I got those broken down sewing machine blues.

Something is wrong with my sewing machine and I'm upset. I just started to sew my daughter's dress for my brother's wedding and my sewing machine won't work properly. The needle goes up and down but for some reason the thread won't feed from the spool so the thread in the needle eventually breaks because it's being stretched too tight. Although, maybe the problem has something to do with the bobbin. I don't know. I tried taking apart my machine a little last night to oil and clean it hoping that would solve the problem, but it didn't and now I'm sad. My machine is about thirty years old. It's the first sewing machine my mother bought for herself and she handed it down to me. It's worked fine until now. But the situation puts me in a bit of a quandry; do I spend money to have it fixed even though it's thirty years old or do I spend money to buy a relatively cheap sewing machine that will do me for a little while? If I had the money, I'd just go out and buy a really nice new machine that can do everything I'd like a machine to do, but I don't have a lot of money and if I go buy one, I'd have to settle for something less than what I'd like. I don't even know how much it costs to fix a sewing machine. It might not even be a cost-effective option. I'm going to call a repair shop and find out what it costs. Hold on. Wow, just to service the machine costs $60, that doesn't include actually fixing something that might be wrong. I talked to the repairman and he was very pleasant. He said maybe I could bring the machine in and they might be able to easily determine the problem and make adjustments without having to actually put the machine in for repair. That's worth a shot, I guess, if they're not going to charge me for it.

In good news, I fixed the leak in my tub this weekend. I wanted to replace the entire hot water stem because the water wouldn't shut off all the way so I figured I should just get a new one. But it was too hard finding one just like it so I put a new washer on it just to see if that would work, and it seems to have done the job. Woo hoo, can beat a household repair that only costs 50 cents to fix.

Also, where does the idea that flies only live 24 hours come from? I've been watching a fly trapped in my office window since last Thursay and it's still alive. Although, it does seem somewhat sluggish today, kind of like it's drunk or something. It doesn't seem able to cling to the screen very well. I can't imagine it's able to get something to eat in there. Why is a fly smart enough to find the hole in the screen that got it trapped but isn't smart enough to find the same hole and get out?

Karaoke Friday

TGIF, and you know what that means: Karaoke Friday. Today's song is Pat Benatar's soaring rock anthem "Hit Me With Your Best Shot." I'm dedicating today's perfomance to all those brave Londoners out there giving Al Quaeda two fingers up where the sun don't shine. Rock on London!!! America loves you.

It came from the altar.

So my husband and I are watching this show on TV last night called Bridezilla. It's this reality show about supposedly sweet-natured brides-to-be who become bitches from hell while planning their weddings. It pretty funny because these women are seriously going off the deepend. I am the kind of person who likes things to happen the way they are supposed to happen, but I can say that nothing about planning my wedding got to me the way it gets to the women on this show. In fact, in a lot of ways I felt strangely detached from my wedding planning. I did what needed to be done and figured if anything went wrong the day of the wedding, not to sweat it because what could be done at that point. I decided I was going to have fun because a woman's wedding day is the only day of her life where people will let her get away with acting like a complete prima donna. Why not enjoy it? And I can say with all honestly, I had a great day. It was a blur, but I had a great day. I don't know why women build up the day as having to come off "perfectly," but I can tell you that is the best way to set yourself up for disappointment. I also don't understand the women who are willing to take out gobs of loans to pay for their weddings. It's one day. Why would I want to keep paying for one day for the next ten years? Just doesn't make a lick of sense to me. I guess I view the beauty of a wedding day as something internal rather than external. To me, it's much more about being able to spend the day with the people you love the most in life and celebrating your new life with them. My mom continues to complain that she wishes she knew more about American weddings before throwing mine because she feels like she didn't do it up nearly as well as she could have, but my wedding was exactly what I wanted it to be--a great party.

Sending love.

Just wanted to say I'm keeping all Londoners in my prayers while they make their way through the craziness of today and the days to follow.

Also sending love out to my husband for his birthday today (which I remembered early enough to celebrate while our daughter was still here).

