One More "Fred Thompson Rocks" Post

OK, so a couple of years ago, when they were looking at John Roberts for Supreme Court Justice, Fred Thompson appeared on NBC's Meet the Press with Tim Russert. Here's a link to the transcript: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8658626/

But I just want to underline a couple of points:

Smackdown #1

MR. RUSSERT: The American people are being polled on this issue obviously and the question asked by The Washington Post, "Should John Roberts state his position on abortion?" Yes, 64 percent; no, 34 percent. That's overwhelming.

MR. THOMPSON: That can't be decided on polls any more than cases can be decided on basis of polls.

Smackdown #2

MR. RUSSERT: The interesting thing in all this is that when you have John Roberts arguing on behalf of his client, he's saying it should be overturned; then in seeking to be on the Court of Appeals, he said, "Well, it's settled law, it's precedent." But once you're on the Supreme Court, anything can be unsettled. Brown vs. Board of Education was settled law, separate but equal.

MR. THOMPSON: Plessy vs. Ferguson.

Smackdown #3

MR. RUSSERT: There have been a series of newspaper articles about John Roberts' wife and her role in a group called Feminists for Life. Is that fair to talk about her positions?

MR. THOMPSON: No.

MR. RUSSERT: Do you think...

MR. THOMPSON: No. I don't think anybody's really going to go down that road of this professional woman and whether or not she ought to have a right to have her own associations. I will say that this particular group that you're talking about is--most of their emphasis, as I understand it, is helping young girls. They've joined with Planned Parenthood and other associations, you know, in common endeavors along those lines. But this is a professional woman who has her own associations and her own ideas, and I assume that her husband's proud of her for that. But...

MR. RUSSERT: You don't...

MR. THOMPSON: ...she's not been nominated for anything.

Take a minute and read the whole interview.

I realize that all the Tree-Hugging Hippies out there are terrified at the concept of Fred D. Thompson as president. I'm not. I think he would give us just what we need. Someone who doesn't take crap from anybody. Including our misinformation experts, the media.

BTW, cafepress.com has about 150 "Fred Thompson for President" items for sale. I could actually get excited about the election if he decides to run.

What Did I JUST Say?!?!

http://www.cnn.com/2007/POLITICS/03/27/gop.polls/index.html

Poll: Thompson's star rises with GOP

NEW YORK (CNN) -- He's not even officially running for president, but Fred Thompson, star of NBC's "Law and Order" and a former Tennessee senator, is gaining in the polls among Republican White House hopefuls.

This news comes as some of the GOP hopefuls who are already in the race recently lost some ground. What's behind the numbers, and does this mean that Republicans are hungry for a candidate who's not already running?

Roughly two weeks ago, Thompson said he was considering a run for president. Since then, he has skyrocketed out of nowhere to rank third among GOP White House hopefuls in a new USA Today/Gallup poll published Tuesday.

The poll shows former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani with 31 percent, Sen. John McCain, R-Arizona, with 22 percent, and Thompson with 12 percent of the vote.

He's even surpassed former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney, who was the favorite of only 3 percent in the poll.

That. Would. Be. SOOOOO. Cool.

OK, so there's about 4,927 people running for President of These United States at the moment (both verily and spoofily). Now, of course primaries will separate the wheat from the chaff (or the really really rich from the just really rich), but as of right now, it's looking a little like a circus. I did find the concept of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert running quite humorous, but, other than that, I have been fairly desperate, wanting someone, anyone I could take seriously to run.

But now I have found him. The President of my dreams. If only he were ACTUALLY running.

Fred D. Thompson.

One of the blogs I love to read is IMAO, which has the same sort of biting conservative humor which I hope to achieve on a semi-regular basis. (And they are not above laughing at conservatives, which is also important.) Well, a couple of weeks ago, one of their columnists, Frank J., posted "Frank Facts about Fred Thompson" which included gems like this:

Fred Thompson has blasted more people in the face with a shotgun than even Dick Cheney.

The reason Fred Thompson didn't want to stay in the Senate for long is because all the extra scrutiny kept him from doing his favorite hobby: prowling the streets at night killing drug dealers.

Every night before going to sleep, Osama Bin Laden checks under his bed for Fred Thompson.

Fred Thompson once ended a filibuster by ripping out a Senator's heart and showing it to him before he died.

The most efficient airline security is to have Fred Thompson stare down everyone entering a plane.

And, the most amazing of all: Fred Thompson can open clamshell packaging without the slightest trouble.

There are more, but that gives you a taste of what's there.

Apparently, a lot of people want Fred Thompson to run. There's even a Draft Fred Thompson for President website (draftfredthompson.com).

Well, the folks at IMAO have posted a new post which really got me thinking. The title? "Do We Deserve Fred Thompson?" again by Frank J. Here's a taste...

"When I published important facts about Fred Thompson, it was a very popular post. Now everyone wants a Fred Thompson candidacy, but Fred Thompson has yet to state whether he intends to run. The reaction by many is to plead with Fred Thompson to run or talk about drafting him, but you can't force Fred Thompson to do what Fred Thompson doesn't want to do. Instead of focusing on him, we should focus on ouselves and ask the tough question: 'Are we a good enough country to have Fred Thompson as president?'

Tips on Improving Ourselves so Fred Thompson May Want to Be Our President:

Eat Breakfast. Fred Thompson knows that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. If you don't care enough about yourself to eat breakfast, why should Fred Thompson care about you? (I've got this one covered now!)

Control Your Children. Make sure your children are well-behaved. Fred Thompson is not going to run a country full of screaming kids running around.

Mow Your Lawn. Fred Thompson will only be president of a country where people take pride in land ownership. The most visible indication of this is how well you maintain your lawn.

Use Proper Grammar. Why would Fred Thompson want to lead people he can't even understand? (Again, I'm all over this like white on rice!)

Get a Haircut. You think Fred Thompson wants to be president of a bunch of hippies? Then you don't know Fred Thompson. (YES!)

Keep Informed. If you don't even follow politics, then Fred Thompson doesn't want your ignorant vote." (WooHoo!)

And so forth. You know, in all seriousness, we could do a lot worse for president.

If you want to check out IMAO, they are at imao.us. They are full of fun tidbits, like an editorial called, "Of the Two Koreas, I like South Korea Best" and other such fun stuff.

And if you want to see that I'm not making this up, google "fred thompson president." You'll get about 1,380,000 results. (Some of them are probably porn, but then, if you go far enough into any search, you'll find porn. Amazing.)

My Next Four Day Win

OK, so I seem to have mastered my first Four Day Win - my brekkie of a fairly healthy cereal with milk and a cut-up banana. I have given this much longer than 4 days, because with the wackiness surrounding the moves, (mine and my mom's) things were just crazy, and I knew there was too much else going on to try to do too much at once. Besides, like I said a few posts ago, I'm no longer in a big hurry. I'll take this at my own pace this time.

I must say, I really enjoy having breakfast again. It only takes a few minutes, and I feel better all morning.

I think my next Four Day Win is going to be to pack a reasonably healthy lunch - a sandwich, some baby carrots, a little fruit, some milk and a couple of cookies. This is mostly a nighttime problem for me, as opposed to a daytime problem. See, it gets to be the end of the day, and I'm tired. So I say to myself (actually with a straight face): "Oh, that's OK. I'll get up a few minutes early and make my lunch in the morning." HAHAHAHA.

