Hooray for Buggywood! Lalalalala

Ah, they are getting sneaky in Hollywood. Tired of listening to Jessica Simpson screech, they told her to rest her voice. We’re just trying to take care of YOU, Jess. Ha! We got her to stop.

John Mayer looks like he’s been left under water for far too long. He’s all bloated and pasty.

What did Fergie do to look so old? If we walked together down the street, people would think she is my momma, but she is younger than me!

Is Heidi Klum on a one woman mission to repopulate the world? Honey, we’ve got enough people! Maybe Angelina can adopt some of Heidi’s kids once she hits the double digits in procreation.

I caught a bit of the Rupert Everett/Madonna film “The Next Best Thing”. Madonna is a terrible actress. My apologies go out to everyone who had to endure my extremely extended devotion to the woman with too many monikers to credit properly. I don’t know how I was so blinded. (But I am still burning up, ‘cause I’m on fire. And I can’t quench my desire.) And hell, if old Madonna plays at a club, you’ll see the Bug thorax begin to flail.

You think Katie Holmes is all, damn?

I wonder if Jessica Biel gets collagen. Her upper lip is full! But if she does, her doctor is good because I don’t see the indents from the needle.

Got hung up on hanging

When I was but a wee little larva someone taught me that if a person strung themselves up with a noose, they "hanged" themselves. I have never forgotten this lesson and it is thus that I cringe when people say that someone "hung" themselves.
Should you hear that someone hung themselves, you could assume that they were hanging by their finger tips, or that they suspended themselves in some manner. Maybe some bully came by and dangled them by their underpants from a hook. Usually, a hung person is still alive. A hung jury is unable to reach a verdict. A hung man is... well, call me. William Hung should NOT call me. Were the pictures properly hung?
If you are going to hang yourself, the proper term is that So-and-so hanged themselves.

Bug A. Bugger
Grammar Police

Hmph, stupid Blogger.

I had written all about how me, Marci and the Chanuck went to Old Town last night to see the old Wilson Bridge get blown up. I wrote about the pedantic boy/man who stood next to us. (All of it gone. Stupid Blogger. Now I have to write all over again.) I wrote about how people who plan to get certain degrees should not say they are going to be doctoral candidates or lawyers until they are actually IN the program. (Like the guy I met in Colorado who told me he was getting his doctorate and I asked what his thesis topic was, and he told me he hadn't decided yet. He was going to go ahead and get his Associates degree first. I thought that was probably a good idea.) The man/boy of last night said he was going to be a lawyer. But he just started his first semester at working on his undergrad. Um, you've gots a ways to go before you can lay claim to a future law degree, sweet friend. (Don't get me wrong, I am all for dreaming and planning out a future. Just have the future in sight before you announce it to me, please.)
So, we stood in the blasted and strange heat of midnight in August until finally at midnight:30 we heard kapow kapow powpowpow! Either someone got shot, or that was what we came for. We saw nothing! Anticlimactic to say the least. We went and consoled ourselves with a Hefeweizen at Clydes.

This morning I got up to go to traffic court for driving badly. Boy, the courthouse is hard to find. I left at 8:15 and arrived at 9:15 and it is only 16 miles away. Tricky. The first person I run into? My first grown up boyfriend whom I have not seen in 10 years. He is a detective now. Hmm. We talked for a second, but he had some work to do, so off he went with promises to come back. I had to sit in a courtroom, and you know how long these things take, so I figured I'd see him during the course of my courtroom detention. At 9:30 the court was called to session.
Bug Ah Bugger?
Yes, your honor?
You are free to go.
Wee hoooooo, and off I went. I sat in the hall for a couple of minutes, but ex did not reappear. I felt stupid sitting there and had to get to work, so I left. But I would have loved to talk to him. I think that man would have married me. (I don't think I would have married him, though.) It throws me for a loop, running into him. I wonder how I would react to seeing the rest of the cast and crew that has been my dating life. I really don't ever see any of them, except maybe one, regularly. It's curious the different paths a life can take. I wonder where I would be had I chosen any of them fellers to be my permanent man. I don't regret any of my choices though. They all made me into what I am today. (Be that what it may.)

