Stuff Portrait Fridays - where you sleep

Even though I'm a little late, I decided to participate in Stuff Portrait Fridays this week. Actually, it would be more correct to say that my discovery of the fact that Stuff Portrait Fridays exists made the decision pretty clear. :-) This week's topic for "stuff" pictures:

Where you sleep

• Your Bed
• Your Dresser (or drawers)
• Your favorite Jammies

So, without further ado:

My bed, plus two kittens. :-)

What I see when I wake up and look to the right (I told you I'm a product junkie!)

What I see when I wake up and look to the left.

My cluttered dresser - again, proof positive of my obsessive buying of beauty products. *shakes fist at Sephora*

My favorite pajamas - pajama pants with an assortment of sheep, including my favorite, Angry Sheep; and a white T-shirt from Lady Footlocker, which I love because their T-shirts are soooo soft.

A closeup of Angry Sheep, just because he's cool like that. Yo.

Whee. That was fun. I'll probably participate again next Friday, if I'm not completely broken down with anxiety over the fact that my medical school orientation will be THREE DAYS AWAY. Holy crap, y'all.

I just can't do it, captain! Need more bandwidth!

Only 10GB data transfer per month is just no good. I want to upgrade to the next package, but it's $20 more per month and I can't do that at the moment. See, I like to share files, particularly video clips. American Idol clips back in the day, and Family Guy clips (I have Chris's cameo in the Take On Me video converted to mpeg, but no bandwidth left for the month), and Tom Cruise jumping on couches, and whatever else amuses me. I also have a clip from that great episode of House M.D. when he taught the medical school class on diagnostics, and discussed the three patients with leg pain - his interactions with a couple of the students amused me and reminded me of one of my favorite professors, and I'll share it as soon as my bandwidth rolls back to zero at the beginning of the month.

I'm over my bandwidth for July, and my overcharge is up to $17 - ugh. I hate to have to do this, but if you're able to do so, and you like my blog, would you please consider donating a dollar? Two? I won't laugh at a $2 donation - in fact, I'll probably do at least one cartwheel. The donation button is in yonder sidebar, and I promise to reward you with good(ish) content and downloads. Thanks guys. :-) And if you don't donate, or can't, I'll still love you. :-)

Scary bird flu - but Snarkbait makes me laugh about it

I can't stop giggling about this. Snarkbait linked to this article (Massive flu outbreak could happen at any moment, WHO warns) and then broke all rules of time and space, and brought Abbott and Costello in as guest bloggers. Hee.

But the stupid birds with their stupid flu is freaking SCARY, y'all. You know - potential pandemic and all of that. *shakes fist at birds*

My segregated cats, and one who wants to live on my head

I think I mentioned in a post last month that a stray kitten that adopted us around the end of June, Frisco, tested positive for feline leukemia. The vet says that sometimes kittens test positive for awhile as a result of having a mother who was positive (they still have some antibodies due to passive natural immunity, I guess) so he has to be retested in a few days (a month from the original test.)

Anyway, on July 6th, Mom and I went to the animal shelter (saddest place EVER, by the way) and adopted Sophie and Oliver - we asked our vet if we could bring them in that day for their FeLV immunization, and figured that they could cohabitate with Frisco.

Not so!

They go back in the first few days of August for a booster, and a couple of weeks after that (I think) they can be together. Well, this presents a problem. Frisco had the run of the house for a couple of weeks before Sophie and Oliver arrived, so we couldn't very well banish him to the laundry room. So that's where we put Sophie and Ollie, with a baby gate between the laundry room and the kitchen. The baby gate was supposed to (hang on, this is hilarious) KEEP THE CATS IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM. Haaaaaaaaa! We're so silly.

They quickly figured out that with a run-and-go, they could sail over the gate, and I came to investigate a noise one afternoon to find Sophie in the toaster. Well, I prefer my cats untoasted. So we put a big piece of cardboard on top of the gate, and we could still climb over the gate if we removed the cardboard first.

