Now, this is just my opinion, but...in MY opinion, anyone uttering the words "he wants nuclear energy to be safe," should NOT invest the word "safe" with a great deal of derision and contempt, lest he risk making himself look like a crazy man. And no, I'm not talking about any of my recent dates. Just something I noticed McCain said in both the last two debates. My god! Obama wants nuclear energy to be SAFE! What kind of terrorist-loving socialist IS he?

For the record, I'm guessing even Joe the Plumber would like nuclear energy to be safe. Just a guess.

Okay, moving on to...the recent dates. I haven't heard from Obama Guy since Sunday. He was supposed to call Tuesday night; he did not. I am not planning to call him.

I went to a debate-watching party by myself last night. Which actually turned out to be very interesting. Last week we went to a local non-profit indie movie theatre--it was fun, but fairly crowded, and we were packed like sardines into folding chairs. I had heard there was a coffeehouse on the "north side" holding debate-watching parties. Side note: for those of you for whom this means nothing, i.e. pretty much all of you, this is the traditionally African-American part of town, which has gotten a bad reputation in recent years (not completely fairly, though certainly there are problems) for being dangerous, due to gang-related activity. It is the part of town in which I live and go to church, though my home doesn't really fall into "far" north territory. Obama Guy had been to a party there, and said the atmosphere was more relaxed and the chairs were more comfortable. So I decided to go watch the debate there.

It was me, about a dozen African-American women, and 3 or 4 African-American men. They all seemed to know each other, so I felt a bit like an outsider on that score, but otherwise...I enjoyed it. There was a good deal of unrestrained vocalizing ("Did he just say that?" and "He did NOT just go there!"), someone brought in a bunch of fried chicken for everyone (I did not partake, of course, but I did enjoy a tall, frosty root beer), and most of the eye-rolling seemed to be in unison. Heh.

Follow-up to yesterday's McCain Supporter sighting: he messaged me again yesterday afternoon. Apparently he just can't stop thinking about me, and thinks maybe we were a bit hasty--would I consider going out with him again? I basically replied that I didn't really see the point--eventually our many fundamental differences would make us both crazy. His reply? "I like crazy." Heh. As I told him, there's crazy, and then there's crazy. He told me to call him if I changed my mind at any point, and that was that. For the record, I'm not THAT crazy. Yet.

Isn't that always the way.

So, for those wondering...no, I did not meet up with Obama Guy this weekend. I'm kind of disappointed in Obama Guy, truthfully. We keep talking about getting together, but it never quite happens. He seems to be pretty laid-back about scheduling...which makes me a little nuts, if you must know. To me, the correct follow-up to a Thursday night discussion which includes the words "let's think about doing brunch on Sunday" is NOT a phone call at 2:30 on Sunday afternoon, asking "so what do you want to do?" That question is likely to get you an answer of "finish up this sandwich and mow my lawn." I mean, I'm no "call by Wednesday for a Saturday night date" Rules Girl, but come ON.

I think he's just not that into it. Dating in general, and me in particular, I guess. He does have a weird schedule, balancing work and school, and, of course, I DO understand being ambivalent about dating (god knows), but being ambivalent about seeing ME? Unfathomable. Heh.

At this point I haven't completely X'd him out, but I don't have any real hope that this will become a "love connection," either. Maybe we just need to be friends who discuss politics occasionally.

I think I need a break from the whole dating game, anyway. Lately I'd rather spend my evenings with Keith Olbermann, Rachel Maddow and Jon Stewart. They're always there when I need them. (Oh, Jon...why can't you be single and crazy about me? Sigh.) (And oh, Rachel...why can't I be a lesbian, and you be single and crazy about me? Hee.)

Plus I have a kitten to play with! Who needs men when there are kittens? (She said, as she plunged ever more rapidly toward her Crazy Cat Lady Spinster fate.) By the way, it amuses me that most of you assume that having a lot of cats means...3 or 4. Oh, if only. My vet used to respond, when people would exclaim "oh, I can't adopt another; I already have 2 (3,4) cats!" with..."well, that's a good START." Hee. She was also fond of "what's another pound to an elephant?" (And, for the record, she lives in the country and, last I knew, had about 15 rescued dogs. [Now that's crazy!] So she definitely practices what she preaches in the animal rescue department.)

Oh...this is funny. I got an instant message from the McCain supporter (remember him?) this morning. He was "just thinking of me," and hoped it was okay to say hi. I was away from my desk and he was offline again by the time I got the message. Maybe he's ready to take a little course in the science of evolution. Hee.

I also talked to New Guy a couple of nights ago. The new job's okay, but I think the demands of being a single, custodial parent of a special needs child are really weighing on him. He seemed...tired. I also choose to believe that he's starting to realize how much he misses me. Though, of course, he would never say as much. Fool. Great dad, though. Sigh.

Can't wait for the debate tonight! Go get 'im, "that one"!

Not a political post

I have much, much, MUCH to say about what's going on in the political arena, but since I have been saying most of it to an actual person this week, I'll spare you all this time. You're welcome.

Yes, Obama Guy and I have been having some fairly lengthy phone conversations, although we have yet to meet again face-to-face. We're going to try to get together some time this weekend. We definitely share the same political philosophies, though I'm a little worried that he keeps asking "now, how many cats do you have exactly?" (I don't share that information until I'm certain the recipient of the news can handle it. Hee.) He does have a dog of his own, but he said last night he can't imagine "having a whole bunch of animals." To which I responded, "well, I can't imagine having just one." He assumed that he would be able to figure out the number once he's been invited to my house, and I told him he assumed wrong. Even my mother never sees Magda, Babs and Sylvie. (It occurs to me that if I keep telling cat stories and using their names, eventually alert blog readers could dig through my archives, do a little math, and come up with a fair approximation of the total. At which point I would say, "You seriously need to get a life." Hee!)

We also had a discussion about cosmetic modifying of dogs. "You didn't crop your doberman's ears and tails?" "NO!!" "Why not? It looks cool." "Because it's painful and medically unnecessary." "What makes you think it's painful?" "Because I have seen it done and heard the cries. And don't you think it would hurt YOU to have pieces of your body snipped off?" "Well, I was circumcised as a baby." "And I bet you cried." And then we both laughed a little. And moved on.

