Festivus is early this year!

It's not even December, but it's already Festivus for the rest of us!



How else can I explain this Airing of Grievances? Get out the aluminum pole and limber up for the Feats of Strength, people, 'cause here it comes.

First of all, Gmail is spying on me.

Stop looking at me like that! I know it sounds paranoid, but Gmail is freaking me out lately. You know how they have those keyword generated ads along the right column of the page? I find them so intrusive, don't you? Just now, for instance, I was tapping out an email in which I called something or someone a pain in the neck. Next time I glanced over Gmail had helpfully suggested several cures for neck pain and a few chiropractors in and around my city. On occasion I've been known to pen a dirty email or ten (shut up) and you would not believe the smut Gmail slams me with during those instances. Buncha pervs! Gmail needs to mind their beeswax, I say.

My kid got sent home sick today. Again.

Yet he doesn't act sick at all. In fact, he's quite energetic and annoying. He doesn't lie around, glassy-eyed with fever, quietly sipping juice and calling me "Mother Dear," he bounces around touching everything and making constant, irritating, grate-on-your-nerves noise! He's not one of these kids who loses his appetite either; nope, he's asking me for things to eat every 5 minutes only to eat two bites of it and say he's full. For this, I keep missing work! Not that I'm missing it, but that's beside the point. I'm bored at home, simple as that.

I still don't know what I'm allergic to.

Sure, the rash is gone, and I'm reallyreallyreally glad about that. But why must my left eye keep swelling?! It's like all of the mystery whatever-it-was has all landed there in one eye. This morning I woke up feeling pretty darn good; after all, I was home with my kid all day yesterday and managed to sneak in a 2 hour nap while he played Wii! It wasn't until I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror and saw that I resembled Rocky Balboa after going a few rounds with Apollo Creed that my spirits took a nosedive. Also, I think I'm developing some sort of dependency on Benedryl and Zyrtec.

On a related note, the Google image search results for "swollen eye" are terrifying.

Daycare centers suck.

There's this woman at the daycare whom we privately refer to as the Chicken Lady. She has yellow hair and bulgy, bloodshot eyes, she's skinny and has a prominent Adam's Apple and a beak-like nose. She clearly earned the nickname by virtue of her looks alone, but we'd never have started calling her that had she not also been a raging biotch as well. She's one of these drill Sargent types who takes no guff and has the children marching in little lines. Our oldest son toughed out a year under her reign last year for Kindergarten and we thought that would be the extent of it now that he goes to the public elementary school. As it turns out, he still has to deal with her in the after school program.

Lately she has been nitpicking every little thing the kid does and making a federal case out of it when my husband goes in to pick him up in the afternoons. Jim started to dread pick-ups because it was always something: D stood up before the bus came to a complete stop and angered the driver! D and his friends licked their hands and laughed about it! D and his little friend were talking about *gasp* their weiners! Sounds like typical 6 year-old-boy stuff, right? That's what we thought too! But no, everything is a huuuuuuge deal to the Chicken Lady.

Well, yesterday the shit hit the fan and she managed to anger my mild mannered professor/hey-man-it's-cool hippy of a husband so much that he actually yelled back at her. Yeah, The Jim yelled back! Definitely a first. So now we have to go have a conference with the owner of the daycare and the Chicken Lady, but the long & the short of it is that Jim told her to stop treating him like a child and she told him to stop blowing her off when she tells him all about what is "wrong" with our kid. Really productive. The good news is she kissed my ass thoroughly this morning, so now I get to be the sensible, reasonable parent in the equation instead of the one who is usually overly-sensitive to the fall-out caused by their banal little microcosmic existence.

So there they are, my grievances. You'd think I would feel better, but not so much. Maybe after the Feats of Strength? Come on, who's gonna try to pin me first? I'm all kinds of irritated right now, so I'm pretty sure I can take all y'all! ;)

Hey Kids

Just a little friendly reminder from your ol' pal Bev:

Drink in moderation, do drugs rarely if ever and never hard ones, and above all, sunblock, sunblock, sunblock!



What in fucking fuckerson has happened to Lindsay Lohan?! I know, I know, I've asked this question before. But lately every time I see her picture she looks like she just blew a homeless guy in an alley in exchange for a half-eaten ham sandwich and a ride home. Well, assuming homeless guys have cars, which I'm not exactly sure about. I guess it depends on the homeless guy.