Well, this deterred Almost-Toasted Sophie, but Frisco scaled the wall after a few days of trying, no problem. So we put up an old screen door, in addition to the gate and the cardboard. Now, to do laundry, we have to go out the front door, all the way around to the back door, and get into the laundry room that way. It's pretty funny, actually. But finally, they can't get over the barricade. Mwahahahahaha! We, three humans, have prevailed over three kittens!

Of course, I have to bring Sophie and Oliver (and a litterbox) into my bedroom at night, because it's nice to have something furry and purring to wake you up. :-)

And here's the thing about Oliver - he likes to climb. First onto my shoulder like some sort of bizarro cat/parrot hybrid:

and then right onto my head.

To his defense, I do have a freakishly huge head. So he probably thinks it's the hood of a car - or an ottoman, perhaps. Who knows. Also, I have no idea what those weird splotchy things on my face are. They don't actually exist - maybe a little gnome lives in my Photoshop program, and his sole purpose in life is to blotch up my face.

So when I start including gnomes in everyday conversation, it's time to go to bed. Those little kitties are such cuties, though. I love them already. And I hope Frisco's 2nd feline leukemia test comes back negative. Bless his little heart!

He's aliiiiiive!

Hooray! It seems that my friend Chris has, happily, escaped the time-space continuum and made a couple of blog posts. When he actually posts, he's a funny guy. Maybe I think he's funny because he's the male version of me - Mr. Me, if you will. He's what you get if you take one of my X chromosomes and erase the bottom right leg to make a Y. Hmmm ... looks like you'd also have to tilt it a little bit after the erasure. (Erasure! I need to discover / A little something to make me sweeter* ...)

Anyway, I'm babbling. My point is, go check Mr. Me out. He's talking innies/outies (no relation to belly buttons), a wall of beef jerky, and fake vampires who are so not bearing the seed of the Antichrist.

Good stuff.

*Here's A Little Respect on iTunes, if you're like me and you're trying to collect every song you've ever heard.

Things that don't need to be reported - or - I don't care how Katie's sores were or were not obtained.

The fact that this is news makes my head explode. Well, almost.

From IMDb:
Scientology Not To Blame for Holmes "Sores"

The controversial Church of Scientology has slammed reports one its rituals was responsible for the sores on Katie Holmes' mouth in May. Only a week after Tom Cruise and Holmes confirmed they had been dating for "a couple of weeks" in late April, the former Dawson's Creek star was photographed with several cold sores and a red rash around her mouth. While most critics believed Holmes had acquired the sores from her public kissing sessions with Cruise, several gossip columnists claimed the 26-year-old actress developed the sores after enduring a Scientology process, known as purification. Holmes has been studying the religion since she began dating her now-fiance Cruise. The alleged client of the purification is given vitamin B3 (niacin), which helps to decrease cholesterol and boost circulation. However, a spokesman for the church says, "Whatever is on Katie's face has nothing to do with us. It's insulting that you would ask such a thing."

In a related story, I have a bunch of stuff to say about scientology, and about the eeeeeeeevil field of psychiatry, even though no one knows a blessed thing about psychiatry except Tom Cruise. I wish I'd get in the mood to write.

In an unrelated story, my air conditioner is operational again. Whoopdeedoo.

Whiiiiiiiiiine!

So I have no electricity. Well, currently I have electricity because Dad has the (extremely loud) generator running, but it won't power the air conditioner. And it's HOT, y'all.

Today's forecast:

So this is a fine time to have no air conditioning. A FINE TIME. When it comes to temperature, I'm a total wuss and also a baby. A BABY. I want my controlled temperature and controlled humidity and I want it now. NOW! Otherwise, I start repeating stuff that I say, in all caps. I think it's a side effect of the brain boilage. THE BRAIN BOILAGE. And I had stuff I wanted to say, too, but I'm too hot. TOO HOT. And that's not cool. NOT COOL. Mmmmmm, coooooooool ....

Something else the generator doesn't power? The cable. So I can't watch Katie Couric awkwardly flirt with people. Boo. BOO!

Why terrorists don't scare me

Here's the reason that stories like the following link don't scare me. (Hat-tip to LaShawn Barber for the most obvious headline ever.)

Second Attack on London Stirs Worries

But there are no worries here, because I know how life on this earth ends for me. From 1 Thessalonians, chapter 4:

13 But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

14 For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.

15 For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep.

16 For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:

17 Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.

