only in email to friends. Why not? I don't know. Never occurred to me to do it. My mind can be so vivid, that perhaps I should. Although, I might be accused of dropping acid if I reveal some.
5. Have you ever had a lucid dream? What did you do in it?
Ha. Of course. Who hasn't? And it's more along the lines of who I did, not what I did ... he he he. (ouch! I can already feel the pinch I'm going to get later on when a certain someone reads that...)

Back from the first race of the season! Am not quite sure how we did - I think 3rd. I didn't stay to hear the results ... it was already 10pm and I had a hot cherry pepper pizza at Colony waiting for me. schwing!
We got new sailing "uniforms" for the season -- no more preppy polo shirts -- we've gone Hawaiian!! The new digs are very cool navy blue Hawaiian shirts with giant light blue flowers and I guess whatever surfer shorts we can find. I may have to go blond again to complete the image thang ... schwing schwing!

Just spoke to my mom - she's leaving shortly to go to London and Edinburgh, Scotland for a week or so. She called me last night, actually, to say bye, and I told her that when she gets back, she'll get her long-awaited anniversary gift. The one I'm not revealing because my friends have BIG, HUGE, GAPING mouths. Anyway, she was drinking Fresca at 11pm, so I yelled at her that it wasn't good for her to drink soda before she went to sleep. Why? I have no frickin idea. It sounded good. Besides, my parents were the ones who put Coca Cola in my baby bottle and then wondered why I was a *tad* hyperactive and in desperate need of ritalin as a child. Anyhoo, she asked me what her gift was, so I gave her a hint: It was something she said she always wanted and decades in the making. After a 5 second pause I quickly yelled "NO, it's not grandchildren!!" She laughed. I laughed. And then she said "Why not?"
A quick change of the subject, and soon I had her back to trying to guess her gift. She couldn't. he he. So, she called me this morning, and, in between squeals of laughter, told me that she had a dream that her gift was an orthopedic dog feeder - you know, bowls built into little tables for older dogs. And how upset she was because it was completely innapropriate and she didn't need it anymore. Jesus. My mom spent years caring for my old lab, Corey, who lived to be 16 - pretty old for a lab. I think she's still mourning the dog's death -- 4 years ago. I laughed and said "Mmm... close, but no. And that's what you get for drinking Fresca before bed."
I'm a bit nervous that she's flying in the middle of all this terrorist threat crap -- but she is going with my grandmother, who fights with everyone. Actually, if there's a terrorist on the plane, he's pretty much fucked. Nana's got a serious left hook and can inflict some heavy damage with her purse.
I'm still nervous. I hate planes. Really.

I think my pets are trying to off me.
Last week, Elmo (11 lbs) jumped on my throat while I was sleeping -- twice. This morning, Cody (67 lbs.) pounced on my bladder, again while I was sleeping. Then Elmo head-butted me in the bathroom. Really hard. I have a lump. Phoebe keeps trying to trip me when I go down the stairs, especially when I am carrying heavy loads, like laundry. And the fish ... I don't even want to know what they're plotting. They keep staring at me. Creepy ...

It Rubs The Lotion On Its Skin ...
(Sorry, Dan!) I just ventured over to CVS with Robyn. Call me an accomplice. An enabler. I went because I needed to freshen up a bit and purchased some Listerine Oral Care strips - you know, the little dissolving pieces of paper probably invented by some ex-60's love child reminiscining about his days on acid. Anyway, Robyn needed ... what else -- lotion. However, I did notice that she quickly got in Midge's line. Yes, the CVS midget. She who falls from crates. I really have no idea what her name is, but Robyn thinks Midge hates her. I suggested that it's probably because she's in there buying lotion EVERYDAY and perhaps Mini-Midge thinks she's being stalked. I bet tomorrow we go back for tissues - to wipe off the excess lotion.

Burning Questions

This is why I barely read the news anymore. Write it, yes. But don't read it.

As if there isn't enough happening in the world, the press thinks that we should be concerning ourselves with Mike Piazza's sexuality. Yes, his denial (on being gay) is a headline on CNN. Mike Piazza, bare-chested priests, Rosie, Tom Cruise, whoever. This prurient interest perpetuated by bad press and pathetic excuses for journalists and journalism is tiresome already. And insulting to our collective intelligence.

Could someone please tell me what the fascination is with homosexuality? Honestly. I'd like to know why everyone -- the media, the church, the press, the bible-thumpers -- is so concerned about it. It's not like it's this mysterious secret society or A-list. I am so tired of these news programs interviewing the bible-thumpers preaching how God doesn't love this and God doesn't love that. Well you know what? I talked to God -- last night as a matter of fact (and I don't even believe in God, so that was quite a feat) -- and S/He personally told me you people are a colossal pain in his/her ass. The clue bag's in the corner - I suggest you go over and grab one before we run out.

Homosexuality is a genetic fact of life - like brown hair. Brown eyes. Small feet. Bad teeth. And apparently, a lack of gray matter.