Stinky feet.

My feet smell. I mean they really smell. They have a nose and everything. Naw, seriously, my feet do stink for some reason, though. This is not a normal thing for me so I can't imagine what makes today so special.

I've been putting off running this week for some reason. I feel guilty for not exercising, but I'm still going to play hooky today anyway. I just talked to my sister a little while ago and she told me that her husband asked if my husband and I were having some kind of marital problem and is that the reason why I'm leaving my daughter in Montana for a month. Yeah, I laughed pretty good. Yes, the only explanation why I would let my daughter spend a month of the summer with an aunt and cousins she almost never gets to see is because my husband and I need counseling. How does a person make that leap?

Speaking of husbands, mine is sick. I don't know if he caught the bacteria that gave our daughter pneumonia or what, but he's hacking it up pretty well now. He has a doctor's appointment today to check it out, so we'll see.

Well, that gives a new perspective on things.

You know, it's one thing to sing to your karaoke machine, belting out the tunes and having a good time with it, and then it's something altogether different to listen to a recording of yourself singing to your karaoke machine, belting out the tunes and having a good time with it. If you've guessed that I must have spent part of the evening taping myself singing in preparation for Friday's Karaoke Party, you're right. Some things I've learned about the process so far: the echo effect doesn't make you sound nearly as good as you think it does, the way you think you're singing a song isn't how you're singing it at all, and I now understand why most people refuse to sing karaoke unless drunk. However, I am not frightened by this new knowledge and I will march forward with my plans to bring music into the lives of every last one of you, whether you like it or not. I like to think that at this point I'm really on a mission from God.

My baby's gone.

So I am returned from the land of Big Sky after having dropped off my daughter with my sister and her family. I'll miss her for the month that she's gone but I am really looking forward to trying to get a lot of stuff taken care of around the house. My big project is to rescreen our back porch and generally get the whole thing spified up. I also want to clean out all the crap from the basement and get rid of anything that is just taking up space.

I got home about 9:00 last night and, lucky me, I got to listen to the yoho's in my neigborhood light fireworks until past midnight. Some people have made it a tradition to set off fireworks in the park across the street from my house and it drives me crazy because I am convinced someone will finally manage to burn down my house with a firework gone astray. Plus, it's just rude to keep people up with all the noise.

I'm really tired right now.

KC's Karaoke Party!

I have to say I am so impressed by everyone's willingness to share their talent with the world that I felt like I just had to jump in and contribute my own special gifts. I am truly inspired by Daily Dancer with his bold moves and Cesca with her wonderful art because it takes a lot of guts to bare your artistic soul to the world. So, I have decided--considering how much I love, LOVE--karaoke, I am going to make Fridays Karaoke Party days. Yay, yay, yay. I know, it's just too exciting to contemplate, isn't it? Without further adieu, here's the first offering: Me singing that classic favorite "Conjunction Junction."

Conjunction Junction

I'm going to experiment with different ways to record my karaoke genius over the next few weeks, so the quality will probably be very if-y until I get it down. Please bear with me. I appreciate your support.

Stories that make me laugh every time. Vol. 2

Wet Ones
This story probably is only funny to me and my siblings, but I'm going to tell it to you, anyway.

During one of my family's numerous cross-country treks to relocate to a new duty station for my father, my mother bought a container of Wet Ones to keep in the car for easy clean-ups. Wet Ones are the pre-moistened wipes that come in a round container and are impossible to pull out without ripping to shreds. It should really be called Wet Confetti. On this particular trip my brother was about seven, my sister eleven and I twelve. My mother's skill at "saving" is pretty legendary in our household. She saves everything: margarine bowls, aluminum foil, grocery bags, etc. This compulsion to save goes hand-in-hand with her not small loathing toward wasting anything. My mother decided one container of Wet Ones was all that was needed to travel from one coast to the other of this great country, and that damn well better be enough.

She turned to look back at us three in the backseat and warned: "Only use one of these when you need to. Don't take them out and play with them or anything else. I don't want you to waste them."