Come ON! Who am I kidding? I'm already getting up 10 minutes earlier to make and eat my cereal. See, it's not that I am not a morning person. I am a morning person. Actually, once I get out of bed, I'm fine. It's just the getting out of bed that's the problem.

I know from experience that if I make lunch the night before, I will take it to work, and eat it. If I leave the lunch until the morning, forget it. Not gonna happen.

And, of course, the issue here is the work week. Weekends are their own thing, because I can make lunch whenever I get hungry. So this will be more like a Ten Day Win, because I only have Weds, Thurs and Fri of this work week left. Then most of nxt week.

Now, what should my little reward be?

It's funny, but for me figuring out the Four Day Win Goals is easy compared to figuring out the rewards. I'm sure that says something deep and profound about me as a person.

And I'm definitely giving myself some time this weekend to do some more reading in the book, because I sort of dropped it these last couple of weeks.

Double Yuck!

I am really beginning to think everyone who has ooohed and ahhhed over 24 for lo these many seasons was being brainwashed by their televisions. Because I'm sorry, but this season hasn't been that great. I liked (really liked) James Cromwell as Jack Bauer's manipulative, murderous father (but then, I love Cromwell's acting, and he proved he could be a great bad guy in LA Confidential) but, other than that, this season has been pretty wishy-washy.

First you have Jack's stock "If you don't do X (or tell me Y) I'm going to torture and/or kill you" response. If I had a dollar for every time he has uttered one of the combinations above this season, I could go to dinner at 21.

Then you have the hellaciously bad acting of both President Palmer Jr. and the president's really annoying sister.

Then you have the Muslim chick is the Mole (no she's not). Or is she? Because if you have me arrested for something and then say, "D'oh! Sorry 'bout that. But we really need you. Come back to work," my response would be, "I don't think so, but I'll see you in court!"

And you have Morris getting whiny and feeling sorry for himself. (Which, to be fair, he seems to have stopped since Chloe told him to stuff it.)

Now, we have a triple threat:

1. Jean Smart stabbed her ex-husband, used to be president Logan, 3 weeks ago, and we have yet to learn whether he lived or died, or whether she will face criminal charges for that little stunt.

2. Rainman comes to 24. Yes, last night, we discover that Brian Krakow (***) is alive and well, and seems to have gotten over Claire Danes. He got a haircut (thank God) but seems to have gotten dumber. His brother, however, is (apparently) autistic, and can hack into anywhere to get anything , but doesn't understand the implications of the above. So Brian has turned to a life of crime, supplying Gredenko with something he needs to make the nukes go boom. He gets arrested, and Jack uses the autistic brother to make the drop (which, by the way, was the only "hold your breath" scene in the entire episode).

Can I just say that, since autistic people seem to be money-making machines, I want one! I mean, first you have Rainman himself, counting cards in Vegas, and now you have this guy, the hacker extraordinaire. DJ, you should be harvesting your autistic children's talents - you could retire early!

3. And this is the Creme de la Creme. President Palmer has been in a hospital-induced coma for the past 2 weeks, having almost been blown up by MacGyver's homemade bomb. This means that the VP has been in charge. He has apparently watched Dr. Strangelove one too many times, and is just a little eager to bomb whatever the hell country Al-Fayed is from (no word yet on whether he's actually planning to ride the bomb while it launches). So Karen Hayes gets the annoying sister to get the doctor to de-comafy the President. President Palmer comes out of the coma and is lucid and decisive, all within less than an hour. Apparently, being in a coma will also cause wimpy characters to grow a spine, because this is the strongest and most decisive I have ever seen this character be, as he tells the VP that HE is in charge, and the VP can just back off.

Now look. I realize it's television and not reality, but still. He had all this swelling on his brain. My aunt had a brain aneurysim last year and they did surgery. She was unconscious/semi-conscious for a couple of weeks, and had a nasty case of ICU psychosis (she tried to orchestrate an escape from the hospital and demanded that my young cousin and I help her get out of there - it was actually pretty funny - we took to calling her The Big X, after the movie The Great Escape) so I feel fairly confident when I say: CRAP! That storyline is CRAP! Swelling on the brain isn't something you wake up from in less than an hour, and you are coherent and decisive and in charge. No way. So, even though the VP is clearly taking orders from Old Scratch himself, I must say that I agree with the VP about trying to take over the country temporarily.

***Brian Krakow was a character on the too short-lived show My So-Called Life about 10 years ago. He was the brainy kid with the blond white boy 'fro who had a giant crush on Angela, played by Claire Danes. I haven't seen him in much of anything since then. As a matter of fact, most of the actors on that show seem to have fallen off the face of the earth, with the exception of Jared Leto and Claire herself, who can currently be seen in the new Gap commerical.

Meanwhile, The Black Donnellys was brief but glorious, and I am already over it. I'm sorry, but I have personal experience with a family member who, although not as big a screw-up as Jimmy Donnelly is, has been a sore trial to the family, and at some point, you just have to let them stand or fall on their own. And in this case, it was the making of my kin. But you have Tommy, the smart one, (I don't know the actor, but I first saw him in an episode of CSI a couple years ago, and he was awesome) who could be something, who just keeps treading though molasses because every time he pulls brother Jimmy out of a mess, Jimmy turns around and gets himself embroiled in another, bigger mess. It's so frustrating I want reach into the television and throttle him. And he's really the only redeemable character on the show. Besides the screw-up brother, you have Kevin, who apparently blows with the wind. Then you have Sean, who got beaten up in the first episode and is now fretting because he thinks he's not pretty any more. So, yeah, at this rate, this will be a one-season show, unless they decide to give me a reason to CARE about any of these guys.

Last night was so bad I actually caught myself flipping channels to PAX, to watch parts of a re-run of Diagnosis Murder, while 24 was on. Seriously. (I just adore Dick Van Dyke!)

In Response to The Clam Rampant

So my leetle seester, The Clam Rampant, has posted a long and very good post on her blog called Baby Steps. Take a minute and read it here: http://clamrampant.stblogs.com/2007/03/22/baby-steps/#respond

I thought I would respond, reply and clarify a few things.

First of all, the obligatory older sister tease. True Story: The Clam actually made a to-do list one summer, which covered all she intended to do during ONE DAY that summer, and one of the items on it was "write a novel." I'm not kidding. (Isn't that cute!?) So she's not kidding when she says she has felt it necessary to save the world before breakfast. We both have that tendency, and we come by it honestly. We come from a long line of "work until you are ready to drop and are so stressed out that you either snap at people or fall apart and cry over nothing" people. Now, our mother has developed a form of that, but it doesn't involve work - it involves social activities. Our grandma and aunt both did it, and it involved work. Scrubbing the kitchen floor on your hands and knees in August in Mississippi (with no AC) while you are 9 months pregnant, because you know your mother expects your home to be spotless, and she's coming to stay with you. You know - keerazy!

Also, in my defense, I didn't try to potty train my catS, I tried to potty train my caT(back when I just had one). It seemed like a good idea at the time, until I had the pile o'newspapers about a foot up in the air and somehow the litter box fell off and litter (and cat scat) ended up all over my bathroom floor while I was at work. But, to her credit, Wittle Girl did not use this as an excuse to "powder her nose" elsewhere. (She's such a little lady!) However, that was the end of the potty training experiment for me.

