mrtl

Capture the Rapture

Having heard about the "Save the Date" billboards and being completely oblivious to our imminent destruction, I've avoided overwhelming myself with the details and instead focused on presumed protective measures. Since I don't know enough about what to expect and am thoroughly confused about the timing, I'm covering all perceived bases. It would probably be easier just to get more education on the matter, but this way it's much more entertaining.

I'm not even sure if the anticipated events this weekend apply to me. Crafty Girl says I'd be on the October guest list. It's all so confusing, having been raised in that religion that dangles everlasting life with forgiveness carrot for anyone who comes clean.

Pardon, I said "come."

That's what happens when I attempt to half-ass the research by looking at Wikipedia and my eyes instantly zero in on the word "snatch."

There are several reasons why I'm not feeling compelled to seek forgiveness (read this: why yes, I suppose I'm saying that I would sell my soul for these things):

• Justin Timberlake is hosting SNL. I am fantasizing that Zach GalifanowaycanIspellthat will make an appearance for a special "Rapture at Midnight" Lonely Island performance.
• In an unprecedented, newly-discovered perk of living closer to my parents, mister mrtl is taking the kids to spend the day with them while he goes golfing. They'll also be picking up the bikes we have stored in their garage. What shall I do? Why, I shall party like it may be the end of the world but not buying totally into it lest I feel guilty about not spending it with my family.
• I have a ticket to see Brandi Carlile in Anchorage in July with my BFF Alaskanmama.
• I haven't learned how to play the guitar yet. (Note to self to get one and start on Saturday to be prepared.)
• With the kids out of the house, I can have a dans parte and listen to whatever I want while playing with my Jesus Dress Up fridge magnets.
• The after parties being planned sound like way too much fun to miss, especially the one for post-Rapture looting. I've decided to focus on iTunes gift cards so I can get electronic versions of my cassette collection. I may have to get an early jump on this so I don't have to fast-foward through my cassettes for U2's "Until the End of the World" and REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)."

Preparative measures I'm taking include finding as many four-leaf clovers in my yard as possible. I scoff at envious, unlucky "friends" who insist that this means I live on a toxic waste site, even after finding five- and six-leaf clovers.

  

I was relieved to find clovers in my front and back yards, which gives me an added sense of security that I won't be snatched.

Still to be determined is what I'll have for a last meal. My first thought was to make a crock meal, but scrapped that when mister mrtl told me about his plans. It's too much food for just me, and if I don't have leftovers in the fridge and I'm snatched, the smell will be awful.

There most definitely will be pie. I'm still searching for local sources.

For a last drink, I'm considering a scratch margarita or a duck fart. Hell, if I'm leaving and don't have to drive, may as well have both. I'll get mini bottles so none goes to waste.

What's this about being snatched without clothes? I wanted to avoid shaving, so this detail is a pain in the ass. No, scratch that. I will *not* be getting waxed to prepare. How transparent of you, waxing industry! It's shocking that the card and flower industries aren't jumping on this, too.

If I'm naked, can I at least store necessities in orifices? It's safe to assume that Heaven has 3G and recharging capabilities, right?

Uphill Both Ways

We are living in a world with a generation that doesn't grasp how inconvenient life used to be. My children don't know a world without instant gratifiers, and they have no appreciation for the advancements of technology.

For instance, they are not amazed in the least at the special effects in The Wizard of Oz or Mary Poppins. ::yawn::

::Flashback to the summer of 1994, lifeguarding at a local pool. I was 22 and had my first experience feeling OLD getting a blank stare from a 15-year-old girl after mentioning Atari.::

They will never fathom the frustration of annoying siblings who intentionally make noise during an attempt to record a favorite song off the radio by putting a cassette recorder up against the speaker.

They don't appreciate the significance of the ability to set a VCR to record a show, the magic of a dual cassette deck, or the luxury of caller ID, which took the crap shoot out of answering the phone.

So now my children get to roll their eyes when we tell them about "in my time."

Why, when we were growing up there were no portable phones, microwaves, or internet. Cars didn't have buttons to unlock doors or roll down windows. Some of our TV's didn't have color. I remember when we had only a handful of channels to watch, and TV schedules were only available in newspapers or a magazine our parents had to buy.

When we wanted to watch a show, we had to be in front of the tv when it was airing. There was no option to pause, rewatch, or skip ahead. Gotta pee? Hold it till the commercial!