So, I still don't know about "romantic" compatibility, but after a day in the office, it's nice to sound off on the political scene with someone sympathetic. Will we still have anything to talk about after the election? I don't know...but if things don't go our way, maybe we can figure that out on our way to Canada. Hee. (Pull out that Murphy Bed, stinkypaw!)

About last night

Well, I thought (along with the majority of watchers, according to the polls) that Obama won the debate last night. Well-spoken, attentive, good grasp of the issues--that does it for me. I know there are people who think he's too "professorial," but gosh darn it, that's what I WANT in a president. Obvious smarts. You betcha. Plus I pretty much completely agree with his approach to foreign policy, so there's that.

What I DON'T want? Someone who, showing a complete lack of respect and common courtesy, gestures and refers to his opponent dismissively as "that one." (When he can be bothered to acknowledge his presence at all.) Someone who laughs over and over again at his own lame "jokes." Someone who repeatedly calls me his "friend." I'm not your "friend," John. And repetition doesn't make it so.

So, did I watch the debate alone, or with a friend? Well, I did indeed go to a debate watching party, where I met up with...oh, I don't have a good alias yet, so let's just call him "Obama Guy." Heh. And?

And...he seems very sweet. Like...a big, chocolate teddy bear. We're obviously on the same page politically, which is good, but we didn't really get a chance to talk much, so I don't know yet if there's a real "spark" there or not. Physically, he's not so much my usual "type," insofar as I even have a type, but I thought he was cute, and I definitely didn't have that "never in a million years" reaction I've had with some of the others I've met recently, so...we'll see. We didn't stick around too long after the debate, but there was a hug and a cheek peck in the parking lot, and he did say he wants to go to dinner soon, and he'll call me this evening, so...we'll see. Again. Some more.

Watching the debate in public was way more fun than watching at home alone. A friend of mine was there, and he sat with us and kept me entertained. (We share similarly sarcastic senses of humor--good mutual snarkiness.) I felt kind of bad that I was interacting more with him than with my "date," but...I know him. I don't really know Obama Guy yet, so it just seemed more natural to aim my whispered snark in that direction. Perhaps I should apologize to OG when I talk to him this evening.

In feral cat news ('cause I know you just live for these tidbits), Lil' Mama killed and ate most of a squirrel yesterday. I had to scoop up the remains. May I just say eewwwwwww?!?

I heart Darwin

So, as previously mentioned, the date Friday night was cancelled. Yes, though I was determined to see it through, seeing as how I said I would, and I'm trying to prove that I am NOT too picky and judgmental, HE called to cancel.

Here's a paraphrased version:

Him: Do you have a minute to talk?

Me: Sure.

Him: It seems to me that, down the line, we might find ourselves butting heads over some things.

Me: (laughing) We already are.

Him: I think you're a great person and all, but it's like...you go to the left, I go to the right, I go to the left, you go to the right...

Me: (dripping with sarcasm) Oh, have no doubt, I'M the one going to the left.

Him: (doesn't get it)

Me: I was probably going to say something similar myself soon.

Him: I hope you appreciate my honesty. I just wanted to be upfront.

Me: I do; it's fine.

Him: 'Cause I really do think you're very nice, but I have to be honest...

Me: IT'S FINE, REALLY.

Him: Are you sure, 'cause...

Me: IT'S FINE, REALLY.

We wished each other luck, and....end scene.

Now, would you like to know what the proverbial straw which broke the camel's back was?

He doesn't believe in evolution. (Or global warming, by the by.) Now, to me, this is like saying "I don't believe the world is round" or "I don't believe in the sun." Some things just are. (Note: this came up in conversation, oddly, in a round about way. This is not a litmus test question I routinely ask potential dates. At least, it wasn't. It may be now.)

I queried him: you think we just sprang up out of the mud, fully formed? He thinks "God made us and that's that." You don't even consider the possibility that an all-powerful God could have created us through evolution? "No." You don't believe in science? "I believe in science, but not like that."

Man, oh man. And, I would like it to be pointed out for the record, I was STILL willing to follow through with our planned date, 'cause that is just how open-minded I am...trying to be.

So, no dates this weekend. Except for a lunch date with a friend from high school that I hadn't seen SINCE high school. (That's 27 years, folks.) We had a great time. We ate Mexican food, and sat and gabbed for 3.5 hours. Lots of fun, and we're determined, now that we know we're actually living in the same city, not to wait another 27 years. I resisted the urge to show up with a gift-wrapped kitten to present to her, and she appreciated that restraint.

I was supposed to have a date Sunday...but the guy flaked out and disappeared AS we were making plans via email. Just disappeared. Nice.

Instead, I spent 2 hours talking on the phone to yet another guy from flentyofpish...I don't know if it's a match made in heaven, but we're politically compatible, and may meet each other at a debate-watching party tomorrow night. (He does "believe" in evolution, for the record. Though he did say "Is that something you always ask? 'Cause that would never occur to me." Hee.)

Pre and Post Debate thoughts. Now with added kitten!

Updated to add: the McCain supporter mentioned below just called to say he thinks we're probably not compatible, due to our differing thoughts on several topics, and to cancel our date tonight. I think he thought I would be upset. For the record, I am not. Heh.


I won't belabor this, but here are my thoughts.

Pre-debate: I think Sarah Palin is an idiot, incapable of stringing together coherent thoughts. (This is based on...well, every interview I've seen her give.) I'm a little worried Joe Biden may do some of his famous...well, you know. Let's watch.

Debate: why do people like her? This "folksy" stuff is working on my very last nerve. She's like a character in a bad sitcom. "Up there in Alaska." (Hey--that could be the name of the sitcom.) "Maverick, maverick, maverick." "Up there in Alaska." "Ya." Can she not say "you"? Can she not put an occasional "g" on the end of a word? "Workin'." "Taxin'." AAAARRRGGGHHH! She said "nu-cu-lar"! I thought we were done with that, with Bush leaving office. Why isn't she answering the questions she's actually ASKED?

Okay, I can see how some people find Joe Biden a little dry, but I LIKE facts and figures in a politician. I do. I want them to know things. Many, many things. More things than I do. I don't want my next-door neighbor running the country. I don't want someone "just like you and me." Well, maybe "me," but I'm really leery of "you." (Kidding, I sure as hell don't want the job. I'm not qualified on foreign policy, seeing as how the only foreign country Oklahoma borders is Texas. Heh.) Okay, he's livening up a a bit...getting a little peeved. Oh man, he's getting choked up. I'M getting choked up. That was a very real moment.