Want to be let in on a secret? Let me share my insider's POV: It's just not that exciting. Honestly. There are no toasters. No rule books. No directory. No secret handshake. No sex secrets. No plot to recruit everyone. A gay lifestyle? All I've ever noticed is a few bad haircuts, a few cocktails, a lot of boas and an occasional softball game, but other than that, it's no big F'n deal.

Now please -- tell me why it's so fascinating -- from your POV.

Spent yesterday in NYC at a conference for work, and was planning on having dinner with Anne afterwards. Since the conference was getting out around 4, I was planning on going back to ground zero to see the progress. I couldn't bring myself to go back. In GCT yesterday morning, I saw a memorial service for fallen transit cops, and while I was eating lunch with some colleagues, there was another memorial service going on across the street from the restaurant. It's still really hard for me to be in the city. Not fearful -- but I get angry, upset and frustrated like it was yesterday. I had a splitting headache, and decided to just bag dinner as well, and headed home. Sorry, Anne...

Stephen Jay Gould died today... how very sad. I'm a big fan of his books ...

Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones
We managed to catch the latest geekfest on opening weekend, and thankfully we were in a less populated area than Metropolis and fortunately, the theater was only half full (how optimistic of me). No light sabers, Chewbacca costumes, Vader masks in sight. This was kind of disappointing, since one of my favorite pasttimes is making fun of ubergeeks.

A little background on me: I have seen, and for the most part enjoyed the Trilogy and Phantom Menace, but I do not consider myself a SuperFan. Sure, I liked the films, but I never gave in to the mania. I never collected Luke Skywalker action figures (I was 11 when Star Wars came out). As a child, I made it a habit of decapitating anything resembling dolls (and clowns), and action figures, in my opinion were only good for one thing: masktaping to bottle rockets. So, I never experienced the euphoria of Star Wars addiction.

I'll confess that while the latest film is pretty good, I still don't get "it." "It" being the fascination. The obsession. The need to camp outside a theater for a week in order to be first in line to get tickets. That's just plain wrong. (Then again, I slept out once for John "Cougar" Mellencamp tickets once. That was just plain wrong.)

Most of the special effects are cool, although some, I must admit, were really cheesy and half-assed. For example, one of the last scenes has Annakin, Amidala and Obi-Wan in what seems like a futuristic Colliseum. The animated creatures would have bored Darwin. What's with the giant crab walking on the tips of its claws? The movement was awkward and staggered, and the digitized figures representing Annakin, Amidala and Obi-Wan looked like someone stuck their 1977 action figures on plastic toys in something reminiscent of Gumby claymation. I expected more from George Lucas.

So, yes, I said it was good. Well, then, what did I enjoy? Queen Amidala's (Natalie Portman) midriff. ;) Was I disappointed? No, not really. She's got great abs. Oh oh.. the film. I guess all the hype makes one expect so much more. But I went with no expectations. And I enjoyed it.

Grade: B

Just got back from an EXCELLENT weekend at the Cape. Since I've decided to reheat some pizza and watch 6 Feet Under before crashing, I will give a nutshell version:
Dinner at the Bookstore in Wellfleet (Joey Joe Joe the bartender rocks!) We had excellent wine, excellent food and laughed so hard my sides still hurt me yesterday. Yesterday we saw Episode 2 (Star Wars) -- I'll review it tomorrow. Went to a wine tasting, had home-made pizza party last night (thank you Miki and Deb!!) and Jack and I were a tad overzealous with the hot cherry peppers. Youch. Went to P-Town today, walked around town, hit the new hot sauce store, Bada Bing and loaded up on goodies. Hit Ross' Grill for a delicious lunch with an excellent round of Belgian beer. Headed home to cat pee on the basement carpet.
That's it for now -- I hear scrubbing coming from the basement and if I don't help, it'll be my nose that gets rubbed in it.

I'm very excited this morning, for several reasons: We're heading to the Cape in a few hours and I've been looking forward to this for weeks. I'm also stoked (Deb hates when I use that word .. hee hee) because I got the green light to go ahead and get cheap tix to Vegas or someplace cool for the fall. I need a quickie vacation (4 - 5 days) before the vacation in December. Any ideas?
Finally, Karen and I also got our parents a VERY cool anniversary present (that we get to take part in) ... but I won't reveal it here until they know. And that's not until June. (Some of you know already, and I'm advising you to not comment on it). All I will say is that it's been several decades in the making.

OK, off to work for a few hours ... Have a great weekend!

Friday Five
1. What shampoo do you use?
My dad worked for Clairol when I was a kid, so I got in the habit of having a LOT of hair care products, especially shampoo. I may rival Robyn G. in the HBA addiction, but I don't spend countless hours surfing CVS, hoping to catch a glimpse of Midge, although Sephora.com seems to get a lot of business from me. Currently, I now alternate between Peter Thomas Roth glycolic acid 3%, Phytotherathrie, Neutrogena Clean, and Tigi Bed Head Moisture Maniac. While I’m at it, in the shower I also use D&G (Dolce & Gabbana) Sun body wash, Basis soap, Neutrogena oatmeal bar or Samuel Par face wash.

