WELL. IT'S BEEN QUITE A WEEK.

My profanity and road rage levels are at an all-time high, and I'm expecting the local p.d. to come a knockin' on my door at any moment. Playing DCFC on Pandora usually mellows me out sufficiently that at least I can stop rocking myself and mumbling while crouched in the corner of my office, but today I just want to jump on the desk and shout "MOTHERFUCKER!!!" at the top of my lungs.

Yesterday as I was on my way to a somewhat important business meeting a friend asked me if I ever just wanted to get up and pee on the floor.

Absolutely.

I think it's just the pervasive Office Space-ness about our work environment that sometimes makes me want to do crazy things. It's such a relief that I'm not the only one.

There's no real reason for this sense of mania, apart from the general low-level psychosis that is my constant companion. In fact, it's been a pretty good week.

JFJ moved his stuff in last weekend, and it's been unexpectedly nice to have someone in the apartment to cook me dinner and spackle the marks in the wall where I've made deep gouges with my nails when I'm in "a mood." I'm sure my neighbors think he's always been there because they've heard me talking to myself pretty regularly and are probably relieved to see another person exiting the apartment. My mother tried to pull some bullshit with a mattress we gave her but nothing totally outrageous. And when my ex-boyfriend the commitment phobe announced that he was proposing to his girlfriend of six months (almost exactly two years after he had no intention of ever getting married) I just wished him the best and gave him some pointers on pre-nups. My therapist asked me if I was angry at him, but anytime I start to get bitter, I remember that if TB and I hadn't broken up, I wouldn't have met JFJ and we wouldn't be living in domestic bliss.

I have recently sold a couple of pieces of furniture on craigslist to make way for JFJ's stuff. All in all, it's been a good experience, validating my belief that most people in this this world are honest and good folk who are just trying to get by.

This experience also validated my belief that there are a lot of really, really dumb people out there. I posted an ad for my dining room table, including several photographs, the dimensions and my own assessment of the table's condition. The price? $40.

Here is a sampling of the questions I received about the dining room table:

"How big is it?"
The dimensions are on the ad.

"Can you deliver it to Fremont?"
Yes, and just like a furniture store, there will be a delivery fee. My delivery fee is $850. When would you like me to come by?

"I live in San Jose and I don't know Santa Cruz very well. I'm afraid I might get lost. Can you meet me halfway?"
The fact that you have chosen to live in a crockpot of a suburb which has the housing costs of Manhattan and the cultural benefits of Topeka is entirely your responsibility. The fact that you cannot find your way out of it is just sad.

"What if I come look at it and decide I don't want it?"
Then you'll have to give me your firstborn, who I will sell to the gypsies at a handsome profit.

"Will it fit in my kitchen?"
Yes. Absolutely.

"Will it fit in my Prius?"
Do you actually want to know that, or did you just want to call someone to tell them you drive a Prius?

If you buy stamps online from the US Postal Service, why is there a shipping charge?

Speakers required.

Perhaps I am the only person who still thinks lolcats are hysterical, but I will live with that shame.


The Rockafire Explosion

My mother is hipper than I thought

She frequently tries to send me emails to the wrong email address. Then she just waits for it to bounce back and types in the address more careful (or calls to ask me for the address, in which case she no longer needs to send me the email because she can just tell me whatever it is she was writing to me about). This morning I got an email from her like this, and instead of sending it to my email address "magicalpumpkin," she had sent it to "magicalpimpin." Sweet.

Should Michael Vick be allowed to play?

Here's what some CNN viewer emails say:

Nichelle Williams of Woodbridge, Virginia: "If Imus is going to return back to
the air ... then Vick should return to the field. You violate some people or
beings; you apologize, let the air clear and go on with business as usual!"

Debbie Connor of Whitesville, Kentucky: "No, he should not be granted
the right to play pro football again! He was given the "Golden" key to a life of
fame and riches and he blew it away. He should be working for the road
department, picking up 'Road Kill' off the streets!"

John Robinson of Redmond, Washington: "Pro athletes are constantly getting in trouble with the law. Unless we make a policy that all players who are convicted of a felony are banned from the league, then Vick should be allowed to play after a suspension."

Jeremy Montgomery of Mount Laurel, New Jersey: "I think that Vick should
not be allowed to step on the field again and any endorsement deals revoked.
What he did was reprehensible. He is in a spotlight where he should be held at a
higher standard for a role model."

Patricia Reese of Paola, Kansas:
"Yes, I think Mr. Vick should be allowed to play football again. He is a
talented individual and it would be a shame to waste that talent. I also believe
he should be able to rebuild his life. However, as part of his restitution to
society, I believe he should contribute at least 40% of his salary for what
could have potentially been his maximum jail sentence to the Humane Society to
help abused and abandoned animals."

What do you think?

