17 March 2007


Crap on a cracker. How much does it suck that the only brand of dogfood that Goldie will eat, the $1.21 per can Nutro Max Chicken and Rice chunks, is on the recall list?

I have been feeding my dog very expensive food that may have been killing her (pounding head on keybkdhr23899efboard).

Goldie is pretty hilarious about food that she does not like. She goes to the bowl, sniffs the food, then proceeds to loudly lick the edges of the bowl while gazing balefully and meaningfully in my direction.

"Hey, human," I can almost hear her saying. "You can see that I am HUNGRY because I am at my bowl. Yet I plainly reject this slop. Can you perhaps get off your ass long enough to get me some decent chow?"

Dr. Jean Hofve is an expert in animal nutrition and now I feel bad I didn't take her advice. Maybe I will start baking chickens again. Yes, I absolutely see the nuttiness in the concept that I will not feed myself or those I love meat, but that I will cook chicken for my dog. I never claimed to be sane.

16 March 2007

Friday breakdown

I do not know what string of circumstances made me arrive home at 6:30 p.m. feeling so beat-up-from-the-feet-up. All I know is that it was a desperate state of affairs. I was on the verge of tears for no reason other than it was Friday and I was suddenly really, really tired. My mom asked me to call my cousin and I just could not handle the thought. A phone call - me?? It was so overwhelming that I almost wept. What a weenie.

Enrique cut my hair and I must say he is a genius. It looks fab. He did, however, spend half an hour blowdrying it straight, using up to 2 round brushes at a time. This, my friends, will not be happening in my own home. I wish I had the will and the talent, but I know I don't.

He complimented my color job, too. Clairol, $8.99 sucka, in my own bathroom. Haha.

Note to my father: beans do not belong in an omelet and a bean omelet does not belong in my dog. Dad, you do KNOW I live in a 500 square foot house? With my dog? If they find me asphyxiated, it will all be your fault.

Something is up with my feet. For the whole week, the soles of my feet have been feeling like someone has beaten them with a ball-peen hammer. One hurts, then the other. Alternately. Rarely both at the same time. If one feels ok, the other hurts. Damn. No dog walks, no exercise. This makes me and Goldie cranky bitches.

New goods over at True Employee Confessions. Now with more gassiness.

And I plan on a Linkateria post too. Woo hoo. Watch me go.

14 March 2007

Who do you think you're foolin'?

So last night I'm shopping in Lane Bryant for some jeans. You don't have to tell ME I'm shopping in the fat chick's store.

I know I am. I have not forgotten that here 28 is not a waist size but a regular pants size like 8, 10 and 12 are elsewhere.

I'm not that upset about it, because it actually feels kind of good to be somewhere where my size is among the tiniest things they sell. I'm practically svelte among the Lane Bryantites. I can actually get things that fit in "petite" at Lane Bryant, because petite is a length, not a size.

Which is why I think it hilarious and sad that they have this new way of folding jeans on hangers. The jeans hang as if you are looking on them from the front, but they pleat in the sides to reduce the width by half.

When I first saw it, I thought "WTF? Are these size 2s or what?? In Lane Bryant??"

Then I picked them up and saw the folding trick. Aha. The mystery of the missing yardage, solved.

Note to the display manager: don't. Just don't. Seeing how you think my thighs should look doesn't make me feel better about my size. Let Lane Bryant be the one place on earth where I can let my thighs romp wild and free. I have the whole rest of the mall to remind me how bad I should be feeling about my body.

13 March 2007

Suebobian, translated.

When I think something is truly good, I say "No way! That is fabulous."

When I am being polite or politely complimentary, I say "That's great." Unless I emphasize the "grrrrr" sound AND the "t" sound ("GrrrreaTTTTT" not so much Tony-the-Tiger as a very mad person with very good enunciation skillz). At that point, you should probably look for an exit.

When I say "Fine," it is most certainly NOT fine. It is merely a substitute for another four letter word that begins with f.

You should tread carefully from that moment on. Think of offering red wine or chocolate. It may be your only hope to get out alive.

12 March 2007

I blog because I care

Or maybe I blog because you care.

There's a whole lot of crazy going on out there AND IT IS OKAY. I love that we have this space to talk about it. Snot, piss, poop, sex, Paxil, effexor, kids behaving badly, judgment, weird co-workers, in-laws, manic-depressiveness...it all spills out and 99 percent of people say 'You're okay anyway." That other one percent can go screw themselves.

I think it is hysterical how many people don't "get" blogging. Do you have a story about someone not getting it? I'd love to hear it. This is my favorite from Red Stapler's archives.

New confession up at True Employee Confessions. You are welcome to submit yours: snackishblogATyahoo

11 March 2007

A serious miscalculation

This time change thing. Yeesh.

I went out and got a chile relleno burrito and a licuado de coco (milky coconut milkshake) at what seemed to be a perfectly reasonable hour. About 15 minutes ago.

Now I am sitting here with 8 hours until I have to get up for work, feeling like I have swallowed a watermelon whole and wondering about the structural integrity of my pants buttons.


I should be able to go to sleep in 3 hours or so.
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