OK. Now onto the actual point of the post.

Anyway, The Clam's basic premise of the post is about taking Baby Steps as you do things. She says: "Recently, The Big Seester (that's ME!) found a book called The Four-Day Win that talks about the importance of setting small, incredibly achievable goals for yourself…in other words, baby steps. After a recent shopping excursion, I have decided to implement a modified version of The Four-Day Win."

I am currently in the process of reading The Four Day Win. Clam's right about the premise of the book (well, one of them anyway). The book is much more involved than just that, but Dr. Beck's overall point (which I have spent the last several years of my life proving, thank you very much) is that we set these unrealistic goals for ourselves, and then punish ourselves when we (inevitably) fail. She talks about how every diet basically boils down to "eat less and exercise" and that if it really was that simple, we wouldn't have a weight problem in this country.

She says that when you rely on willpower, you will lose, because our primitive brain (the part that deals with basic stuff like food and self-protection) is very powerful - it is how we have been able to survive millenia of famines and wars and ice ages, and IT WILL WIN. Eventually, no matter how much you KNOW you shouldn't eat sweets, you will end up face first in a bag of Double Stuffs, snarling at the person who walks within 10 feet of you.

As you can see, I have become somewhat of a fan of this book. Sure, she's got some new agey stuff in there, and I have to really work hard to not roll my eyes and snort, but hey! Overall, I have to agree with what she says, because I have been living it. You know how it starts - you gain some weight - let's say 20 pounds. You decide you are going to go on a mondo diet and take off that 20 pounds in 2 months (10 pounds a month - that's what you "should" lose, right?) But, a year later (or two) you are now 35 pounds overweight. That's basically what I have done. Dieted, lost some weight, until I couldn't stand it anymore, then rebounded, and gained back more than I lost. And let's face it, Little Miss In a Big Hurry, if you had said, "I want to lose 10 pounds a YEAR," instead of 10 pounds a MONTH, chances are that you would still be maintaining that weight loss. But who wants to say, "Yippee! I lost 1 pound last month!" Diet testimonials never say that. However, if you look at how long I have been struggling, if I would have known this years ago, and set a goal of 10 pounds a year, I would now weigh about the same as a 6 year old. (Well, no, but I would have reached my goal years ago, instead of still fighting this.)

So she had all kinds of ways to change your behavior SLOWLY, rather than jumping feet first into something you won't be able to maintain long-term. Which is why I am still reading the book. I am reading it slowly, let it sink in.

So, for example, the ridiculously easy goals. She tells you to pick a goal - something that you haven't been able to achieve yet in your dietary quest. I picked: "Eat three, reasonably healthy meals a day."

Now, there are a couple of tidbits there.

#1 - reasonably healthy - meaning I am not saying "no more sweets EVER! (thanks, Joan Crawford) or anything. I just mean fairly balanced. Yes, I know I should be eating 5 servings of fruits and vegetables a day (or even more), but I recognize that, at this point, that's like pointing at Mt. Everest and saying, "See you at the top!" And I KNOW this by now.

#2 - notice "3 meals" - that's because I tend to skip breakfast (like most dieters out there) and then by mid-morning, I'm ravenous and PO'd at myself. If it's a bad day, I visit Ye Olde Vending Machine. If it's a good day, I hold out until lunch. Neither of which is a healthy habit.

Anyway, so, pick your goal. OK. Done. Then she says, clearly this goal is too large. Why? Because you haven't done it yet. So halve it. Then halve it again. Keep reducing it until it is so ridiculously easy, you look at it and say, "Pffft! Of COURSE I can do that!" Then do it for Four Days in a row. AND, each day you do it successfully, give yourself a little reward (something minor). And, if you do it for Four Days, give yourself a little larger reward.

So, I took my "3 reasonably healthy meals" and turned it into: have a bowl of cereal with a banana on it for breakfast each day.

Now, first of all, you don't quit after Four Days. It just becomes a habit. And, I must say, this particular goal became a habit quickly. Even in the midst of moving, I had my little brekkie: a fairly healthy cereal (Special K, or Corn Flakes because they have been on sale) with a little sugar sprinkled on them, 1% milk (which is what I normally have around) and a cut-up banana. And my reward is a small (SMALL) glass of OJ with breakfast. (See my previous post about weird food rules - OJ is another food I have been forbidding myself, until I go on an OJ binge and drink 1/2 gallon in a day or two, and I'm not kidding.) She doesn't say it can't be a food-related goal, and OJ is a major breakfast treat for me, and drinking 6 oz of it is not going to break my diet. (Drinking a couple of 2-4s of Coke will, though!)

Like I said, I really think this book makes a lot of sense. And I bought it for myself as a moving gift, so The Clam could actually read it if she wants.

And I'll tell you this: it feels darned good to actually succeed at a goal. Dr. Beck's right about that too.

So WAHOO to The Clam for wanting to try it too. And yes, you can borrow an Agatha Christie or Trixie Belden. Or, dare I say it?, one of my Catholic mysteries, like The Rosary Murders. No. Perhaps that ought to wait until AFTER the Easter Vigil.

And I have also thought about going into plus-sized fashion design. I even have a company name figured out.

I Am a Neil Young Savant...blech!

It's a quiz all about Neil Young!

http://www.cbc.ca/cgi-bin/quiz/quiz.cgi?quiz=arts_neil_young

Wow. You wouldn't think that I could score 7 out of 10 on this quiz, being that I hate his music with a white hot heat. Actually, I don't hate his music. I can't listen to his music because his voice makes me want to gouge out my eardrums with rusty nails. So I really don't know whether I like his music or not. But considering how I feel about hippies...

Creepy how this stuff sneaks into your subconscious.

Four dead in O-hi-o...

Last Night's 24

Ok, so unless I missed something (I was out of the room for a few minutes at the very beginning of the show) we didn't find out whether Mr. Treasonous Ex-President died from the stab wound inflicted by his ex-wife, the former Designing Woman Jean Smart.

Meanwhile, we found out that the CTU has A Mole. (As in, someone who is keeping the bad guys informed.) When I first heard that, I thought, "Well, if I were a mole at the CTU and wanted to have a patsy, since Lee Harvey Oswald isn't available, I think I'd make the Muslim chick the patsy." And, sure enough, the person doing it has been using Nadia's code. Of course, Nadia has been using Milo's code (illegally, but that's a whole 'nother story) so of course we know it wasn't her, because like, the first thing they teach you in terrorist training school is not to log in as yourself if you are going to spy while at a government agency! (Not that I know that for a fact, but, once again, if I ran the zoo, that would be basic information.)

So we know the mole isn't Nadia. It's the sort of thing reading murder mysteries gives you an eye for. Listen, if you feel yourself suspecting the rakish and mysterious Lord Smythe-Trevelyn halfway through the book, chances are the poor peer's innocent. He's a red herring.

Speaking of Red Herrings, why are the Russians screwing with us again exactly? Don't they have enough problems over there to deal with without messing around with us? Of course, it's a ROGUE Russian. Sure.

Also, if I didn't know better, I'd say the VP was behind the assassination attempt on the President, except they just did that storyline LAST YEAR, right?

Also, here's a question for all the 24 fans out there - based on your history of watching 24, is The Mole going to be some random CTU person (the equivalent of the poor slob who gets beamed down with Kirk and Spock) or is it likelier to be a Person We Know? (There's an unwritten murder mystery rule that the killer must be an established character in the book.)

