Forgetful Wednesday Lunch Fiasco

DUDE. I very much hate when TGIM “forgets” to return my debit card and I “forget” I don’t have it and subsequently “forget” to pack lunch because what I DO remember is that Au Bon Pain has super delicious chicken pot pie soup, and I “forget” that I already used my super secret emergency stash that time I NEEDED M&Ms and I end up forced to forage for food like a hungry animal of some sort. Perhaps a cute little bunny rabbit. Or a deer. I don’t know. Whichever forages best, that’s the one I’m like.

Except I’m foraging for spare change rather than carrots or shrubs. I mean, clearly. If I wanted to eat vegetation, I would have “remembered” to pack a salad! You know what I’m saying?! Am I right?! Am I? AM I RIGHT?!

Yep. Forgetting is no fun at all.

American Idol is the Devil. No, Really.

Who in the what now? Kristin Chenoweth was at the American Idol auditions in Orlando?! The ones that aired last night?! As a GUEST JUDGE?! Kristin C?! Olive Snook?! April Rhodes?! What?! Who?! WHAT?!

… must resist the urge to watch American Idol… must resist the urge to watch American Idol…

Whatever. I don’t even care. American Idol and I are still SO over. So what if I missed one of my favorite broadway slash television stars sitting in as a guest judge? Big whoop. I am certainly not going to spend the evening scouring YouTube for clips or anything lame like that, I can tell you that. Honestly. Because I don’t even care that I missed one of my favorite broadway slash television stars, Kristin Freaking Chenoweth, being all judgy and whatnot. On American Idol. Even if her appearance on the show would make for a fabulous AI recap. Because American Idol and I ARE NOT SPEAKING.

… must resist the urge to watch American Idol… must resist the urge to watch American Idol…

No. I will not be taken in again– not even for Kristin Chenoweth, y’all!– because I have not forgotten how American Idol strung me along for years and years before finally revealing itself as a sham and a liar and a time-suck of epic proportions! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that relationship and where did it get me?! Huh?! Nowhere, bucko, that’s where! And I can’t get all those late-night hours spent dialing and voting and recapping BACK, no sir! That’s all I’m saying.

… must resist the urge to watch American Idol… must resist the urge to watch American Idol…

Totally not checking YouTube and the American Idol Web site on Fox to find video clips from last night. Nope. But if somebody just sent me some random, anonymous links, and I was all, “Oooh, I wonder what THIS link opens?” and I clicked on the random, anonymous links and they happened to take me to some awesome clips from last night’s show featuring Kristin Chenoweth as a guest judge, well then, what’s a gal gonna do, you know? Sometimes things just happen like that, all random and whatnot. Understand? IT COULD HAPPEN. But I won’t be looking around for any clips. Nope.

Because American Idol is the devil.

Sunshine Day!

You know those days? You know… the awesome days? The sunshiney days Greg, Marsha, and the rest of the Brady gang memorialized in song? The days in which everything seems to go your way? Like, you wake up early enough to eat breakfast before leaving for work, so you start the day with a healthy meal and absolutely NOT vending machine Pop Tarts and a Diet Coke? Because, ew? And people are super pleasant on the train and don’t glare at you and get all huffy when you—totally by accident!—poke them with your extra long knitting needles which perhaps you aren’t entirely comfortable with yet and may be wielding a bit haphazardly? PERHAPS? And you remember to clip on your PIV card and your many building swipe cards and security badges before you head to a different floor to hand-deliver a report? And you don’t get all stuck and panicky in the stairwell until you remember that if you run all the way down to the lobby you may be able to catch the elevator back to your floor with someone who did NOT forget said security cards and whatnot? And you can get back to your desk any time you want, and do not find yourself outside the office door knocking on the glass until someone—who all the while is obviously judging you for being so careless—comes by to let you in? And you absolutely can’t wait to see what else such an awesome day will bring you, and you DON’T want to crawl into a hole with your Diet Coke and Pop Tarts until the angry, entirely NOT awesome day just goes AWAY? You know? Those days?

