Another Late Wedding Present
I totally forgot the good(ish) news! Since my parents have sold my childhood home after their VERY nasty divorce (see the Original Rantsville page), the money has finally been divided and my sister and I have come out on top in the fight for our affections. My dad just sent the HUb-unit and I a slightly hefty check for over 6 hundred dollars so that we could buy a ten piece set of all-clad pots and pans. If you have no idea what all-clad is, it's those spanky stainless steel beauties that Emeril uses (and just about everyone else) on the Food Network. These things, if taken care of properly, will last until our children's children are DEAD. Bringing them home yesterday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!), Bruce and I were afraid to take them out of their box, and now they're sitting on the counter because we're afraid to put them away and scratch them. Sometimes having nice things can be a pain... And we have to figure out what to make first with them. I'm thinking have a couple of friends over for some creamy potato soup with black truffle oil followed by souvlaki and homemade tzaziki. Or I could just cook breakfast, but what's the fun in that?
The sun is out and the winds are a-blowin. I'm thinking maybe today's a good day to bake brownies. Mmmmm, brownies...
Must be getting close to that time of month again.
I mean PAYDAY, you goobs!

It's A BABY!!!!!
Last night my family welcomed yet ANOTHER dark-haired carpet monkey. My cousin Michelle had baby Aaron James King into the world at 7 lbs 13 oz, and a whopping 20 1/2 inches. And he's got black hair, of course, because no one else in my fucking family is blond and I'm a freak. Well, I was until I started experimenting with every color in the rainbow. Congrats to cousin Shell on her first baby!
And then a big fat razzberry because only instants after squeezing him out my psycho aunt (shell's mom) gave MY mom that higher-than-thou look and asked when I was gonna get fat and cranky. So now my mom's on the whole 'when are you gonna make ME a grandma?' kick. Whoopee.

Rewinding the Biological Clock
First of all, a big welcome to acharny's Psycho Babble, the first blog to add us to her list! I'm being advertised! Woo! I highly recommend her blog, it's like me writing about the housewife thing, but she's got WAY more going on in her life with kids and BFL and such. Enough shameless plugging, on with the rant!
The bestest best friend called again today, and once again I am considering adding childbirth to my list of things to do. Believe me, I am trying to hold off on the baby talk, as infant negotiations aren't slated to start until after New Year's 2005, but talking to someone like the bestest best friend kinda kicks it into high gear.
I'd like to have kids, really I would, but I think that the hub-unit and I made the right decision to wait at least a year so that we could enjoy each other without stress (yeah, I said STRESS) of having a child. This way, we can go out and do the things we want to do, spend our money on the things we want to spend it on, and so on and so forth. Plus, now we can set aside money in a 'baby fund' so we're well prepared when I finally get all fat and cranky.
And there's the age thing. I'll be 25 this year, with plenty of kid-bearing years ahead of me, but the hub-unit is 35 with no priors. If we wait TOO long, he'll be really old when we finally send the chilluns to college and such. I mean, the guy's RETIRING in three years that's how old he is.
With the bestest best friend (among all my other friends) having kids, I feel like I'm missing out on something. BBF is actually on her SECOND bun, and I have yet to consider my first. I think we're doing the right thing by waiting, however...
I've seen too many couples that I am acquainted with get pregnant right off the bat and then they don't do too much together. I want to be able to spend time with the man without having to change diapers and such, just for now. But when there are babies everywhere....
Well, you know how my brain feels. It's my body that's starting to get wonky.

The Horror of Clam Casserole
I don't know why I made it, the recipe seemed good...
I was wrong.
The smell made me want to barf, and apparently it gave the hub-unit an unhappy stomach all night. For the first time, I had to give something we tried to cook a blue super-ucka. Bleah.
In happier news, the hub-unit got recalculated and made first class! That means more money and better retirement benefits, which is good. It also means that we have to get new patches sewn on EVERYTHING he owns. THAT'S gonna be fun.

Supah Whu-?
Sitting here watching the WB'S Superstar USA, and I think my ears are bleeding. These people SUCK. They suck more than normal stuff sucks. Like, seriously, SUCKS. I don't even think that I can appreciate this show, and I was one of the biggest supporters of this idea. Dammit. These guys suck more than the WB itself.
I know I said boycott, and after this, I am serious.

The First of the Kitty Commandments
1. I am a cat, not a human, therefore I will not whine until someone flips the toilet lid up.
2. I will not walk around on my tiptoes with my back arched in a mincey kind of way, it is not comfortable and creeps my human roommates out.
3. I will not jump on top of a door that is only two inches wide and eight feet tall at two in the morning and then yowl so everyone will watch me, my human roommates do not think is it anywhere near that cool and will panic.
4. Whatever it is that they are doing with that swatch of toilet paper while sitting on the toilet is THEIR business, not mine, and I should keep my paws to myself.
5. The 5 dollar electric mouse my human male roommate bought for me is a toy, not the anti-christ, and is much more fun to play with than the plastic ring from a milk bottle.
6. I will not ignore my favorite plastic penis toy all day, only to start knocking it about with great fervor once a stranger walks into the house. They just won't understand.
7. I will not make a nest in the clean clothes, getting so comfortable that I only move a few inches to pee and then settle back down. My roommates do not think it smells of 'musky goodness'.
8. I will not fall onto my back with my tummy exposed, only to go psycho when someone tries to rub me. Hands are not the enemy.
9. I will not drool incessantly when I am comfortable on the bed, only to shake my head at one AM and splatter my roommates when I feel the need to get up and use the kitty box.
10. I will not stand in the kitchen and sing at 4 AM on the weekends just to hear my voice. It creeps out the humans and will not get me fed any quicker.
11. My roommate's feet are always attched to their legs and do not move on their own; therefore, they will not escape and I have no need to prevent such an event by gnawing on the nearest appendage.
12. I will not jump on the lower section of my male human roommate's body. It is funny, but then my female roommate gets grumpy for the rest of the night.
13. It may taste good to me, but licking the armpits of my roommates first thing in the morning will not endear me to them any more than licking other things that are equally as ticklish.
14. I will not attack my sister by jumping on her tummy until she barfs, because I am not the one who has to clean it up, or step in it three minutes before I have to be somewhere important.