I never realized that this is still the case where the Nielsen Ratings are concerned.

::tangent to whine a little::
Maybe I would have known this if we had become a Nielsen family as anticipated six years ago. Our move to Alaska hindered getting the paperwork, which wasn't forwarded. Or maybe not.
::end tangent to whine a little::

I can no longer imagine life without DVR. Being scattered to begin with and Very Distracted by things like children, shiny objects, an inability to sit still for any period of time, having to pee or eat or sleep or shave that spot I missed on my leg or obsessively strive for that third star on Angry Birds, it's obvious that it's unacceptable for me -- or anyone in this highly distractable day and age -- to comply with this archaic expectation.

I respectfully apologize to anyone who takes offense at my use of "archaic," since Nielsen dates back to 1950.

Many shows that I've really enjoyed lately have been unceremoniously dumped due to ratings. Why?

"People just aren't watching." Not necessarily. If the above article is accurate, the problem is that the Nielsen families are not watching the program live when it is aired. This is so ridiculously unrealistic. We DVR programs to enjoy when we have the time to watch together and focus. This NEVER happens when a show is playing live. There are ALWAYS breaks, pausing the action, especially when the children are around or not quite asleep yet.

"Reality-based shows are popular and much cheaper to make." I'd add that reality-based shows cater better to our society of busy multitaskers. Chances are that if my television is just on, it's playing something that can provide a background. Also, there is a plethora of choices available. The number of channels has gotten out of hand, making planning out any kind of viewing schedule tedious. An acquaintance of mine actually does this -- the viewing schedule -- in an Excel spreadsheet. I'll have to ask if she's a Nielsen household. Is it any surprise that it's sometimes easier to watch a "Top Chef" marathon than trying to keep track of the channel mambo?

If the Nielsen research isn't accurately reflecting the interests of our viewing public, why the hell is it still being used? Why isn't it evolving along with our technology, including DVR and streaming online video? How does Nielsen handle any degree of DVR use or channel surfing?

Are Nielsen families fully aware of how the system works? Are they watching religiously according to that system, or understandably taking advantage of the technological conveniences available? Does Nielsen have some way to gather data to account for other methods of watching?

It's been six years, but I just sent a query to Nielsen asking if the offer was still open. Something's got to give, and I want to be a part of the solution.

-----

Update: Attempted to put this comment on this article, but my computer isn't cooperating with the sign in.

I'm struggling to make sense of how these decisions are made. Am I confused, or is the data used to evaluate a show's potential success or failure this transparently worthless?

Do advertisers think that loyal followers happen instantaneously? Technology caters to busy lifestyles, allowing watchers to truly engage and connect with shows when time allows. Beyond sports or results shows that get "spoiled" if not watched live, it's not realistic to expect even the most loyal viewers to commit to forsaking all else to watch live with the acceptable delay.

There are loyal followers who use DVR because they have kids or schedules that conflict with programming. People who are home constantly, glued in front of a television, may not be those with money or buying power. My children see commercials and ask for everything they see. Does it work? No. It annoys the hell out of us, so we taught them how to pause and fast-forward through the commercials, too. To think that when a Nielsen home turns on a "Housewives of XXX" marathon as background noise, it's driving the ratings more than watching a show religiously during the day since the kids were awake when it aired is disgusting.

Changes are needed. Teach viewers what matters. Don't just tell us that our shows are getting cancelled because we're not watching, but because we're not watching "correctly." Give us clear instructions so the system better reflects what we want. Change how advertising is done to make the data more relevant. Better yet, fix this archaic and ridiculous system that drives programming.

Many channels hijack the bottom of the screen during shows to advertise other shows. Oprah Winfrey Network constantly has a huge "OWN" logo on its screen. News stations will split the screen to include school closings or weather alerts. It makes my eye twitch to consider it, but when the flat screen is as big as it is, sectioning off an area for advertising tidbits (to be expanded during commercial breaks) doesn't seem like a sacrifice. Just don't overlay it because it pisses me off.

Extremes of Patience

Traffic on our way home was stopped the other day by a woman who was hovering over a box turtle as it made its way across the road. Drivers were honking, with some pulling onto the shoulder to pass those stopped. When we pulled up to the "car parade" (as the girls call backups), the turtle was very close to the side of the road. Its guardian crouched and shifted back and forth, arms and legs spread as a linebacker, eyes darting to the cars, ensuring none dared hinder her self-appointed objective.