Today is so not one of those days.

Knee-Jerk Pop Culture

You know that thing that happens when an innocent comment from someone triggers some sort of finely honed pop culture reflex and you respond by spitting out some obscure quote from a movie or television show? And sometimes people laugh? Because it is super funny? And sometimes people just smile and scoot slowly away and secretly think you are kind of weird because you never make any sense? Because they are obviously not serious about their street cred with the pop culture demo? You know how that happens?

Well, sometimes, thankfully, that innocent comment comes via email. Because when someone at work sends you an email that says, “Thanks. I think I got it in there,” and the completely reflexive “Did I say that out LOUD?!” response happens to be, “That’s what SHE said!”… well, it’s good to have a filter. I’m only saying.

In other news, I am a bad, bad person.

Crouching Tiger, Metro-Style

Ah, yes.

This afternoon I got very out of control and played chicken with the Metro car’s sliding doors (which, incidentally are NOT like elevators doors, in that if you happen to get caught in them, they do NOT bounce back open, don’t ask me how I know, I just DO) because I was super tired and hungry and grumpy and a little stressed about the four mile run I still had to do– on an empty stomach, no lie! in the COLDNESS– and I totally HAD to get home, GOSH. So the warning chimes were ding-dinging and the recorded voice was all, “Doors closing,” but I was like, “Aw, hell to the no!”

Honestly. Only my mad ninja skills prevented me from a near crushing between absurdly quick-closing subway doors.

Take THAT, Metro railway car!

Fooyah.

I’m right… once in a blue moon.

Happiness is spending the better part of an evening arguing with TGIM about whether 2010 is REALLY the start of a new decade, or if it begins NEXT year.

I maintain that 2010 does indeed usher in the start of a new decade and that TGIM and Wikipedia can suck it.

(Hey. We don’t have cable, so we have to make our own fun.)

Wondering

Sometimes I wonder weird things.

Like, why do morning commuters who ate curry for breakfast gravitate towards ME on the train? Or, how can Uggs be so very VERY comfy—like foot pillows! fluffy foot clouds of pillowy… ness!—yet so very VERY ugly? You know, at the same time? Or why can’t knitters and crocheters get along? Honestly. I’m like, hey, what’s with all the hate? Why not try both skills? Be bicraftual! Or throw in quilting or weaving or something and go polycraftual. Just saying.

And lately, I’ve been wondering about the origins of silly children’s games. Like “Heads up, seven up.” Oh! And “Red Rover.” This particular wonder probably stems from an experience I had driving with TGIM the other day. There we were, driving along—well, TGIM was driving; I was trying not to side-seat drive because it is ANNOYING, apparently—when suddenly, a flock of waterfowl decided they needed to run—no, waddle—across the road right then—on foot! or web-foot! whatever!—directly in front of our oncoming vehicle.

Several things occurred to me at once. One, birds are stupid. Because, WINGS? Two, it is SUPER difficult to refrain from side-seat driving. And three, I need to get over my compulsive need to correct myself. It inevitably makes me appear foolish, not to even mention that it makes text-messaging somewhat tedious. Which sort of defeats the whole purpose of texting, I am told.

Whatever. I digress.

With extraordinary willpower I refrained from throwing my arms out to brace for impact while shrieking girlishly. Instead, I helpfully pointed out the front window at the birds and shouted to TGIM, “Duck!… Duck!… GOOSE!”

Because it occurred to me as we were about to hit the stupid waterfowl and maybe crash and/or die, or at the very least, be stuck scrubbing feathers and blood and goo off the grill of our car, that hey, those weren’t ducks at all! Gosh, no! Those were geese! Duh!

TGIM slowed quickly and laid on the horn, at which point the geese apparently remembered that they did indeed have wings. And could fly. OVER the oncoming cars. So no splat, which I’d put down under “Good.”