How to NOT Be Madonna
Okay, everyone knows that I worship Madge ONLY pre-bullshit "Ray of Light", notwithstanding of course maybe two (?) songs that actaully have some staying power. And NO, for the luvva gawd, Frozen is not one of them. Everything else is crap after the eighties, but I digress.
One of the beautiful things about Madonna, husband aside, is that she literally flows with the times. When music changes, she changes, and that is a not often found quality in today's music because today, everybody's got a 'thing'. There is timeless, and there is having a 'thing'.
To wit: Vivaldi. Timeless. TONS of people still listen to classical music because it transcends a time period. Avril Lavigne: a 'thing'. She's great now because she's a cute teenager who writes songs about what she knows, and apparently she knows about being pressured for sex and sk8r bois. Don't get me wrong, I love Avril, but can you see her writing about what she knows when she's 30? 40? Wearing those ridiculous arm warmers and baggy pants? Her 'thing' is angsty punk-pop, and maybe she'll make it another five, six years, but I don't see any evolving here.
These are just the examples here, kids. Today's music, while good great and otherwise, is all about the now. In time, it will fade and be forgotten, with the exception of only a few, because everyone's got a gimmick. Older tunes from the 70s, 80s, and early 90s will follow us to our graves.
I don't know if it's all a good thing or a bad thing, I'm just blogging.

"Not Fade Away"....
DEAD?!?? Wesley's DEAD??
Fuck me running.
Yeah, it's over. My second favorite show ever has, forgive the pun, bitten the big one. Joss Whedon was angry, David Greenwalt was angry, the cast was angry, the fans were furious, and boyola did it show in the final episode of Angel. Here's a breakdown, before I have one of my own:

Wesley Wyndham-Price: Dead, gutted by demon, avenged by Illyria
Gunn: Greviously wounded, estimated ten minutes to live at ending credits
Lindsey: Dead, recruited by the good guys only to be deceived by Lorne and shot dead
Lorne: MIA, shot Lindsey for Angel and then departed never to be seen again
Illyria: Alive, mourning Wesley and ready to commit more violence at ending credits
Connor: (Yeah, you heard me, CONNOR) Alive, sent running by Angel while Wolfram and Hart collapsed around their ears
Hamilton: Dead, neck shattered by Angel at the last POSSIBLE freaking minute
Harmony: Alive, betrayed them all to Hamilton, taking Angel's references to new job at ending credits
Spike: Alive and kicking at ending credits
ANGEL: Alive and kicking at ending credits
Trust me kids, you DON'T want to know how it ended. Really. You don't. Suffice to say that we have three healthy good guys and one fading one against the 30,000 demons of Wolfram and Hart...
Fade to black.
Here's to five of the best years, Angelus. Thank god you're on DVD.
And for you ASSHOLES who know me too well, yeah, I cried. Sobbed, actually. But then, I cried at Buffy too and that was a MUCH happier ending.

Van Helsing: Hot-cha!
Go see it. I won't go off about this flick, because in my honest opinion Van Helsing is a movie which you either love it or hate it. I loved it, you yourself may hate it. I was slightly disappointed by the ending, which left it WAY open for a sequel but didn't explain much. However, Hugh Jackman is HOT and therefore I forgive the movie's few shortcomings. And, I suppose, Kate Beckinsale is equally high up on the hot-o-meter, but she just got married last weekend to her boyfriend, so sorry ladies.
AND Van Helsing took in 54.6 million on its opening weekend, while Troy took in an industry-upsetting 46.5 million. It looks like Brad Pitt in Troy is more Troy Donahue than Troy the juggernaut. Tee-hee.

And the WB still sucks. Tomorrow night marks the final episode of Angel, and from what I've read there's a lot of bitterness reflected in the last hour. Someone dies, someone decides it's not worth it, and there is nothing like the happier-than-expected ending to Buffy in sight. God help me, the boycott starts at 10 pm tomorrow night. Grab your bootstraps kids, the fight is ON!
Whatever. Just me, who's going to care?

Hatches Battened; Storm Passed
The neighbor didn't come by. I was upset, I was kinda actually hoping to tell her she's stupid. Ironically enough, by her not coming over she proved just how ridiculously much we DON'T need her around to ruin our nights. I hope she stays away.

--The difference between irony and sarcasm is that irony happens naturally; sarcasm must be manufactured for the moment.