One driver was overwhelmed by his annoyance at the delay. He was waiting to turn left onto an already congested road, but the backup completely halted his progress since the good samaritan's vehicle at the time was holding up traffic in that direction. The man's agitation was apparent from several carlengths away. He flung open his door, marched purposely to the turtle, leaned over, and picked it up. As he straightened, he spun and hurled it like a discus towards a drainage ditch. His skills were as shitty as his compassion; the turtle hit the pavement for several spins before rolling onto the grassy shoulder.

As traffic started moving again, there was a brief exchange between the man and woman. He was marching back to his car to wait to turn left some more as she advanced towards him hollering; his response was short, dismissively tossed over his shoulder without eye contact.

Why didn't she just pick up the turtle and put him in the grass? Why did he have to brutalize an animal to make his point to her? Did he go home feeling like a better human for this?

Avoiding All Types of Train Wrecks

Today is our home inspection, so I'm killing time away from the house. Not particularly up to sitting and being annoyed by people, I have chanced upon a nice, quiet spot where I can sit in my car and play around online. And write a longer blog post, which usually is only reserved for sitting on the toilet for extended periods of time.

My quiet spot is a train track. Lights were blinking as I approached, so I stopped. The arm came down just as I came to a complete stop.

Other cars approached after me. None lasted more than a couple minutes before pulling around the arm. Some people have gotten out of their vehicles to walk up and look down the track. In the time it takes to get back to the car, though, how reliable is that?

Last year here, a teenager was killed when his car was hit by a train. Granted, that crossing didn't have an arm, but does that really matter if people are so impatient? 

Sixteen minutes after I stopped here, as other cars were still passing me to cross the tracks, I finally heard the train's horn. This was immediately followed by the arms raising and lights going dark. The cars behind me started honking, but I *just* heard that horn. No way was I going to lead the parade. I pulled off the road instead to finish writing.

It's now been 24 minutes. No train ever came, and cars are whizzing by. Beyond wondering if I can trust the safety of and reliability afforded by these safety controls, I also wonder how responsible those in charge of maintaining and timing these devices would be if someone were to die of impatience.

http://tinyurl.com/4w3vrh2

In Which I Expose Truths, Fears, and Keen Observations, and Save the Economy!

Note: Please be sure to comment to let me know you've read through this monstrosity! Not to bribe anyone, but a merit badge will be awarded!

How exciting it is to get my laptop fixed!!

::tangent to self-aggrandize and celebrate just a little bit::
It's a miracle! I don't know how I performed this miracle, but I did. I am miraculously amazing like that! And humble. Don't forget humble!

For future reference (in case it happens again, because of course my blog will be the first reference I use for guidance), it was an unmountable boot error. I had given up all hope and was going to reload the OS. After partitioning I put in the installation disk and somehow got to a C: prompt where I ran a chkdsk and fixboot and OMG it started up AND all my files and settings were still there and OMG OMG OMG I couldn't back it all up fast enough. WOOOOO!!
::end tangent to self-aggrandize and celebrate just a little bit::

Forced brevity by phone blogging was taking its toll. Spending the last week abbreviating myself -- oh how I hate typing on my phone -- was killing me since I had so much I wanted to say on some very important current events. I'll get right to that.

• Miscarriages = Murder WTF?
• WIC is up for cuts.
• Rape is being redefined.
• Planned Parenthood may lose funding.
• The U.S. economy still sucks.
• New product: Breast milk ice cream is here!

Seeing the article on miscarriages got me thinking about the slippery slope such a law change could create. What if the rights of fetuses turned into the rights of reproductive elements such as eggs and semen? What if every sperm were so sacred it were a crime to waste any? What if our lawmakers were to make male masturbation illegal? How about the approximate 400,000 eggs each woman's ovaries form? Would periods be a crime?

Now, noone wants an Orwellian government, right? But what if we try to see positives? Jonathan Swift was totally on track with this in his "A Modest Proposal" of 1729. In this essay, Swift recommends eating orphans and making gloves from their hides as a solution for resolving hunger, reducing the burden of children on poor families, and removing the excess of papists in Ireland.

::tangent for vocabulary lessons::

papist: noun a Roman Catholic.

satire: noun the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.