I sat silently, hoping that in the heat of the moment, perhaps TGIM didn’t notice. Please, please, please…

Yeah, right.

“Duck, duck, goose?” he asked, throwing an amused sideways glance my way.

“Well, they weren’t ducks,” I started defensively, “they were clearly geese, so…” but it was no use. TGIM snorted, then chuckled, and then we both dissolved into laughter.

Of course, while I was laughing at the funny coincidence (not to mention the sudden onset of nostalgia for a favorite childhood game) brought about by my compulsive correcting, TGIM was totally laughing at ME, which, how rude, right?

AND now I’m wondering why I didn’t sock TGIM in the nose when he decided to share the story, ad nauseam, with everyone we know.

Fantastic. Now I’m going to be stuck with serious thoughts all day.

Stupid geese.

Offensive Driving

So I totally had one of those crazy TV moments again yesterday. It was so silly, really. I mean, no one ASKED TGIM to jump behind my little Miata to pound his fist on the trunk and screech like– well, I’ll just say it– a freaking INSANE person about the lawn and how I was sort of maybe tearing up one teensy tiny SUPER little spot or some nonsense… but I suppose I should back up.

Heh. Back up. Heh heh. Hee.

Ahem.

See, we have this long, steep and windy, ridiculous driveway. So there you go. Oh, you need more? Well, only one car fits in the carport, so we have to park single file. SINGLE FILE. I know, in this day and age! So sometimes– at the buttcrack o’ dawn, mind you– I need to back one car down the driveway so TGIM can take the other car to work. Aaaaand now I’m thinking “Back it up like a dump truck, baby!”, thanks a lot, GLEE! Damn Quinn Fabray and her Power Motto!

But I digress.

So, I have to back a car down the driveway. It takes half a mo, and is thusly absolutely no big deal. Me backing the car down, that is. Except sometimes it is because I am BUSY. Doing morning stuff. But whatever, because I am an awesome driver. And it’s usually just my cute little Miata, which I am super stellar at driving, thanks to all the mad maneuvering skillz I learned during those four years of navigating the Capital Beltway. So, I’m an awesome driver, that’s all I’m saying. A little aggressive sometimes, sure, but that’s called offensive driving! No, that can’t be right. I’m not a defensive driver, so… whatever the opposite is, that’s what I am. Not that TGIM would ever admit it. Because he is a guy and I am not and only men can be awesome aggressive drivers because it’s a GUY thing and I am simply reckless, apparently. Which is a LIE.

Are we clear?

So whatever. I may have a little bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to driving around TGIM. So, yesterday morning, when he had to leave and I was all, “I am BUSY! Doing morning stuff!” he went out, jumped in the Miata, and instead of backing all the way down the driveway, he backed just a short distance and a little off to the side, onto our grass. His big plan was to maneuver past the Miata in the Sequoia, then pull the Miata back into the carport for me.

Naturally, as I watched him doing this, I had guilt. Because maybe I wasn’t all that busy, okay? But I mentioned it was morning, right? Buttcrack o’ dawn, and whatnot? Don’t judge.

So I ran out to the still-running Miata, put ‘er in gear, let out the clutch, and… nothing. I mentioned the steep and windy ridiculousness of the driveway, didn’t I? So I wasn’t TOO worried that I seemed to be spinning my wheels but going no where. Which is redundant. I see that now. See, as I already mentioned, TGIM had parked half the car on the lawn, which happened to be covered with morning dew. But, as also previously mentioned, I am AWESOME. At the driving thing! And since my daddy taught me how to pull out of a dead stop on gravel hills in a manual transmission with minimal rollage, I was NOT going to let a small thing like wet grass under my rear wheel stop me from showing TGIM– who was watching from the other car– that I could DO THIS, thank you very much.

