Hank

GPOM and I went to see Henry Rollins last night, and boy, did he not disappoint. I laughed, I shouted out loud a couple of times, I clapped, and at the end, I drove most of the way home giggling about Satan's Own Burrito.

You'll have to ask Henry. It's an inside joke between us and him, and it seems unfair to take away his thunder.

I got some pictures, and you'll have to forgive me because they are terrible:

I don't know how to use the camera on my cell phone, and I couldn't convince my digital camera to not flash Henry in the eyes every time I tried to take a shot. Plus, that camera's from like 2007, and it doesn't have image stabilization (my shaky hands), and I didn't want to be the jerk in the audience taking pictures the whole time. So these are what I've got.

5:40am

It's really early, you guys. I've been up since three and there's only so many Law & Order reruns I can watch before I need a break.

And by break, I mean that I think I just announced to the internet that I'm poor. I am, of course, not poor, but I am also not rolling around in dollar bills, y'all, giggling and wondering where next to dive into the dollar bill pool.

I totally wish I could do that. Doesn't that sound like fun? I mean, barring the potential paper cuts. Maybe I'll have a dollar-bill pool that only has old, softened dollar bills. But then I'd worry about germs.

I can't win.

Speaking of germs, I went into a mall food court bathroom today. I considered, briefly, using the facilities, but the smell of human waste and despair, plus the alarming number of women who were on their cell phones while using a mall food court bathroom were quite the deterrents. Ladies, what possible conversation could not wait until leaving a public restroom? Even in an emergency, pants down to your ankles in public, what could you possibly do?

But hey, no judgment here. It's a personal lifestyle choice to inflict the power sound of flushing toilets onto your hapless caller. Who knows? Maybe the next generation will have toilet-flushing fetishes!

Storm Artist

This morning has been a whirlwind of tornado sirens and local meteorologists jacking each other for the best position. And by that I mean, welcome to storm season in Alabama! The cable company is incredibly helpful - when a watch or warning is issued by the National Weather Service, the TV automatically changes channels, the beeping sound of which I am terrified. Still, the channel goes to PBS, so there's something.

I decided to harass my soon-to-be niece, because she's in high school, about crouching in the hallway. Remember that? She texted me back that she was indeed in the hallway, and that the power was out and she was nervous. So I figured my job was to let her know what's happening outside and to entertain her.

Update: She was fine, got out of school early only to find that home had no power, but now that it's later, we have plans for tomorrow. Plans that involve getting my Momma a sandwich from Subway(c).

But as for the entertaining her part, I drew her a few pictures. Artiste extraordinaire that I am, I will show you the pictures. Try not to be jealous, and remember, if you sell them, I totally get the royalties.

This is the map I drew her of where the storm was, and how she was not in danger.

I told her that if she needed another picture, I was totally drawing a witch.

I thought she needed to know how the cat was handling the danger.

A Loss

Yesterday afternoon, my Biggs went to cat heaven. While I'm not sure what happens to people after they die, I am absolutely positive that there is a cat heaven, where Biggs is now living with Kitten, Fluffy, and Boo. I imagine them trading stories about the misery they had to endure while living with me. I imagine them trading days of who gets to choose the entertainment. Mostly, I think of that artwork of the dogs playing poker, but with my cats (playing poker themselves, not dogs using cats as ante).

I love you, Biggs.

I still love you, Kitten, Fluffy, Boo, and Biggs.

I need a drink, and some time to catch up on my thoughts and photographs so I can post a proper eulogy.

Billing

Like everyone else around the world, GPOM and I are actively trying to figure out how to decrease some of our bills. We've reduced our Netflix to streaming content only, because my DVD player doesn't seem to work anymore. Figures. It's adorable and pink and girly. Also, the last movie I saw was Bridesmaids, and that was at the theatre. I simply don't have the patience to watch movies. Oh, I watched The Social Network in November sometime. That was good.

Anyway...I mention the Netflix because every so often when we go over bills, GPOM gets this look in his eye when he notices the TiVo bill. Now, I love my TiVo, I use it every single day, I can barely stand to watch on-time programming anymore, I've had it since 2005, and I think the fourteen dollars a month it costs is well worth it. I watch a lot of TV, folks. A LOT. And I am not ashamed.