"OK," we all meekly responded.

About two hours went by before my brother, whose limitless curiosity usually got him into some kind of trouble several times a day, decided it was time to check out the Wet Ones. This is not a consumer product we normally had at home, so he was fascinated by the novelty. Accordingly, he pulled one out to take a look, to which my sister demanded, "Why did you pull out a Wet One?"

Looking confused by the question, my brother looked to my sister and then the pre-moistened wipe in his hand and answered, "They're all wet."

We all laughed a good ten minutes on that one and still laugh when Wet Ones enter conversation. I alway said I was going to send that story to Readers' Digest and win $100.

Stories that make me laugh every time. Vol. 1

I'm a person who likes to tell stories--not stories that are lies, but stories of events that really happened. My favorite stories to tell are funny stories. So, I'm going to share with you some of the best stories I've collected over the years and find almost any reason to tell them to someone who hasn't yet heard them.

Try It On Your Neck
Several years ago, when my sister and her family still lived in Madison, Wis., her husband's cousin was living with them. His name is David and he was staying with them while taking pre-med courses at the University of Wisconsin, or something like that. Anyway, while David was living with my sister's family, my sister acquired a dog: a black labrador retriever they named Finley. My sister's house in Madison was kind of in the boonies on top of a hill, so she bought an invisible electric fence to keep Finley close to the house. If you don't know, an invisible electric fence is basically a system that keeps the animal within specified boundaries through the use on an electronic collar that administers electric shock when the animal crosses the line. So, through conditioning, the animal learns to stay within a certain area.

When my sister first bought the system, she wanted to test it out, so she asked David to put the dog collar on his wrist so she could see how much of a shock the collar actually gave. David obliged and wrapped the collar around his wrist. My sister pressed the button on the remote and Dave responded that it wasn't really that big of a shock and he didn't believe it would be enough to deter Finley from crossing the lines. In her brillance, my sister asked David to put the collar around his neck since that's where Finley would be wearing it.

"Maybe it will feel different on your neck," she explained to David.

"OK, sure," David agreed.

So David put the collar on his neck and my sister zapped him with the remote. The shock caused him to be thrown halfway across the kitchen, which is where they were testing the device. So, it would seem my sister's reasoning was accurate and putting it around the neck did, indeed, make a difference. The invisible fence ended up doing the job quite well with Finley...and Dave.

Come fly with me.

I'm flying my daughter to Montana this weekend so she can go on a weeklong camping/horseback riding/hiking expedition with my sister and her family. Let's just say she is E-X-C-I-T-E-D. But what kid wouldn't be? I'm really happy she's going to get to spend some quality time with her cousins. Since my daughter is an only child, I really try to encourage her to look upon her cousins more as brothers and sisters, so that she can have a larger sense of family as she gets older. I'll do the same with my brother's children once he has them. In actuality, encouraging more brother/sister type relationships with cousins is a very Korean thing to do. In the Korean language, there's not really even a word for cousin. It's either big sister/little sister or big brother/little brother. The only real shame for me in this scenario is that since we live far from my brother and sister, my daughter doesn't get to visit her cousins often and vice versa.

At any rate, I hope when she's an adult she can feel that she does have siblings in spirit, and in blood really, rather than thinking there are no relatives she can rely on in a familial sense.

By the way, if you haven't taken advantage of the extremely easy opportunity I've provided by linking to Daily Dancer off to right, you really should. This guy is fucking hilarious. He's got the moves to put you to shame, that's for sure Honeychild. Go take a look. It'll make you feel better.

Tom Cruise is the debil!

Alright, I get to pay homage to The Waterboy twice in a week. Woohoo. Is that cool or what? Anyway, back to Tom Cruise being the debil. So Tom went psycho on the Today Show, telling Matt Lauer he doesn't know anything about psychiatry. And while, that's all very interesting, I want to look more closely at this statement that Cruise made earlier in the interview:

"Scientology is something that you don't understand. It's like you could be a Christian and be a Scientologist. It is a religion in that it deals with the spirit, you as a spiritual being."