::tangent for random comments about this tangent::
Having been raised a Roman Catholic, I can understand how too many of them around can have a negative impact. For instance:

• Their propensity to provide refuge to child molesters.
• The physical exertion of the weekly service (e.g., kneeling, standing, sitting) is a strain on the knees and thighs, and can be dehydrating, especially since the only liquid made available is alcohol.
• Oh, PARDON ME, it's not alcohol; it's the "blood of Christ." It was during my blogging sabbatical that I had the disturbing epiphany that the practice of pretending to drink blood makes Catholics vampire wannabes. It was during a discussion with a woman who is married to a preacher. Not a typical preacher's wife, mind you, but one who is totally open to entertaining a discussion about such things.

It's more disturbing to consider that priests (aka molesters in some cases) feed their congregations alcohol-but-not-really, suggesting that it's not wine, it's BLOOD! Totally won't get you drunk, but will take away your sin. We're not sinning here, folks! It's all good. The accompanying lines are burned into my memory: "Take this, ALL OF YOU, and drink from it! It is my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It has been shed for you, and for all men, so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me!" Now that's just fucking creepy. I want to believe that this insanity was brought in to convert pagans and not something anyone actually believed Jesus to be saying. You want to drink blood? We have blood in our ceremonies! Sure!!! Jesus wants you to drink HIS blood! He's cool with it!

If Jesus really did say these things, let's consider how it would go over in today's society. As I suggested to the atypical preacher's wife, if some do-gooder came up to you, offered you a drink, and suggested that you imagine it's his blood when you drink it, you'd be fucking freaked out, as would most every person out there (save maybe people who practice hoodoo... and vampires), and thinking twice about that person's character. And if "good Christians" are supposed to truly emulate Jesus, there'd be a variety of flavored bloods in the grocer's aisle. But Jesus was smart and did this with a crowd. Sure people were all WTF, but the mob mentality worked in his favor. I'm so glad the host isn't referred to as the brains of Jesus, because zombies freak me out a lot, too.

::end tangent for random comments about this tangent::

::end tangent for vocabulary lessons::

::new tangent to share shock over extreme fear that I haven't blogged about yet::
SHOCKED! How can this be? I've scoured looking for some mention of this. Hell with tangents. This gets a story.
::end new tangent to share shock over extreme fear that I haven't blogged about yet::

Story Time with mrtl

Once upon a time, when mrtl was smaller and impressionable and living with her big brother, she became very fearful of vampires. You see, Big Brother told smaller mrtl about rats biting toes off while children slept and bats biting necks. The bats may have entered Big Brother's Sack-of-Scaring-Smaller-mrtl Tricks after watching Brahm Stocker's Dracula, of which mrtl can't remember watching the entirety.

Effects of this sibling abuse:

• mrtl cannot fall asleep unless her toes and neck are securely covered by blankets.
• Bunnicula, the children's story about a cute little bunny rabbit that sucked the juice out of vegetables, caused nightmares. Attempts to cure this fear by purchasing the tamer pop-up version of the story as an adult were unsuccessful, worsening the images with a more actively vicious popping-up bunny.
• mrtl has never been able to watch a vampire movie all the way through:
  • This is a reason why none of the stars of The Lost Boys are on her childhood list of dreamy boys.
  • And although Jim Carrey's eyebrows were a delightful distraction in Love at First Bite, mrtl's eyes were closed and ears tightly covered during key moments of the film.
  • Even Brad Pitt's Interview With a Vampire couldn't cure her.
  • The current vampire craze of "True Blood" and Twilight have been completely lost on her, driving her to numb her brain on "Real Housewives of XXX County."
• People with pronounced canines still freak her out. Jerry Seinfeld's hand obsession has nothing on me.

Just writing this list is causing heartburn and a lump in my throat.

So... Is it really any wonder why, as a young girl, I subconsciously started having a world of doubt about my faith?

End Story Time with mrtl

Let's get back to Swiftly saving our economy.

If our government were to implement new laws to not let any human reproductive output be wasted, it could have an extremely beneficial impact on our economy. Unused eggs and sperm could be harvested and utilized to start a trend in human-based food products! Entreprenuers could set up collection sites to provide the drive-through harvesting of sperm. No need to worry too much about storage facilities; assistive reproductive technology could be used to incubate and raise babies for our food industry. (Bonus: Less emotional attachment to test-tube infants!) Milk-producing women could supply milk for making cheese and other dairy products if Swift's idea for growing babies to yearlings before being offered as contributions to our nutritional demand is utilized. Just think, PETA with its annoying commercials would be defunct.