2. Do you use conditioner?
Yep. Once or twice a week.
What kind?
Phytotherathrie Phyto 7 Plant-based Treatment Cream or whatever is currently in the shower.

3. When was the last time you got your hair cut?
Yesterday. It's motorcyle riding and sailing weather, so I cut it short again.

4. What styling products do you use?
Tigi Bed Head Rubber Rage, Paul Mitchell Extra Body Sculpting gel.

5. What's your worst hair-related experience?
Trying to bleach it on my own when I was 19 and I ended up looking like a calico cat. I then cut it all off so it would grow in my real color, and ended up looking like a calico cat with a bad haircut.

A Nugget on Nugent
Former rocker, gun enthusiast, sport hunter and radio personality Ted Nugent recently called MTV's hit show The Osbournes "an indictment to the soulessness of modern man that we get a kick out of witnessing a magnificent creature reduced to a blithering hopeless idiot."
I guess the same could be said about Nugent's penchant for shooting and watching the often slow, agonizing death of innocent animals, all in the name of "sport."
Hey Ted, "hypocrisy" is in the dictionary just after "has-been" and "horse's ass."

Perverts R Us: Version 1.0
New feature I'm adding to this site: Sick and twisted Google searches that lead people to my site. Today's entry is from some sicko in Canada who wants to know where to find "gay-men-having-anal-sex-with-bananas."

I'll never look at produce the same way again...

Patrick's Story
I am a bit distracted today -- this morning I got an email via one of the Mensa discussion lists I belong to ... it was from the email account of a guy who was an active participant in the list. Patrick had not too long ago sent me a warmly written greeting when I joined, and I really enjoyed reading his posts. He was a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy, the father of two, a husband, an intelligent guy with his heart in the right place. He knew a lot about astronomy and astrophysics, and shared his knowledge unselfishly.

The email from his wife was asking to please remove his name from the list, and gave a quick reason that Patrick had died suddenly last week. No specifics were given. He was in his early 40s. I never met him, and never corresponded with him other than via the list, but his wife's email really touched me. She described how her heart was broken but she knew she and her family had been loved, and she had the heart-wrenching task of explaining to two little girls that their daddy is gone, pack up their belongings (they lived on a naval base) and move the kids, 2 dogs, gerbils, birds, snakes and the rest of their menagerie "home" to Mississippi.

As a tribute, the moderator of the group posted Patrick's first posting, in which he talked a lot about his family, his wife and his past. Reading everything this guy had accomplished, from most importantly raising his family, to protecting his country, to his several university degrees (he was working on a second masters) to his interests in Roman and Byzantine history, art history, astronomy, paleontology, and cinema history, to name a few, the thing that strikes me the most is that at a time when I think I don't have time enough, he has shown me that it is possible to live life fully.

Cheers, Patrick.

Deb told me this morning that I have Fred Flintstone feet. Hmpf. I'm not quite sure how to respond to that ...

Back from the Yankee game -- it's actually still being played. What can I say -- I drive fast. We left in the 6th inning (hey, the tix were free). With the wind, it felt as if it was 30 degrees. Too cold to enjoy an outdoors spectator sport. Besides, they were up 4-1 and the DevilRays looked hopeless. (Last check of the score, Yanks were up 10-1.) I must say, though, that if you want a good laugh, just sit at a Yankee game and listen to the fans... they are a riot. Best (tame) comment I heard: As the Devil Rays were pulling their starting pitcher after a miserable inning, one guy bellowed "Aww.. leave him in! How's he ever going to learn?!"
And to my friend the Boston Fan (and she knows who she is): We're only 2 games behind and closing in ... can't you just feel the deathgrip around Nomar's neck tightening as the Bosox begin their choking ritual? :) hee hee.

Of course, I get tix to the Yankees for a 2nd time (for tonight's game), and the sky is ominous, dark and ready to burst into sheets of rain again. Wonderful. Oh, what the hell... it's the Yankees. And I haven't seen a game yet this season thanks to the jerks at cablevision and the yes network. I am also craving a hot dog and a beer...

Reminds me... to all my friends who boast about being Red Sox fans: What's the difference between Yankee hot dogs and Red Sox hot dogs?
You can still get Yankee hot dogs in October ...

... and it's raining now. And the sun's still out. I hate New England.

Jonesing for the Beach
Yeeha! Despite this crappy weather, I am in a great mood -- summer's here! I know not officially until June 21, but I always celebrate the beginning of summer when the sailing season starts -- this Thursday night is our first race. Really, it's a practice race, since US Sailing instituted new rules for starting, so we have to practice ... starting. Then Friday afternoon, off to the Cape! I'm going to miss about 5 races this year because of class, so I am really looking forward to getting in a bunch in the beginning of the season. We have a new handicap for the boat, which means possibly winning more in our division. The boat's a 36-ft Jeanneau Sun Odyssey - a cruiser/racer, and light winds (anything under 11 knots) are not her forte. So, with the new handicap, we may have more time and ... more luck.
The real bonus is ... the yacht club is right down the street from COLONY PIZZA and Uncle Jack and Aunt Miki!!

