Friday, March 23, 2012

Random Friday

I knew it wouldn't last. Looks like my blog traffic is returning to normal as interest in the Pakistani iPad knock-off dwindles. Note to self: Turn on Google Ads before the PacPad2 comes out.

Speaking of iPads, I've had my new iPad for a week now and I love it. The incredible resolution of the Retina Display makes the new iPad even better for reading. The benefit of 3.1 million pixels is marginal, however, for porn. After all, porn is meant to be a fantasy. If I'm in the mood for HD sex, I'll wake up JB.

For his part, JB is still skeptical that I really needed a new iPad. And he's right. But he can't deny the iPad is something I get a lot of use out of. Of the things that are constantly at my fingertips, the iPad is the best invention since the penis.

It's not every day you get some insight into your family name from a dictionary. Today's Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day is "pippin".
Since the late Middle Ages, English speakers have experimented with the use of the word "pippin," which germinated from the Anglo-French word "pepin," meaning "seed" or "pip of a fruit." ... It has widespread use as the name of a crisp, tart apple and of a person who is unique, usually in a pleasant way.
Well doesn't that make me feel special.

Spring has finally sprung, when the thoughts of trees turns to sex. Just like people sex, tree sex is both beautiful...

... and messy...

Have a great weekend!!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Luck O' The Pac

Well, it was a valiant effort (more or less) but Lent came to an early end this year. The trifecta of gorgeous Spring weather, subtle peer pressure and a strange "ethnic" holiday which is universally celebrated by the drinking of green beer proved too tempting for this wayward catholic to withstand. Better luck next year.

But I'm still committed to my diet and exercise routine. Mostly. I seem to be stretching my P90X program out to more like P366. (You know, leap year.)

A shake-up at work is going to make sticking to my routine a challenge. But it's a challenge I gladly accept, since it now looks like I may weather the corporate storm. Like one of those tornados that randomly takes out the houses around you but leaves your house miraculously standing with double the workload and vague promises of future rewards, this tempest has left me confused but relatively unscathed.

"Figures. My chance to meet Bill Paxton and I look all crazy and fat.
And I'm probably gonna die."
But who knows, I may find another gig soon anyway. I made a new friend at the pub on Saturday who reminded me why it's so important to never judge a book by her haircut. Because my first thought was, "Oh great. Another middle-aged lesbian in a leprechaun hat. At least the shoes are sensible."

But I struck up a conversation anyway with my new pseudo-Irish compatriot. We talked about her upcoming cruise vacation and I mentioned how badly I wanted to take a cruise, but lacked vacation time. She asked what I do and a few seconds later she gave me her card. (Well, a cocktail napkin, but I've learned never to judge those either. Besides, the last time someone handed me an embossed business card on St. Patrick's day, he tried to recruit me into some sort of Amway cult.)

Seems my new LesBFF is a CEO, so I'm updating my CV ASAP.

And to think I almost stayed home to total tea and flail spastically to a video of kenpo. Whatever the hell that is.

Networking, Saint Paddy's style.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Inconvenience Store

I was running late this morning. Still adjusting to the time change I guess. I had to stop at the pharmacy, then at the gym. Not to work out, but to pick up my meals. I was supposed to pick them up yesterday, so I'd already missed this morning's breakfast.

As I was approaching the freeway on-ramp, I noticed my passenger side mirror had been swung forward. This must have happened at the one of my previous stops, as I need this mirror to back out of my condo-assigned pigeon hole at home.

There was no way I was going to get on the freeway with a blind spot big enough to fit pre-Weight Watchers Jennifer Hudson, pre-Subway Jered and pre-Dancing With the Stars Kirstie Alley. So I turned into the gas station just before the ramp and pulled into one of the smoker's spots.

There are really only three things people stop at a gas station for: gas, smokes or a restroom emergency so dire that the one further block to McDonald's is out of the question. People getting gas stop at the pumps while the others park in one of the three spots next to the building.

In the ten seconds it took me to put the Jeep Liberty in park and run around to the passenger side to pop the mirror back into place; a woman pulled in to the spot to the left of me, hopped out of her minivan and ran into the store.

And when I say next to me, I mean two inches next to me.

So there I stood, outside of my running vehicle unable to do a damn thing. All my car doors other than the driver door was locked, and trying to reach the unlock button inside wasn't a possibility. And because my phone was trapped inside, I couldn't let the office know I was running late, play Angry Birds or tweet a smart-assed comment about women drivers.