So, steep hill plus wet grass plus Cat with chip on shoulder apparently equals Bad. Because as I eased off the clutch– and nothing!– I may have instinctively gunned it a little, you know, to rip up the grass a bit and find some purchase underneath it. Which was a super good plan and was totally WORKING– vrOOOm… vrOOM!– until I heard yelling and felt someone pounding on the trunk of my car.

What the…?!

I ask you: What person, in his or her right mind, would run up behind ME, whilst I am totally busy rocking the clutch and showing the neighborhood how to get ‘er done?! VROOOM!

Well, TGIM will. Yup.

I stopped the car, pulled the emergency brake, opened my door to see what the HELL was going on, and THAT is when I totally had one of those TV moments. (Hoo boy! I bet you thought I’d never get here, eh? Is anyone still reading? Hello?) There stood TGIM, arms spread wide in an Oh-No-You-DI’NT gesture, looking alternately from me to his suit, which was plastered in wet grass, sod, a little mud, and other lawn bits. It was classic slapstick comedy– you know, something you see on TV or in a movie and laugh at but think could never ACTUALLY happen– but with very real, and no doubt costly, dry-cleaning repercussions.

I was horrified! So, naturally I started to giggle.

Then, “What are you DOING?!” TGIM asked. Not nicely either, which RUDE.

“What are YOU doing?!” was my obvious reply.

“You were tearing up the LAWN!”

I was all, “Um, yeah, but what were you thinking?! I’m driving here! I totally HAD this! You don’t just run up behind someone’s car while they are DRIVING and pound on the trunk! Because of a tiny strip of grass! GRASS! That’s craziness! You’re crazy!”

“But… you were tearing up the LAWN!” At my blank look, he added, “Why didn’t you just let the car roll a foot or two so the back wheel would be back on the pavement?”

I glanced back at our steep and windy ridiculous driveway, then back at TGIM. “Oh,” I replied. “That could work.”

And it did.

As we walked toward the house, me to finish getting ready and TGIM to change and rinse the lawn from his face, I had a sudden thought. “Hey… Maybe those crazy TV show moments really ARE set in reality.”

We were both laughing as we walked into the house.

The One in Which Cat Snakes the Ride or Elevator Ride of Shame

This morning I did that thing again. You know, that thing where I say “ha HA!” a bit overloudly– perhaps!– after I JUST make it through a door before it closes on me? And people stare and point and whisper to one another as they move as far away from me as they possibly can in the confines of the crowded elevator I have just stormed? But I don’t even care? I just smile all sunnily and say, “Four, please!” to the dude over by the elevator buttons? Because I freaking SNAKED it, yo?

In other news, I am an idiot.

Confessions from a DWM

Yesterday? I did something. Something I swore I’d never do. Something I have come out strongly against. Something about which I can be a leeeettle bit judgmental. Judgy McJudgerpants. Judge-o-ramma lamma bing bangish. But it was late! Almost two hours later than I usually leave work! And my kids were wondering where I was! And I had limited cell service in my building! And I only had a small window of opportunity to call home before I hit the Metro and lost all service! And I think I might have even been a little delirious due to hunger and sleep deprivation! I’m only saying it is POSSIBLE, okay?! A colossal lapse in judgment brought about by an unhappy confluence of desperation and opportunity! Because I needed to call home and I had already left the office suite and I had one more super quick stop before heading out and the one place in the building with almost all bars was…

Gosh. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. I can hardly bear to say it. But the sad truth is…

Y’all? Yesterday evening? As I was leaving work? I… I… I was a public restroom cell phone user.

GAH! I know! RIGHT?! The SHAME.