Post-Debate: I still think Sarah Palin is an idiot, incapable of stringing together coherent thoughts, BUT she is capable of spewing out the talking points she's been given, whether or not they're relevant to the question being asked. I'm sure the conservatives are thrilled with her, and as long as she avoids any more live interviews, she probably won't damage her ticket any further. I suppose she wins on "style," if you like her style. And if you don't, well...then you, like me, were probably ready to stick sharp and pointy things in your own eardrums if you heard the words "maverick" or "ya" one more time.

Joe Biden did fine, I thought...definitely winning on substance. He did what he had to do--connecting McPalin to Bush, refraining from attacking Palin directly and coming across as a bully, picking on that poor woman. (And yes, I hate that we're still having to play into that, but...it is what it is.)

Did either of them win any new voters to their tickets? Probably not, I think. In that way, it seemed to me very much a draw. And maybe that's how it should be. Let's get back to focusing on the top names on the ballot.

After the debate was over, I let Pete the kitten out of his cage to amuse me and the other cats. I've let him out a couple of times, but never with as many other cats in the room as this time, and it was hilarious. It's probably a good thing no one was around to hear me cackling, 'cause cackling I was. I think he must be part "Tigger"--his bottom definitely seems to be made out of springs.

In other news, I have a second date tonight with the McCain supporter. We've talked on the phone every day this week, however briefly, and I wish I thought this was really going somewhere, but I have some serious reservations. It's not just the differing political opinions, truly...there have been several other indications that we're just not intellectually compatible, but I'm giving it another shot, anyway. Can I get an "A" for effort?

I've talked (via phone and email) with another couple of fellows who expressed an interest in going out, but so far neither of them has been great with the follow-through, so...I don't know. I'm pretty much rejecting out-of-hand anyone who contacts me with "prefer not to say" listed as their "marital status," and the man pipeline seems to be clearing again.

Oh, and I did finally hear from the "MeMarmony" doctor--he'd been out-of-town dealing with some family issues, and needs some time to get things in order. He thanked me for my patience and understanding, and pointed out that I certainly shouldn't take it personally, as we hadn't even met yet. True, dat. I guess he stays in the "maybe" column for now.

Good weekends, all!

Date update

Well, there was a date this weekend. (I had thought there might be dates with two different guys, but the doctor who was uber-eager to meet me via "MeMarmony" never returned my phone call. The one he requested that I make. What is it with guys who can't wait to "fast track" and then just disappear? He owes me $59.95, since I stupidly paid for another month of membership, JUST to respond to him. Maybe he's just been busy. Or maybe he's an ass. Gah.

Okay, back to the date I did have. I "met" this guy Friday morning on..."Flenty of Pish." We talked on the phone twice that day, and agreed to meet for coffee Friday night. His first words--"you look just like your picture." He seemed relieved--must have had some bad experiences. Heh. There was definitely physical chemistry, and we had a lot of fun. The (immediately apparent) downside? He's a McCain supporter. And I know, I know...plenty of people have "mixed" relationships, and 20 years ago, it might not have even occurred to me to ASK a question like that (although, for the record, HE is the one who asked it first), but now...I don't know. I finally decreed that if there was any chance for us to enjoy each other's company, then all political topics had to be off the table. Completely. And we stuck to it.

He wants to see me again, because he finds me very "interesting," and he likes "the way I put things." We actually talked about going on a "real" date Saturday night, but then he cancelled because he wasn't feeling well. We did talk several times on the phone through the weekend, and he called on his lunch hour, so...we'll see.

In the meantime, every time I log into "Flenty of Pish," I am instantly bombarded with men wanting to chat. I've actually been asked out twice just today. It's a bit insane. I've never been very good at juggling men, but the BFF thinks I should go out with any and all of them, just to keep busy, and keep my mind off...what was his name again? Heh.

I should have my own show.

"The Cat Whisperer."

I got one of the feral kittens back this week from the foster mother, two weeks later, because he was "completely wild" and "untamable," and she was thinking of putting him down. The other kittens apparently were fine--this one was intractable.

Well, I didn't want to see him put down without seeing for myself the degree of his "wildness," so back to me he came. I put him in the big cage in the garage, and almost immediately thought, "I've made a terrible mistake." (Ah, "Arrested Development," I will never stop missing you.) He was a pisser! I didn't try to touch him much the first night and day, thinking he needed some time to settle in, though I did spend some time sitting on a blanket on the cold, hard garage floor, talking to him calmly and telling him what a good boy he was. (Me: "What a good boy." Him: "Hissssss!!!!) but underneath the hissing and spitting, it started to seem pretty clear to me that he was not so much "wild" as "terrified." I don't know what happened to this one kitten, but he was out of his mind with fear.

Wednesday night I decided to move him into a large dog crate IN the house, since the garage door and the car noises were completely freaking him out, and oh, what a glorious thing THAT was for him. There are other cats here! Hallelujah! He was beside himself, staring longingly at them, and meowing plaintively. (Him, in cat language: "Get me out of here, you guys! Hey...are you my mother?")

I gave him some time to adjust, and as the hissing and spitting seemed to slow down, I decided to make my move. Last night I put on some gloves, got down on the floor, leaned into the cage, gently reached out to touch him, and...he purred. And head-butted me. And purred. And rolled over to let me rub his adorable spotted belly. And purred. And nestled his head in my hands. And purred.

I don't know what the hell the foster mother did (or DIDN'T do), but...this kitten is not wild. This kitten just needed someone to let him know that people are nice. Mission accomplished.

Of course, now I still have to find him a home, but...much easier to find a home for a sweet kitten than a little hellion that wants to kill you.

In other formerly feral cat news, Lil' Mama has been coming inside our workplace in the mornings, exploring and keeping me company. It's cute. The boss thinks we need to keep her as an office cat--he's even willing to make adjustments to the motion detectors, so if I can't find her a "real" home, at least there's that option.

Have good weekends, everyone. I might actually have a date (or two) this weekend, so...I'll let you know how that goes.

Omigod, REALLY?

This is a direct quote (on a fan message board) from a shaken Clay Aiken fan, following his recent public admission of what we all knew, anyway:

"This is really shocking news as I had no idea he was gay," read a comment posted by "Sheridansq." "And now I have to deal with this. I am not sure what to say to people who know I was a fan. ... I didn't go to work today and am not answering the telephone."