Names for businesses are running rampant:

• Planned Unparenthood and Orphan Bistro (organization)
• Happy Endings (sperm collection)
• Lecter's Table (restaurant with all dishes served with fava beans and a nice chianti)
• Heads, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes Steak House
• Nothing But the Breast (branding for dairy products)
• Baby's Butt (clothing line with jingle: "There's a reason it's this soft!")
• Fingerlickins' Bar-B-Que (jingle: "We'll never tell you to take our fingers out of your mouth!")
• One Potato, Two Potato (jingle: "Fisting at its best with a side of fries!")
• Man Flan and Boob Cream (dessert shop serving sperm flan and breast milk ice cream)

Please pray that my laptop never dies again.

Imagine My Hell

To be looking for a song online by my favorite group (The The) and get all excited that I missed a new album, only to face the harsh realization that the new album listed is by The Wiggles.

Why Matt Johnson? WHY?? It took soooo long to find peace with your commercialization, even if I don't understand why any proper Brit would choose M&M's over Nestlé Smarties.

Shit. You're not a proper Brit. The Wiggles are Australian. It all makes sense. 

You have a secret identity as a Australian Wiggle, don't you, Matt Johnson? You can't hide anymore behind your unsearchable doubled article group name and common moniker. You've been found out.

You speak of this in "Out of the Blue (Into the Fire)." The man without a soul. The acting like someone else. The going through motions, faking emotions. The  wriggling [sic] around like a lizard in a tin. The trying so hard to cleanse yourself. 

So what color Wiggle are you, you naughty, dirty Wiggle? Blue is taken. How cleansed are you, really?

**********
Out of the Blue (Into the Fire)

I'm a man without a soul...Honey, yeah
I lost it while parading it, in a town full of thieves
Y'see I didn't wanna be with any people I know.
But god knows, I didn't wanna be alone
I thought if I acted like someone else
I'd feel more comfortable with myself
So I showered down, left my little room
Jumped in my car for protection from hostility
Well it ain't easy to be bold in an unknown city
Yeah I was feeling strong mouthed and weak willed
When I ran into the cure for my ills

Don't tell me what your name is
I want your body, not your mind,
I want a feeling, worth paying for before I say goodbye
But as I was talking, I couldn't look her in the eyes,
I just kept wondering,
How many men unleashed their frustration between her thighs?

There'll be no sleep 'til the morning
There'll be no lullabyes
'cause the devil borrowed my clothes just for tonight

Well my adrenalin, was curdling like cream,
as I was being led by the hand.
Through the sound of sirens
And the distant noise of some drunken jazz band,
Through the stench of disinfectant--
that "INFECTED" my head,
through the darkness of a corridor
and into a stranger's bed.

Well I didn't wanna hurt your feelings, honey
But I couldn't suppress my own,
I had to pull myself outta this nosedive
by proving something to myself.

She was lying on her back
with her lips parted.
Squealing like a stuffed pig
I was going through the motions
faking the emotions,
and wriggling around like a lizard in a tin.

Trying so hard to cleanse myself,
I was turning into somebody else.
I was trying so hard to please myself,
I was turning into somebody else.
I was trying so hard to be myself
I was turning into somebody else.
I was trying so hard to be myself
I was turning into somebody else.
I was trying so hard to be myself
I was turning into somebody else.

Come my love with your desire 
Out of the blue...and into the fire!!

http://new.music.yahoo.com/the/tracks/

I'm not one to judge, but the kid is really fucking annoying.

Dear Mother of Unsupervised Obnoxious Child at After School Activity,

Your son is annoying and regularly invades other people's space. He seems to enjoy pestering and irritating others, fueled by negative attention. I know you know this. I'm sure it's why you can't get him dropped off quickly enough -- typically ten minutes earlier than the activity starts -- sending him inside to the waiting area unsupervised so you have a full 70 minutes to drive off and allow your eye to stop twitching.

Contrary to what you may be thinking, the receptionist is not responsible for supervising your child while waiting for the activity to start -- and she makes no effort otherwise (for which I cannot fault her) -- nor are the other parents present in the waiting area. YOU are responsible for your child's behavior and safety.