ANTM YAYYYYYY

Marci and My FAVORITE show in the whole wide world (America's Next Top Model) will be back to the UPN on September 20 with a TWO!HOUR!SPECIAL! YAY!!!! Normally a show is about an hour, but between the wine refills, the snarky comments and discussions, and the incessant rewinding and pausing of the show, it usually takes up to 2 hours for the B. Banana and me to get through a show. A two hour show is going to take FOUR! And as I am the holder of the remote, I have to say sorry Marce. But you want more whine wine, right?

I am so excited. A brand new batch of girls to love and to hate. Weird attitudes, styles and teeth to admire! I wonder who the psycho bitch will be? Who will be the first to cry? Who will be the first to cheat on her boyfriend? So many questions!!! Start the show now! (Have any of the previous six winners beome top models? I only see the girls on Veronica Mars and ANTM Recaps.)

I think this girl will be bitchy.






And this is the vapid succubus who will excise your intelligence. (I'm probably going to lo-oooove her.) She will cry if they her hair short.






Then, did you know the girl from The Ring has a twin? And they are on the show... Why? I believe that Michelle will be the first to cry and maybe these two will have twin speak and drive the others crazy. MAYBE they will kill everyone else in the house? That would make for excellent tv watching.

I'm going to have to restock my wine cabinet! I cannot wait!

*Blogger is being a butt and not allowing me to upload more photos. I wanted to put up a picture of The Ring girl for comparison and also my prediction for my favorites on ANTM. But it won't let me. Enough photos for one day, Bug, it says. Hmph.

Ordinary?

Okay, it is well known that I often mis-hear song lyrics. Here I am at my desk listening (way too loudly) to Train's song "Ordinary". The first line really throws me for a loop.

"Whose eye's in my behind?"

Errr?

I am not sure what he means by this? Someone eye is up in his bum? Like Sammy Davis Jr. taking his glass eyeball and shoving it where the sun don't shine? Maybe it is that someone is eyeballing his behind and he wants to know who the appreciator is?

Turns out he's saying "Who's eyes am I behind." Ahh, whatever. I like my version better.

I am truly going to hell.

Last night I went with my mom to see a girl's church choir from Germany perform. They were wonderful. Though at one point they sang a song where they made whooping sounds and sang like sirens (I don't mean the Greek Sirens, I mean fire engine sirens) and I suddenly was attacked by the giggles in a way I have not seen in years. It was those inappropriate giggles that just strike at the wrong time. I couldn't stop. I was shaking violently with tears streaming down my face. The choir kept wailing and popping their voices around and everytime I thought I had myself in check, it would strike again. Luckily my mother didn't beat me or catch the giggles. That would have been out of control. Either one. I finally gained control of myself, but still had the tears streaming down my face. Catching a giggle fit is like having a coughing fit. You'd like to stop, but you just can't.
THEN they kept singing these Latin church songs and I hate to admit how warped I am from Hollywood, but I kept looking around for Damien to step out of the shadows, or some other child of the devil to present itself.

Stuck on repeat

I have been singing a song in my head for over an hour. It is getting really annoying. I am hoping that by singing to you, it will either go away, or you can suffer along with me. Trouble is I only know a short part of the song and it just keeps repeating itself over and over and over and over. Make it stop. But please refrain from teaching me the rest of the words to the song. Even if you know it and are really really proud. I don't want to know. Thank you.

I'm Henry the Eighth I am. Henry the Eighth I am, I am. I was married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before. And everyone was an 'Enery. ENERY! Not a ... or a George, NO SIR! I'm Henry the Eighth I am. Henry the Eighth I am, I am. I was married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before. And everyone was an 'Enery. ENERY! Not a ... or a George, NO SIR!Henry the Eighth I am, I am. I was married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before. And everyone was an 'Enery. ENERY! Not a ... or a George, NO SIR!Henry the Eighth I am, I am. I was married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before. And everyone was an 'Enery. ENERY! Not a ... or a George, NO SIR!