Whatever, my point is that she looks like Tara Reid if Tara Reid had been deep fried in bacon grease and left baking in the Arizona desert for a several days. Heck, I'd even venture to say that Tara Reid never looked this bad in all her alcoholic stupor Franken-tit glory days! When you are being unfavorably compared to a washed-up "coulda-shoulda-been" like Tara, it's time make some tough life decisions, LiLo. And for god's sake, exfoliate & moisturize that shit!


She is only 23 years old. TWENTY-THREE. When I was 23 I did not have a single line on my face. Not one! I have photographic evidence to prove it, too!

Remember, just a few short years ago, Lindsay looked like this.
--------------->


Alrighty then, now that I've gotten my little PSA off my chest, let's get on wit' it, shall we? I know you're all DYING for an update on my rash, and who am I to leave you hanging? When last we saw our heroine (settle down, Lindsay, not that kind of heroin) she was moping and strung out on Benedryl. Well, this morning my rash had all but disappeared, but my left eye was swollen almost shut when I woke up. WOOHOO! So I popped some more antihistimines and went to see a doctor, and wouldn't ya know it? By the time I got there everything was gone. HAHAAHAHAHAHA! My life totally rules.

Needless to say, he didn't have much advice for me. I'm a mystery wrapped in a puzzle with a side dish of enigma. Delicious! The good news is that I've decided not to give a fuck anymore. If it happens again I'll just take the dang Benedryl or Zyrtec or whatever and wait for it to pass. Life's too short and I hatehatehate having something wrong with me, so I'm taking the Ostrich approach from now on. Denial, hurray!

Aside: While searching for that Ostrich image, I came across this little gem:



AAAAAAAACK! I know it's fake (right?!), but... wow. It is fake, right?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Okay dokey, I've confused you all enough for one day, I'm sure. I'm gonna go ahead and blame this entire post on the Benedryl. Well, and the Meth. Mmmm, delicious Meth.

Gotta go!

F-U Monday! A weekend wrap-job

Hey there. How are my lovely and charming bloggy buddies this morning? I hope you're all feeling sprightly and full of vim and vigor after your restful weekends.

I'm not especially happy today, in fact I'm pretty frakin' grumpy. I woke up with a rash on Sunday -- a big one. I have no idea what I did/ate/touched to earn myself an itchy red rash on my entire body, so that just adds to the fun! The bulk of it is better today but now my eye lids are swollen and the rash is on my face as well, so needless to say I'm feeling especially hot and sexy this morning. Oh, and Benedryl helps it a lot, but it makes me feel like my head is floating about 6" above my neck and I was literally dozing off at stop lights on my way to work this morning. Fan-fuckin-tastic, I say.

Let's see - in other news, I saw Paranormal Activity at the movies yesterday and it was pretty good. Not sure if it lives up to the hype, but I enjoyed it and was legitimately spooked throughout. It had a kind of slow-burn build-up and the ending made me (and the rest of the audience) yelp out loud, it was that good. I love that it was made with practically no money; they did a fantastic job with limited resources, and it was quite believable and felt real.

On Friday I had a blog post all typed out and ready to go when Blogger suddenly got her period and decided to be a ripping bitch and delete it. One second I was typing, the next my document was blank. Good times, right? So here's an abbreviated version of that post.

Time to clear off the photos from my cell phone! Behold the random and oftentimes sublime contents of my photo album:

My job totally blows, but at least my office park is pretty:






My kid got all kinds of creative the other night and created "Cardboard Darth Vader" out of the boxes we had on hand. Yes, those boxes previously contained diapers and beer. So?



I pride myself in noticing beauty in odd places, and this mud puddle just struck my fancy one day. Of course, I did my fair share of hallucinagens in college, so maybe that's why I thought it looked so cool. Don't judge me.



Nothing unites a family like a Facebook video of a man blowing his own eyebrows off while doing a science experiment.



My hair dresser used so many foils for my highlights that she couldn't fit them all into a plastic shower cap. This is Kara wrapping my head in Saran Wrap, because I am glamorous and mysterious!



My husband is quite the ball o' fire after 8 PM at night. I took this picture because the cat looked kind of perverted with his head down there, and oddly enough this is the last photo ever taken of our cat. Yep, the cat packed his bags and took off, leaving no forwarding address, soon after waking up in this compromising position. I'm all broken up about it, can't you tell? This is where the tears would be if I gave a shit.