So I spoke with TiVo today after looking at subscription rates on Ebay to see if I could lower the cost of the subscription. No such luck. Even though I saw someone selling a box with a ten-dollar subscription rate, I couldn't get anything lower.

Now I'm considering this: Get an upgraded TiVo box, keep the current monthly rate, upgrade the internet service to a higher speed, begin to use wireless networking to update TiVo (mine currently uses a landline connection), and get rid of the home phone, which costs about forty dollars each month.

Current:
TiVo - $13.95
Internet - $33.95
Phone - $40.00
TOTAL: $87.90

New thought:
TiVo - $13.95
Internet - $56.95
TOTAL: $70.90

OK, so about fifteen dollars less each month. But I love my home phone. I don't want to get rid of my home phone. Also, I have to factor in the cost of a new TiVo box. A quick glance tells me it's about one hundred dollars. Plus I'm noticing some wireless adapter which seems to be about twenty-five dollars. Let's say an initial investment of one hundred fifty dollars (shipping, you know). It would take ten months to come out even, before I see a savings at all. Now I'm seeing that the upgrade is HD, which may mean I have to buy HD for the cable as well. If memory serves, HD is an additional approximately fifteen dollars each month. Looks like I'll come out even.

Thoughts, you guys?

I Am Respecting Your Feelings

The other day was Valentine's Day, and let me tell you guys, I had a lovely day. I got roses the night before, which GPOM thoughtfully trimmed and arranged for me. (All the varying jobs he's had over the years come in handy around the house, and working for a florist means my cut flowers last longer than your cut flowers.) The next day I got a sentimental (well, for him) card and a black-pearl-and-diamond necklace. I love it. It's perfect, and I wear it every day despite it having the tiniest clasp I've ever seen. We broke open a bottle of Prosecco and toasted and generally enjoyed being around each other.

But earlier that day, I saw a post on my Facebook timeline that mentioned that maybe we lovers should be more sensitive to the feelings of those who lost someone, or is single, or is currently separated from their loved one. It was a gentle reminder, and I understood the sentiment. But because I am me, my reaction was

FUCK THAT.

If you'd like to be sensitive to every single person's feelings on any given day, good fuckin' luck with that. There are approximately two hundred "friends" on my Facebook. You think I can protect all of them? You think I care to? Sheesh, for most of those people I'm a strange memory from junior high, or that girl in college who could actually roll a spliff without making a mess.

So, in the interest of not having my feelings hurt, I'd like to politely request that from here on out you don't share with me your glorious news of pregnancy, including sonograms, pictures of the wee widdle one fresh out of the oven, obvious remarks about the HAHA moments of parenthood, or even oblique references to babies, toddlers, or children under the age of ten.  I want a child badly and it doesn't seem to be in the cards. So all you parents out there, unless your kid's acting like a pure horse's ass, you'll have to keep precious inside.

Because it hurts my feelings.

Crossfit

In my wanderings around the internet, wherein I was trying to find a local place that teaches Krav Maga, I found this list on Gawker. You'll note that Crossfit is #8 in the list of working rankings. It reminded me of a time I went to a Crossfit introductory class with Cita.

Cita is in fantastic shape, and is a certified fitness instructor. Pre-baby thoughts, pre-baby pregnancy, and not too long after the arrival of the baby, Cita teaches classes in how to kick ass. As in your own flabby one. I do not attend her classes, but should, as my flabby behind is the source of my own self-derision.

So I joined her in an hour or so of this class, taught by her good friends who do everything I don't do - eat well, work out, care about their bodies as the machines of awesome that they can be. I felt a little bit like a freak being there, as the others who were trying the class were also clearly more concerned about their health that I am. But I went.

And had my ass roundly handed to me throughout the experience. It got so I wouldn't even try the jump-on-a-board exercise. I do not jump. I routinely question the need for curbs so I don't have to raise my knees. This being said, I did manage to defeat Cita in a rowing test. People, I can row. I have alarming upper body strength, which comes from carrying six or seven grocery bags, full of two-liter bottles, into my place. For almost eight years now.

So there's that.