Wild Hair in the Employee Lounge

As I passed the employee lounge refrigerator this morning I had this almost irresistable urge to shake every single bottle and can of soda in it. All of ‘em! Every last one! Leave no can unshaken! And not at all because I am trying to get off the Diet DP, you know, because it is too spaz for me, not to mention unhealthy–water is best! water is best!–no, not at all, because hello? Grown woman? Seriously. And water is BEST so I don’t even care at ALL if other people are drinking those nasty caffeinated spazzilicious beverages that are NOT water and are therefore NOT best. It’s their lives! DRINK the soda! It’s none of my concern! It’s–

Okay, even I’m not buying it. *sigh* I’m just a bad person. A bad person with evil soda-shaking thoughts. So I hope you properly admire my restraint.

But if I did give in to my baser instincts, come lunch time, there WOULD be a whole lot of excitement going on around here, I tell you what! Woo!

Whatever. A gal can dream. That’s all I’m saying.

A new episode of TechnoGeekery is up!

I was so excited about the iPhone/iTouch friendliness of DWM and TG that I produced a TechnoGeekery episode about it! Also, a guy named John asked me how to make a (self-hosted) Wordpress blog iPhone friendly. But I’m just saying there was definite excitement going on here, as well! Just so you know.

Check it out! Even if you don’t care about the topic… because there will be singing. And an Easter Egg! (I’m almost positive I know what an Easter Egg IS, and if I’m right, there IS one. I think. Probably.)

TechnoGeekery Show #43: Make Your Blog iPhone Friendly

You’re welcome.

ID Badge Walk of Shame

So, there are card readers in my place o’ work. Lots of them. You know, for my safety? Also to engender self-loathing? Because before I can go through any door, or up or down any elevator, or into or out of any stairwell, I must stop, whip my super-secure badge out of its lead (yuh-huh!) case, and then stand in front of a card reader for, like, TENS of moments of my day, swiping my stupid (but actually smart) ID back and forth (and back and forth) and back and forth. And all the while, guys? All the entire while?! I am attempting to shield my eyes from the tragic evidence of just how absolutely AWFUL my hair looked on the day they took my ID photo, an unfortunate circumstance which—I might add— was totally not my fault! Except for it kind of was! Because that was the day I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and walk the several city blocks to the GSA building instead of hopping on the Metro like everybody else. Because this is called aerobic exercise and is very good for my heart, that’s why!

Flash forward to me, today, approaching the door to the suite of offices on my boss’s floor. I waved and smiled at a group of my colleagues who were waiting at the elevators, reached for my ID badge, and steeled myself for the imminent embarrassment of Cat’s Oh-So Tragic Hair Day Which Will Live Forever In Infamy. But then? I spotted my opportunity! An opportunity of golden proportions! It was FedEx Delivery Dude! I am so not joking. I like to think it was fate’s little way of looking out for me and my fragile ego. Because if I hurried I could catch up to FedEx Delivery Dude and sneak right in behind him, no badge (and subsequent self-loathing) necessary! Score! Sadly, FedEx Delivery Dude was way too busy and important to hold the door for me and my ID badge of shame, but I totally sped up behind him and JUST caught the door before it could swing shut.

“Ha HA!” I triumphed, perhaps a bit louder than I intended. A tad. Perhaps. I may have also pumped my fist. I don’t know. It’s all a blur now.

Bursts of laughter followed me in from the hallway, only to be cut short when the door fell closed behind me. The secretaries in the foyer eyed me warily as I stumbled to a stop in front of their desks (the momentum of my hustle may have propelled me through the door at a pace a bit more energetic than is considered seemly and/or work-appropriate), but I just smiled and went about my business. Because DUDE… I freaking snaked it, yo?

In other news, occasionally I am heedless and strange.

Awesome Light

I’m just going to go ahead and say it. Just blurt it out. Unleash it into the blogosphere. Let it explode out of me the way occasional bouts of introspective verbal diarrhea have a way of doing at the most embarrasing times.

And, wow… There just is not enough “ew!” in the world for the mental picture THAT just conjured, I tell you what, but that is neither here nor there so I will persevere.