18 Wherefore comfort one another with these words.

Scott sent me those verses in an email a couple of weeks ago when I was having a bout of severe anxiety - no matter what happens in this life, if you know Christ as Savior, then that is how your time on earth will end. And nothing that the Devil can dish out - no terrorist plots, nothing - can change the promise that God made to His followers all of those years ago. He that is in me is greater than he that is in the world. And I am so thankful for that.

Fake Kofi said I wasn't funny. I think.

Okay, so this is a little late, but the Not-At-IMAO Carnival of Comedy is up at This Blog is Full of Crap. And you know what? I think, I THINK, that fake Kofi Annan insulted me in a fake letter to fake/dead Yasser Arafat. I think. I think fake Kofi told fake/dead Yasser that I was not funny.

Okay, maybe he said I wasn't as fun as his nephew. Whatever, same thing. Booooooo, fake Kofi!

Speaking of "Boooooooo!", I stopped to see Scott on my way home from the lab tonight (because Scott is home now, you know) and he took much delight in doing this incredibly intellectual thing that he thinks is hilarious - when my hair is in a ponytail, he loves to grab a few strands at the top and pull, so that I have to redo it. That's not the part that you're supposed to booooo.

Here's the "Booooooo!" part - I was about to make fun of myself, because my hair was all over the place since the humidity is so high, and I was going to say, "It was so meticulously styled, too!" However, my brain froze and I couldn't think of "meticulous". I could only get as far as, "It was so ... so ..." And Scott, bless his heart, was trying to be helpful by filling in my blank.

Me: It was so ...
Scott: Messy?
Me: NO! It was so ...
Scott: Bad?
Me: Stop trying to help!

Boo.

I can't help it that I have [little girl from Charlie Brown cartoons] naturally curly hair [/lgfCBc] that goes everywhere when it gets humid.

Fantastic Four and things that science girls are not

So, I said that I found something horribly unrealistic about Fantastic Four. No, it wasn't the whole multiple DNA manipulation thing (and the fact that mutated DNA gives you superpowers - it will probably just kill you) or the space travel, or any of that. The most unrealistic aspect was this:

Brilliant female scientists don't look like that, y'all. Trust me, I've had lots of science classes - and maybe there were [Derek Zoolander] really, really ridiculously good-looking [/DZ] girls in my freshman classes, but it's rare for them to make it past organic chemistry. You either have time to spend four hours daily with a personal trainer and getting your hair perfectly straight and working on your tan, or you study.

Of course, you don't go to a movie like this because you want gut-wrenching reality, right? If you want gut-wrenching reality, you go to Fahrenheit 911. Ha ha.

Fantastic Four was entertaining - lots of action, special effects, and stuff blowing up. But the acting was meh, and there were some cheesy lines. Despite the cheese and the fake brilliant science girl, it was worth watching. Also, take the kids - they would like it, and it wasn't the alleged "boob raunch fest" (tm Drudge) that Wedding Crashers was. (Actually, I liked Wedding Crashers better - not because it wasn't for the chirrun, but because it was funny. More on that later.)

Fantastic Four does have a pretty good soundtrack, I'm actually listening to it right now.

Edited because I decided I should include a disclaimer - I'm not saying that pretty girls can't be scientists, so don't give me a long lecture in my comments about how I'm furthering the stereotype that women are intellectually inferior and blahdeblah. I'm just saying that I never had a upper-level science class with a girl who looked like Jessica Alba. You usually don't get [Derek Zoolander again] really, really ridiculously good-looking [/DZa] and an aptitude for science in the same package. I mean, I had some of my upper-level science classes with a girl who looked exactly like Conan O'Brien. I'm not kidding - they had the same head, hair and all. Now that I think about it, I also knew a girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to Chris Farley, which is arguably more unfortunate. What is it about me that I keep encountering girls who look like red-haired male comedians? That's veerd.

My Hair Looks Weird: An early-morning stream-of-semiconsciousness that is not funny

Why am I awake? I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with my erstwhile sneezing kitten Sophie, who is getting over a cold and has been snoring beside my head. Oh my goodness, she is so adorable and fuzzy. But she didn't wake me up.