If so, my money's on Milo. I don't like him. He's weaseley, and was just a little too OK with Nadia using his code before.

Also, Ricky Schroder's not wearing pastel pink izods anymore! Take THAT, Alfonso Ribiero!

And Jack managed to get through this entire episode with torturing anyone or threatening to kill anyone. Good job!

Another "Isn't My OCD Quirky?!" Post

Ohhhhkkkkaayyyy.

So a few weeks ago I let a little something slip to The Clam that I am now going to share with y'all.

I have done market research into the relative costs related to various personal care products - things we all use, like shampoo, toothpaste, soap and/or bodywash and lotion. Now, when I say "market research," this is what I mean:

I look at a category, like bodywash, and I take several brands and compare prices. But you cannot just compare prices, because everyone packages theirs in different sized bottles - Suave is 12 oz, St. Ives is 13.5 oz, Dial is 18 oz and Ivory is 24 oz, for example. So I take the price of the product and divide it by the number of ounces to get the cost per ounce. (I learned this trick from The Frugal Zealot, Amy Dacyzyzn.) THEN, I multiply out how many bottles of the product I would use in a year, based on the ounces. (Clearly, I would only need to buy half as many bottles of the Ivory, at 24 oz, as I would of the Suave, at 12 oz.)

Bar soap is even more complex, because not only are the bars themselves different sizes ( anywhere from 3 oz to 4.5 oz, depending) but they come packaged in different quantities (so, for example, the 12 pack of Dial is a better buy than the 4 pack, but Dial is still way more expensive than Ivory). So I take the number of ounces per bar, multiply it by the number of bars to get a total ounce figure, then divide the cost by that number.

It's actually fascinating. First of all, bar soap is much cheaper than body wash. Now, I pretty much only looked at drugstore brands, because I don't have the money to be buying $10 bars of gourmet soap. But the most expensive bar soap I looked at (per ounce) was Lever 2000, 8 pack of 4.5 oz bars, at $8.49, which breaks down to 24 cents an ounce. The cheapest bodywash I found was good old Suave, at $2.29 for 12 ounces, which breaks down to 19 cents an ounce. (The cheapest bar soap was a mere 10 cents an ounce.)

I have been looking at all of this for a while, not because that extra 9 cents an ounce is really going to break my budget, but rather because, especially after reading The Tightwad Gazette, I felt it was important to be conscious of the differences in prices. And I have come to a couple of conclusions.

1. The different companies do the size shift on purpose. I mean really, what's the point of 13.5 oz? It just makes it that much trickier to compare prices. You're standing there looking at the 12 oz for (say) 2.99 and the 11.5 oz for 3.79 - are you really going to whip out your calculator to see which one's the better buy? (Yes, I do! That's why the list got started!) You think, oh, well, it's just a little more money for a little less product.

If I ran the zoo (I love that concept), liquid products like bodywash and shampoo would come in 12 oz, 18 oz and 24 oz and bar soaps would be standard weight and be sold individually, in 4 packs and 8 packs. None of this flimflammery!

This is most obvious in the case of things like lip balm - for example, most lip balms, like Burt's Bees and Chapstick, are .15 oz per stick. The best buy I have found is Vaseline Lip Therapy, which comes in a .35 oz tube, not a stick. It's $1.79 for .35 oz, which equals $5.37 an ounce! Whereas Vaseline (in the tub) is about $3.69 for 13 oz, which is 28 cents an ounce. See the difference?! OK, OK, so I'm not going to haul around a pound of Vaseline in my purse everywhere I go, but it is still an eye opener, and when I'm home, I reach for the jug o'vaseline, not the little tube of goopy gold! (BTW, the generic is even cheaper.)

2. It may not seem like such a big thing, but remember, small holes can sink a big ship. It's like the people who buy the $3.50 Latte on their way to work every morning. Listen, if you recognize that $3.50 x 5 is $17.50 a week, and that, over the course of a year, you could be spending over $800 on COFFEE, and you still want to do it, fine. I'm not going to tell you how to spend your money. I probably make choices with my money that you wouldn't, and that's ok too. The idea is to BE CONSCIOUS. Know where your money is going. (It doesn't grow on trees, you know!) So, I tend to choose to brew my coffee at home, knowing that even expensive coffee homebrewed is going to be much cheaper than cheap boughten coffee. And I'd rather skimp on things like body wash (cost wise, not quantity wise) so I can afford other things. For example, I'd like to retire someday, and since Social Security is going to be as dead as the dodo by then, I'd rather not be chowing down on Mighty Dog thinking about the $20 shampoo I used to wash my hair with.

Drat that Leetle Seester!

She tagged me for another MEME (stupid made-up word) - this one challenging me to come up with "6 Weird Things About Me, That I Want to Share with the Entire World on the Interwebs"...

I called her indignantly to inform her that there is NOTHING WEIRD ABOUT ME, and she must be thinking about her OTHER sister - The Meedle Seester!

Her responses are on her blog - The Clam Rampant, if you are interested.

This will prove to be tricky, since I remain firmly convinced that I am perfectly normal. The rest of the world may be a little...off, but not me!

So. These answers are not FINAL, and I reserve the right to change them with feedback from others, as things pop into my head at 4 am, etc.

1. I also sing to my cats (this was one of the Clam's answers too), including made-up songs which I have penned for their amusement. It works, too, because last summer, when my Wittle Cheeters went missing, after searching for her ALL DAY, she heard me singing HER song at night and came tearing through the yard! (So, since it clearly is a good thing, it's not weird, right?)

2. I have a terrible phobia which (I think) is pretty uncommon. I'm terrified of things collapsing. So much so that, when we would all gather in Mom's dining room for a holiday meal, between (1) the piano, (2) the huge heavy desk, (3) the giant DR table and (4) all of us, I could barely eat my meal, I was so sure we would all fall through to the basement. When I was a child, my dad had to take me down to our basement and show me the steel beams that held up our house, because I was so afraid the entire thing would collapse. When Mom offered me one of our 2 family pianos, I had a coniption, and a large chunk of my pre-moving panic attack had to do with how much stuff I had, and how much it all weighs. (This is part of the reason why an eBook Reader appeals to me so much - 80 books stored in an 8 oz gadget!?!?!) When I get downtown, I have to really focus on not paying attention to all the skyscrapers and how much they must weigh and the fact that we have this underground sewer system and there are almost catacombs under the city and... you get the idea. And DON'T tell me things don't collapse, because THEY DO - bridges, buildings, sinkholes in the road. So, again, not weird, right?

3. I have this quirky little OCD (I've posted about this a couple of times). This is not debilitating OCD (like I can't leave my home or I must wash my hands 25 times a day) just funny little things. My original post dealt with my irritation with grocery store plastic bags and whether or not to get permanent "string bags" like they use in Europe. Well, there are all kinds of things like that. Seriously. I realized recently that I have made about a thousand bizarre food rules for myself. Example? Well, how about - I love bananas. Love them. But I haven't bought bananas for years. Why? Because I decided years ago that, at 105 calories each, a banana has too many calories for a piece of fruit. So every time I go to the grocery store, I look longingly at the bananas (which are not only delicious and nutritious, but also cheap!) and pass them up. Never mind that I will go to the vending machine at 3 pm and buy a candy bar at 240 calories. Nope - 105 is too much for fruit! (Note: I am working really hard to unmake these rules, and for the past couple of weeks, have had breakfast every day consisting a fairly healthy cereal with a cut-up banana on it. Hurray!) However, I think it is critical to point out that, in our culture, most of us have developed all kinds of food issues, since the diet nazis rule the world. So, once again, not weird. It would be weird if I DIDN'T have food issues.