See, sometimes? I believe I am awesome. Chock full of the awesomeness. So awesome I can barely stand it! Chuck Bass awesome! I think, “Hey! How is it that I am THIS awesome?!” I write! I sing! I play my guitar! I make vidcasts! I enter contests! I jump out of planes! I swing on the trapeze! I teach my kids awesome things to do and say! And I post videos such as this in which I totally bestow my awesomeness on an unsuspecting, yet obviously pleasantly surprised, public! Because I am AWESOME! I mean, have you SEEN all my friends on Facebook?! I’m only saying.

And then it all falls apart.

I wake up one morning, fire up the iMac, click to my YouTube page to watch my awesome Dr. Horrible Evil League of Evil application one more time, confident in the knowledge that I WILL be chosen for the once-in-lifetime opportunity to be included in the special features section of the super awesome Dr. Horrible DVD. The video starts up, the intro music sends shivers of– what? excitement?– up my spine, but when my face pops up on the screen, my heart drops, freaking plummets, I tell you, and I think, “Oh. My. GOSH. What have I DONE?” I panic. I wish I could take it back. Take it all BACK. I’m not awesome! I’m a fraud! A loser! I made a music video while wearing pink goggles on my forehead! PINK GOGGLES! On my FOREHEAD! And I can’t SING! Or write MUSIC! What the HELL was I THINKING?! OH! EM! GEE! What if Joss Whedon actually SEES this?! I suck I suck I SUCK! (I totally suck.) Not to mention that OTHER people have, like, tens of hundreds of friends on Facebook! Which is a LOT!

And then I think of that quote from “When Harry Met Sally” when Sally tells Harry, “…AND I’m going to be forty!” and when he asks, “When?” she sobs, “Someday!” and I totally get it. Oh, I SO get it. Because it’s there. It’s just sitting there, like some big dead end. And time is passing and what am I doing? Really? Twittering? Jumping out of perfectly good airplanes? Playing around with my guitar? Filming myself acting the fool, not to even mention sporting pink goggles that totally clash with a blue-accented black rash guard? When I’m not even at the POOL?! Right?! There is no WATER for the pink goggles, people! How is that awesome? Do I really think I’m funny? Do I truly believe I have anything to offer? That I will ever write the great American novel or even have any kind of future as an observational humorist? Well?! DO I?!

At this point, no amount of affirmation, self or otherwise, can penetrate the gloom. My heart hurts and I wish I could crawl away and hide. I stop writing. I stop creating. I lose myself in (quality!) television and (totally awesome!) DS video games. I avoid novels because they make me believe that– perhaps!– I could write something even better and why set myself up like that? Do I really want to be That Person? The one who deludes herself? Like those super horrible American Idol contestants who no one ever had the cajones to grab by the shoulders, give ‘em a shake, and sternly say, “Seriously? I love you, but you SUCK at the singing. For real! Even Paula thinks you suck, which HELLO?! Now cut that shit out!”

On one level, the rational one, I understand this is a phase. A mood. A momentary lapse of confidence in my utter awesomeness. But on another level, I just feel sad. Weary. Depressed. So totally lacking in the awesomeness. Awesomeless. Awesome light.

It’s moments such as this that I need to drag myself up off the floor of my I’m SO Not Awesome At ALL pity party, give myself a figurative “Pull it together, fool!” slap across the face, and look around. Take an interest in those who weren’t on the invite list to my party of one. TGIM. My kiddos. My family. My friends. Because even in the depths of self-pity, yes, even then! I understand that they don’t need any kind of proof of my awesomeness. They see it in me, the awesomeness, or see the lack thereof, yet they love me. Unconditionally. Yup. Pink goggles and all.

And that? Is totally awesome.

A TechnoGeekery Lightning Round!

Unbefreakinglievable. I FINALLY posted a new TechnoGeekery episode! Right?! RIGHT?!

BOOM says the lady!

TechnoGeekery Show #40: TechnoGeekery Lightning Round

You can also CLICK HERE to watch at Chassy Cat’s YouTube.