I am speechless. You couldn't go to work? Seriously? You had NO idea? Really? I just...wow. And from what I've seen of the "claymates," this is probably a middle-aged woman we're talking about here. The mind boggles.

I was going to regale you with feral kitten-wrangling tales, but now...I think I have to go soak my head.

The weekend update. But first...

Let's chat about last night's Emmy broadcast, shall we?

• Worst "hosting" job EVER. Seriously, I think that new category should be removed next year, and/or none of those five should be allowed to compete ever again.
• Lamer than usual "hilarious lines they've written for us to say." (Thanks, Don Rickles.)
• Josh Groban is truly the whitest man alive.
• If you're going to bring back Ruth Buzzi and JoAnne Worley, at least give them something funny to say.
• Tina Fey's hair looked weird.
• America Ferrara is now half the size of Vanessa Williams. Eat a donut, America! (The actress, of course...not the country. The country needs no help in the donut-eating department.)
• Why does "Two and a Half Men" (and anyone associated with it) keep getting nominated? It SUCKS.
• Mary Tyler Moore--I love you. You're an icon. But I never want to see your simultaneously stringy and saggy upper arms again. Thanks. Maybe Betty White could tell you where to get a nice jacket.

Okay, moving on.

How was the birthday day off? Well, it was fine, more or less. My mother called Friday morning to see what I wanted to do, and I suggested the local Greek Festival. Sounds fun, right? Well, not to my family. My parents were willing to suck it up (if a bit unenthusiastically), but my brother-in-law said if that was the plan, then he'd just stay home. Okay, FINE. I know from past experience not to make them partake of Indian, Thai, Vietnamese, etc., so I suggested "Gacaroni Mrill" and the adjacent mall, 'cause I knew they'd leap at that like the chain restaurant enthusiasts they are. And of course, they did.

Now, in all fairness, I do consider "Gacaroni Mrill" to be one of the least objectionable chains, and they do give you a yummy piece of cake on your birthday, and it is next door to a mall where I knew I would need to go to cash in my inevitable birthday gift card, so...I brought it on myself.

And it wasn't bad, really, except...it involved a trip to my least favorite part of town. A part of town I have assiduously avoided for the last few months, mostly because I hate it, but also because it was New Guy's part of town. So basically everything we did, everywhere we went all afternoon made me think of him. Sigh. So, it was a bit...bittersweet, let's say.

But we had a nice meal, and I had some beer and some lovely chocolate cake, and then we went to spend the gift card, and I got so carried away buying clothes that I overspent the gift card and had to supplement with the gift cash which I had planned to save to buy a small vacuum, but...oh, well. I needed the clothes. (And every single thing I got was on sale.)

And then we went home, and that was that. I did actually speak to New Guy a little later in the day (yes...it seems maybe we've reached the point where he's comfortable being in touch occasionally), and told him I spent the whole day being reminded of him DAMN IT, and he just laughed. Sigh. What are you gonna do?

The next day a friend of mine who I rarely get to see, due to her demanding schedule of work/single motherhood, asked if I wanted to meet her and her daughter that afternoon...at the Greek Festival! Yay! So I was not deprived of spanokopita, feta cheese, pita bread, olives, dolmathes--are you drooling yet?--after all.

Saturday night I went to a "readers club" meeting, coincidentally at the home of the friend who adopted Wiley the Terrible Rescue Dog last year, so I got to see him (and he's doing SO well), and drink beer and eat cheese and homemade bread and talk about books with friends and have gingersnaps dipped in pumpkin/goat cheese spread.

Sunday afternoon I shared wine and bread and cheese and cheetos and hummus and cupcakes and gossip and fun with another group of friends I don't see often enough.

I also managed to throw in a bit of cardio and yoga, and some (unfortunately still vacuumless) housecleaning, and all in all...it was a very nice weekend.

It occurs to me that I completely forgot to tell you about the "Nensa" meeting that I finally attended last weekend. Maybe I forgot to tell you because it was pretty much uneventful in every way. Oh, the people were nice enough, but it seems that the local chapter is weighted pretty heavily with I.T. types, and while I love a computer geek as much as the next guy, it didn't exactly make for really well-rounded conversation. I'm thinking I need to actively recruit some fine/liberal arts smarties to liven things up a bit. There's only so much rapturous discussion of 8 gig hard drives I want to listen to, you know?

My life and times

So, what's been going on around here? Not much, as per usual.

The most exciting news is that Lil' Mama is now unable to have any more kittens. Yes, I scooped her up yesterday morning and took her to the vet, where she received an ovario-hysterectomy and some parasite removal. She did really well--went into and out of the carrier like a champion. I kept her in my garage overnight, just as a precaution, and she was cool with that, too. Purred like crazy every time I appeared to check on her, and head-butted me through the cage. This morning I scooped her back up and returned her to what serves as her "home," but I am more determined than ever to find her a REAL home. She's a sweetie. A sweetie with no uterus! Whoo hoo!

Not so sweet? The fact that the younger of the two neglected labs who live in the yard behind me has figured out how to get through the fence into MY yard. Apparently, Pudge is just irresistible. (Which I knew, of course.) I spent a good deal of time shoving her back through the fence repeatedly last night (afraid she would come through when Dolly was there and freak her shit right out) and yelling "NO!" in a very loud voice. Finally the deadbeat homeowner poked his head out of his backdoor (presumably to see why a crazy lady was shouting "NO!" repeatedly), and, instead of responding to my "Hey, your dog is getting in my yard! Hey, you! HEY!" by, oh say...coming over to talk to me, he just slammed the door and went back inside. Which infuriated me. I went inside to get shoes, so I could walk around the block and knock on his door, and when I came outside, he was in his yard. So I started calling to him again, and again he pretended not to hear me, until finally his daughter said "Dad, she wants to talk to you!" and he came over.

"Your dog keeps getting in my yard." "I know, I put up a board." I looked down, there was a board, along with the plethora of things I had piled against the fence to discourage her. Okay, great, but would it have killed you to call out to me with your intentions, instead of just slamming the door as I watched? We ended up having a fairly civil discussion, during which I asked him to keep an eye on the situation, as I a) didn't want his dog getting hurt wedging herself through the fence, and b) I didn't want his dog in my yard!