I think the person who's not understanding is Tom. It's not like you could be a Christian and be a Scientologist because if you're Christian, you're not going to believe or accept that dead aliens are living inside of you. If you're Christian, you're Christian. If you're a Scientologist, you're a Scientologist. That's like saying you could be Christian and Jewish. Umm, no, I don't think so. Also, last time I checked, Christianity deals with the spirit as well, so why would a Christian need Scientology to address the issue of man as a spiritual being? Like I said in my earlier post, Tom can be Scientologist of the world if he wants and that's his own damn business. Please, go and proselytize till you're blue in the face, Tommy-boy, but I'm going to have to disagree with attempts to push Scientology as something to augment whatever religion a person already practices. Sorry, Tom, Scientology is not the Cliff Notes to my Catholicism.

Interview # I don't know anymore because it's been so long since I last interviewed someone.

Well, my brother is back for a command performance. Reading the last couple of interviews with my daughter has given him a hankering to go under the glare of my intense questioning.

KC: So, what brings you back?

MC: Its friday. I'm burnt out and don't feel like reading about SSO all day or re designing my company's documentation interface.

KC: What's SSO?

MC: Single Sign On.

KC: Which is...

MC: user portals etc. Creates greater security by linking the log ins of all the various interfaces that people have to use in their line of business by having them need only one log in by doing so they don't forget log ins as much don't ask help desks for resets and don't do silly things like write down their passwords etc. short answer: boring stuff

KC: Yes, yes I see. I stopped reading your explanation because it was so boring. I can understand why you would rather be interviewed by me. So, anything exciting happen lately?

MC: hmmm, well of course you know I moved into my condo now. Am spending what little spare time I've had lately un packing boxes. Unpacking sucks. I kinda wish we had a man servant to do it.

KC: Yes, I can definitely see the benefits of having a man servant. Have you done anything really stupid funny lately or are you an adult now?

MC: Stupid funny. Nothing really stupid funny lately, nothing really stupid lately I'm on new add medicine! lol. I'm trying out strattera.

KC: What's that?

MC: Non stimulant add medicine, but to be honest with you the stimulant stuff works better I think and fewer side effects. I'm going to a beer festival tonight! And mountain biking tomorrow!

KC: Where is the beer festival?

MC: In Ashburn.

KC: With all the Redskins?

MC: Out that way yes but I don't know if any redskins will be there would be cool though. It at Old Dominion Brewery.

KC: I thought that's where they all live, in Ashburn.

MC: Yes a lot of them do but I don't know if they'll be at the beer festival.

KC: Shoot, if they were having a beer festival next to my house, I'd go.

MC: I think we are digressing.

KC: Yes, you're right. Give me a good story a la Tucker Max.

MC: I'm engaged. I have no more crazy tucker max style stories. The next crazy story for me will probably be my bachelor party. My buddies and I are going to Lake Anna for a few days. Got a big house on the lake. Going to drink copious amounts of alcohol and water ski, wake board etc. Wander about in a drunken stupor.

KC: I feared as much. You've passed over to the Married Side. You'll probably never do anything really funny again.

MC: Yeah that's probably true. Well, I hope not. I think I'm still apt to do something monumentally stupid given the right environment. Maybe when I'm in Argentina next January or after drinking too much in St. Maarten.

KC: Oh no, my friend. You'll have a wife and it's her job to make sure you never do anything stupid again, even if it is funny. We screw life up for you that way.

MC: Yeah she does stop me from doing the pull my finger trick to people.

KC: And, yet, you love her anyway, don't you?

MC: With all my heart and soul.

KC: Yeah, that love's a dangerous drug. Are you regretful that you'll have to stop being stupid?

MC: No, not really. I just have to find new ways to be stupid. Drugs used to make me stupid, stopped those. Was still stupid, then booze made me stupid. Don't really binge drink anymore, still stupid. Boredom makes me stupid, maybe that will be a vein I'll have to explore more. Only problem is not much time to be bored lately. Maybe after the wedding is over I'll have more time to focus on that but I have the feeling that I might have some honey do lists coming my way.