4. Now, this is probably weird. I hate, and I do mean HATE, talking on the phone (with anyone other than close family members). I actually would prefer not to talk on the phone at all, but I accept that that's how most people communicate. I hate it so much that I tend to pace when I'm on the phone, because I'm so stressed from being on the phone. And this was true even as a teenager. OK. That's weird.

5. I can recite entire scenes from movies and TV shows that I haven't seen in 20 years. I mean, scenes from episodes of Moonlighting and so forth, not just the ubiquitous Monty Python quips ("I'm not dead!"). But, to be fair, so can both my seesters, so it's a family-wide weirdness. As a matter of fact, for a while there, the seesters could recite Beetlejuice practically word-for-word.

6. I never went through a hippie phase, not even in college. I have never owned anything tied-died, I have never been interested in the Grateful Dead, I have never said "Make Love Not War" except in jest, and have generally always thought hippies had serious responsibility and hygeine problems. My mother is the oldest of her family, and the younger siblings may have flirted with hippie culture in the late 60s and the 70s, including moving to Colorado and some illicit drug use, but they were never serious hippies. Yes, I did grow up on the Beatles (George is my favorite, thanks for asking) and yes, I did have a brief stint where I thought Janis Joplin was SOOOOO COOL. Now I just think she's sad and tragic, and I'm fairly sure most teenagers, when they "discover" her, really get into her for a while, because, as the Lalapalooza episode of The Simpsons said so cleverly, "Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel." I don't think that makes me weird, although it is perhaps a little unusual. I think it means I have good taste.

So there you go - I am not weird. I am the most normal person I know. You know who's weird? YOU are!

And... I tag DJ, The Canuck, and Catholic Wife and Mother.

Terrific Book!

I just finished reading an amazing book which I wanted to recommend to you. It's called:

"Left to Tell: Discovering God Amid the Rwandan Holocaust" by Immaculee Ilibagiza

It's the true story of a young university student who is hidden by a pastor in a bathroom with several other women for 3 months during the Rwandan genocide, and how her faith was strengthened and she was ultimately able to forgive the Hutus who perpetrated the genocide.

It's not a particularly long or deep book, just a one-woman account, but even though the background of the genocide is quite distressing, you will absolutely love this woman by the end of the book. It really is an uplifting story, even though it's sad in some parts.

If you get a chance to read it, I highly recommend it. And although she herself is a Catholic, it's not a "Catholic" book, or even a "Christian" book - it's about one woman and her relationship with God.

I must say that it really was a powerful read.

Here's the Skinny on My New Home

OK, I have a little while to post a longer entry about my MOVING INTO MY OWN HOME!

So I officially moved in early this week, and let me just say, I had the best day this entire winter to move my stuff in! When you move in March in Michigan, let's just say that things can...go awry. Not so! It was nearly 70 and sunny - absolutely beautiful weather!

I still have until the end of the month in my old place, which is good, because I want to clean it once more and wash and press the curtains. Everyone keeps assuring me that I don't have to do that, but I really believe in karma, even if I don't believe in Karma, if you get my drift. In other words, I don't believe in the Hindu concept of Karma, but I do believe that when you do right, you mostly get done right by. Let me give you a perfect example:

My (soon-to-be past) landlady is elderly, blind and senile. Not a good combo. She is also extremely self-centered. Last summer, when my lease was up, she never had me sign another lease, even though I reminded her a few times. However, I didn't want to take advantage of her, so I had planned to move out at the end of June, which is when my lease would have been up, if I would have had a lease. Then, about 6 weeks ago, she asked me if I would mind being out at the end of May, not June, so she could show the place in June. I said no problem, and that would mean my last rent payment would be April 1st, since I paid last month down. Okeydokey.

Fast forward a few weeks, when I looked for and found MY condo (and I mean MY in the cosmic sense - this place was meant for me). I arranged with my agent to have the closing on a date where I wouldn't have to make a mortgage payment until May, so that I wouldn't mess up my landlady (even though I knew there's no lease).

I acted in such a way as to respect her needs as well as mine. So then, THE DAY I CLOSED, I come home to find a note on my door from my landlady - Could I be out at the end of March, not May? She has a possible tenant for my place, but he wants to move in April 1st. (Keep in mind that she has displayed no interest in my quest to find a new place, so she not only didn't know I had closed, she didn't know I had even found somewhere else to live.)

My first reaction was: How typical! Oh, by the way, can you be out in less than 30 days because it suits me. Then I thought about it for a minute - wait! That means I don't have to pay any more rent, and I don't have a mortgage payment due until May! So in rality, it was a gift, not a curse.

So as tired as I am right now, I am still struggling to gather the energy to get my heiny back over there and clean it this weekend, because next weekend is busy, and the following Saturday is already the 31st. Sigh. We'll see.

However, not only am I moved in, I am also about 80% unpacked (largely thanks to The Clam, who took one day off this week to help me unpack and organize my kitchen). I really really don't like mess - I don't like not knowing where things are, and seeing piles of boxes and all the stuff that goes with moving, so it was HUGE for Clam to help me get sorted in the kitchen.

I am definitely going to be painting the kitchen and bathroom (once Pater and Stepmater come back from Florida) and of course there are lots of little things that need to happen, but it's all coming together.

The cats are even adjusting well, which is very good, because I was frankly very worried about Big Lou, my huge but chickensh*t boy cat. He hid under furniture, his nose was hot and dry, he even burrowed under the covers of my (previously neatly made) bed. It didn't help matters that the Wittle Girl was hissing and slapping him every time he moved. I understand that to be the cat equivalent of "I'm the Alpha Dog of this pack" which is so funny, because she's like 9 pounds and he's 19. And he is SOOOO the Alpha Cat usually. Knocks her out of the way to get the food, decides he wants to sleep where she is, etc. But not this week.

However, I'm happy to report that all is well - cats noses are cold and wet again, and they were goofing off and chasing each other around the place last night.

The one complaint I have about my wonderful new place is my neighbors. Mrs. Kravitz lives downstairs from me. Actually, she makes Mrs. Kravitz seem laid back. She has quizzed me about my work hours, where I plan to park my car, if I live alone, when I come and go, do I work weekends, etc. Then the other upstairs neighbor is just weird. My first clue came when I viewed the condo and noticed that she had a red light shining in her window. (Hmmm, thought I - a tribute to The Police? Or is she the Real Roxanne?) Turns out...it was a Christmas Decoration. Yes, a red lightbulb, shining out the window, shouts Christmas for all to see. In February. Then there was the fact that she took it upon herself to decorate the common areas of the building with Christmas stuff (right down to a wreath with Jingle Bells on the front door). LOUD jingle bells.

Oh well, thought I. Live and let live. So it's February and she hasn't taken the Christmas stuff down yet.