I went out with Pudge late in the evening, and sure enough, the silly dog tried to get through in a different, un-blocked-with-a-board spot and got her head stuck. So, there I was at midnight, getting chewed by mosquitos (there's an old fallen-in aboveground pool in his yard which is apparently quite the breeding ground for mosquitos and frogs) while I attempted to extricate her head from the fence. She's just a big puppy--a big puppy sadly in need of some attention, damn it, and I felt bad having to yell at her. Sigh.

What else is going on with me? Let's see...I'm going to the ballet tonight. Should be fun. I am taking tomorrow off work, as it is MY BIRTHDAY, and after three changes of plans this week alone, it looks like my family will be coming to town to take me to lunch or something. For a while, it was looking like I had taken the day off, only to be deserted by my family and left to take myself out to lunch on my birthday, and let me tell you...I was NOT looking forward to that. That, and remembering how last year I had a boyfriend to take me out on my birthday...well, I was getting a wee bit...despondent. Fortunately, the universe intervened and cancelled my sister's catering gig, so...a day with the family it is.

I have a couple of options for entertainment on Saturday night--not birthday-related, but something to do, and I'm getting together Sunday afternoon with some women friends, so maybe I'll keep busy enough not to get too depressed about the fact that I am now closer to 50 than 40. Sigh. And no closer to having met Mr. Right. Sigh again.

How pathetic is it that I'm hoping to get a new vacuum for my birthday? (Having just spent any possible new vacuum money on spaying a cat who isn't even mine, you see.) Okay, it's pathetic, moving on.

Facebook has changed my life! Okay, not so much changed my life as "put me in touch with a high school friend I haven't seen since 1981 even though we've apparently been living in the same town for the last 20 years and we're going to get together for lunch in a couple of weeks." Should be fun. Would it be wrong of me to show up with a gift, maybe in the form of a sweet little kitty to replace her old cat who died a couple of months ago? Maybe, maybe not? Hee.

Ask and you shall receive. Belatedly.

Some time back I told the tale of the time I won a Halloween costume contest, and some of you expressed an interest in seeing me as the small-town Prom King. Well, my mother was going through photo albums last week, and she unearthed these.


Am I as lovely as you thought I would be? I'm sorry they're not better pictures--they don't really do justice to the (glued-on) hair on my chest, and the fact that I have tube socks stuffed in my crotch. Heh.

Prepare: Plainly Partisan Political Post

I am so, SO disgusted by the hypocrisy of the Republican party right now, it makes me want to throw up.

If you have a legitimately different opinion than mine, on ANY topic, well...that's your right. If you can thoughtfully and respectfully express that difference of opinion, well...you're not going to change my mind, most likely (and I can accept that I'm not likely to change yours), but we can amicably agree to disagree.

But if you're going to fill the airwaves with hypocrisy, half-truths and flat-out lies, well...I don't and can't respect that. In the immortal words of Kathy Griffin, you can suck it!

To wit: the "lipstick on a pig" controversy. WTF? Barack Obama did not invent that saying out of whole cloth. It's a very old colloquialism. Did he choose that one specifically over, say..."if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck..." because Sarah Palin herself made a lipstick joke? (Which, by the way, I found offensive to the gentle, affectionate pit bull.) Perhaps he did. He's quick like that. (And thank god for it.)

But the Republican response? Un-frickin'-believable. "He insulted her." "How dare he?" "He called her a pig!" Oh, grow up. John McCain himself used that exact same expression, word for word, just last May, when talking about Hillary Clinton's health care plan. (Dick Cheney is on record as having used it as well, when talking about Democrats.) Did Hillary's supporters swing into action, accusing McCain of insulting THEIR darling? They did not. Why not? Well, I can only speculate (not being in Hillary's inner circle) that they did not because they were intelligent enough to recognize it for what it was--a folksy saying used in the context of a political campaign as a way of expressing disagreement with a particular policy or policies. No big deal.

Why are the American people letting them get away with this bullshit? Why are we letting Mike Huckabee (a former Southern Baptist pastor) stand up in front of the country and say "I want to tell you folks something. She got more votes running for mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, than Joe Biden got running for president of the United States."

It's patently untrue: Palin got 616 votes in the 1996 mayor's election, and got 909 in her 1999 re-election race, for a total of 1,525. Biden dropped out of the race after the Iowa caucuses, but he still got 76,165 votes in 23 states and the District of Columbia where he was on the ballot during the 2008 presidential primaries.

I call foul. Why isn't everyone? Why aren't the rational members of the Republican Party (and yes, I know you're out there--some of you are even related to me) saying "Hey--that's not right. Can't we lay our policies and beliefs out there to stand on their own, without lying outright to get applause?"

"I said 'no thanks' to that bridge!" Sure, you did, Sarah. But only after actively advocating FOR it during your gubernatorial campaign, and only after it became clear that Congress wasn't going to let you build it, AND you kept the money anyway, so...WTF?

Sarah Palin's children, particularly Bristol, are strictly "off-limits" for discussion. Okay, but where were the outcries when John McCain called a young Chelsea Clinton "ugly" at a Republican fundraiser in 1998? (And in my opinion, saying "she's pregnant" and "she's ugly" are worlds apart. One is fact, one is mean-spirited judgment.)

Well, I could keep going for a while, and yeah, yeah...I'm sure there are plenty of examples of hypocrisy on the other side of the aisle, and if you want to write about them on YOUR blog, feel free. I might even come read it. But this is MY blog, and I'm pissed at the Republicans.

I've been wearing my black wristband to work all week. I think I'll wear it until Bush is out of office. It's the least I can do in payback for having to listen to THIS kind of thoughtful, intelligent political discourse:

(Note: this was an actual conversation held within my hearing by my Republican coworkers the morning after the John Edwards sex scandal broke.)

"Did you hear about Edwards? Isn't that hilarious?"

(There is much audible laughter.)

"Just your typical liberal."

"Do you think they'll still let him speak at the convention?"

"LET him speak? He'll be their HERO. It will be a coronation!"

(There is much more audible laughter.)

At which point I couldn't stand it any longer, so I walked up and said "yeah, he cheated on his wife, just like any number of politicians, including a good many Republicans, since cheaters don't come with any particular party affiliation." And then I went outside and petted the parking lot cat for awhile. They were quiet when I came back inside.