Colony Pizza
OK, this one is for the geniuses that keep doing Google searches on Colony Pizza and landing on my site:
It's officially called Colony Grill. It's in Stamford, CT. They only serve pizza and drinks. No salad. No bread. Get over it. Yes the pizza is AMAZING. Thin crust LIke Pepe's and Sally's in New Haven only better. Less lines. No Ivy League snobbery with which you must contend.
Colony Grill,
172 Myrtle Ave., Stamford
(203) 359-2184
No credit cards, no reservations, no snobs. Please.

Annie Oakley
So, guess what Deb and I did for Mother's Day? We went shooting with Chrissy and her mom. Four broads shootin' em up for the afternoon. We all shot rather well today - it was a lot of fun. A couple of seedy-looking guys wanted to see Mom's target when she came off the range -- and it was fairly impressive -- and as Chrissy reminded them "Not bad for an old lady, huh? She'll put holes in you. That's for sure." They slithered away.
The party yesterday was great!! A lot of fun. Despite my bitching and moaning, I managed to get enough food and drink for the 30+ people that came by throughout the day. I brought the motorcycle over, thinking I could give my 7yr old cousin a ride, and wound up taking about 8 people on "pony rides" around the block. Dad was feeling generous and decided to let anyone who wanted test drive his new car - the Lexus 430SC. Topless. Wow. As Ferris would say, it is so choice. I highly recommend picking one up if you have the means. You put the key in and things start opening up, moving, adjusting, talking ... very erotic .. like someting out of a James Bond flick. What a kick -- I can't wait for them to go away for a week or two. he he. :)
Hope to see Spiderman tonight... I'm hearing good things about it so far ...

Just back from the Sound Tigers hockey game (semifinal) -- they won! It was great -- reminded me how much I like hockey and how few chances I have to go to a game. Next season, I'll definitely catch more games: SoundTigers, Fairfield U., and Yale. (I love college hockey!)

So, after work this evening, I suffered through the Hell that is Stew Leonards to get all the stuff for my dad's b-day soiree tomorrow. I have only two words to describe that store: Cluster Fuck. What a fiasco. Yes, they have nice stuff, and yes, the prices aren't bad, but navigating the parking lot would try the patience of Job on a Valium/Morphine cocktail. And there are waaaaaaayy too many people inside. And someone dressed like a cow that was following me around the store screaming "Moo!" so I threw a piece of cheese at him. Annoying little fat bastard.
There's a reason why Stew Sr. is in prison. He should be somebody's bitch for making me suffer that nightmare.
Oy. I am retiring to my boudoir. I've had enough of today. Bring on tomorrow... but not right now.

Today is my dad's 60th birthday. He's now officially an old coot. It's also Salvador Dali's birthday. He's still dead. We're having a big party for my dad tomorrow. Guess who is in charge of the food prep again? Yup. Somehow, some way, I've once again been suckered into preparing a meal for 9 gazillion people. Talk about surreal. I hope they like cornflakes.

Adopt a Pet in Need
67,470 animals are in need of a good home. Go get one. Today. You won't regret it. If I had another 100 square feet in my house, I'd go and get a few more. But I have currently reached fur capacity. If you can't get one, then please, forward the link on to someone who can. www.petfinder.com

Jackasses in the News
Apparently, the 21-year-old Wisconsin college student who was accused of the string of pipe bombings wanted to make a "smiley face" pattern with his targets. Next thing you know, we'll find out he was a gay, transexual, one-legged fetishist priest.

Last week, the National Science Foundation reported the results of a recent study: Only 66 percent of men knew that the Earth takes year to go around the Sun, compared with 42 percent of women. And 86 percent of men compared with 66 percent of women know that Earth goes around the Sun and not vice versa. Three percent of the overall population wanted to know if they could please have a corndog and a Pepsi.

And this just in from my sources at Fox:
Monday, April 1: Special Guest Astrologer PHILIP SEDGWICK, author of The Sun at the Center and The Astrology of Deep Space for an astounding class on The Astrology of Airplane Disasters. This presentation is a first in a compilation of planetary pictures, aspects, and statistics that make for sky borne tragedies.We'll examine TWA Flight 800, Egypt Air 990, and many others. Armed with this information, can they be avoided?
Hey Phillip, maybe you can ask the planets when I'm coming over there to give you an ass beating you won't soon forget...