In this episode, Chassy Cat makes up for lost time by answering several Burning Questions all within this one episode! Oh, and then there’s the “singing.”

Why yes, as a matter of fact I am using my sarcastic quotes. Whatever.

Also, my apologies to Instant Star. YOU know why.

The Day Has Come! Oh EVIL Day!

It’s here! It’s time! It’s arrived! The Day! The Evil Day! YEEEEEES!

*ahem* I’m totally cool and collected and not out-of-control-excited AT ALL.

So… yes. The Evil League of Evil is finally accepting applications. Right? DUDE. I’m only saying!

Naturally I have had my application at the ready for MONTHS, so my “Horrible Evil Sidekick” video is up and Super Evil Chassy is ready to kick boo-TAY and take names and… other horrible, water-related evil stuff!

Thanks to Charlotte and Sue and my friend Jen for the heads-up. Apparently, my Dr. Horrible Newsletter announcing the opening with the ELE got lost in the email or something! Yo! What up, Dr. H?!

The following is my official application to the Evil League of Evil. I think it’s pretty solid this year.

Dear Evil League of Evil:

Here’s my application! I ain’t no stinkin’ henchman!

FYI: I can help with any kind of water-related evil. You know, with the evil goggles of watery evilness and whatnot? Water boarding, Chinese water torture, synchronized swimming… the works.

Hmmm… Was that too braggy?

In any event:

That’s it. Fingers crossed.

The Power of the School Hair

When you are starting junior high, sometimes you need… a change. You know, something to give you a little ooomph in the confidence department. Right? Right? Because of the hell on earth you will soon be thrust into with only your magnetic locker organizer, a ridiculously confusing even-odd class schedule, and a TI-84 Plus graphing calculator clutched in your sweaty, junior high hands?! HUH?! AM I RIGHT?!

Oh. Sorry. My issues. Projecting. It happens.

So, anyway, check it out…

We’ve got our BEFORE (see the curls? the handsome, manly curls?):

We’ve got our DURING (see the bouffant? the slightly less manly bouffant? of Danny Zuko proportions?):

And we’ve got our AFTER (see the manly flat-ironed hair?! the way handsome, totally manly, flat-ironed hair?! on my BABY BOY?!):

Awesome. Watch out boy-crazy adolescent girls. Here comes my boy.

(Break his heart, and I WILL cut you.)

Going on a Mini-Break!

Okay, so we’re breaking out! The stay-cation has morphed into a wicked cool mini-break! Woot! YES! Because stay-cations equal sadness for all. Honestly. Well, at least for DWM and clan. I’m just saying. Staying is NO FUN. At ALL.

So, now that I’m done with the filming (oooh, that’s what we call a “teaser” in the biz…) We’re off to NYC, all y’all. That’s right! New York City! All of us! Even TGIM! We’ve never been, so… EXCITING?! That being said, if there is anything we absoLUTEly need to do while we’re in the Big Apple (wait… do we still call it that? is that un-hip of me? Dear LORD! I don’t even KNOW!), let me know, mm’kay?

And now, I must pack. For the wicked cool mini-break I happen to be going on with the fam. Because we are done with the shoot. And we are no longer staying. We are mini-breaking. Which is way better.

Random Thoughts on a Friday Midmorning

The kiddos come home next Friday, so YAY! You know, I always miss them SOOO much more than I think I will. Honestly. What does that say about me– as a momma– that I think I won’t miss them?

Great. Now I have thoughts.

Speaking of Dr. Horrible, if you haven’t seen Felicia “Penny” Day’s webisode series “The Guild” yet, you should totally check it out! (What? I wasn’t speaking of Dr. Horrible? Well, there’s a mad crazy switch.) It won the 2007 YouTube Video Award and e’rything! I’m spreading the love because I think it is hilarious so I want to share AND because I absolutely ADORE being the one that points out fun, pop-culturally-relevant stuff to people. It makes me feel happy and important. Sometimes, even, I get tingles. Tingles in happy and important places. So, you’re welcome.