So what do you do? Nothing.

Today I sat in on a meeting for no other reason than I had nothing else to do. The meeting had nothing to do with me or with anything I do. Still, I sat there and asked very important questions. But to quote someone from my office:
"We don't do any real work here, but we know people who do."

Sometimes I really like the people I work with.

ciamar a tha thu?

Dico tibi verum, libertas optima rerum; Nunquam servili sub nexu vivito, fili.

My son, I tell thee soothfastlie, No gift is like to libertie; Then never live in slaverie.
-Wm. Wallace

Today marks the day that William Wallace was executed all the way back in 1305. They may have taken his life, but they'll NEVER TAKE HIS FREEDOM!!! They did, however, want to make sure he was really really dead by decapitating him, and then he was drawn and quartered with the help of four horses pulling in four directions (The four horrors. Four!) But to make sure that he didn't want to come back to life, they emasculated him. No boy wants that! They went on to display his head on a pinnacle on London bridge and his limbs in four different towns in the kingdom.

William Wallace was 6'7". (Why on Earth did pipsqueaky Aussie Mel gibson play him? Well, comparably at 5'10" he is a pipsqueak. I like that word pipsqueak. No, now it no longer makes sense to me.) I looked all over to see if the Scots of that time actually painted their faces blue, but could find no record of it. Also, I am pretty sure they had armor, not just kilts protecting their wee bits. See this statue from Edinburgh.

I want to horseback ride through the highlands of Scotland and stay overnight in the castles. Who wants to join me?

Please promise that you read this entry (that was brought to you by the number four) with a Scottish brogue. If you didn't, go back and do it now. Rrrrrrrreally rrrrroll those Rrrrrr's.

If you'd only have the courage to lead them to freedom, they'd follow you.

And so would I.

So, going on vacation, huh?

Coworker: Well, my wife is not going on vacation with me.
Me: Why not?
Coworker: She doesn't think she can handle the plane ride.
Me: Can you drug her?
Coworker: It's not that. She has a condition where she needs to be able to get to a bathroom quickly.
Me: (flashing back to a car ride a few years ago when this same coworker told me if I were to buy a home, especially one I planned to retire in [I was 30 years old at the time], I should really consider making sure it has a bidet. Then he went into detail about why his wife needs a bidet which included something about lack of sphincter control.) Oh. {trying not to look grossed out.}
Coworker: Yeah, and now she has an infection that just won't seem to go away.
Me: (please stop talking, please stop talking.)
Coworker: That infection just makes her other condition worse.
Me: (Omigod, please don't tell me about her other condition)
Coworker: but she has been back and forth.
Me: To the bathroom?
Coworker: About the trip.
(Then he gives ME a quizzical look.)

Happy Birthday Marci!!!

In honor of the Super* Baby's birthday, here is some banana fun for you.

Fun online games to play with bananas are tic tac banana; rock, scissors, banana; banana checkers; and who wants to be a banillionaire.

A slightly disturbing game to play with a banana goes as follows. "Ask for four volunteers and sit two of them on chairs. Put a banana between the legs of the girls sitting on the chairs and tell the other two they have to open and eat the banana without using their hands (handcuffs normally sort that out).The first girl to finish wins." From the nice people at EventWise.com.

Grand Junction, Colorado has a fun park called, yeah, you guessed it! Banana Fun Park!!! It's fun for all ages.

I wanted to talk about "banana" movies, but they all seem to be of the dirrty variety and I'm not comfortable with that. You, however, can have a look should you desire to by going here.

I can tell you about the B. Banana's favorite tv show. It's called Bananas in Pyjamas. They have a great theme song. Let's sing it together.

"Banana's in Pyjamas are coming down the stairs.

Banana's in Pyjamas are coming down in pairs.

Banana's in Pyjamas are chasing teddy bears.

'cos on Tuesdays they all try to catch them unawares!"