What's Aggravating Laura Today?
People who wear nylon sweat pants to work and swish past my office every 3 minutes.
People who drive minivans.
Darien housewives.
People that don't return phone calls/email. (oh sh*t.. I forgot to call Cassandra back again.)
People who think they live in upper class neighborhoods when they clearly do not.
People who start off conversations with "well, I'm a really important [insert job title here] so that entitles me to [insert annoying behavior here]."
My 1985 hair. (It's getting cut next week.)
That jackass who does the Sprint commercials. Can his face be any pastier?
P Diddy. What the f*ck kind of name is P Diddy? It sounds like what a 2 year old tells his mother he did in his diaper.
Ditto J Lo.
Mariah "What hot, new sports celeb can I sleep with this week" Carey. Ho.
Dawson and Joey: Will you just sleep together, for chrissakes! My god. Enough already.

Must Be Nice
David Geffen just donated $200 million to UCLA so they would name the med school after him. Now, one of my top 5 choices is going to be called the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA.
Here's what he had to say about it: "The purpose of this donation is really twofold. One is to support one of the most innovative medical schools in the world, and the other is to inspire others to do the same. I believe each of us has a responsibility to give back in some way. Los Angeles is my home and I want to do my part in contributing to its future. I have great respect and affection for UCLA and my hope is that with this gift, UCLA's doctors and researchers will be better equipped to unravel medicine's mysteries — and deliver the cures for tomorrow."
It's a very generous gift indeed ... I might just give him a discount if he ever needs brain surgery. :)

Bubbles from the Bowels of Hell
God damn it. We need a new washing machine. The one that came with the house crapped out. I can still use it temporarily, for small batches only, but the GE guy said it won't last much longer and to fix it would cost $250+.

Incidentally, Mr. GE asked me if the jackasses, er, people I bought the house from had kids -- apparently, they used the washer way too much, and it was a cheap washer. (Not us -- remember, our laundry reaches heights that weather balloons can't reach before we decide to do anything about it.) Of course it was. Because I bought my house from 2 of the dumbest, cheapest, got-no-right-to-be-owning-property people on the planet. The very same people who had the entire house wired backwards, with no grounding and on 60 amp service -- using fuses, not a circuit breaker. The same people who had no outside lights, except a spotlight. The same people who lived with one ghetto bathroom for 8 years (and they had 2 kids). The same people who had every room painted the same dingy yellow color using cheap paint that has to be sanded off the walls or else it bubbled underneath good Benjamin Moore paint. The same people who had crappy, hollow $3 doors on every room. The same people who, when they redid the kitchen, were too lazy to move the frig, so they painted... and tiled around it. The same people who were too cheap to fix a leak in the roof, so they let the water drip down and ruin the dining room walls. The same people who left their goddamn swingset in the backyard and hired some guys to come and get it -- 6 months later -- without notifying me. (I came home for lunch one day and there's a group of guys in my backyard and a truck in the driveway... no, I wasn't too pissed off.) Why did I buy this house, you ask? Because it was a steal. If they had put a tiny bit of effort into it, they could have asked for a lot more money. Doors, a little paint, a new bathroom (which was desperately needed), resanded floors ... would it have killed them? Apparently. So, it should come as no surprise that the appliances they left us with were crap. A 6 yr old washer should not die so readily. If the dryer goes in the next 6 months, I am going to beat them with the dryer door.

I saw the husband (former house-owner) a few weeks ago at the gym -- he was sweating and dripping all over a book while on the stationary bike. A library book. See? Cheap. (If you're going to sweat and drool on a book, do it to your own.) And very inconsiderate of the next person who reads it...

I would like to think that if I ever sell this house, it's going to be like a palace when I leave. We've already done so much to the place: new bathroom, redone kitchen, repainted just about every room, new furnace, new electrical, new fencing, new lighting fixtures in every room, replastered dining room wall, new doors, new door jambs, new moulding, new trim, new garden ... it goes on and on.

Forget it. We've done so much ... I'm not selling. Ever.

OZZY
I finally got to catch an episode of The Osbournes last night. I saw the first one, then snippets of several others, but last night I got to enjoy the entire show. I was crying. I don't know who is funnier: Ozzy himself or his kids. His daughter is an f'n riot. I can't wait for the re-runs.

I was an Ozzy fan when I was in high school -- and I vividly remember being completely horrified by the picture of him just after he bit the head off the dove... the evil look in his eye, the blood on his lip. I thought he was Satan incarnate. Suffering in a catholic high school, students were not allowed to show their support for the dark side and were forbidden to wear Ozzy t-shirts underneath their uniforms. Some kids even were chastised for doodling "OZZY" on their notebooks or having an OZZY patch on their jean jacket. Then again, people like me routinely got detention for wearing the wrong color socks, so being an Ozzy fan was just one more charcoal brickette burning on my fire in Hell, where I was sure to go if I didn't pray for forgiveness and go to confession. Yes, in a school run by priests, I can see how listening to heavy metal might lead to impure thoughts and corrupt the minds of the youth...

Ironically, the music I listen to the most today is classical, and I consider myself an atheist. Looks like neither heavy metal nor jesus had a permanent impact.

Shameless Plug: Eystone Gig and New CD!
Don't miss Eystone tomorrow night at Luxx in Brooklyn!
And you must must must check out the kick-ass new site design they just launched in preparation for the release of their new CD Up for Air, due out this summer.
Go, now and check them out!