KC: No, you're next great moments of stupid funny will come once you have kids.

MC: Like leaving them at the hospital and stuff like that? Yeah that will probably provide some good ones.

KC: Yeah, or feeding them alcholic beverages by mistake, or not.

MC: That'll be a few years though, even though mom and dad want one in 9 mos.

KC: Or you could just whack 'em in the skull with the gardening rake like I did. Makes a nice hole, you know, gardening rake.

MC: I'll remember that one, put it in the parenting rolodex. Booze, check.
Garden rake, check.

KC: Man, Mom and Dad are not going to let you rest until you start pumping out those babies, You know that, don't you?

MC: I figured as much but I'll get by. Why do they want me to pump out babies so bad?
I can't figure it out. Why don't they get a puppy or something?

KC: Because then Mom gets something to play with. She's going to kiss it and hug it and love it.

MC: Puppies are great for that!

KC: Don't you get it? Grandparents try to make up for all the dumb shit they did to their own kids by spoiling their grandkids. It's the great order of the universe.

MC: Ah gotcha, gotcha. That's cool with me, I guess.

KC: It's not an accident that the grandkid ends up with all the stuff the kids wanted but were denied. Think about it, I had to wait until I was 13 to get my ears pierced, and Mom drags [my daughter] to the beauty salon to get them pierced when she's five.

MC: ha ha ha. Maybe they'll buy [our nephews] bb guns then.

KC: Probably. Because now they're not afraid of them putting out their eyes.

MC: ha ha ha.

KC: Anyway, I've got to cut the interview short because my printer just delivered my proofs and I've got to go through them, so we can pick this up later if you like.

MC: OK, catch ya later. I'm going to lunch.

KC: OK, eat something exotic that I can't get in this godforsaken place for me.

...but then I'd have to kill ya.

My dad has super-duper special security clearance from his days in the Army, which he's carried on into his civilian life because of the work he does. He often ends up as a contractor on military projects, so having active security clearance is necessary. Anywho, I began understanding what having top secret security clearance must mean when I was about 13 or so. At the time, my father headed the unit in charge of maintaining the DC/Moscow hotline (which I always imagined looked like the Batphone.) My father did telecommunications while in the military, so I figure he got the lowdown on a lot of interesting stuff. Anyway, I started wondering exactly what kind of information my father was privy to, so I'd ask him and he'd give me the, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," answer. But seriously, I think my dad knows shit, like scary shit because there have been times when he's on business trips where my mother can't know where he is and he can only call her during certain times of the day. I want to know what my father knows. This has been something that's pretty much been driving me crazy for the past 23 years of my life because my dad still won't spill the beans. I wonder whether or not my father knows the truth about alien life. I wonder whether or not my dad knows if Ronald and Nancy were into S&M or any other kind of freaky-deaky sex play. You know, were they nasty or what? Sometimes I try to nonchalantly ask him about something secret just to see if I can catch him off guard and get him to accidently tell me something, but it never works. He just looks and me and laughs and says, "I'd have to kill ya." On the one hand, you've got to admire his perseverance over the years. Seriously, most people get so sick of me asking them the same questions over and over and over again that they tell me what I want to know just to shut me up, but not my dad. Maybe his ability to resist my constant badgering is part of his Army training. I don't know, but it has me stymied...his ability to block out my annoying probes. It's not like he can't trust me or anything, I can keep a secret. People think I'm a blabbermouth, and I am with some stuff, but not really important stuff. I know how to keep quiet. If the people in my life really knew all the stuff I know about them, they'd probably curl up in a fetal position and moan for a very long time. But mainly, I just want to know about the aliens.

I'm a lazy slob.