That'll do for today. Thanks for listening to me bitch and moan about my Leprosy. Hopefully by tomorrow it will all be a painful and confusing memory for me!

Speaking of Playboy

I have a confession to make, but those of you who know me won't be shocked by it at all. You see, despite the fact that I routinely ridicule friends like Mala for watching all of those horrid VH-1 and MTV reality shows (Tool Academy & Rock of Love Bus? Really?) I have been watching E!'s The Girls Next Door since episode one. It started off innocently enough - I was home sick one weekday and bored out of my skull, so I started perusing Comcast's On Demand options and came across the whole first season. I turned it on because hey, I like attractive naked people as much as the next girl, and I was oddly fascinated with three women who were (allegedly) porking senior citizen Hugh Hefner.

I was hooked. After all, watching this frothy concoction of T+A is the ultimate escapism. Their lifestyle could not be further from my own reality on the spectrum of normalcy. For one thing, they share a man. I would be jealous if the man I loved had two other beautiful girlfriends, and the idea that we'd hang out like sisters in a sorority house simply boggles my mind. For another thing, their whole lives are spent lounging around wearing skimpy pink outfits, dressing up their little dogs, and attending swanky parties where everyone tells them how gorgeous they are and take their photos for the media.

Yeah, that doesn't happen to me. I don't even have a dog anymore, and when I did I certainly never dressed him up in costumes. Much.

For the record, my favorite Girl was always Bridget, who was the oldest of the bunch and seemed to be the smartest. Also, her looks just seem much more natural than the other two; she's a natural (albeit enhanced) blonde, has a very curvy figure (oh how I envy her teeny tiny waist), and I am not 100% sure, but I think her breasts are even real. Maybe. At any rate, they're spectacular.

Mostly I like her best because she is educated and reasonably intelligent, seemed to be there for the "right" reasons (i.e. she never had designs of making notorious bachelor HH settle down with her, seemed up-front about the fact that it was just too good a gig to pass up, etc.), and she was the peace-maker among the group. Bridget was the glue that held idiot Kendra and power-hungry Holly together.



Now the girls have all gone their separate ways and there's a new batch of bimbos inhabiting Hugh's love shack. I watched the first episode of the new season the other day while living my own glamorous life -- folding laundry in sweatpants while my kids begged for Fudgsicles -- and wasn't all that impressed with the new crop. For one thing, two of them are twins who apparently share a brain, and not a highly-functioning one at that. They do everything together, dress identically, and finish each other's sentences. I have absolutely no hope or desire to learn which one is Kristina and which one is Karissa.

The "new Holly" seems like a nice enough girl, but frankly... she bores me. Also, she looks exactly like the twins, so sometimes I can't tell who is who is who anymore. Would it kill Hugh to have a hot brunette girlfriend? Sheesh!

So, we'll see how the season goes. If I watch it, I'm not sure yet. I've never gone out of my way to watch it, I don't Tivo it or anything like that, but it's hard to miss it when you're flipping channels on the weekends. I used to feel like watching it was like popping a couple of Xanex and taking a little mental vacation, but the first episode just kind of irked me for some reason. We'll see.

Personally, I would like it better if Hugh had chosen a more substantive girlfriend. Maybe someone like November playmate Marge Simpson, for example?



Now that's what I'm talkin' about!

Anyway, there it is. Don't judge me; I'm way ahead of you on that one. ;)

Do you Drew?

I do.

Drew Barrymore, that is. I've always had a fondness for this slightly ditsy blonde actress, maybe because we are the same age and I grew up watching her grow up on screen. I know it sounds weird, but as a kid I used to like to watch a movie called Irreconcilable Differences, a film in which Ryan O'Neil and Shelley Long fight a lot and eventually get a divorce.

Yeah, I know - I was a strange child. Anyway, Ms. Barrymore was in it, and of course she was also in E.T., which was one of the first movies I ever saw in the cinema, so I feel like I've "known" her forever.

When I was about 14 I entered my "no one understands me/textbook teen angst" phase, so I rebelled by wearing head-to-toe black every day, listening to moody pre-goth music like The Cure, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Depeche Mode, and the like, and generally acting mopey and depressed like doing so was my job. My parents were strict, a fact which both added to my melancholy and kept me from doing anything truly stupid like tattooing Sinead O'Connor lyrics onto my ankle or going to 3rd base with a senior named Simon.