There is so much to discuss in those four short lines. What are teddy bears doing so that they are unaware on Tuesdays when apparently, they are so alert the other six days of the week. What's up with those crazy bananas? What were they doing upstairs prior to coming after the teddy bears? And why couldn't they be bothered to get dressed?

Some gift ideas for those of you who just can't quite come up with the perfect gift:

• Show her you really care about her. Get her a beautiful 14-Karat Gold 3-D Authentic Looking Banana Charm. Save money, too! Originally this priceless gem went for $214.99. Now, you lucky dog, you can get it for the low-low price of $112.99!!!!! Hop to it!
• While the date is a bit off, I'll bet this t-shirt would bring a smile to the BB's face.
• A girl as pretty as Marci needs a cute little bag for her banana flavoured lipglosses. Please consider this as a gift option.
• Yes there is a plastic container in which you may stuff your banana in order to keep it from getting smashed in your lunch bag, but Marci is much classier than plastic. Give her something porcelain, something Russian, to put her bananas in.
• And finally, this would give her a place to rest post her weekly 2089 mile runs.
• Do not give her real bananas. Thank you. You may buy ME a banana split if you so desire.

Should you need more gift ideas. Lemme know. I know just what she wants.

* Pheh, She is a super BABY. I dunno about the SUPER baby. I AM THE BABY, not Marci. Longstanding adopted sibling rivalry here. Love you M! (To the moon.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Breakfast heartache

I was busily foraging through my Kellogg's Special K Red Berries yesterday afternoon, harvesting all the delightful tasty freeze-dried strawberries that create a flavor sensation in my mouth. (Yes, I still eat Kellogg's, even after finding out about old Dr. Kellogg and his crazy crazy ways.)
This morning, I poured my bowl of cereal and it was all flakes. It turns out that I don't really like Special K sans Red Berries. Sigh.

Wake up.

Shut up.


The following usually occurs when I am quietly reading a document or something online that is not requiring me to move anything but my eyes and whatever autonomous muscle function that goes on.

I frickin' hate people who walk by my desk and say "Wake up". HAHAhahahaHAhah. Omigod, that's the most clever thing I have heard all day. You are so original.

Repeat several times through day.

Guilty or not?

What a scary police state we live in sometimes. I was watching "The Inside Man" the other day, and the police questioned everyone involved. Let's change that to manhandled everyone. A Sikh gets his turban removed and not returned (a highly offensive maneuver); everyone is treated as a suspect. I understand that they did not know who was a bad guy and who wasn't, but haven't the people who just were held hostage in a bank robbery been through enough? Geez, and then to be accused and beaten about by the police after. No wonder so many people have trust issues with law enforcement.

So they found JonBenet Ramsey's killer, at least the man who after being arrested, claimed to have killed her and that it was "an accident". They traced him to Thailand after the emails he'd been exchanging with some JonBenet documentarist for the past two years turned ugly. Didn't anyone question why this random guy was emailing her? And to get off topic for a moment, is it possible that this guy is so delusional that he thinks he did it? He is a pedophile and a child porn afficiando. He may have known or been aware of the Ramsey's from their time in Atlanta, where he lived as well. Maybe the murder caught his attention because he knew (of) them and after a while, he got so delusional that he believed he did it. I don't know. I just think it is bizarre how long this has taken and how he just openly admitted that he killed her after all this time. Smells to me of those people who confess to crimes just for the attention. But maybe he did it. If they still have the DNA from the crime scene, they can compare it and know for sure.

My point with the JonBenet case is that they blatantly attacked the parents for it. Her mother died just a few months ago with the accusation that she murdered her child over her like a black cloud. Isn't it awful enough to lose your child, especially in such a horrific manner, but then to have to suffer through the notion that you were the one to do it? I understand that many of the children murdered in their homes are killed by someone in the family circle, but there has to be a better way of managing these types of cases. It all leads back to the question of is it better to execute an innocent man, or let a guilty man go.