I can Google the moon? I'm fairly sure I'm not looking for anything that's on the moon. Moon, moon, moooooooon. That word looks funny. If "Google" is a synonym for "nuke", then Frank J should sue. Otherwise, not.

That "we don't get French benefits?!?!" commercial is hilarious at 4:40AM. I don't even know what it's advertising, but it made me laugh.

People I need to say something to:

• Kellleeeeennnnaaaaaa!!! I'm horrible at answering email, but it was so great to hear from you and so bizarre that you found my blog. Hee. I'll send you a ginormous email soon, I promise.
• Mia, where on earth are you? Mia? Mia? Are you okay? Did you get stuck in one of those MetroNap pods? Did you spend so much on gadgetry and microdermabrasion that you had to sell your computer to buy yourself a respectable box to live in? Seriously, haven't heard from you in awhile. Hope you're okay.
• Hellman (no relation to the mayonnaise), you haven't argued with me in my comments lately. Just so you know that I noticed.
• baaaaahhhhsil, it has been so long since you tagged me that the stratum corneum that you tagged has long fallen off and been replaced by cells that were lowly stratum basale at the time of the tag. I will respond to the tag when you LEAST EXPEFCT IT. (Note: I realize there's an erroneous "F" in "EXPECT" - it was a typo that I didn't fix because I thought it was more ominous that way. Kind of like I spit at you in the middle of the threat or something.)
• SarahK, I'm insanely jealous that you live so close to Disney World. Also, happy birthday yesterday. :-)
• Fred Armisen, you are still not funny.

Things that I want to blog about but can't seem to find the time:

• The idiocy of Tom Cruise, in two parts - one in which I argue with his claim that you can be a scientologist and Christian, and one in which I argue with his general goofishness regarding psychiatry.
• Scott is finished with his Ph.D., and working at our university at home (thank You, Lord, for answered prayers!) and I can't stop going, "Dr. Scott! Janet! Brad! ROCKY!" Also, having him home is wonderful, but it makes me oddly anxious. I think it's because it's a change from what I'm used to. But what is wrong with me? It's a happy change!
• Now that Scott is home (hooray with an eeeeeek!) I'm actually going to see movies again. So I wanted to talk about Fantastic Four (there's a part that I found TOTALLY unrealistic, but you'll never guess what that part is) and Wedding Crashers, which I didn't consider a "boob raunch fest" (tm Drudge) at all. Also, Susan Estrich Ostrich? Off of that high horse with you!
• As a person with debilitating anxiety problems, I found a lot of comfort tonight studying 2 Corinthians 12, about Paul and his thorn. I really do want to make time to write about that one.
• I recently discovered that LaShawn Barber has me blogrolled. That's cool, y'all.

And now, I think I'll try sleeping again.

I've been sucked into Laguna Beach

So, Laguna Beach is a reality show? I don't know how it happened, but I just didn't know that. I also didn't know that it would suck me in if I left it on for 10 minutes during MTV's Laguna Beach marathon weekend. Darn it all, I CARE about the stupid characters now! What's going to happen to Kristin and Stephen? Will LC steal him away in San Francisco? I. Must. Know!

However, I. Will. Not. Find. Out. Because, I. Will. Totally. Forget. About. It. By. Season. Two. And. Forget. To. Watch.

But for now, I CARE. That's mildly disturbing to me, especially since the theme song is by Hilary Duff. C'mon, some other old person besides me must care about these stupid characters too. Come out of the woodwork, make me feel better.

Just an update

All of my cats made it through the day alive. Hooray! That automatically makes today better than 4.7% of the last six weeks. By the way, did I mention the two kitties we adopted from the animal shelter a couple of weeks ago? They are ridiculously cute.

I got them to take with me to my apartment when I start school, and they were both supposed to be girls (according to the shelter) so I named the tabby Sophie and the black one Cinderella. Scott thinks that's the worst name in the world for a cat, but it was in memory of my sweet Cinders. Anyway, the vet changed "Cinderella" to "Cinderfella" on the chart. Oooops. So Cinderfella is now Oliver, and will probably stay home with Mom and Dad and Frisco, since my landlord prefers female cats. (To be truthful, Sophie and I will probably spend quite a bit of time at home with Mom, Dad, and Frisco too.) Also, the animal shelter guy needs to pay a little more attention to detail. Er - two details. Er - the two under de-tail.