Well, it's now the middle of March and everything is still up. Except for the light in the window, which is now green (for St. Patrick's Day?!?). No, I'm not kidding. I got my first condo association newsletter, which included a directive that "All Christmas decorations must be down by March 15th." Part of me said, "Thank God they are putting the foot down." The other part of me thought, "How pathetic that they even have to SAY that? It's freaking March 15th!" I'm past "thinking Spring" at this point - I'm checking to see that I have Summer clothes!

So yesterday was D-Day (so to speak). This morning, I left for work and noticed that all the decorations are still up, except that she has removed the jingle bells from the Christmas wreath on the door. Apparently, she is drawing a line in the sand, daring the condo association to cross it.

Plus there's the incessant door-knocking. They have both decided to knock on my door to chat. Multiple times. Now, here's the thing. I am, by nature, a very introverted person. My home is my sanctuary. I retreat there. Especially since I have a very public job and must deal with people all day. As I said to The Clam, "If I wanted to live somewhere where people just knock on my door whenever they feel like it, I could live with Mom for free." I don't want them knocking on my door. Ever. Unless the bulding is on fire. And even then I'd rather the smoke detector let me know. Not only do I have a real problem with forced interaction (and I'm not kidding - The Clam knows not to just drop in on me, and she's my seester!) which I haven't invited, but I wouldn't be friends with either one of these women even if I was outgoing! Mrs. Kravitz is 85 (according to the former owner of my condo) and looks like she sucked on a dozen lemons. Lemons that have been smeared with horseradish. And quite frankly, I don't want to be friends with anyone as nosy as she is. And the other woman is just wacky, and I'm not kidding. Neither one of them works (well, it's a cinch the 85 year old doesn't, but apparently the other one doesn't either, and I'm not sure she's even 50 yet) and they don't seem to have any hobbies other than fighting with each other and spying on me. (I'm fairly confident the Christmas decorations are a battle in an ongoing war.)

I'm the sort of person who you WANT as a neighbor - I am quiet and I keep to myself. I'm more than happy to smile at you and say "Good morning" or "Lovely day, isn't it" to you, but I never ever want to get more involved than that. And I have NEVER had a neighbor as nosy and pushy as Mrs. Kravitz, or as weird and daffy is Crazy Mary.

I'm not entirely sure how to deal with these two, but I am determined that they are not going to ruin my beautiful new home with their poison.

Do you have any suggestions on how to deal with them? Mom suggested that the next time Mrs. Kravitz asks me personal questions, I should ask her if she's a cop. I don't like being rude to anyone, especially elderly people, but I also don't want this to continue...

Just a Passing Note...

...to say that I saw my first 2008 election bumper sticker the other day. My first thought was, "Sweet Pete! Not ALREADY!!!!" Then I read it. It said:

Stewart/Colbert 2008

Now THAT'S a candidacy I could get behind!

I want one. Of course, I would NEVER put a bumper sticker on my car. (A car is the second most expensive thing most of us ever buy, after a home. Why would you slap some $1 piece of stickum on there? Do you poop on your living room floor?)

But THIS I might actually tape on the inside of my rear windshield.

Hallelujah!

I have moved into my very own home! Tuesday night was my first night sleeping there. I'm way too busy right now to do a long post, but I wanted to at least post something!

Everything went as smoothly as possible, and I am so happy I have a permagrin on my face.

I'll tell you more later.

:-)

More Mindless TV Stuff

Tuesday's episode of House was one of the best shows I have seen in a looong time. Hugh Laurie is just an incredible actor. (I know I've said that before. No I DON'T have a crush on him. Well, maybe just a teensy one. But it's really all about his talent, not his looks. Really. Mostly. Although the blue eyes help. I'm a sucker for a man with blue eyes.)

The guest stars were Kurtwood Smith (the guy who played Red Forman on That 70s Show and the even meaner dad in Dead Poets Society) and Dave Matthews. You know, from the Dave Matthews Band. (DJ - they are a rock and roll musical combination act.)

The main storyline is about Dave, who is a musical savant (brilliant classical pianist, but can't button his shirt) who is (of course) having a health crisis. BTW, his acting was pretty good. Not amazing, but pretty good. When did he decide to act? I missed that memo. Did the DMB break up?

But the real storyline is that Dr. House has inoperable brain cancer! (Don't you DARE give away the ending if you have seen the episode, because The Clam hasn't seen it yet! AND SHE WILL. MARK MY WORDS.)

And there is a scene where Hugh Laurie and Dave Matthews are playing the piano together that is just soooo cool to watch. (Hugh, as he likes me to call him, is an accomplished pianist, and even back in the Jeeves and Wooster days, he could be seen to play and sing.)

Funny tidbits about this episode: Red Forman (well, the actor who played him) had a son on That 70s Show called Eric Forman, and of course on House, Omar Epps' character is Dr. Eric Foreman. Weird.

Additionally, Robert Sean Leonard played his son in Dead Poets Society. And Eric Forman thought he had it tough! Red was a pussycat compared to that dad!

You know, I have to say this. The writers keep trying to keep us guessing about whether House will end up with Cameron or Cuddy (2 female doctors on the show) and they write these scenes which I think are supposed to be sizzling. But they're not. Cameron is boring and prissy, and Cuddy always sounds whiny.

The scenes I really enjoy are the scenes between House and Wilson (Robert Sean Leonard). Their friendship is much more complex and interesting than either of the so-called love interests on the show.

This Here's the Big Bopper

Check this out: http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/Music/03/07/bigbopper.autopsy.ap/index.html

First of all, I had no idea there had been rumors about the plane crash (and I consider myself fairly knowledgeable about this kind of stuff).

But second of all, how cool is it that forensic anthropologists can figure this stuff out?!?!

J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson suffered massive fractures and likely died immediately in the 1959 plane crash that also killed early rock 'n' rollers Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens, a forensic anthropologist said Tuesday after exhuming the body.

The performer's son, Jay Richardson, hired Dr. Bill Bass, a well-known forensic anthropologist at the University of Tennessee, to look at the remains in Beaumont, Texas.

There have been rumors a gun might have been fired on board the plane and that the Big Bopper might have survived the crash and died trying to get help.

Bass took X-rays of the body and found nothing Tuesday to support those theories. "There was no indication of foul play," Bass said in a telephone interview from Beaumont. "There are fractures from head to toe. Massive fractures. ... (He) died immediately. He didn't crawl away. He didn't walk away from the plane."

The rock 'n' roll stars' plane crashed after taking off from Mason City, Iowa, on February 3, 1959 -- a tragedy memorialized as "the day the music died" in Don McLean's song "American Pie."
...
Bass, 78, is a pioneer in his field and has worked on such famous cases as confirming the identity of the Lindbergh baby that was kidnapped in 1932 and murdered.

I saw a profile of Dr. Bass on 60 Minutes (or something similar) a few years ago. He pioneered the concept of body farms (where they observe bodies decomposing under different conditions, which is how they have developed the ability to tell when you died and whether you were exposed to the elements after your death, in rainy or dry conditions, etc. etc.).

Am I a ghoul for finding stuff like that fascinating?

Your Faith Is a Big Scam! Happy Easter!