I went running along the bluffs at Wilder Ranch last night, the first time I've been running in a while and although it was rough, it felt good. Wilder is an incredible place to run, the birds coast along the cliff right next to you and the surf crashes on the rocks below. JFJ met me at the turnaround point and we ran back together. He spotted some otters in the surf and we stopped to watch them. They would dive for shellfish and when they came back up, we could hear them pounding their dinner on a rock to open the shell. The sun sparkled off the waves as the otters frolicked and the pelicans dove into the water. I thought about how lucky I was to live here, with this incredible scenery and wildlife practically at my doorstep.

On the way home we ran into some traffic downtown, which turned out to be caused by a streetfight and some kid almost got thrown on the hood of my car. It appeared to have originated in a neighborhood dive bar (the Asti, aka "the nasty") and the kid's girlfriend (?) was screaming and crying hysterically as two guys chased the kid into traffic and across the street. Without even thinking I did my three-step "trouble" check: Doors locked? Check. Phone in hand? Check. Taser in console? Check.

Bliss shattered? Check.

They see me rollin'... they hatin... trying to catch me readin dirty....

When I’m not spinning def jams and keeping my beyotches in line, I’m reading the finest contemporary fiction I can get my hands on. Thanks to a cool new site called Shelfari, I can keep up with what my friends are reading, write reviews of books, discuss them and join groups of like-minded readers. I’ve included a link to my “virtual shelf” at the sidebar here ---->

Check it out, and if you join, be sure to be my friend. I like friends.

P.S. 2007 New Years Resolution #17 : Obtain A Virtual “something.” Check.

P.P.S. My Shelfar username is magicalpumpkin.

You can never have TOO MUCH time for otters.

UK band 7 Seconds of Love makes vids featuring assorted creatures, mostly kittens. They say "evil" kittens but I think they are just misunderstood.

My favorite song (so far) is I Like Your Pants, which begins with the fabulous line, "I got a lot of time for otters..."

Rove leaving White House to "be with family"

Karl Rove has a family? It's like finding out that Satan likes to garden.

For the fellas...

The next time you're at a wedding and everybody is about to do the Chicken Dance, break out the C-Walk instead. Maybe you can spell out the bride and grooms names with your feet? Sweet.

Learn how:

And on the left, you'll see a naked hippie on the bongos...

JFJ's parents are here for a week-long visit. I'm pleased to announce that they are very nice. We all have the same sense of humor and they are super easygoing. We've been showing them the sights and they are always really interested and eager for whatever we decide to throw their way.

Apparently their son told them that I am a one-woman roadmap, Zagat guide and parking locator. Imagine my surprise when it turns out I'm on tap to provide directions, restaurant recommendations and an instant evaluation of all local parking garages in the greater SF bay area. However, since they have been really understanding about my morning binge drinking, road rage and profanity, I am willing to cooperate.

Tomorrow they meet Scrumpy. Hang on to your hat for that one.

Tell me how you REALLY feel.

Funny, often insulting ecards for, literally, any occasion. Best of all, they can be sent anonymously. But if you're going to send insulting messages to your exes, don't be surprised when they figure out who it is. Hoov, this means you.

Things I'd rather be doing:

Spending 36 hours in Cinque Terre.

You're Going To Die.

We're all going to die. Eventually. At our age (let’s face it, no one over 50 is reading this thing) we are more likely to become disabled than to die unexpectedly. That's why if you're single and don't have kids or a house, long-term disability insurance is probably a better bet than life insurance. Another important thing to think about is who will make decisions for you if you become unable to do so yourself. Don’t get Schiavoed, people. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my crazy Catholic family keeping me in a vegetative state indefinitely.

Go here to learn more about how you can make your end-of-life decisions now. The site also has a sample Advance Health Care Directive for use in California. That’s here. You can fill it out and either have it signed by two witnesses or notarized.

Don’t just put it “somewhere safe” where no one will ever find it. Bring a copy to your next doctor’s appointment and have them put it in your medical file. It’s also a good idea to leave copies with the people whom you have designated as your decision-makers.

Finally, if you did become a vegetable, what kind of vegetable would you want to be? JNC and JFJ and I discussed this at JNC's local "tea bar" on Sunday. We eventually concluded that corn sounds pretty good. Those kernels are nice and soft, you get wrapped in silk strands and a protective husk. However, I've always been partial to carrots.

Favorite best-of-craigslist post.

Straight Up

From the ever-reliable NY Post :

Paula Abdul is always running late, as seen on her Bravo show, "Hey Paula" - but woe to her assistants if they don't get their jobs done on time. A spy says, "There's a salon chair in her house where she gets her hair and makeup done every day. She'll sit in it, set an alarm, and then, because she's on so many painkillers, pass out while her hair and makeup guy gets her ready for the day. When the alarm goes off she'll wake up, and God forbid the poor guy isn't done yet. All hell breaks loose." Abdul's rep said, "There's no alarm that I've ever seen."

As far as the painkillers go, that doesn’t seem very far-fetched if you’ve seen her new reality show, in which she breaks down into hysterical crying at least two or three times per episode. But as far as passing out in a salon chair in your home while a paid minion does your hair and makeup, I’m 100% on board with that. If I had Paula’s resources, this is exactly what I would do (not yelling at the assistants, though. Don’t oppress the workers). In my case, it might be liquor that induced the nap, rather than painkillers, but most of the time I don’t even need a drink, just somewhere to sit down and I’m out like a light. I can’t think of a better way to start the morning than to nod off in a chair and wake up to find myself professionally groomed and “camera ready” as they say in the biz. I think the NY Post needs to lay off Paula about this, because ladies and gentlemen, this is what success is all about.