Anyway.

I'm about to fall asleep, but I just wanted to thank Denny at Grouchy Old Cripple for very un-grouchily sending his readers over to offer condolences for my double loss, and The Modulator too. Y'all are awesome. Mwah.

Goodnight!

Oh! THERE'S Ralph Macchio, on my AOL welcome screen! I had been wondering about him, you know. Wonder which stole many a sleepless night - and by "many" I mean "none".

So I guess he's been spending the last 20 years cultivating the perfect mullet, and filming a wee little movie called "The Office Party". Which is about, oddly enough, an office party. But wait! Here's the plot - the party spins wildly out of control. And it must spin quickly, because it's only a 15-minute short, resurrected because of something Moviefone's cooked up.

Anyway, there's Ralph and his mullet, if anyone has been looking for him.

Another sad day

I'm mourning another cat - the same dog killed another one of my cats yesterday. (Sugar Ray Lucky, for those who've been reading here for awhile.) I've had him since October 1999 - I wasn't as attached to him as I was to my Cinders that the dog killed on June 1st (because Cinders was a mostly indoor cat, while Luck was mostly outdoor.) But I'm still really sad. Mom heard the dogs barking yesterday and she managed to run them off before they killed Lucky - they had just been tossing him around, bless his little heart. So we put him in the car and rushed to the vet, but he must have had internal injuries because he died in my arms on the way. So at least we got to say goodbye, and we tried to save him. He was just hurt too badly - poor little Lucky.

The dog belongs to some idiot that lives about 2 miles from me and is too irresponsible to keep his murderous and evil dog on his own property. By not keeping his dog on his own property (and we called him after the dog killed Sweetie to tell him to keep the murdering thing tied up) this irresponsible man has caused my parents and me many tears and pain for 6 weeks.

And I don't NEED this - the grief is allowing my panic attacks to slither back in, and I have things to do right now (like a thesis) and medical school starts in less than a month (eeeeek!)

And I realize it's my cats, not my parents (God forbid) or Scott (God forbid again) but still, he was my little buddy, and it's traumatic and it's sad.

I know that the Bible doesn't mention an afterlife for animals - it doesn't talk about God breathing into an animal a living soul like He did for Adam, but if there is some sort of afterlife for animals, then at least Lucky is with his buddy Cinders again. He hasn't been the same since Cinders died.

And wherever they are, I like to think that Cinders did the same cute little attack position when he saw Lucky coming that he did when he heard the window in my bedroom open, because he knew that was how we let Lucky into the house. He would always be so glad to see Luck. And people probably think I'm crazy, but Lucky had been mourning right along with us. He's been obviously sad compared to his personality when Cinders was alive. I like to think that they're somewhere taking a nap together again, or sharing an evening treat of Fancy Feast. Lucky may be telling Cinders, "Meow, meow, meeeooowwww," (which means, "You won't believe how much those people miss you!") They were both such good cats.

You'll remember me
when the west wind moves
upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun
in his jealous sky
that we walked in fields of gold

If any of y'all are praying people, I'd appreciate your prayers. I really need strength right now to help me do the things I need to do despite my sadness and my anxiety. Without God's help, I'm going to fall flat on my face. He's put me in this position, though, and He won't let that happen. I just pray that I don't resist His help.

I'm sorry to be a downer, guys. I'd really rather be funny. But this evil dog keeps killing my cats and breaking my heart.

The HOOAH! bar

For some reason, this is tickling me to death. Maybe it's just because I like saying "HOOAH! Hooooooo-ah! HOO! AH!" From Medgadget, via GruntDoc, I present to you - the HOOAH! bar

The U.S. military needed a performance nutrition bar for the toughest customer in the world - the American soldier. No bar on the market was up to the challenge. So it created the HOOAH! bar. The HOOAH! bar's mission: to "improve the physical and mental performance of soldiers during sustained operations and under all climatic conditions."