All I could do was wait, and pray she was buying cigarettes.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Back On Track

Last night I had to stray from my strict Lenten diet in order to join my ex for dinner at his favorite expensive restaurant to celebrate his birthday.

No, I suppose I didn't have to. But given the choice, I'd rather deal with the Lord's wrath. (I'll defer to the biblical scholars here, but I don't think anyone was ever smote by passive-aggressive guilt trip.)

Filet mignon, steak fries, the best mac & cheese I ever tasted, followed by one of those little chocolate cakes that's still hot and gooey inside. With ice cream of course.

But in a remarkable demonstration of restraint, I passed on the wine and enjoyed an espresso instead. Today, a double workout.

"Don't even think of giving me up, Pac. I make your heart beat,
I can just as easily make it stop. That's right. Now sip me."

Friday, March 2, 2012

They're Quuuuueer!

StevieB's latest blog post (Crunchatize Me Cap'n!) reminded me of my own staring contest I once held with Tony the Tiger at a grocery store.

JB and I were going to visit Julie who was recovering from lady surgery. On the way to the hospital we stopped at our neighborhood Kroger to pick up an obligatory flower arrangement.

Kroger shoppers know every market has it's own nickname which is determined not by Kroger marketing wizards, but democratically by the shopping public. So when referring to which Kroger you're shopping at, you'd say "Disco Kroger", "Kosher Kroger", "Murder Kroger", or – as in this case – "Gay Kroger".

As we were entering our Gay Kroger, I noticed Tony the Tiger dancing around in the parking lot. No, I wasn't having hyperglycemic hallucinations. There was actually a person wearing a costume of the famous cereal mascot engaging the public and handing out samples.

I assumed it was some sort of a promotional event. That seemed more likely than just some random perv indulging his furry fetish by handing out free cereal.

While JB picked out some nice flowers for Julie, I found a large, helium-filled "Get Well!" balloon I liked. But JB said the flowers were enough, so I put the balloon back and we checked out. Upon exiting the supermarket, the ferociously friendly feline pounced.

"Hey there!" Tony growled as he held out a tiny box containing two tenths of a complete breakfast. "Are you buying flowers for your wife?"

This is where I would cue that needle-scratching-across-the-record sound if I could. Because I swore I heard it right then. I stopped face-to-face with the presumptuous puss, blinking in disbelief.

I always expected large consumer product conglomerates to have battalions of marketing drones poring over reams of data and statistics to gain the ultimate insight into their customer base. After all, isn't that how Target knows women are pregnant before they even tell anyone? Yet Kellogg's sent this poor tiger blind to Gay Kroger without so much as an "Oh, FYI..."

I blinked again, looked at JB for a second, then back at the orange stripped critter still holding the miniature cereal box in his outstretched paw. At this point I'm sure he had to suspect something was amiss. Probably by the look in my eyes which said, "You're in my jungle now, bitch."

"I don't have a wife, this is my partner. I'm gay," I informed him. "The flowers are for my hag. She just had her uterus removed and we're visiting her in the hospital."

"Ohmygosh... " Tony squeaked, abandoning his rehearsed baritone growl. I caught a glimpse of eyeballs inside the grinning mouth. "Tell her I hope she feels better soon!" And with that he pivoted to unload his cereal on the next shopper. Walking toward the car I overheard the large, hairy man compliment Tony's red kerchief.

"I told you we should have got the balloon," I said to JB who was wiping away those tears he gets when tries real hard not to laugh. And when we got to the hospital, we conveyed Tony the Tiger's get-well wish to Julie. This is where I learned it's not universally true that laughter is the best medicine. Especially when it comes to hysterectomies.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

My P90X Perspective

I just passed the one week point on the new diet. I've made some meager attempts since New Years to get back into a running and exercise routine, but seeing the scale starting to move is adding momentum to my efforts.

I find that when I'm limiting myself to a specific number of daily calories and not drinking, I suddenly have lots of free time on my hands. You know what they say, idle hands are the devil's snack bar.

Watching TV is out of the question since it seems every other commercial is for something I can't have. Pizza Hut, KFC, Popeyes, Mercedes, Channing Tatum, etc.

There is one thing I didn't give up for Lent. (Something I tried once when I was sixteen and Lent lasted all of two days.) But my refractory period still provides plenty time that needs to be filled with something. So I've been reading. And this morning I popped in the first P90X disc.

Today's goal.

Today's reality.
I didn't notice before that the paint is flaking off
around that air duct. But if I'm going to paint the
ceiling, I may as well take the opportunity to scrape
off all that ugly popcorn texture too. Wow, that's going
to be a big project. What am I getting myself into?