Also, I am very weird.

Super Evil Chassy and the Evil League of Evil

Well CHECK IT OUT! I’m FAMOUS! SIX people have VOTED for me! SIX! As of RIGHT now! And only ONE of those was ME! FOOYAH!

Dude, I’m saying. Wonderflonium.com ROCKS, yo? Solid.

So, yeah… feel free to click over and vote for Super Evil Chassy’s quite compelling argument for a spot in the Evil League of Evil as Dr. Horrible’s Sidekick. And while you’re at it, head on over to YouTube and spread the love. Joss Whedon, I mean Dr. Horrible, MUST pick me! MEEEE!

The Horrible Evil Sidekick gig will be mine. Oh, yes. It WILL be mine.

Now excuse me. I need to go call everyone I know.

SIX. Woo!

Horrible Evil Sidekick

What? Like I could resist doing a TechnoGeekery episode about this?! Please, biznitch.

Or, you know, refrain from composing a song to Dr. Horrible…

Shut up! It’s a sickness! Enjoy.

(This is also posted at YouTube, so feel free to click over and give me some luuuuv… or a video response! Whatev.)

Legendary Music Video

Okay, so I created this song using my mad Garageband skillz… also, by using a Media Converter to grab the karaoke version of the song off YouTube, but whatever. Still cool!

A legendary music video is in the works. I’m hoping to enter it in a contest and win some sweet prizes. Because I’m a huge geek?

Enjoy!

Or not. Whatev.

(BTW: Any thoughts on how to MAKE said Legendary Music Video would be much appreciated! I’m envisioning RockBand instruments… oh, AND a strobe light. Because, AWESOME?)

Videos Before Ho’s

“Hey, Momma, since you’ve never seen it, we should go see ‘Horton Hears a Ho’ tonight!”

*snorts of laughter*

“What did I say?”

………………………………………………..

And speaking of ho’s, Chassy Pimp makes an appearance on the latest episode of TechnoGeekery. And she RAPS, yo? Right?! I’m sayin’. Sweet.

TechnoGeekery Show #16 (actual #26): Blog Books and Blurb Raps

Please note that the latest episode of TechnoGeekery is also available in the DWM sidebar. Right over there –>. And by clicking on the “Toggle Full Screen” icon in the lower right-hand corner of the sidebar’s Podango player, you can watch the video–wait for it… wait for it– full screen! Just so’s ya know.

Street Cred

Crap.

I may have just been spotted–at work!–air guitaring along with the (wicked awesome) song playing on my iPod.

Hey! I can’t help it! The music is in my SOUL, so kindly step OFF me, yo?

Well. This can’t be good for my street cred with the urban cubicleland demographic.

Royally Screwed

As I sat at a traffic signal a few moments ago, stopped at a green light, my feelings quickly descended from the heady heights of annoyance– I mean, STOPPED! at a GREEN LIGHT!– into the realm of somber thoughtfulness, which was most likely a natural progression of thought due to the mile-long funeral procession crossing in front of me through the light.

And as I watched the cavalcade of mourners roll slowly by, preceded by motorcycle police officers with their sirens and lights providing guaranteed right-of-way to the hearse containing the casketed remains which followed closely behind, something pretty earth-shattering occurred to me.

See, I suddenly realized the only time I will ever be treated even remotely like royalty– with cavalcades equipped with sirens and lights and special flashers, and adoring family and friends following me around– I will be totally DEAD. And thus, completely unable to enjoy the experience. And heaven knows that my family and friends won’t have a good time, what with being all wrecked with sadness and whatnot over the tragedy of their loss. You know, of me. Right? Right?! Dude, I’m saying.

In what universe is that fair?

Benjamin Franklin once said, “Certainty? In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes.” And today I suddenly realized that in both? Well, I get totally gypped.

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