I'm sure you have probably heard that James Cameron and Simcha Jacobivici "discovered the tomb of Jesus and his family" recently. (Just in time for Lent. What a surprise!) Of course, the first thing you must realize is that they didn't discover anything. The tombs were actually discovered about 25 years ago. So, unlike how we can argue about who was the first to discover America, the Vikings or Christopher Columbus, this really is some form of pseudo-scientific plagarism. I mean, what are the odds that the Vikings shared the information about their discovery with the Italians? So, when a few hundred years later, Columbus said HE was the first, he really thought he was. However, since the discovery of the tombs was 25 years ago, during these guys' lifetimes, they have no such excuse. Moreover, the original discoverers discarded the theory that what they found was THE Jesus and His family. So it's a non-story.

However, the mainstream media loooves to play with Christianity, to the point where they insinuate that if you buy into any of it, you must have been dropped on your head as a small child. (They are not nearly so brave with certain other faiths, you may notice. This is because the pope doesn't issue fatwas.) So they will play this up for all it's worth.

Now, many many people much smarter and more developed theologically than me have taken this "documentary" apart. As a matter of fact, here's a link to Jimmy Akin, one of the smartest Catholic apologists around these days: http://jimmyakin.typepad.com/defensor_fidei/2007/03/tomb_of_jesus_n.html#comments

However, here's my two cents. Like I said, I am not some master apologist or anything. This is just common sense stuff.

First of all, the names on the tombs. There's a Jesus, son of Joseph. There are two Marys. And there's a Judah, son of Jesus. Okeydokey, folks. Let's make one thing clear. Just because WE don't name OUR kids Jesus doesn't mean that nobody else did. Having a Jew from that era named Jesus is like having an Irishman named Kevin. You get a roomful of Irish Americans together and I guarantee you there will be a few Kevins. And, having a Jesus whose father's name was Joseph is like having an Irishman named Kevin whose dad is named Patrick. And Mary? Good grief! Every other woman named in the New Testament is named Mary! Rather like Jennifer for my generation. (In fact, Mary is still one of the commonest names in the world.) But last names would clear this right up. Except...there are no last names on the tombs. Know why? Because they didn't HAVE last names back then. (And, no, His last name isn't Christ! Nor is His middle initial "H".)

Second of all, and really for me this is a whole big thing about Christianity, is this: why on earth would the Apostles lie about this? No, really, think about it. You've got 11 guys (12 minus Judas, who removed himself from the picture) who, when Jesus was crucified, were TERRIFIED. Except John, they all ran away and hid. They were afraid of being arrested and killed too. Then, suddenly, they are courageous. They are fearless. They preach the Gospel - strongly and passionately. They convert thousands of people. And what earthly reward did they get for that? Death. And not just death, excruciatingly painful tortuous death. Crucified. Skinned alive. The kind of stuff that makes the electric chair seem really humane. All of them, except John. And not just them, but the people they converted. And the people those people converted. Thousands of people over three hundred plus years. Now, I know what you're thinking - well, they had to perpetuate the lie. WHY? What were they going to get out of it?

You know, I sometimes think that people think Vatican City appeared magically in Rome on Easter Sunday, AD 33. People don't realize that for CENTURIES, Christianity was illegal, and these people had no money. They were poor. Seriously poor, and without power or prestige. Just because several centuries later we had the Holy Roman Empire means NOTHING.

AND, they were sure that Jesus was returning ANY DAY. This was not Peter saying, "Hey, if we can keep mum about this while they are boiling us in oil, in 1500 years, the pope is going to have Michaelangelo paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel," and John replying, "Sweet!" The apostles had no inkling that there would ever be a Vatican City, or a papal tiara. As a matter of fact, one of the best sermons I ever heard in my life (at a Baptist church) was about Jesus' comments at the Last Supper, as recounted by John. (Chapter 15, I think.) "If the world hates you, keep in mind it hated me first. For no servant is greater than his master..." THAT is what Jesus told them they had to look forward to. So, if Jesus had really been buried in a tomb, wouldn't somebody have let that slip? I mean, Batholomew's watching them sharpening the knife they are going to SKIN HIM WITH, right? Why wouldn't he just say, "Sike! We sure had you guys fooled!" I mean, think about all the denouncing as communists that went on in this country in the 1950s. And communists were just ostracized, not brutally murdered. But people are basically cowards, and ratting comes pretty easily when things get uncomfortable for you.

But not those 11. They changed the world.

Now. All that being said, here's what you need to know. If you profess to be a Christian, whether Catholic, Orthodox or Protestant, it is a matter of dogma (non-negotiable belief) that Jesus rose from the dead, and ascended, body and soul, to Heaven. If you don't believe that, you are not a Christian. You may be a very nice person (or not), but you are not a Christian. (Catholics also believe that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was assumed, at the moment of her death, into Heaven, body and soul. But Protestants don't. So you can still be a Christian and not believe that.)

If James Cameron and Simcha Jacobvici were able to PROVE that the bones in the tomb were that of THE Jesus, then there would be no reason to be a Christian. Then, like Natalie Wood in Miracle on 34th Street, we could just all say that he was "just a nice man with a real beard" and let the rest of it go. And you know what? My life would be easier. That's right. You heard me. It would be a lot easier to not have all those pesky rules and regulations. Like last Friday, when I wanted a bacon cheeseburger so badly I could taste it, I could have had one, instead of fish. Ick. I hate fish. (Whoa! The Greek for fish is "Icthus" How trippy is THAT?!)

But they can't prove it. They won't prove it. And if you let your faith be shaken by the idiot who unleashed "My Heart Will Go On" on the world, well, all I can say is: I hear it's a dry heat down there.

24 & The Black Donnellys

OK, so I clearly haven't been watching as much TV as usual, what with moving and all. However, last night I rewarded myself for all that I had accomplished by sitting on my tookas and watching 24 and The Black Donnellys. ***Spoiler warning***

So I was overall not thrilled with 24 last night. First of all, I don't know jack (haha - get it?) about this former vice-president dude who had the president assassinated so he could take over the country but got caught at it and is now living under house arrest in some cushy place in SoCal. (So, what? If I assassinate the president, do I get to live there too? Or is it just politicians who are too good to do any jail time for coldblooded murder and treason?) I knew not having watched the previous 5 seasons was going to be an issue at some point. So... don't know him, don't like him.

Meanwhile, The Weasel (Chad Lowe) and his loyal assassin MacGyver have put together a bomb out of ordinary office supplies, such as yellow highlighters. (Little known fact: evidently when you mix yellow highlighter fluid and pink highlighter fluid, you have a highly flammable substance. And they say TV isn't educational!)

However, Tom Lennox (the creepy sidekick guy from Ghostbusters 2) has proven that all conservatives are not the spawn of Satan by attempting to alert authorities. That didn't work out well for him. The Weasel set the bomb, and detonated it in The Good Muslim's face. The Good Muslim, being a good Muslim, threw himself across the president to try and shield him. He's dead; the president is seriously wounded. (Side note: why oh why couldn't his sister have been there? Now we're going to have to deal with her showing up at the hospital and yelling at the Secret Service. Maybe they'll shoot her. I live in hope.)

However, Tom Lennox has foiled their attempt to blame it on The Good Muslim by ratting them out to the Secret Service. However, he may be in the soup as well, since he let himself be tied up and all.

And, Mr. ex-Vice-President has failed in his attempt to get the Russian consulate dude to tell him where Gredenko is. Figures. So Jack, in a truly bizarre move, breaks into the Russian consulate and takes the Russian consulate dude hostage, using a cigar cutter to amputate excess and unnecessary digits from his hands. (Ewww.) Side note: if you are going to cut off fingers, why not go for fingers that people actually USE? Why do they always cut off the top third of the pinky? I mean, who needs the top third of their pinky? How about your ear-cleaning finger, or your nose-picking finger, or your flipping the bird finger?