I just can't motivate myself to do any work today. So far I've made tickets for my church's parish picnic in August, I've read a bunch of celebrity gossip blogs, I've looked at pictures of Hillary Duff's teeth, I've filled up my water bottle, and I've eaten two tangerines. Oh, I've also posted comments on other people's blogs. Basically, I'm doing whatever I can to fill the time and not actually do work. In some ways, I don't really have any work to do right now. I'm still waiting to get the new material for the next issue of one of my magazines, and I've just sent the other to the printer, so I'm in a real lull time right now. Lull, lull, lull. Just like waves, isn't it?

I've got to get cowboy boots for my daughter before she goes to Montana. There seems to be a significant dearth of cowboy boot retailers in this town since Dudes 'n Darlins went out of business half a year ago, which figures. We've been here eight years and that stupid store was open until I actually needed to get something from it. Oh the agony and irony. However, I am surprised that a place like Indiana isn't just bursting at the seams with Western wear stores. Isn't it proper etiquitte to wear cowboy boots while driving one's Ford Ram pick-up with the monster wheels and flame decals blazing at the side? Now, I know exactly where to go to get my truck all suped-up because, you know, that shit counts for something in these here parts.

Da snake ain't got da parts.

Today's title doesn't really have anything to do with the post, but I've been wanting to use that phrase as a title for some time and since I'm kind of talking about eating, at least the lack of eating in this post, I figured maybe I'd squeeze it in. I just finished watching The Machinist, the movie where Christian Bale lost something like 60 pounds to play the lead. To say his weightloss is shocking is really inadequate, but I can't think of a better word. But really, it's shocking. The movie was pretty good. In some ways, it was almost like Memento where you've got to kind of go backward to understand what motivates the movie. I don't know how much of what Christian Bale did was acting or how much of it was a display of his own true physical fatigue, but he was very believable as the rail-thin, insomniac Trevor Reznick. I just kept thinking, damn, get some sleep boy. I mean, really, it's hard to imagine someone could have done it better than he did.

In the special features, Bale says he just stopped eating to lose the weight. Obviously, I would not have been a good candidate for this role because, while I don't tend to eat a lot and I'm not a big lover of food, I can't go a day without eating. And I've tried. I've tried to just not eat and get through the day and it just doesn't happen. I've never stayed up an entire night either. I've tried that too. Even in college, I have never in my life been able to stay awake an entire night and then continue on with my day. Even if I only got a couple of hours sleep, I still got some sleep.

Anyway, if you're looking for a film to watch, I recommend The Machinist.

Mystery solved.

My daughter has pneumonia. It has really been an interesting month for disease in this house. The good news is we now know why she had such a fierce fever and the pneumonia is not a severe case and should be treated easiy with anitbiotics. However, I am home again with her today because the doctor recommended that she stay home for at least a day for the antibiotics to kick in. I've got to take her back next week to make sure everything has cleared up the way it should. The doctor said she'll probably continue coughing for at least another couple of weeks, though. I asked the doctor if her having been treated for the staph infection could have contributed to her developing the pneumonia. You know, did the antibiotics on that go round kill good bacteria that would have prevented the bad bacteria from taking hold and the doctor said she didn't think so. She thinks it's just a coincidence.

I have to say I'm a little worried about sending my daughter off to Montana next month with her recovering from all these illnesses. Although my brother-in-law is a doctor and should be able to keep an eye on things, I'm wondering if I won't be putting too much stress on her immune system with all the traveling.

I'm going to go take a shower now because I stink.

Why are we afraid of religion?