Some Kinda Horse

Seattle Slew was all race horse

By ED SCHUYLER Jr., AP Sports Writer
He wasn't the eyeful that Secretariat was and he did not attract Big Red's attention, but Seattle Slew was all race horse. Oh, was he ever. Seattle Slew died Tuesday, 25 years to the day he won the Kentucky Derby and began his successful bid to become a Triple Crown champion.

As a foal he was described as ugly. As a yearling he was sold for $17,500. He turned out to be a custom-made suit that was mistakenly put on the rack.

As a racehorse, he was sensational. In a vote by a six-member panel assembled by The Associated Press to select the top 10 horses of the 20th century, Seattle Slew tied for 10th with Forego. "He was a miler, but had a great heart to finish first no matter what the distance," Jean Cruguet said. He rode Seattle Slew in all 17 of his starts -- 14 of them wins and two of them seconds.

As a stallion, he was almost beyond belief. Seattle Slew paled in comparison to Secretariat in the eyes of the public. He was a bay, almost black colt, while Secretariat was an eye-catching chestnut.

Slew's sweep of the Derby, Preakness and Belmont Stakes made him the 10th of only 11 Triple Crown champions. But his achievement came only four years after Secretariat caught the public's imagination by becoming the first Triple Crown winner since Citation in 1948.

Seattle Slew was an ungainly colt who didn't get to the races until Sept. 20, 1976. On that day he won a six-furlong maiden race by 5 lengths. While he might not have been known by many people outside the Belmont stable area, Seattle Slew was no secret there because of his training, and he was sent off as the 5-2 favorite. The only race of his career in which he was not the favorite -- almost always odds-on -- was the Marlboro Cup on Sept. 16 at Belmont Park. In that race he was second choice to 1978 Triple Crown champion Affirmed. Slew won by 3 lengths over Affirmed.

In the 11/4-mile Derby, Seattle Slew swerved at the start, and for a moment Cruguet was shaky in the irons. He then took off and bulled between horses and was second behind For the Moment after the first half mile.

Great jockey Bill Shoemaker, who was ninth after that first quarter on Get the Axe, who finished fourth, was impressed. "Seattle Slew showed he was some kind of horse today," Shoemaker said after the race. "He got left at the gate, and it looked like if he hadn't
found room, he would run over the top of them." After three-quarters of a mile he was still second. Then on the turn he moved to the lead and won by 13/4 lengths. Seattle Slew took the lead early in the Preakness and won by a 11/2 lengths, then he led all the way in winning the Belmont Stakes by 4 lengths on June 11.

"He's the greatest horse there ever was," Karen Taylor, one of his owners, said after the Belmont. Whenever there's a discussion of great horses, Seattle Slew deserves -- indeed, he must -- be mentioned.

The ugly foal was 24-karat beauty.

What's Aggravating Laura Today?
People who chew ice, bang on the keyboard, crunch their salad, slurp their yogurt, scrape their yogurt cups, speak at 120 dB on the phone, eat smelly food and don't change their running clothes for weeks at a time. Might as well be an f'n clown ..

What Are Ya? Chicken!
My team had our first softball game of the season last night. We enjoyed our first win under our new sponsor, Archie Moore's. We giggled, fumbled and bumbled our way through the first 3 innings before we realized "Hey, uh, we could lose for the first time in years." The perennial stalwarts of Fairfield's A division, we've won our league championship 5 years in a row -- going undefeated for several seasons. We weren't always so good ... Many a summer we struggled, overcoming trials and tribulations that could only be found on a women's softball team. (Look, men don't cry if they don't get to play shortstop or have to catch. And men don't run the risk of their entire infield simultaneously being PMS.) We never really sucked, per se, as we've always made it to the playoffs. (Besides, half of us are lesbians, and lesbians don't suck.)

The team has been around a long time -- I've been with them since 1988, and they were around quite a few years before that. (Hey, that makes this year my 15th year with them!) A good chunk of the team are originals. They are the true veterans: Mare (SS), Chiz (now Coach, former player), Kim (OF), Becky (OF), April (2nd), & Annabelle (OF). Some of us have been there for a while now, and have respectfully earned a place of honor: The 3 Nancys: Nancy K. (OF), Nancy R.(3rd), & Nancy (The NJ Maniac) M.(C); the Wonder Twins: Deb (OF) and Chrissy (OF); Our Ace: Mary Z. Looking around the horn, we've also got Sara (SS), Patty (2nd), and Kim (2nd, OF) in da house. Me? I play 1st and 3rd when Nancy's out. We've also got some retired and semi-retired players that will always be a part of the team: Kristin & Annie. We've also been blessed with a very loyal fan base over the years: Mom 1, Mom 2, Melissa T., Kyle, Zolie, Danny and the half dozen or so Little Archies.
A great bunch of women, some have been a very good friend to me for many years. We're a close-knit group, even if we're not wrapped too tightly. As we begin yet another summer of last minute batting rallies, work-with-me-dammits, girl throws to 1st, blowjob shots at Archies, pickle-throwing, pool parties at Chiz and Mare's, I think that I've got to be one helluva lucky person. Even if I didn't sleep with half the team. ;)

LET'S KICK SOME ASS, LADIES!!!!!