Meh. At least we didn't have to deal with Morris whining about how he is less than a man because he armed a nuclear weapon for The Bad Muslim after having only one hole drilled into his body.

Meanwhile, there's a new show on NBC called The Black Donnellys. Now, first things first. The Black Donnellys aren't black. They're Black Irish. Except they're not. The Black Irish are called Black Irish because they are quite swarthy (for white folk). My grandfather definitely qualified, except he wasn't Irish (he was either Cornish or Welsh, depending on who you talk to). Picture Catherine Zeta-Jones. OK. That's the idea of Black Irish. These guys don't qualify. Only one of the four is even a brunet. The other three are blond. However, the name "Black Donnelly" is actually a reference to a historical family, although the show isn't. If that makes any sense at all. OK. I'll 'splain.

Apparently, Canada, during the settlement days, had a few lawbreakers as well. If you think about the Hatfields and McCoys, you've kind of got the picture, except apparently the Black Donnellys fought with everybody. They lived in Ontario, and a bunch of them were murdered in their beds all together one lovely night. If you go to donnellys.com, it has all the info. Quite fascinating, and nothing whatsoever to do with the show. Except that Paul Haggis is Canadian, and apparently thought it made sense. (Which is why Canadians shouldn't have nuclear weapons.)

Anyway, so this is the brainchild of Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, who wrote Crash, which I will get around to seeing one of these days. The basic storyline is about 4 brothers (named Donnelly) who are small-time crooks in a rough part of New York. (At least, I think it's supposed to be New York. I guess it could be Boston.) It's sort of like The Sopranos, except that most of the characters are Irish, not Italian. This was episode 2. So far, we have had 3 beatings, 5 or 6 murders, and one gratuitous totty scene with 2 of the brothers stripping to their skivvies, so they didn't get blood on their clothes while they dismembered a corpse.

It's pretty fast-paced, which means it's a great follow for 24, because I'm already in my adrenaline-rush, ohmigosh, gotta pay attention, can't go to the bathroom until the commercial mode. I have to say, all things considered, I am actually rooting for the (anti) heroes quite a little bit. It's not bad TV, and absolutely not boring, and had definite funny moments, albeit dark humor. It kind of keeps you guessing - there are little sleights of hand that are there. All in all, it's enjoyable, although it's not must-see TV.

However, I got to thinking about this. You know, we have all heard about the Italian Mob for decades. The Sopranos is just the latest installment, but it's been a constant theme for a looong time. Recently we have been hearing about the Irish Mob (apparently The Departed was about the Irish Mob. Haven't seen that one either). We also get treated to (especially TV) dramas involving Russians, Chinese, Vietnamese and Japanese mobsters, as well as Columbian drug cartels. And of course here in Detroit we had the Purple Gang, who were Jewish.

All of which got me thinking: Why has there never been a storyline about the Polish Mob?

I demand equal time! We Poles are capable of being excellent mobsters. I want a TV show where everyone gets together and eats golabki while they plot murders! I want a big Polish wedding scene with a polka band, where everyone does The Chicken Dance.

"Leave the gun, take the packzi."

So Just Another Random Post... NOT!!!!!!

So anyway... on Friday I closed on my very first ever house! (Well, condo.) Nothing to see here. Move along. JUST KIDDING!!! READ EVERY WORD!!! SAVOR MY JOY!!!!

Needless to say, I have been slightly busy these last few days, what with packing and running around like a chicken with my head cut off, and making sure everything is done at work so I can take some vacation time to deal with the move. (I have the time; I just don't have the time, if you know what I mean!) The next 3-4 weeks promise to be just as crazy as the past couple have, but that's OK. (However, please note that posting will be catch as catch can.)

Let's start this thrilling commentary with last Wednesday night, when I spent the entire night having what I loosely define as a panic attack. What I mean is that I lay there (laid there?) all night, wide awake, doing the math over and over in my head, never totalling "enough" and convinced that I had made the biggest mistake of my life and I would end up in debtor's prison, beaking rocks next to Tiny Tim (not the ukelele player, the Dickens character).

Of course, by the clear light of day, the math does add up, and although I won't be taking all my loyal readers to dinner at 21 anytime soon, I should be able to subsist on human food, as opposed to dog food.

The actual closing went very smoothly, no thanks to the seller's agent, who looked very much as I expected him to. (Yes, I am a lookist.) The seller was delightful, and I complimented her on her taste. And I mean that. The colors she used were, without exception, not colors I would have chosen in a million years. However, with one exception, they are absolutely beautiful, and I am keeping them. AND, magically, they seem to work with my furniture and my bedding. Pretty eerie, considering that I didn't select my couch or my bedding either. The couch was an "estate" piece from my 97 year old German Tante, and it was perfect for her - lots of blue and rose colored flowers threw up all over the couch. You know, so sweet it would give Shirley Temple diabetes. Very Tante. Not me at all. But it's a perfectly good and comfortable couch, and I will use it for a while yet. (Not buying a new couch until after I replace the furnace and AC unit. How grown up is THAT?) The bedding was an item from the Boutique de Step-mere. Again, plus des fleurs. But I actually mostly like the bedding. Mostly. (They mostly come out at night. Mostly. -Eric Cartman)

Anyway, like I said, it's fairly cosmic that furniture I didn't select would go with paint I didn't pick, and come together to create a home I truly love! Because the living room walls are a beautiful light wheaty-gold which completely downplays the ultra-sweetness of the couch and makes it pretty. And the bedroom is pale mauve: lovely, calming and serene. The bathroom and the kitchen she painted in a green. And, as greens go, it's not bad. Greens are very tricky. It is quite difficult to pick a green that looks the way you think it will look on the walls. They tend to go minty or limey, or be darker than you intended. This is actually a pretty nice green. Not too dark, and no mint to it at all. Not as grey as sage, either. However, and I can absolutely say this since I spent 3 hours in the kitchen yesterday while my carpet was being installed - (I used my time wisely - lined all my cupboards!) it is a fairly depressing color to actually spend any time in. But it's not terrible, and it will keep until I get my skilled, unpaid seasonal day laborers back from south of the border. (That would be Dad and Stepmom, snowbirding it in Florida!)

According to The Clam and to The Mater, I am well ahead of the game. I do have a lot of packing done. (I actually had so much packing done I had to stop because I was running out of places to stack boxes. But now that I have taken a couple of loads over, I can pack some more. Yippee!!) I'm doing alright, but every time I look around, I just see everything else that needs to be done. I also have the uncanny ability to channel my grandmother. I can seriously hear her voice in my head - goading - er, I mean, prodding me to do "just one more thing, because it's one less thing I will have to do later."

And of course Grandma's right. Because a week from tonight, I will be officially living there. (I still have till the end of the month to get all my stuff out, which is a whole nother post.) But I will be where my bed is, and my bed will be at the new place a week from today. So I know the crunch ain't over!

But I am just sooo excited about this whole process that I cannot contain myself, and even though I am exhausted and should be working through my lunch instead of posting, I had to do it!

So I am officially a grownup, albeit a grownup who still remembers most of the verses to the diarrhea song (All together now: When you're sliding into first, and you're feeling something burst...)