I have an even BETTER IDEA as to what to do for my birthday (only 2 months away, start shopping now…)…
and this ONLY goes if Gene is really going to be out of town on my birthday:
I’m going to Indianapolis.
And I’m going to see the Eagles. In Indianapolis. ON MY BIRTHDAY.
(PS: Gene has already said that he probably will not be in NJ and will be home, but it’s fun to dream, right?)
(It would be my best 29th birthday yet, hee hee)
He is 15 today.
He is missed today.
Here are two facts I learned today while waiting at Max & Erma’s for dinner:
1) The NYSE stock symbol for Harley Davidson is HOG
2) Well, crap. I thought I had another funny one. The NYSE symbol for Starwood Hotels – which I thought owned the Hilton hotel chain – is HOT. I thought it was ironic, as “That’s hot” is of course Paris Hilton’s catchphrase and geeez. Starwood doesn’t own Hilton and Elaine is super duper dorky as per usual.
So, the dogs are stuck in their kennels all day while Gene is gone. The pet sitter comes in for a little while during the day but they’re used to a whole lot more freedom. I thought of taking them to the pet boarding place for the day tomorrow, but Gene had a better idea: dog park!
There was only one other dog in the little dog area and Scooby and Betty spent the entire time with their noses to the fence to the bigger dog area. The little dog’s owners warned us that two dogs in the big pen had been cornering other dogs, two on one, but that they’d been there awhile and maybe got the aggression out of them.
But the dogs were booooored, so we went ahead in the big dog area and they had a great time. It was generally very sweet – both of them would run around with other dogs for awhile and then they’d run together for a few minutes. Once they even walked around the wooded area alone together. Betty at the dog park is so funny – I found her getting her belly scratched by at least two people and once she was on a bench, watching the goings on, surrounded by two complete strangers. But still she’s no wuss – a slightly more aggressive dog apparently sniffed her too much and Betty gave him hell. She can totally hold her own.
And then the inevitable happened when two dogs (neither ours) got into a big time fight. I look over and – AAAAAAAAAAAH – Scooby is running towards the fight. What the hell?? It was the scariest thing. I ran after him, ready to tackle either dog if they touched him. By the time Scooby (with me on his heels) made it there, the humans had the fighting dogs separated. Ugh. We left about ten minutes later and one of the fighting dogs was in the parking lot, his owners cleaning up his wound. Yikes, scary.
(Cheesecake City has changed their dog park policies – I used to have to apply to go there, send the city their shot records, and show a pass whenever we took the dogs over – and now, all I needed was the ability to open a U shaped lock on the gates).
Okay, so I am a gigantic loser who finds nothing more interesting than Tales of Celebrity Wives, especially the subset Tales of Rock Star Wives. The dogs and I just got back from the dog park (more about that later) and I saw that E! was showing an episode of True Hollywood Story all about the wives of rock stars.
Y’all, this is TOO funny.
My favorite part: the touching story of the 40+year old dreadlocked (!) guy from a band I’ve never heard of talking about the first time he and his Barbie doll Playmate girlfriend had sex except…err, his little rock star had trouble taking the stage. If you think MY euphemism is funny, his was better (and I quote): “The minute the ding dong got near the cookie, it disappeared!”
In related news, apparently the guy with the weird beard from Anthrax is married to Meat Loaf’s daughter. Huh. Girls really do just marry their daddies.
So, once upon a time, there was a boy named Gene and a girl named Elaine. They built a house in a mythical city named Cheesecake City. It was their first experience as homeowners and they were determined not to fill the house with disposable furniture – they wanted furniture that was built to last. Plus, Cheesecake City was within an hour drive of many many gigantic furniture stores, so they had their choice of everything. It’s not a lie to suggest that they spent months dragging themselves all around these stores, finding just the perfect items at each store, but deciding to go next door “just in case.” (They went “next door” several times). Finally, they found just the right sofa, end table, dining room table and chairs. And after they handed the happiest salesgirl in Cheesecake State a credit card, they ran like hell all the way home lest they change their minds. Again.
The furniture arrived a few months later (too late to host Xmas 2000, oh well) and all was well. It was a faaaaabulous showpiece of a home for many years, indeed hosting several Xmases. And then… and then… in walked two rescued beagles. Who sat on the couch. And jumped on the couch. And jumped off the couch. And twice jumped over the (back of the) couch. And shedded on the cushions. And chewed on the cushions. And, frankly, possibly infested the couch with something undetermined.
What I’m trying to say is that I had the good people of 1-800-Got-Junk to come over and take away the sofa (and a few other smaller items). Trust me when I say that it was not worth saving. Between this and the removal of the bedroom suite, I think we have less furniture than your average college student or homeless person. Seriously. After 800-Got-Junk left, I booked the next available appointment with Stanley Steamer – which was 20 minutes after I booked it. LOL. Anyway, the Stanley Steamer guy asked if I wanted any furniture cleaned and I laughed at him – “Dude, we are down to 1 upholstered chair now!”
What I can’t figure out is this: if 800-Got-Junk moved all the furniture and Stanley Steamer cleaned all the carpets, why am *I* so sore? I am considering trying to slum my way into a Sunday massage somewhere tomorrow because I am in pain! (Something must be wrong – I was dozing off as early as 5:30 tonight).
Thank you all obeying and saying Hello! 🙂 Way to make a dorky girl’s day.
So apparently today is Delurking Day, a day when everyone is supposed to comment and say “HI” on the blogs they ghost read.
So, say hi! Or don’t.
I’m supposed to be getting ready to go to bed, but instead I’m going to post for just a second, in case anyone was worried. I am fine, I hope you are as well. No gnus is good gnus, right? Another payroll down the hatch, W-2s growing ever closer. Getting my toes done tomorrow after the dogs go to the groomer’s. Hmm. I guess everybody’s getting their toes done! Gene is heading out of town again soon. I hope to get the house decluttered (especially the upstairs) and get some writing done while he’s out this time.
Do you think maybe we can get six inches of snow in Cheesecake City to fall between now and 8:30 tomorrow morning, when I am supposed to leave for work?
(Damn, it’s 59 degrees outside… fat chance of a rogue blizzard).
On the bright side, it’s supposed to snow NEXT Monday, so maybe something good will happen then. (Oh wait, that’s a Monday that I can’t miss work… damn).