While I was breaking my parents' hearts, Drew was in and out of rehab and making movies like the craptastic Poison Ivy. Like me, Drew was going through a bad girl phase and was rebelling whenever possible. Unlike me, Drew had no parental supervision.

By the time I was 18 and in college I had snapped out of my morose woe-is-me phase and settled into the culture of my university. I grew my hair even longer and even straighter, I wore hemp jewelry and had flower patches on my jeans. I celebrated 4:20 at every opportunity and devoted myself to being a "nouveau hippy." Photos of me from this era show me flashing the peace sign with red-rimmed eyes surrounded by a similar band of comfortably-suburban kids who always managed to make it to their classes and earn decent grades even while being blitzed out of their skulls day and night.

Drew, meanwhile, was deep into her bubbly flower girl phase, and had by then posed for Playboy. You all know I have always been a big Playboy fan, so I am not ashamed to admit that I greedily peeked at Drew's goods one drunken night. I found myself and a few girlfriends in the dingy bathroom of a houseful of our male friends, and there it was, just lying there. Girlfriend looked pretty damn good, I must say, and we all ooh'ed and ahh'ed appreciatively until the guys started to wonder what was keeping us in there.

Embarrassingly enough, in our late twenties and early thirties Drew and I both put on a few pounds. In my defense, I had some health troubles and then I gave birth to two rather large babies. Regardless of our respective reasons, Drew's melons became the sag heard round the world when she (regrettably) went bra-less to the Golden Globes (!) one year. I was never happier to be a nobody than when the whole world made fun of her jugs.

The good news is that Drew is wealthy and could enlist the help of a personal trainer and nutritionist (and possibly a plastic surgeon), because soon she was back to her pert and svelte self. In my case it took a bit longer, but I'm happy to report that I'm back in my old jeans and I don't feel like a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade... most days. Of course, La Bev at her smallest is still quite a bit bigger than La Drew, I'm sure, but so be it.

Last weekend Drew was on SNL and she announced that she has hosted the show more times than any other woman in the show's history. I felt undeniably and a little perversely proud of her, as if I too could share in her achievement. She has lampooned herself on the show often enough, including appearing with comically pendulous breasts in the same green dress that caused all the ruckus, that I think we'd probably get along pretty well IRL. I do so appreciate a self-deprecating wit, after all.

This week's opening clip showed her poking fun at her family's long history in show business and I laughed, and then I marvelled at the fact that she's famous even though she has a speech impediment and is relatively average-looking. Sure, part of her fame came by virtue of her last name, but how to explain her staying power over the years? Talent, that's how, and kindness. Something tells me that she's simply a nice person and people like working with her, which is kind of rad.



Hulu only has the whole episode. Go to the 5:30 mark to see the opening clip I just mentioned.

So there it is. I'm a fan, and Drew is one of the few celebs who I'm rooting for to succeed and for whom I wish good things. Even if she did once marry Tom Greene... we'll give her a mulligan on that one.

I hate it when they're right

The weather people, that is.





The bad news is: it snowed this morning. In October. FML.

The good news is: It was just 20 minutes of flurries & it melted fast.

I'm sooooo not ready for another long, cold winter!
Happy Friday, all! Stay warm.

XOXO

That's not the only thing in his closet

Not that there's anything wrong with that!

Maybe some of you are familiar with the talent-free-but-beautiful phenomenon known as Shakira, she of the synthesized vocal tracks and freakily-flexible spine. Recently the pocket-sized Columbian made a completely idiotic music video for her song, "She Wolf," in which she gyrates and writhes around in a metal cage for almost 4 minutes while wearing a flesh-colored body suit. I know, I know, I had you at Shakira writhing in a unitard, right? Well, it gets better - some college kid redid it move-for-move and put it up on YouTube. Yeah, you're welcome.

The original is here, if you must.

Hilarity, the floor is yours!



Work it, brotha!

What else is new? Let's do a listy-poo, shall we?

1. The weather report is calling for the first Nor'Easter of the season tonight/tomorrow, which is early. I usually count on snow by Halloween. I am SO not ready for winter; I haven't arranged to have my show tires put on yet. Those buggers are expensive. *sigh*

2. Adding to the money hemorrhage at casa de Bev: our hot water heater conked out last night, so the plumber is coming today to install a new one. Fan-friggin-tastic, I say.