Soldiers are using it at this very moment, in the far corners of the world.

And now it's available for everyone. Whether you're hiking 30 miles in the woods, battling a deadline at work, or commanding a platoon of unruly children at home, HOOAH! helps you soldier through.

That is awesome. But I wonder if eating a HOOAH! bar makes certain liberals "support" you, while at the same time calling you a Nazi and your commander-in-chief a terrorist, and hoping that you fail miserably on a mission that is evil and wrong? Hmmm.

At any rate, you can get your HOOAH! on at Amazon.

Jimmy Fallon, animated and cute

I noticed that I've been getting hits from people searching "Family Guy Jimmy Fallon", and I thought, "Haaaaaa, the bunch of sillies! It was Homer Simpson that made a Jimmy Fallon reference, not Peter Griffin! I remember because it irked me.

Anyway, when I finally got caught up on my recorded shows, I discovered that Jimmy Fallon DID make an appearance on Family Guy, in the episode Don't Make Me Over, which aired on June 6th. Aaaaaand, Peter punched Jimmy for "looking at the camera and laughing in every sketch you've ever been in!" Oh boo, Peter. Even if it is funny because it's true.

Saddam stole my title!

Saddam's novel a bestseller despite ban

AMMAN (Reuters) - Move over Harry Potter. In Amman's downtown bazaars, the bestselling book these days is Saddam Hussein's bootlegged novel "Get out of here, curse you!"

Banned by Jordan on the grounds the 186-page tale of an Arab tribesman who defeats foreign invaders could harm relations between Jordan and Iraq, Saddam's latest novel has become so popular booksellers say they can't keep up with demand.

"We had copies but they sold out after the book was banned," the owner of a kiosk in a busy Amman street told Reuters. (emphasis mine)

Darn it all, Saddam, that's what I was going to name MY book! Now I have to think of another title, and I'm a horrible titler. (Titler? That doesn't seem right. Thinker of titles? One who titles? Titles, titles, titles. The word has lost all meaning.) Anyway, Saddam. Ruins. Everything.

Harumph.

London, you are not alone

What Frank J. said. Winston Churchill too, via Powerline:

[D]o not suppose that this is the end. This is only the beginning of the reckoning. This is only the first sip, the first foretaste of a bitter cup which will be proffered to us year by year unless by a supreme recovery of moral health and martial vigour, we arise again and take our stand for freedom as in the olden time.

Great Britain, our friends and allies - our thoughts and prayers are with you today.

And of course, if you want links, Michelle Malkin has your links.

See, now, THIS is why I'm going to medical school. This is why I plan to have basically no life outside of school and work for seven years. Nevermind all of that "ease human suffering" blahdeblah crap I told my interviewers - I want to go to medical school so that when I'm a physician, I can give pregnant celebrities with bad health habits unsolicited advice. Yay! It's gonna be SO fulfilling.

Doc suggests Brit lay off the hot stuff

A publicity-seeking Manhattan physician - a total stranger - issued a press release commenting on Brit's rumored bleeding, bad diet and overactive sex life.

"Spotting midterm is grounds for a high-risk pregnancy," upper East Side internist Holly Phillips lectured in the release, which offered the doctor for interviews. "Britney may need to be put on 'pelvic rest,' which may include full-time bed rest and no sex."

Phillips - a Ford model turned Columbia University medical school grad who has dispensed health advice on CNN, Fox News Channel and the "Today" show - added: "Spears needs to slow down on the heavy fast food, and remove herself from the potential damage of second-hand smoke from her husband. Britney's pregnancy can be adversely affected by smoking and second-hand smoke. She should focus on ultimate health and relaxation."

I'm just kidding, of course. I'm going to med school so I can afford things like f2.8L lenses. KIDDING again. Stop looking so horrified.

HT: The Superficial

Shortest post ever

Stewart Says Prison Nickname 'M. Diddy'

Heh. That's them West-by-golly-Virginians comin' up with them clever nicknames, you know.

I could have gotten picked up in KFC

Hey! Look at me! I finally have something to write about! Hooray!