Truly, I ask you, WTfrickin'F? Because Bill Clinton had affairs, Democrats must LOVE adultery? Guess what? We don't. I was incredibly saddened and disappointed by John Edwards' actions. And, by the by, we are NOT the party who is currently making heroes of Rudy Giuliani (who openly squired his mistress to NYC events and tried to have his wife ejected from Gracie Mansion) and John McCain (who cheated on his first wife numerous times after she became disabled.) That would be...oh, wait...the Republicans.

It's going to be a long couple of months around here, and I have a feeling that cat is going to get a LOT of petting. And there may be more ranting in this space. I probably won't be able to help it--after all, my blog turns TWO tomorrow, and you know how toddlers can be with the tantrums. Heh.

Hallelujah!

This morning I trapped the last two of the feral kittens. I'm considering this an act of direct divine intervention. Last night (after three separate and futile trips to the office during the day to try and trap the damn things) I had a pretty despairing conversation with the Big Guy. "Why do you put these helpless creatures in my path if you're not going to let me help them? If I'm willing to use my limited time, energy and money to rescue them, why can't you nudge them into the damn trap for me?!" Consider them nudged, I guess.

I have an appointment next week to spay Lil' Mama, and I hope that largely puts me out of the cat rescue business for a while, at least. (Well, I still hope to find her a better home than a box in the parking lot, but...one thing at a time.)

Four days and counting

I know it's a far cry from my previous record of 150+ consecutive days of exercise, but I've started again, after a long break, for various reasons including heartbreak, rehearsals and crippling sciatica. So far, so good, though I can definitely feel that my lower back is not as sturdy as it once was, so I'm trying to stay very aware of what I'm doing. Next week I hope to add the yoga back in, as well. I can already feel those endorphins swimming.

Which is a good thing, since the rest of my life still pretty much sucks. Heh.

I know I keep saying it, but I am really about to give up on dating. It seems that none of the men whose profiles I find interesting at all have any interest at all in me. And vice-versa. It's discouraging, to say the least. I think I'm a pretty interesting person--why do only boring men want anything to do with me? Gah.

I am so glad the political conventions are over. Why? Because I am the sole blue spot in a VERY red workplace, and I'm tired of sticking my fingers in my ears and chanting "la, la, la." They don't say anything directly to me, but this is a physically small place, and I can hear every word of it. It goes on year-round, of course, but it's worse when things are actually happening. And there's nothing I can do to stop it, no "human resources" department to complain to, because the most vocal of them are the owners themselves. So, I just pop in some soothing music and crank up the stereo a bit.

Yesterday, in his defense, the boss did stop by my desk and apologize if they'd gotten a little carried away "with the jumping up and down." (In delight over Sarah Palin, and mostly figurative, fortunately.) I just smiled, pointed to the stereo, and said "that's why I cranked up the music." What I wanted to say, and perhaps should have said, was "that's okay, as long as you don't mind if I do the same when my candidate wins in November." Heh. There are some small amusements to be found here, though...like when one particularly uninformed (but no less vigorous in asserting opinions) co-worker said, "I thought sure McCain was going to pick Mitch Romney." Yes, "Mitch." Sigh.

I'm getting even in my own little passive-aggressive way, though. Today I actually wore my black "I Did Not Vote for Bush" wristband. I usually don't wear it to work. Go, me. (Yes, I know. I am lame. But still employed.) Now I just have to get through the inevitable post-debate discussions.

Okay, moving on.

I know I've mentioned a time or two (or twelve) about the ongoing construction work on my street, and the headaches it's caused. Well, long story short, the base of my driveway had been a giant mud puddle for weeks due to an nonfunctioning storm drain, my car and driveway were disgusting, and I decided to call last week to see when I could expect them to finish the job and remedy the situation. "Maybe not until spring." Unacceptable!! I got a little testy--"you mean I have to live through the winter with a giant ICE FLOE at the base of my driveway?" The supervisor (who previously showed his ability to suck up satisfactorily) got a bit testy in return--"I can't change the schedule to accommodate one person." "Why not? I'm the only one who's having to deal with this!" (Seriously, what kind of excuse is that? Let's take that reasoning and extrapolate: "We can't send this man to jail. He only robbed ONE person." Okay, I exaggerate, but you get my point.) A bit of back and forth, and he offers a possible temporary fix. I say that sounds great, let's try it, and thank him for his time.

Flash forward a few days, the fix is done, I wait for it to rain to see how the fix performs, Gustav obliges with a nice downpour, and...yay! It's not perfect, but it is SO much better. So I call the guy to tell him it's better and thank him.

"You're calling to thank me?" He sounds disbelieving. "Well, yeah," I say, "I figure if I can call to complain, I can also call to thank you for responding to my complaint." "No one has EVER called to thank me," he says, "they only call to gripe." He sounds a bit emotional. "You have my cell number," he added, "so feel free to call me if you need anything at all."

Awww...I think I made his day. I'm so glad I called.

Speaking of calling...I did NOT ever call Ordinary Guy back. He didn't call again, so I think he took the hint, and besides (enormous rationalization coming), his message really didn't ask a question that required an answer OR request a response, when I think of it. It basically went like this: "Hey, this is Ordinary Guy. I'm just calling to say hey...so...yeah...um...just calling to say hey." (I know, how could I fail to be attracted to such a sparkling conversationalist?)

Now, if he had said, "I had a great time--let's do it again soon!" or "Hey, what are you doing this weekend?" I might have felt more obligation to respond. But he didn't, so I didn't. Am I splitting hairs? Maybe...but I just didn't feel like being the bigger person this time. Sue me.

There's really nothing else to report, I guess, except that Lil' Mama's fourth kitten still manages to evade me, as does the FIFTH! Yes, there are two of them still out there, and though I have seem them once, very close by, they don't seem to be falling for the trap. Damn. I'd try Plan B, if I had a Plan B. Sigh.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

blah, blah, blah

Not much going on around here these days. Would you like a bullet point list of what I did with my long weekend?