3. 30 Rock returns tonight! YAY! Love that show, and not just because I want to shrink Liz Lemon/Tina Fey down and put her in my pocket so she can make me laugh whenever I want. Ok, it's mostly for that reason, but also because I can't get enough of Jack Donaughey/Alec Baldwin.

4. Modern Family is the best new show on television this season. Please watch it -- I'm sick of having all of my favorite shows get Arrested Development-ed. It's on Wednesday nights at 9 on ABC - set those DVRs! You will laugh, I promise.

5. Hey look, it's a talking dog.



The end is my favorite part, when Mischa's all, "HOOOOOOOOOWL, now leave me alone, bitches!"

By the way, this dog looks exactly like one my college roommate had, and that Husky was a real pain in the arse. One time the dog ate a tampon & my friend had to pull it out of her butt while on a walk through the campus green. True story.

ANYWHO. Hope you all have a pleasant and drama-free Thursday!

Screw you, pooch! (updated)

Boy, did I fuck up this morning. I'm so, so embarrassed and annoyed right now, but am comforting myself with the fact that today's "oops" will only cost me money, time, and inconvenience and nothing more important.

What happened?

I'm an idiot, that's what happened.

This morning I was running a few minutes behind schedule to catch D's bus. He ran down the road to wait at the bus stop, and as is my habit, I loaded M into the car and started to drive the 1/10th of a mile down the street to wait with D until the bus picked him up before continuing on to daycare/work. Except today it was cold out for the first time this Fall and my window was frosted. Instead of waiting for the defroster to do its job or rummaging around in the car for my ice scraper, I decided to drive down the driveway with only a little patch of cleared windshield to see out of.

Bad fucking idea. BAD IDEA. Fuck ME.

My left front tire hooked over the edge of our steep drive way and I slid sideways down towards the lawn until I was stopped by a small, half-dead birch tree, which wedged itself between the front corner panel and my side view mirror. For a minute, I thought I could just put it in reverse and back up, but after a quick assessment I became fearful that it was too steep to back up and doing so might A. cause further damage or B. make the car roll over.

So I got out and took out my little son from his car seat in the back (on the other side of the car, thank goodness), then I went down and saw D onto the bus and came back to check it out further. It was clear I needed help getting it out, so I did something that to the Vermonter in me was second-nature - I walked to my neighbor's house and rang the bell. Bear in mind that our neighborhood is not a close one; we are all nice to each other but don't talk a lot, and the neighbor I chose is the newest to the block and our least favorite. However, the husband is a tow truck driver, so I thought if anyone could help, it'd be him.

After several rings of the bell I was about to give up and call AAA when a man emerged and said he'd help. He wasn't the guy I expected, but said he was a roommate (didn't even know they had one, but whatev). The good news is he was extremely nice and helpful, and he got out their big truck and chain and, after several huge pulls which I thought might just pull off my front tire, he got the damn thing unstuck and even drove it up onto the road for me. Meanwhile I'm standing well clear of it, holding my son while he says repeatedly, "Mommy not careful." Ha... yes, well-observed. True 'dat, kiddo.

Then the neighbor crawled underneath the car and assessed the damage, reattached my dangling front headlight, and told me it was safe to drive. He refused payment of any kind and I felt very much like Blanche DuBois all of a sudden. Like her, I've always relied upon the kindness of strangers.

I stopped at an autobody shop in town and they looked it over and said I should go through insurance. It's gonna be pricey, even though it's driveable and doesn't look THAT bad. But, my A/C compressor is punctured ($300+), the side quarter panel needs replacing ($300-400), and my headlight is busted ($300-400). There are a few other minor repairs to make as well, plus labor... plus a rental car because the work might take a week....



Yeah. F.M.L. x 1000.

I'm an idiot. It's a damn good thing I don't care about cars or money, because I'm going to be without both for a while!

EDITED TO ADD:

Ok, now that I've talked to the insurance company and found out that most of the collision repairs will be covered I'm feeling a little bit better. I'm still a moron, but at least I can laugh about myself again. I suppose it could be worse:

What have we learned here?

Well hello there! I know I've been slackerific these past few days, but I needed a little break from life. It was a good weekend, and enlightening. I won't go into detail too much in order to protect the innocent (and the guilty... you know who you are!), but I'll hit the high points and tell you some of the things I learned over these past few days away from the Blogosphere.

Let's review!