Off the top of my head

I have talked about him before, and here I am again. The morning radio show I listen to is Elliot in the Morning on DC101. This morning he had some unfortunate girl who avidly discussed her sex life which involved some things she will hopefully eventually come to regret. But that’s my opinion and not necessarily that of anyone else. But I guess the conversation got rather graphic as callers phoned in and Elliot was suddenly gone in favor of some rock music as DC101 is the only station that really ROCKS! I think that every time they bump Elliot for being too graphic, they should play “I Fought the Law and the Law Won!”

I woke up this morning and took out the recycling that comes on Wednesday. I was counting the days until payday and happy that the week was already flying by. Sat down at my desk and looked at the lunch calendar, moved it to the Wednesday page and thought, wait. It’s not Wednesday. It is Tuesday. What a honking pile of doody.

I have the craziest fan base! My ex and his girlfriend are back to reading my blog. We broke up almost a year and a half ago. Well, me and the guy. I have never met the girl. I should say hi! How is it going? How are you two kids doing? Say hi to Jessica and Brian for me. If you read my blog, you should leave comments every now and then.

I did not enjoy a creamsicle yesterday on National Creamsicle day, but I did take my left handed mother out for breakfast on National Left handed people day on Sunday. (Uh, she took me out. But I cheersed her left handed!)

Would I still be cool if I brought “Near Beer” to the next baseball game? Because DC Sports Chick, you are killing me! You would have thought all that beer would have made me think that the ugly baby was not so ugly… But alas.

Finally, I have a question. If you weren’t going to use your car for a year would you store it or sell it?

Celebrating August 14

Ouyay aymay ebay onderingway ywhay isthay isway igpay atinlay. Ellway, etlay emay elltay ouyay! Itway isway Ationalnay Odecay Alker'stay Ayday!

Today in History - August 10

Happy anniversary, Missouri. You became a US State in 1821. I have been to your silver arch. I understand that it is a shady place to be. I find it really strange that people from you call you mizoorah. What the..? Where does that pronounciation come from?
Missouri joined the Civil war in 1861 with the battle of Wilson's Creek. Lots of people died. Then in 1932, a meteorite broke into a few pieces and landed in Archie, Missouri. So, apparently August 10 is a busy day in Missouri's history.

Happy Anniversary to the Smithsonian which was chartered after James Smithson, a scientist, gave $500,000 in 1846. The Smithsonian is one of the many aspects of free entertainment that living in or near Washington, DC affords me. Alas, ask me the last time I was there.
I did go to the Holocaust Museum not too long ago, but only to peruse the bookstore and research my paper in the library. It is not a Smithsonian museum.
I took my mom through the National Museum of the American Indian which is a Smithsonian institution. Isn't "indian" an incorrect term? Shouldn't it be "National Museum of the Native American"? I got dizzy in there. They got all fancy with the displays and the glass is rounded so that it reflects all the light and everything that is behind you. I had to press my face to the glass and cup my hands around my eyes to see the displays.
When I was little, they had found an intact giant squid and placed it in the lobby of the Natural History Museum (my favorite). It was neat, but at that age, I had no idea what a rare find it was.
Final thought on the Smithsonian: If Mr. Smithson is the namesake, should we not pronounce it smithsunian?

Today was also a terrible day in regards to killers. The Manson cult, fresh from their murdering of Sharon Tate, et al. murder a couple more in 1969.
In 1977, NY cops arrested the "Son of Sam", David Berkowitz, a swell guy who killed lovers because his neighbor's black dog told him to. Uh, yeah...
In 1981 they found a part of Adam Walsh who had been kidnaped. (Full circle here...) Adam Walsh's murder prompted some serious change in legislation, creating both the Missing Children's Act and then in 2006 the Adam Walsh Child Protection & Safety Act. John Walsh, his father, also helped to create the television show "America's Most Wanted" and is a spokesperson for the National Center for Missing and exploited Children.

Also today: In 2003, some Russian guy married some Russian chick who was in Texas from outer space and some guy died after playing a video game for 49 hours in 2005.