Did:

• spend much (much) time on couch
• eat a lot
• sleep a lot
• make 6 trips to office to feed stray cat
• do regular Saturday morning housecleaning (without the benefit of a vacuum cleaner, 'cause mine DIED)
• start said housecleaning so late, I missed the one opportunity for social interaction I had all weekend
• spend a LOT of money at the grocery store
• make lasagna (okay, I didn't roll my own pasta, but I assembled it myself, with herbs from my backyard)
• mow the yard
• watch a lot of the CNN coverage of Gustav, and then got sad because they reported a number of times from New Guy's hometown, and it reminded me of him, and that he's currently being an asshole
• repeatedly feed Rover extra canned food (his heartworms must be in there saying "feed me, feed me," 'cause that is one hungry cat), since he now has figured out that all he has to do is look up at me and meow plaintively and I will pop open something yummy just for him

Did not:

• shower often
• leave the house to do anything fun
• have any fun

That's about it. Exciting, huh?

I will confess that I also relished (just a bit) the delicious irony that an outspoken proponent of "abstinence only" sex education now has to explain that HER teenage daughter is unmarried and pregnant. Could it be that preaching abstinence doesn't always work? Could it be that sometimes teenage hormones rage out of control, and, if that's the case, the teenager in question should know everything there is to know about birth control and STDs? Hmmm....

I do feel bad for the teenager in question, of course...having this play out in the national spotlight, but perhaps her mother should have considered that before she agreed to BE in the national spotlight. We can talk all we want about families being off-limit, but in the day and age of 24-hour news coverage and internet gossip sites...political figures and movie/pop stars HAVE to know the chance they're taking. And after all, no one is FORCED to be a politician or a movie/pop star, now are they?

I'm also still nursing a bit of an eye sprain, from rolling my eyes a bit too vigorously when I heard a female delegate to the RNC say, with a straight face, "The Democrats had their chance to make history, but they passed. Now we're the ones with a woman on the ballot!" Um, excuse me...but I believe we actually have a black man at the TOP of the ballot. Isn't that history being made? Oh, and also...Geraldine Ferraro. Woman in the number two slot, how many years ago? Sheesh. I mean, be as excited about your candidate as you like, but don't be stupid about it. I'm tired of stupid people. (Speaking of which, Jessica Simpson likes to pass gas under the sheets. WHY DO I EVEN KNOW THAT? Damn my love of the internet.)

"Oh, what a beautiful morning...."

Or not.

I'm not particularly enjoying my life right now.

On the way to work this morning, I passed a child's teddy bear facedown in the road, and I nearly burst into tears. The poor teddy bear! The poor child! How did it end up in the road? Was it accidentally flung out of a car? Did some mean older brother fling it deliberately?

Maybe I need to start taking St. John's Wort or something. So, why am I blue? Well, let's see...

I did not get cast in a play I auditioned for, a part I really, really wanted. Gah.

I decided not to audition for another play coming up in two weeks, as I discovered that the character actually does have to be fairly thin. Which I am not. Bah.

There are no other appropriate auditions coming up for at least a couple of months. Gah and bah.

My cat Rover is not doing so well, heartwormily speaking. We went back to the vet this week. Sadly, we're already doing all that can be done, so...cross the fingers and take one day at a time. Wah.

Pudge has had some diarrhea again, which resulted in him waking me up for a potty break at 4:00 a.m. for four days in a row. Argh.

Monday was the one-year anniversary of the day I met New Guy...and the three-month anniversary of the last time I saw him. And no...he is not currently returning my calls. Gah, bah, wah.

There are no particularly interesting prospects in the dating mix at this moment. I have had a somewhat lame email exchange with a guy whose sallies seem to be limited to "How's your day going?" Fine. Fine again. Oh, and he did start out once with "Hey, Sexy." WTF? I haven't ruled him out completely, though...because he's quite attractive. Shallow, party of one.

I was hoping that Ordinary Guy would take the hint and not call me again, but sadly...he did not, and he did. I haven't returned the call. I'm trying very hard to convince myself to take the high road, call him and tell him "I'm sorry, there's just no chemistry," but you know what? I'm tired of being nice. I'm nice all the time, and where does it get me? Seriously...I knock myself out feeding and taking care of stray cats, and in exchange, the universe gives MY cat heartworms. Go fuck yourself, "Nice."

Things are annoying me. Things that would ordinarily roll off my back. I'm "in a mood," I suppose.

I dreamed last night that I attempted to hang something up on a wall with a push pin...and the entire wall began to crumble, and I started to freak out that my landlord was going to blame/evict me. Anyone care to interpret that?

On the plus side, I'm going to meet a friend for Indian food tomorrow night, I only have to work a half-day on Friday, and then it's a 3.5 day weekend. There are SOME slightly bright spots, after all.

I should feel good, but I'm just exhausted.

Yesterday I managed to trap 3 of the (I think) 4 kittens born to my little workplace stray cat. I should be really happy about that, right? I even have a place for them to go that ISN'T my garage, for a change. But all I can do is be pissed about the one who still eludes me. Damn you, tabby! Picture the fist-shaking-to-the-skies that goes along with that.

The little mama herself continues to be my friend, even as she watches me carry off her babies one by one, and additionally, there are two other participants at what is apparently being touted in the 'hood as the all-you-can-eat cat buffet in our parking lot. One is a true stray I've seen around for a while--probably a sibling to Lil' Mama; the other is clearly just an opportunist.

Have you priced cat food lately? I can't afford to feed this many more mouths. My plan, as soon as I incarcerate the final baby, is to have Lil' Mama spayed, and hopefully find her a home. Then the buffet will be closed. Closed, I tell you!

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pick some more burrs off my clothes. The babies are being hidden on one side of an unmowed field--I've been picking burrs off the cat all week, and now it's my turn.

Who needs a boyfriend when your life is this rich and full?

Post-Ordinary-Date Wrap-Up

Okay, I know you've all been waiting, "with breath that is bated" (name the TV show that is the source of the quote, win...my undying admiration), so here's how it went down with Ordinary Guy.

We had agreed to meet at my favorite vegetarian restaurant, after I realized when we talked on the phone the night before that he was going to suggest nothing but chain restaurants. (Ordinary!) This, coincidentally, is the restaurant to which New Guy and I went on our first date, and also where I met Ukrainian Guy on our...well, apparently only date. I was hoping it might be a good luck charm. Plus I knew at least I'd get a good meal.