1. Champagne at 1:00 PM can ultimately lead to tears on Tremont St. at 11:30 PM.

Another way of looking at things - one cannot drink steadily for an entire day without someone's evil twin making an appearance. *cough*not mine*cough*

2. If you insist upon never removing your trendy neck scarf while you eat, people will surreptitiously take your photo and then make fun of you after you leave the restaurant. It's just human nature. Oh, and if we detect a French accent, you will not be given a pass for wearing said trendy neck scarf; rather, you will be labeled "Le sac du douche" and giggled at mercilessly. (And yes, we know that douche doesn't really mean douche in French... creative license, if you will. Thx.)


3. Cape Cod is quaint. And old. Oh, and speaking of old, apparently the median age for tourists there is somewhere around 75... lots of gray heads. As is always the case, my husband and I ended up chillaxin' with the AARP crowd, and we dug it. What?


4. People really were a lot smaller 350 years ago! Ha ha



5. Your husband pre-ordering champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries for the room doesn't really make up for the fact that he forgot your anniversary last week (after being reminded repeatedly).

He will still end up in the stockade, however briefly.


6. If you're looking for a moment of Zen, you will find them if you keep your eyes open.




See? Enlightening.

One last thing before I go -- Congratulations to our friend Kate, who had her baby yesterday about a week ahead of schedule! Great job, girl! We love you, now put down that infant and get back to commenting or it gets the hose again you're going into the stockade too!

Latah!

Unintentional Hilarity

Good morning, my lovely bloggy buddies. Have I told you lately that I love you? 'Cuz I do. Sorry, I'm feeling a little shmoopy this morning. It happens -- ignore me.

No, wait, don't really ignore me! I have stuff to say!

This morning when I got to work I found a little bit of comic gold waiting for me. I'm sure you all know by now that part of my job is to be the office manager for a group of humorless assclowns financial advisors, which basically means that everyone in the office feels entitled to bother me with all of the office's perceived flaws and short-comings. If we're down to 3 rolls of TP in the closet, you better believe I'm gonna hear about it. If the copy machine sucks in more than one page of paper at a time, it's my problem. Low on coffee creamer - RED ALERT! Drop everything!

You get the idea. It's super fun (NOT) and I can't believe I've been selling myself out for as long as I have, but whatever. It pays the bills and it couldn't be more easy or flexible, so I put my ego and sense of self-worth in a jar each day between the hours of 8:30 and 4 and suck it up. Today when I got to work I found this note, and I couldn't help myself; I pulled out my cell and took a picture and said to my crazy cat lady coworker, "I just have to prove to my friends that this is really my life."

Behold the lameness:


I'll alert the media! Shall I get out my sledge hammer and hard hat and start busting open the walls to locate the decaying rodent? Perhaps I should call the police to come investigate to make sure it's not a dead hooker that someone stashed in the utility closet? Honestly, what is it that they expect me to do about a mysterious odor with no apparent source?

The solution I'd LIKE to use is to drop off a box of Glade Plug-Ins on the note-writer's desk and leave her a note of my own. Something along the lines of,

"Maybe these will help with the mysterious odor. If you need ideas on where to stick them, just let me know."

ANYWHO.

What else is new? I had a nice day off yesterday, so I'm feeling sprightly and refreshed today. No, really! I did some laundry then went and got my hair done. Obsession is a strong word, so I'll just say that my fondness for Zooey Deschanel has peaked, so I decided to go all out and get some bangs because I dig her look. I don't think this pic does my 'do justice -- I got a bunch of funky highlights that you can't see in this light, but you get the idea:



After my hair appointment I went over Laurie's and hung out a bit, then she and her daughter and I went and did a little shopping and had dinner. Laurie's new car is pretty sweeeeeeet - she's got a bright red Mini Cooper convertible, and I can't wait to ride in it this weekend with the top down. I'm gonna don a head scarf and go all Thelma & Louise on yo' asses. Trust.

So, all in all, it was a great day. I shall cling to it today as I suffer the quiet desperation of my day-to-day work existence. Good things lie ahead for the weekend, and I plan to rock n' roll all night (and party every day)... and you know I'll take pictures.

Back to the shmoopiness -- you're all awesome and intelligent and The Bev loves you. Can you feel it? (no, not that... pervs) One last thing -- congrats to Frank for making it to numero uno on the comment list! It's so nice when hard work pays off. Well done, and thank you all for your hilarious comments. I live for them.
*MUAH*