I forgot to tell y'all about being "swept off my feet" in KFC the other day by a guy who was totally trying to pick me up. It was hilarious. Mom and I had taken my new kitty to the vet because he all of a sudden became lumpy at his wound site (it was an abcess) and decided to get lunch at KFC before she dropped me off at work. So we were waiting for our food, and I was filling the drinks and getting lids and straws and all of that stuff. When I turned around to throw the straw wrappers away, there was this creepy Italian-looking guy sitting at a booth next to the trash can (you know the type of guy - too much hair gel, too much Aqua Velva, not enough shirt buttons buttoned on the Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses indoors, gold chains, etc.)

He said, "Can I have your phone number?" So I proceeded to pretend I'm deaf, because I don't want this guy to have my phone number. No, he cannot have it. And I'd rather reject him by ignoring him, not by using my words. I'm a chicken. Plus, it's not like I have a lot of experience fighting guys off with a stick, you know? I haven't had much practice.

After I finished throwing away the straw wrappers and ignoring this creepy Italian guy who was not only creepy, but he was probably at least 20 years older than me, the food was ready and I said to Mom, "I think this guy just asked for my phone number" and then I did this unusual crab-like walking maneuver to get to the furthest booth from DippityDon't McChestHair as possible, all the while keeping my back to him. It was a very complicated move to pull off, but I did it.

Undaunted, Creepy Italian Guy chose to exit by the back door, which happened to be right by our booth (darn it!) and said to my mom, "This is your daughter?" Mom said, "Yes ..." And Creepy Italian Guy said, "May I take her out for a glass of wine?" So Mom was trying not to laugh, but she said, "She's unavailable." And I nodded to confirm that I am, indeed, unavailable, unless Scott (God forbid) gives the word otherwise.

After he left and I wanted to take eight showers, Mom couldn't stop giggling. She was like, "Do people just DO that? Right in the middle of KFC, they just DO that?" I said, "I don't know Mom, I must have been irresistable in my Department of Biological Sciences 2001 T-shirt and my denim shorts."

She said, "I've led such a sheltered life. I didn't even know what a mullet was."

Hee. I love my mom. But I do not love creepy Italian guys who try to pick me up in KFC. I go to KFC to meet my lunch, not my soulmate. Besides, I've already met my soulmate and he's COMING HOME TOMORROW!!! Woooooooooo!

In other news, Mom and I went to the animal shelter today to pick out another kitty for me to have in my apartment (my landlord says she wants me to have a female cat, because she says the males will still spray even if they've been neutered. I think she's wrong about that, but Frisco is a male, so oh well.) Anyway, the animal shelter is the saddest place I have ever seen in person. I wanted to adopt every cat in the place - they were just clawing at their cage doors, like, "Please take me away from here!" Poor little things. I have to wait until morning to pick her up, though, because my vet can't see her for her feline leukemia shot until tomorrow. And since Frisco tested positive for feline leukemia at his checkup last week (I think it's a false positive - but he has to be retested in a month) I can't bring home an unimmunized kitty. I'll post pictures when I get her home. :-) And maybe I'll end up with two girls instead of one. :-)

Yay, and also boo.

This time next week, Scott will be home (he will actually be home on Wednesday) and I won't have to say goodbye to him when Sunday evening rolls around. Because he'll be working at the university at home, not three hours away. I'd tell you how I feel about that, but I can't stop doing cartwheels. Or running around in circles.

Also, I got my hair cut yesterday by some random person whom I must have inadvertently wronged in some way. Because my bangs? They are so short that I don't look like I'm seven, I look like I'm FIVE. And I have all of these weird, haphazard layers everywhere. It's wildly unmanageable. Tomorrow I'm going to try to track down my old hair stylist to see what she can do besides shave my head. Blech.

I think the only thing that can help this situation is - MORE COWBELL. That is all.

UPDATE: I'm watching an SNL rerun on E! while I get ready for fine holiday fun with my giant family, and it's one from 2002, hosted by Ian McKellan with Kylie Minogue as the musical guest. I just wanted to say that Tina Fey's hair in this particular episode is worse than mine. Just to give you a frame of reference. And Jimmy Fallon? Is cuter than everybody. Except Scott, of course. Now that's really all, because I gotta go.