In reading some of the commentary out there about Crazy Tom Cruise, it's interesting seeing how many people use his current odd behavior as an excuse to criticize his religious beliefs. I'm not a Scientologist. I know nothing about Scientology, but based on the little bit I've heard, I'm not going to be converting anytime soon. And I'll fess up to the fact that I don't really see it as a religion at all. However, if Tom Cruise gets something from it and wants to tell everyone about it, that's his own business and I don't know why people have to vilify him for it. I especially wonder about this fear of religion in light of how people similarly attacked Mel Gibson when Passion of the Christ came out. What about having a strong faith in God in this country freaks people out. I don't think people seem so frightened by the celebrities who are into crystal gazing. I'll also state that people who come off as "Holy Rollers" tend to put me off, but I'm not going to tell them they're wrong for believing in their faith so much that they want to share it with other people. Different people make different choices and since neither Tom Cruise nor Mel Gibson seem to be strapping explosives to themselves and then blowing-up busloads of people, I'm going to say they can talk all they want because it's not huring anyone. I think what turns people off so much is the assumption that someone who believes strongly in their faith and religion is probably judging those who don't act out with strong conviction in their own spiritual lives. Do I think some people do judge? Oh, definitely. Do I think all strongly religious people are judging? No, absolutely not. But no one likes to think they are being reprimanded for being a bad boy or girl. And I think that's how people feel when they someone talks strongly about religion because guilt and the idea of what we should be doing is tied up into many religious discussions. I think this negative reaction is indicitive of a current American psyche that wants to put blame outside the individual. I'm not weird for lacking spiritual faith, Tom Cruise/ Mel Gibson is weird for acting like a religous zealot. People like to believe they are somehow not responsible for their lives.

In a lot of ways, I take the entire notion of religious intolerance very personally because I know what it's like to be looked down upon because of my religion. Living in Utah as a non-Mormon is not easy. Not all Mormons are judgmental, but an awful lot are (in my experience). The funny thing is, though, that the people who were most judgmental were the people I'd consider to be the least truly spiritual. They wore their religion like the latest style of clothing. It was something that put them in with the "In Crowd" and they did their best to keep out the nerds. And I really didn't appreciate being treated like scum by people who didn't have clue about Catholicism and what it means. So the people who would put down publicly devout celebrities, what would make you like them better? That they shut up about their beliefs and act like they don't exist? If they are truly committed to their faith, they're not going to care what you think about them because your opinion isn't what counts in their minds.

I'm bored.

I'm bored, but you already know that, don't you? I don't know why I'm bored, I just am. We had a pretty active day today. Some friends came over and we walked to an art fair taking place in a park near our house, then we came back for a nice Father's Day barbeque. It was a completely enjoyable day and now I'm bored. I'm probably bored because my husband is watching this Into the West mini-series and I'm really not into it. I don't really dig Westerns. My husband, though, is a different story. He's into reading about fur trappers and stuff and he talks a lot about how he's going to go into the mountains to fight a grizzly bear when he's ready to die. Apparently, this is a man thing. The woman thing is when I say, "OK, Hon. I'm sure you will because grizzlies are always hanging out in the mountains, leaning against the pine trees waiting for old, life-weary guys with delusions of grandeur to come fight them to the death. It's totally a do-able plan."

So, I'm not into Into the West. And I'm not understanding how all the white people who end up with Indians and all the Indians who end up with white people learn to speak each other's respective languages. I lived with my mom for 18 years and I don't know Korean. How are these people learning languages so quickly? Were they all just smarter back then?

Yesterday we took my daughter and one of her friends to Chuck E. Cheese. I've talked before about how much I loathe Chuck E. Cheese and each subsequent visit does nothing to make me like it any better. Although, I have to admit, it wasn't so bad this time because with friend there, she didn't expect us to go around with her and play the games. So my husband and I were able to sit at the table and watch her and eat our food without too much hassle. I saw on a show somewhere that the guy who invented Atari invented Chuck E. Cheese so that he'd have a place to put his video games. I've probably already mentioned that, too. But, what the hell, good trivia is hard to come by.

I'm wondering about this whole Tom Cruise/ Katie Holmes thing. I think it's official that Tom Cruise has lost his freaking mind. Is it just a mid-life crisis? I don't know, but he's making an ass of himself. Not that it really matters in any way, but what makes a person just go off the deep end like that all of a sudden? And why is Katie Holmes so eager to marry him when she didn't end up marrying Chris Klein after they'd been together for five years or whatever? They don't even look right together. Not that Tom Cruise has looked right with any of the women he dates or marries, but he looks really wrong with Katie Holmes for some reason.

Although I have not actually seen any of the infamous Oprah footage, I've got to wonder why Oprah didn't ask him what the hell he was doing. I would have been like, "Yo, calm down. You know you're making an ass of yourself, right? I'm sending you the bill for cleaning my upholstery, Punk."