On the phone with BFF pre-date, I mentioned my fear that he was going to fail my Asian restaurant litmus test. "I know he's going to order the sweet-and-sour pork. They always order the sweet-and-sour pork. It's the club sandwich of Asian food. But it's so boring!" (No offense intended to any of you who truly love sweet-and-sour pork...but have you tried the house specials on the back page of the menu? Give it a shot.) (And in the interest of full disclosure, that's what New Guy ordered, too. But he had previously fully admitted he was set in his ways, culinarily speaking.)

So, I get there...he's already seated...he stands up when I approach the table (points for gentlemanliness)...I sit down. I know instantly that physical chemistry is going to be a problem (hey, when you know, you know), but I'm determined to keep an open mind and try to have a good time.

We have more than the usual amount of time to peruse the menu, as the restaurant is a little understaffed, and the sweet but somewhat English-challenged father of the family is filling in as server, and he's not what you would call speedy. (But sweet, very sweet.) We open the menus, I joke that I don't know why I'm even looking at it, as I pretty much have it memorized, and I glance over and notice that his finger (and oh, we'll get back to the fingers) is pointing at the sweet-and-sour section. I knew it! "I usually just go for the sweet-and-sour pork," he says. I begin to grimace inside. (And by the way, all the meat in this restaurant is of the "mock" variety, should you be wondering why a vegetarian restaurant even serves sweet-and-sour "pork.") "But I think tonight I'll go for...the sweet-and-sour shrimp." Oh yeah, you live it up, dude!

Post-date conversation with BFF: "Were your eyes rolling? You know...in your mind?" "Oh, I think I sprained the backside of my eyes." Hee.

So, we order, we make idle small talk for a while. He says he's glad I chose such an interesting place. I say I love the food, and also, "they're just such nice people." Now, I am talking about this specific Vietnamese immigrant family, who I've gotten to know pretty well through the years. "Oh yes," he says, "they always are." What the hell "they" is HE talking about? Vietnamese immigrants? Restaurant owners? Rash generalization much? Am I overreacting? Probably. But still, it needled a bit.

We chat, eventually the food arrives. To his credit, he does enjoy a fresh spring roll, and when my noodles come, he tries them, and says he'd probably order them himself on a return visit.

Anyway, we chat, we eat, and it's all perfectly pleasant...and nothing more. Not for me, at any rate. He's an okay guy, we have some political/philosophical differences (nothing to come to blows over, certainly), he stubbornly refuses to admit that Andrew Lloyd Webber is an overwrought, overrated hack who hasn't had an original thought since "Jesus Christ, Superstar," though he does (thank god) admit that Stephen Sondheim is far more talented. We talk about all the concert tickets he's recently procured (none of which appeal to me), and the fact that he will attend pretty much any sporting event at any time, regardless of who's playing (okay, I suppose, if that's your thing), I say I really only enjoy sporting events when I actually care about the outcome, etc., etc.

Now, here's the part where I admit to being completely shallow. It's becoming clear that his personality isn't exactly making me weak in the knees, but it doesn't really matter, anyway, because he would have to have the personality and charm of Jon Stewart and Leonard Nimoy (shut up!) combined to get me past the fact that I hate his hands. I don't have many physical deal breakers, but...I really, really don't like ugly hands. You know...stubby fingers. Too-long fingernails. Badly chewed fingernails. Or, in his case, stubby fingers with extraordinarily tiny little fingernails. I KNOW this is not something he can help, obviously...but I can't help it, either.

I don't care what color your eyes are. Or your hair. I prefer short hair, but if you can rock a long 'do, I'll roll with it. Don't care if you have NO hair. Don't care if you're tall or short. Your ears stick out? That's okay. Got a bit of a buddha belly? No problem. A little bit of back hair? Eh, who cares.

But you can't have ugly hands or bad teeth (by which I do not mean that they must be perfectly straight and pearly white...just reasonably healthy-looking.). These are my turn-offs. We all have them--these are mine.

So, anyway...the restaurant is closing, the check has been lying there for a while, I'm stubbornly waiting to see if he's going to reach for it, and finally he does. He walks me to my car (still a gentleman, I'll give him that), I can tell he's hoping for a hug or something, but I just can't do it. I thank him sincerely for dinner, he thanks me for introducing him to a new restaurant, says he'll call me in a few days, I make some completely noncomittal sort of noise, and we're done.

Long story short--decent guy, just not at all my type. Unfortunately, I don't have his email address, or I'd take the coward's way out and send him an email to that effect. As it is, I'm just going to wait and see if he calls. Maybe he clued in from the lack of hug. If not, I'll try to figure out a kind way to discourage his attentions, I suppose.

And with that, I believe I may be done with dating. There are no other guys in the pipeline, so to speak, at this point.

NOW what will I blog about?!

Who says I'm not a winner?

Yesterday I won a valuable cash prize in a company-wide contest!

Okay...I won $20 by guessing the amount of loose change in a bucket, but it was exciting to me.

My boss came in lugging this enormous bucket, into which he'd been tossing his loose change for something like 15 years. He said he'd give us the morning to analyze it, then he was cashing it in, and the person who could come closest to guessing the amount would win $20.

Well, many different methods were used in the guessing process. One guy measured the depth of the bucket in inches, and tried to calculate $/inch. The two strongest guys lifted the bucket and tried to measure $/pounds. (It weighed 74 pounds, incidentally.) I scooped out a random handful of change, counted it--$4--then tried to figure how many handfuls were in there. Of course, one handful barely made a dent, so I just eyeballed it for a minute and said "I think there are more than 100 handfuls, but I don't think there are 200 handfuls, so...splitting the difference...I say $650."

There were guesses from $400-$860. How much change was in the bucket? $652.54. Yep, I was really, really close. I told my boss I attributed my superior calculating abilities to the recent acquisition of my "Nensa" card. Hee.

I spent my "prize" on takeout pizza last night, and ice cream for lunch today. Whoo hoo! Moving on.

I finally sent an email yesterday to Ordinary Guy, suggesting we cut to the chase and meet face-to-face. We're going to have dinner on Tuesday night.

I'm planning another "friend date" with my funny friend.

I haven't heard anything from Mr. K.C. regarding the trade show he was planning to come to, though I think it was this weekend. Maybe his plans have changed. Whatever.

I've exchanged a couple of messages with my junior high crush--he has a yacht! It's beautiful. I am jealous. Why couldn't I be a gay man? Instead of, as I've always suspected, a gay man trapped in a woman's body?! Heh.