This weekend is my dad's 60th birthday celebration. As per our tradition Karen and I are splitting the gift: We got him a DVD documentary on New York City, and I am picking up a gift certificate for him to go to a spa and get the royal treatment. Ordinarily, I'd say my dad thinks he's god's gift to women and is way too macho Italiano, and something like a spa is way too feminine for His Maleness. However, he's also a primadonna, and likes to pamper himself with facial scrubs, body scrubs, lotions, hair gels, whatever. If I didn't know better, I'd be convinced he was a queen. (Then again, there was that time he asked me to pick him up the CD Two Tons o' Fun because he liked the song "It's Raining Men." Hmm. ) So, he's going to a spa to have a Guy's Sports Rub. (gotta love marketing)
Speaking of rubs... this means I have to deal with the uptight women who work at the Spa. I went there a while ago to get a massage, and you would have thought I stepped in dog crap before I walked in the door. The woman's attitude was so icy and condescending and her demeanor -- like I was there to scrub the toilet. "Wellllll Ms. Rush... your appointment is down the hall, to the left. You can disrobe in the women's room." I just wanted to say "Excuse me? Yes, you with the bad face job. Remember, I am not the one who's about to rub someone's ass and feet for a living. So lose the 'tude."
Maybe I'll wear my redneck teeth and a flannel when I go to pick up the certificate .... hmmm ...

Tiny Bubbles ....
Ya know what I hate about home-owning? Appliances. They should give everyone a bottle of Advil and a script for Valium with every purchase you make because of the sheer aggravation they cause.
For the past 2 weeks, Deb and I have been trying to fogure out why we've been getting water in the basement -- we assumed it was from the torrential downpours, which apparently did nothing to alleviate the drought condition. (We were planning on dry-locking the walls and floor next week. Damn good thing I didn't spend the $29/can on 6 cans of drylock at Home Cheapo this weekend.) Since it was raining all last week, and we were both studying, we figured, let's get caught up with the laundry since we can't do much else. (Remember, it was stratospheric heights..) So, we did about 20 batches over a few days. No problem. And then in came the rain. Or so we thought. The two geniuses finally figured out that A) hey it's sunny out today and B) the 6 inches of water in the basement have suds. Lo and behold, the water was not, in fact, due to the rain. It's due to our demonically possessed washer. (The smell of chlorine was apparently not enough of a clue.. but explains the headache I had for 8 days in a row.) Unfortunately, it's not a hose leak, but coming from underneath the machine.
So this Wednesday I get to come home early and wait for the GE repairman, who supposedly will be here between 12 and 5. Like the cable guy, telephone guy, and any other servicemen you need, appointments don't exist beyond a mere approximation. Bastards. A friend of mine once said to me, "The value of my time is not zero," and I couldn't agree more. Therefore, if Mr. GE shows up any later than 4, the cat box will NOT be cleaned and it will then be placed strategically next to the goddamn flooding tin box.

The Post Cinco de Mayo Blues
1 Tequila shot. 2 Tequila shots... 5 tequila shots.. and then I lost count. One Corona. Two Coronas. Five Coronas. And then I lost count. Frozen margaritas. More tequila. A few cigarettes. Dancing on top of the dance box. Singing as loud as possible with the band (and winning a CD for the sexiest dance). A strip tease which lead to dropping of the shorts. Waving sparklers during the "seduction of Nancy dance." More tequila shots. Soon, the entire bottle of Patron Anejo was gone. Let's switch to the "cheaper" stuff. Where's the lemon wedge? Go get another tray of tequila shots, Laura! Hey Nancy, I'm going to rock your world!

10 Hours Later ...
Anne's still unconscious in our guest room as I write this. What, you thought *I* was responsible for all of the above? Hell no. I was the designated driver. I stopped after 2 1/2 beers. And I don't dance on boxes.

he he. When Chrissy bet me earlier in the day that her goal was to get Anne to strip, I didn't think it would ever happen.. looks like I owe Chrissy some dinero.
Oh yes, Hey Anne! Nancy R. left a message with me for you. She said that, since it was midnight, and her time had expired, she was coming over to give you your goodnight french kiss, but you were passed out under the hammock. Yep. Under it. Ma bitch. he he.
And once again, Nancy R. gets the good sport of the evening award! It took most of the softball team to pour Anne into the back of Deb's truck... she had the Brenda Vaccaro voice going, and I was trying to get her to say "I love tampons" but all she could get out was "grrsfnirsn hrmeilafbut slribagn."