Today your son decided to climb ON TOP OF my daughter, who was sitting calmly in the chair next to me playing a game. It is unfortunate that her reflexive knee landed in his nuts before I could tell him to back off.

If you treasure the option of the joy of laughing at your son's ire when he has a child just like him, you may want to reconsider leaving him unattended in this way. You can only blame yourself if you end up without grandchildren.

Sincerely,
mrtl

Left or Straight?

That's right. Four hours and I'm back. I'm indulging myself during my multitasked laziness to wander a wonder. I'm also watching "American Idol," so it's a trifecta of lazy productivity. I'm feeling better already.

The dilemma: Two men are looking at imminent prison sentences (one framed, one guilty). They are driving together and stopped at a red light. Going straight will take them where they are supposed to be to address the charges against them. Going left will take them to Mexico. Which way do they go?

There's no answer. No conclusion. No closure. I can't stand cliffhangers, but "Terriers" isn't coming back, so we're all left to hang there and wonder. The storyline was all set up to ready us for the second season, which made it that much worse. All the curiosity and anticipation are shot, knowing that this is it. WHICH WAY DO THEY GO, damnit?! What happens with all the other subplots?

::tangent to vent just a little::
Television shows like this are doomed in our culture. The cast is excellent, the writing spectacular (props to whoever came up with the play on "I Love You for Sentimental Reasons" -- I digs me some naughty songs).

I'm getting tired of networks limiting us to medical dramas (need something "new"? let's make them doctors without borders!), who's-the-next-best-[blankety blank] talent shows, and yet another spin from CSI or Law and Order (is there another NCIS now? I don't pay attention to the crap anymore). Thank goodness for "Modern Family." If that gets cancelled to make room for another insipid drama or reality show I will cut someone.

::tangent to remove realistic threat of cutting someone::
Not to Palin myself if such a horrid thing should occur, I want it on record that I'm more likely to find a non-violent way of cutting someone. "Original Gangstaz" may be a place to start, but since that wasn't particularly fulfilling when work drove me insane last year, and I enjoy killing people by kicking them in the nuts so much, I think it'd be more suitable to get my hands dirty.

Ooooh! Crafts! I could make a victim out of food and then cut it. Like a Mr. Hotdog Man with spaghetti and various vegetables poked through him all voodoo style to make his arms, legs, hair, and all. Granted, he'd be all floppy after boiling, but it's workable; he won't be able to stand. Dousing him with ketchup will enhance the effect. I shall name him Jay, not that I'd want to imply killing Ed O'Neill, but because Sofia Vergara never fails to crack me up when she "YAYs!" at him, and I certainly want to take pleasure in cutting someone. "Yay! What's wrong?" "Yay! Why's your leg so noodly?" "Yay! Why you not answer me?" "Yay! Who cut you?" "YAY!" "YAY!!! You're dead!!"

Of course, I'd then want to eat Jay, since he'd be so yummy looking, all cut up and ready to go. Would that ruin the imagery? Make me look like a cannibal? Oh my head. Let's hope this doesn't happen anytime soon so I can more carefully figure out the plan.
::end tangent to remove realistic threat of cutting someone::

Where was I? The levity helped. The vent may end now.
::end tangent to vent just a little::

::new tangent to note and address input from the peanut gallery::
At this point, I'm giggling to myself as I type, and mister mrtl asks me what I'm doing. I give him a brief synopsis, including the mention of writing Sofia Vergara into a "Terriers" Mexican adventure.

Ever the Man of Hispanic Studies, he points out that Vergara is Not Mexican.

Duh, I know that. She's Colombian, from the same town as Shakira. Did you know that mister smartypants?

So now tell me, which would be worse? Possibly offending a Colombian by requesting to cast her as a Mexican, or insulting a Colombian by suggesting that she couldn't possibly play a Mexican? Who would be a better choice? Scarlett Johansson? While Johansson rocked a great Jersey accent on SNL, I don't think she can yell, "Yay!" with the same energy. I think I'll trust Vergara's range.

We're not in "I couldn't find a picture of a ship, so I had to use a house" territory here, you know?
::end new tangent to note and address input from the peanut gallery::

See, now I'm totally off track on what I thought Hank and Britt would do when the light turns green. My tangents done tangented me. New verb?