You know what I want? I want the Queer Eye guys to come make-over my husband. My husband said he wouldn't want to though, which kind of surprised me. Actually, I bet he wouldn't mind if they came and made him over as long as it didn't have to be on television. I think he's worried about having to expose his private life to the viewing public. Anyway, they only do guys in NY or LA. It's not fair (whine, whine, whine). Why doesn't cool stuff ever happen here? The heartland is where the Fab Five should be going anyway. How hard is it to redo guys who live in NY and LA, anyway? Even if they don't dress the part, they still know how they should be looking because they can't help seeing it every time they hit the street. They understand they're not working it the way they should. But normal guys who live anywhere else besides NY and LA, they don't know that they need help. One day I'll tell you all about the Garanimals outfit my husband picked out for himself. If I had a digital camera, I'd show it to you. But I don't, so I can't. The real test would be to remake the schlumps around here. (I'm not categorizing my husband as a schlump, by the way. Just all the other men who live here.) No, seriously, I think it would be hilarous for them to come to a place like this and take all these mid-western, 40-something dads who all dress in khakis, sneakers and polo shirts and turn them into really sharp looking guys. Then after, we could all go dancing. It would ROCK.

Good news and bad news.

The good news is my daughter's fever has finally broken. Yay. If she would have still had a fever this morning, I was supposed to take her into the doctor's again. Last night she told me to pretend she didn't have a fever today no matter what. I didn't realize she hated going to the doctor's office. The bad news is that she's in the office with me today because her daycare is closed for the day and this chick is BUGGIN'. Going hand in hand with being well again is that she now has her usual energy level and desire to get into stuff. Right now, she's typing at about 500 words per minute on the typewriter and the sound of it is driving me insane. She's writing a love story, she tells me.

"Because it's your favorite kind of story, Mom," she explained.

You see what I bitch I am? She's furiously typing out a completely nonscensical love story for me and I'm complaining about the noise. OK, wait, she says it's done. She's just asked me if she managed to type any real words. We found it, full and kook. Actually, it is a love story, isn't it? Of course, she only turned to the typing after she'd finished cleaning the coffee stand with a sponge envelope moistener. Now she rummaging through the supply drawer trying to find pens. Now she wants me to print some Pokemon pictures off the internet. Now she's standing on a chair dancing while singing a Pokemon song. This is all happening in real time, by the way. Now she wants me to interview her again. Do you want me to interview her again? She says yes. I'll make it short.

KC: Why do you want me to interview you?

Little KC: Because it's fun.

KC: What's fun about it?

Little KC: It's just fun.

KC: But you never say anything.

Little KC: Hey you can't barely write on the computer.

KC: What do you mean?

Little KC: As I sit here on your back, I'm always seeing you erase some words because you're spelling them wrong. There.

KC: Nuh, uh. I'm a typing master.

Little KC: Typing masters never have to erase.

KC: I'm not erasing.

Little KC: Yes you are.

KC: What's the best thing that's happened to you this week?

Little KC: Treasure chest day.

KC: Just because you got some new toy?

Little KC: It's not a toy, it's bug catcher. I'm offended. Don't write that down, OK?

KC: I have.

Little KC: Why?

KC: People want to know what's going on.

Little KC: Why are you writing stuff I wasn't saying?

KC: You said everything I wrote.

Little KC: Tell the people about this weekend and that I'm going to Chuckie Cheese.

KC: We already told them about that on the last interview.

Little KC: Oh, yeah. You're writing yeah with an 'e' and you're writing...

KC: Yeah?

Little KC: What cha doing?

KC: I'm typing.

Little KC: I can't think of anything.

KC: OK, that's the end of the interview then. Good conversation. Good times, good times.

Little KC: You're weird.

KC: Weird but classy.

Little KC: Classy? What's classy?

KC: I've got style and grace.

Little KC: I thought you said this was the end of the interview.

KC: It is, bye everyone.