Stranger watching

I was at Starbucks ordering a grande skim 1 pump mocha, 3 pump peppermint syrup, no whipped latte. (This causes much chagrin for the barista. Someday I am going to change it up to be a grande skim decaf, extra shot, 1 pump mocha, 3 pump raspberry syrup, 1 squirt caramel sauce, no whipped, extra hot latte. But I haven't had the courage yet.)
Anyhoooo, there was a girl in line in front of me. Had she been dressed in business clothes, I would have thought she was in her late 30's. As it was, she had a ponytail, of the loose variety, and sunglasses on her head. Her attire consisted of a short mini skirt (That means really short because mini + short.. wow), a tank with the bra straps brazenly revealing themselves and flip flops. She had tattoos all over her joints. (i.e. ankles, wrists... not knees or elbows.) The tattoos were typically tribal symbols and assorted other meaningless stuff. She was leaning on the counter like she was super cute and super young. Her flip-flops flapped each time she'd raise herself up on her toes, arch her back and then flop down again. She decided to make a call on her bedazzled phone. I did not get a chance to see if she was wearing any rings, but due to the time of day and her clothing, I would say she does not have a nine to five. But I could not tell if she was a kept woman. She did not look like a mom. Maybe she was really young and just looked really old.
No point to this story. Just wanted to share the stranger I viewed with you.

Alphabet series - V

The other day I was sitting in my father's chair at my computer. I love this chair. It has a gray tweed seat that flops because the screws fell out of the one side and I have not quite gotten around to fixing it. I used to try to jam the screws back in, but everytime I would sit, "ping, ping", they would fall out again. The wooden arms are worn but stable and have been used in lui of a ladder many a time when the lightbulbs burned out in my hallway. I am esctatic that I have yet to fall off the chair. So while on this chair, I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye. GAH! Bug. BIG BUG. I squeeze myself into a tiny ball on my father's chair and try not to let the bug notice me. What to do, what to do? I pick myself up and scurry to the closet where the vacuum cleaner lives. I knocked on the door and he came out, ready to help me get rid of the enemy. (How can a bug be an enemy to ME? I AM BUG!) Plugged in and armed, I can't find the monster anymore. He's on to me! Fearfully searching with the open metal tube of a mouth on my Hoover; every movement, real or perceived, terrifies me. I aim at everything, ready to suck it up into the void that is also known as a bagless canister. (Can you imagine me with a loaded weapon?) Hiding in the corner, his little heart pounding so hard I could hear it above the din that the vacuum was making in anticipation of a tasty morsel, I found the little bugger. He made a run for it. Straining as to stay as far away as humanly possible, I reached for him with the hose. He veered left, he veered right. Elusive, but not elusive enough! Slurp! went my vacuum, and gone he was. Vacuum still running, I too, ran to the kitchen to get Saran Wrap which I covered the mouth of the hose with and tied tight. That sucker ain't leaving that vacuum to wage his revenge on me!

Take note, freaky bugs. I will get you with my vacuum, or else have my sister or friend Roger get you with a napkin and squish you all up while I cower in terror on my father's chair.

Done

Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored

1. bored
2. bored
3. bored

I want 5 million in unmarked bills for that other "p"

At Front Page in Arlington, there are newspapers all over the walls. When you stand there waiting for your friends to arrive you tend to read them. One is the front page (So that is why the bar is called that! :) of the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. Well, kidnaping. That headline has bugged the hell out of me forever. I cannot believe that they would misspell on the front page of a newspaper.
Then, a few days ago, because the Adam Walsh law was passed, I was reading some old clippings about his kidnapping. The headline there was "Six year-old was kidnaped, police believe".
Even Time magazine had an article titled "Kidnaping at the Border." Is it just me, or are you guys pronouncing it kid-nape-ing, too?
I typed "kipnaped" into Microsoft Word and it instantly corrected it to say "kidnapped". Unsatisfied, I looked it up on www.dictionary.com and it turns out that both are correct. Just thought I would pass it on in case you find yourself in Front Page looking at that damn article. Turns out I fumed about "some idiot" for nothing. Oops.