So what else happened? (It's nice being the sober one - I get to recant everything the next day because my memory has not been altered..) Deb decapitated the pinata.. and we snatched up the banana lube, which Anne used to torment, uh I mean, entice Nancy... Then there were the fake redneck teeth that we were all wearing for an entire photo session with Mom. (Hey Chrissy, your mom's got some kickin' blackmail photos of the evening - I want copies for the site!) Anne at one point also had to pee so badly that she didn't even bother to unbutton her shorts - she just ripped the button right off. (Made it easier for her to drop her shorts later on during her award-winning sexy box dance strip-tease. Thank god last night was one of the few times Anne decided to not go commando...)
Someone, I think it was Davina, was running around putting red sparkly stuff on everyone's face.. I woke up at 6:30am, saw Deb with red sparkles on her cheeks, thought she was a clown and almost started beating her. Oh yes, and then Cheryl and I thought it would be fun to eat half a box of Cinnabons BEFORE they were heated up. Yum. And then there was the flan/custard thing that I inhaled while discussing the meaning of life with Maryanne, Mary and Kim. My thighs are about 2 inches bigger today.
All in all, it was an excellent party - Nancy and Chrissy and Davina were the ultimate in hosts! The food was to die for!! Oh my god the shrimp! Jesus.. that was amazing. And the band: Sweeter Than Wine -- rocked!! Check them out, buy their CD. Now.

Well, Lazarus has arisen from her bed at last. She's outside nursing what I am sure is going to be the hangover from Hell. he he. She just said to me, "But I didn't mix this year?! I don't know why I felt so sick." Perhaps it was the 27 shots of tequila? Hmm? I'm leaving out a lot of what happened to poor Anne...I'll leave it to the imagination of her adoring public. And she's paying me well to shut up. :) She doesn't know that yet, though...

Who's my bitch now??!!

I'm Done!!!!
Woohoo!!! Summer vaca!!! Oh right... I have a job. Instant buzzkill.
But I got an A on my final!! Yeah, I'm bragging... it's my blog, so too bad. 30 hours of studying paid off!! :) Buzz is back!!
I am soooooo psyched! Sipping on a Corona right now... and now I'm heading outside to relax for the first time since January when I was sailing around the Carib... Now I feel like I've accomplished something: An A in physics. I honestly didn't think I could do it. Whew.

I came home, and suddenly, the tunnel vision was gone, and I can see the disaster that has become my house the past week and a half. Looks like i'll be cleaning shortly... but first.. I'm heading off to chill with my dog. She's been neglected long enough.

Happy Friday, All!!!

(OK Robyn.. exhale. You're safe until July 15... and please... stop taking it personally. :) )

A Little Medical Humor...(comic relief as I get in my last few hours of studying .. the 1:30 deadline looms...)

Two doctors opened an office in a small town. They put up a sign for their establishment: "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones: Psychiatry and Proctology." The town council was not happy with that sign, so the doctors changed it to "Hysterias & Posteriors." This was not acceptable either, so in an effort to satisfy the council, they changed the sign to "Schizoids & Hemorrhoids." No go! Next they tried "Catatonics & High Colonics." Thumbs down again. Then came "Manic-depressives & Anal-retentives." Still not good. How about "Minds & Behinds"? Unacceptable again. So they tried "Lost Souls & Assholes." Still no go. Next they tried "Analysis & Anal Cysts." Then went to "Nuts & Butts," followed by "Freaks & Cheeks." Even tried "Loons & Moons." Not acceptable either. Almost at their wits' end, the doctors finally came up with a slogan they thought might be acceptable to the council: "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones: Odds & Ends."

From my baby sistah:

Please Pledge for Fight Against Women's Cancers!!!

On Saturday May 4th, I am participating in the Revlon Run/Walk for Women in
New York. As an event participant, I am also helping raise money by
collecting pledges and donations. This 5 K event was a huge success last
year and this year I am striving to be one of the top fundraisers. I
could really use your help. To make a pledge, simply click on the link
below to go to my personal page and make a donation. Thank you for your
time and consideration.

Click here for my My Donation page

Thank you,
KAREN

27.25 hours until this final exam.... my head is about to explode. I'm studying until 11:00 every night, and get up at 6:45 every morning to get in another 1.5 hours before work. The insanity starts again at 6:30 pm. Would you say I'm overdoing it? Being a wee bit anal retentive about it? Too much hyperfocusing on the exam?

Saturday and the world-famous Cinco de Mayo party can not get here fast enough. Damn.

Deb just reminded me that I need a vacation. Badly. I want to get the hell out of Dodge ... the South Pacific would be nice. Or Europe again. Miki, can you arrange that? I'd like to leave on Sunday if possible.

J'ai un maux de tête.

Happy Birthday, Cody!

Today is Dakota Blue's (Cody) birthday! She's 4.

She's getting a doggie sundae from DQ tonight, a filet mignon for dinner this weekend, and some presents.

You can post your birthday wishes in the comments area, and she's not old enough to have an email account. (OK, she used to have an account, but she was getting too much porno spam and I had to delete it. She's not interested in any pussy, well.. except for AJ.) (Cats, people.. cats!! Sheesh. Mind out of the gutter!)