I was going to say that they go straight, but then Britt complains of being hungry. Surely they should have a decent meal before going to jail. That food will suck. Hank agrees this is a very good idea, suggesting that if they go back take a right, there's a good spot not far down. The toe goes in the pool... They go, they eat, then they head back. There's more to lose if they run. Besides, Mexico would challenge sobriety. What goes better with carne asada than an ice cold Dos XX? And what if they're at a bar that has poppers? Hank would be totally screwed... not to say that Britt should really avoid drinking himself.

::tangent to define poppers::
It's been twenty years since I dared to venture into Tia Juana, so who knows if these are still a popular "gift" to bestow upon a buddy in a bar. Buy someone a popper, and he'll be assaulted, grabbed from behind into a headlock and tipped backward in his chair, have cheap and watered-down tequila poured down his throat, and then have his head jerked back and forth so violently with the crook of the giver's arm that a collar would prove a much more appropriate chaser than a taco.

There are not enough lawyers in the U.S. to entertain a popper option for those who can't stand hearing the birthday song. I'm just saying.
::end tangent to define poppers::

Despite how bad an idea it would be, I want them to turn left. If they go to Mexico, Sofia Vergara could show up. I don't care how she's written in, as long as she can yell "Yay!" And hey, maybe Shakira can make an appearance, too. She can sing and shake her booty. And Vergara could yell at people to stay clear of the booty. Yeah. I can totally see that. Maybe it all could be a dream sequence, so more random and crazy shit could happen.

Now that that's settled, should the show come back as a series, making a jump in time like "Desperate Housewives," or should there be a "The Brady Girls Get Married" type movie to give us an update on how Winston the dog is doing (That's right, Winston should get due credit here, being the dog on a show named after dogs. Winston really needs a better agent.)? Either way, I would highly suggest that Donal Logue and Michael Raymond-James take Winston with and spend some down time south of the border, capturing some special moments to serve as visual bridges once this brilliance is exhumed.

Speaking of exhumations, I also really miss "Pushing Daisies," especially the knitting and pie and Kristin Chenoweth. Crossover shows can be so much FUN, can't they? CAN'T THEY!? A girl can dream of dream sequences.

I really must continue to practice more effectively wasting my time.

Furry Critters

Mister mrtl may be pleased to know that he missed the caterwauling of a lusty pussy this morning. Moments laters I was mortified to find the fervid feline a few feet from our back door, blissfully rolling around in a wet patch of grass, with a Tom tabby sauntering away. Our back yard is now a kitty brothel. Thank you asshole neighbors for letting them roam!

After this Cat-Ass-Trophy...

::tangent for fun with trophy generator::

::end tangent for fun with trophy generator::

...I was so perfectly, poochaliciously vulnerable you'd think that some higher power was fucking with me. As I sat in a waiting room, a man sat down across from me, putting down in front of him a laundry basket loaded with the cutest, fuzziest 3-week-old rotty-pit pups I've ever been offered to cuddle and bottle feed.

I think I just officially became a dog person.

Keep the Big Ass Bows on the Trees, Please

South Carolina has some quirks that are beyond quirky. Rena, please forgive me for going here (Rena is a friend from Alaska who grew up in South Carolina, and lived in the town I currently call home. The quirkiness is, like, her normal, which is pretty disturbing to think about. I'm just saying.) Anyhow, here are just a few of the oddities we've encountered thus far:

• boiled peanuts (aka "bull penis") - Apparently these are best served hot, but they're served in the shell, so WTF? You have to take them out of the shell to eat them, so getting burned by the just-boiled peanuts is supposed to be a part of the joy of eating them?

• hair bows - This goes beyond cutesy little ribbons tied around ponytails, which are popular, too. Here I'm talking horrendously, obnoxiously huge, layered ribbons. They often are put on one side of a girl's head, making them look terribly unbalanced.

• debutantes - Not talking Debutaunt, but the tradition of "presenting" cute, mostly blonde, white girls in white dresses, to the world... The smack of caste system in effect, plus the degradation of these girls, is bothersome. I'm also left to wonder where their bows are.

• blue laws - You cannot buy alcohol anywhere on Sunday, even in restaurants. You cannot buy hard liquor after a certain time on other nights. You cannot buy many non-food items (including underwear) until after 1:30 on Sunday.

• sweet tea - I tried this once (in my life), at my husband's office Christmas party a couple weeks ago. It sucked. I don't get it.

• gifting stranger neighbors - As documented here.