Happy Monday

The smell of rotting garbage permeates my workplace. I first noticed in the breakroom and since my office is right outside that room, now my office smells like rotting garbage (a change from the microwaved salmon or broccoli that I'm usually subjected to). I can't actually locate the source of the smell, but it's gotten so strong that I'm starting to worry... that's it's me...

Wait, hear me out. I haven't actually been able to find the rotting garbage. I'm usually the last person to smell something weird but in this case it seems like I'm the only one bothered by it. What if I sat in something or my shirt accidentally brushed against something that smells horrific? And I'm just carrying the smell around with me?

If you work in my office and I smell like rotting garbage, please let me know. Thanks.

Not the only one judging!

And God bless Mark Morford, who wrote a column about the overbreeding Duggars after the 15th child and said everything I'd like to say if I weren't afraid of offending people:

Let us be clear: I don't care what sort of God you believe in, it's a safe bet that hysterical breeding does not top her list of desirables. God does not want more children per acre than there are ants or mice or garter snakes or repressed pedophilic priests. We already have three billion humans on the planet who subsist on less than two dollars a day. Every other child in the world (one billion of them) lives in abject poverty. We are burning through the planet's resources faster than a Republican can eat an endangered caribou stew. Note to Michelle Duggar: If God wanted you to have a massive pile of children, she'd have given your uterus a hydraulic pump and a revolving door. Stop it now.

Ah, but this is America, yes? People should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want with their families if they can afford it and if it's within the law and so long as they aren't gay or deviant or happily flouting Good Christian Values, right? Shouldn't they? Hell, gay couples still can't openly adopt a baby in most states (they either lie, or one adopts and the other must apply as "co-parent"), but Michelle Duggar can pop out 16 kids and no one says, oh my freaking God, stop it, stop it now, you thoughtless, selfish, baby-drunk people.

Hoov says my "ranting" reminds her of his column. And since he has been the subject of many death threats from far-right whack jobs, I take that as a great compliment.

Number of AIDS orphans, worldwide: 13.4 million.

Still angry.

Check out Population Connection for more information about overpopulation. I'm going to give them some $$ right now in an attempt to offset the evil that Arkansas baby makers hath wrought.

Judging! I'm judging!

This crazy bitch just had her seventeenth kid. People. That is NUTS. That family should be fined by the EPA because having ten kids is about the worst thing you can do for the planet right now. I could drive a Hummer on a 100 miles roundtrip commute every day for a month and not pollute as much as that that family does in a day. The article estimates they have gone through 90,000 diapers. WHY DO YOU HATE THE PLANET? Nevermind the diapers, the empty baby food jars, crazy plastic crap, what about the fact that all these kids are going to grow up and all drive Tahoes and have huge refrigerators and probably another 10 kids each! I'm so pissed off about the environmental impact that I don't even want to start on how you could not possibly be an adequate parent to this many children. Check out the "fun facts" about this insanity on the Discovery channel site about the family... who are now getting their own show, of course.

It blows me away that people make fun of Brangelina for adopting kids from third world countries and applaud crazy right wing crackers who don't know how to use a condom. You want to experience the joy of creating life (cue sounds of angels singing)...? Great, but stop at two! That's the population replacement rate!

First executive act by my future presidency: free sterilization to anyone who wants it. With extra clinics in Little Rock, because apparently they are confused.

Uncanny.

As observed by Judith Warner's guest Op-Ed piece in the New York Times.

Subtitles are difficult to read: The Ingmar Bergman Memorial Post

Few things are more fun than reading the comments about movies on Netflix. Poor Ingmar was never really "accepted" by the average American moviegoer. Not that I think he cared. Anyway, to shed some light on the subject, I've selected some reviews of his movies posted on Netflix:

The Seventh Seal
"Maybe I'm missing something here, but I don't think so."

Fanny & Alexander
"A beautifully filmed movie. However, subtitles difficult to read and keep up with."

Scenes From A Marriage
"The reviews would suggest that I would like this - witty conversations on marriage, a classic film, similar to Annie Hall. NONSENSE. This is boring. Two people squabbling for three hours - IN SWEDISH! It is not funny, it is not witty, it is not interesting."

"Boring, boring, boring. Essentially nonsensical dialogue between a husband and wife as they grow to hate each other, and then tolerate each other enough to carry on behind the backs of their new spouses. If you want to see a good movie about the dissolution of a marriage, you're much better off with the well-done American movie "An Unmarried Woman"."

Through A Glass Darkly
"The content of the movie was good, but it was difficult to appreciate the movie while reading the subtitles."

"Who knew that she was just released from a mental hospital? Why was she out in the wilderness with 3 men? What were they doing? Fishing? Vacationing? Did they live there? I know it is great, but it was beyond me."