catheroominations

Last night we finally finished watching the Spelling Bee. Since the kids this year were so freaking brilliant, it ran long and our fabulous Comcast DVR didn’t catch the ending. So (e) downloaded it (in HD, no less!) and we were able to watch the ending. Before watching the final night of televised Bee action, I knew the name of the winner. So I should not have been surprised when, in Round 19, Finola Hackett from Canada missed her word: weltschmerz. Chalk it up to extreme nerves. With just one other speller left to beat, Finola started the word with a “vee” instead of a “double-you.” This, after slam-dunking cachinnate, bdelloid, tutoyer, and koine. Just like me and the word choice (I spelled it C-H-O-I-S-E in our spelling bee. I’m still in therapy over that one.), Finola will never misspell the word used to describe “sadness over the evils of the world, especially as an expression of romantic pessimism.”

All was not lost for Fiona though. Katharine (Kerry) Close still had to spell her Round 19 word correctly, plus another word. Could she do it? Ok, well, yeah. I knew she could, I just wasn’t sure if this was IT. Would this be the final round?

keep reading It’s the Spelling Bee, and I’ll cry if I want to

All day today I’ve had the feeling I was forgetting someone’s birthday. I checked my Palm. Nothing. My Outlook calendar at work. Nope. I wracked my brain. Still, nothing.

But thanks to my main source of important facts, I finally found out who was born on this day. Apparently my skill for knowing useless information has diminished some. I mean, this man was a huge part of my life back in the day. My parents tried to convince me that he didn’t like girls, that I stood no chance, but I didn’t believe them. I remained faithful, hoping that one day he’d choose to be with me. So what if he wore lipstick and nail polish? What guy didn’t back then? He was a musician after all. He was just very artistic, and what better way to express his creativity than through his flamboyant ruffled shirts and pasty foundation? I still remember the way he pressed just one key on his keyboard and got so many different sounds to emit from it. I never knew how he accomplished such a feat. He was a genius in my own mind.

Oh how I loved you, Sweetie. I’m so sorry I almost missed your special day. Happy Birthday, from Mrs. Rhodes.

One of the perks of my new cohabitation situation is that my commute has been quadrupled. No, really. It is a perk. My old commute was a mere two miles, so I never got to listen to Dave Morey for very long, or hear more than a couple of songs on my iPod (Stairway to Heaven? Wouldn’t even be able to hear the whole song). Besides, living so close to work, I could go home for lunch and that was bad. Once I was home, I never wanted to leave to come back to work.

Because I live so far away from work now, I can happily tune in to KFOG, or hear up to 12 iTunes on my kickass new stereo as I enjoy my 15 minute drive to the office. Bonus! There’s a Jamba Juice on the way! I’ve become somewhat of a regular since my friend June touted the joys of her daily dose of Jamba. Here is how she describes her favorite smoothie:

“I get the Berry Fulfilling…it’s one of the Enlightened ones and it really feels you up!”

You can see why June loves her Jamba. Doesn’t every girl want to start her day with a nice feeling up? I had to try this. So, every morning, I pull into the parking lot on my way to the office, maneuvering my way through the crooked parkers and bad puller-outers to enter the fruitilicious establishment that is Jamba Juice.

I’ve been getting the Berry Fulfilling every time I go and have yet to be felt up. I don’t know why this is, but I can no longer handle the rejection so this morning I switched to the Mango Mantra. I figured mangos are melons, and well, boobs are melons, so this will hopefully enhance my chances for gropage. So far, I haven’t gotten any action. But it is only our first date, and perhaps Mango Mantra is a gentleman. Or maybe he’s gay. Yeah, that would be just great. I’m just grateful that each time I visit Jamba, I get some booty. Yeah, Baby!

I’ll keep y’all posted as my smoothie and I become better acquainted.

As today is June 6, 2006 (aka 6-6-6), I am maxing out my credit cards. Please leave your wish list in the comments. It’s on me. Because with the coming apocolypse (I’m guessing it’ll arrive after business hours?), I won’t have to pay off the bills. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some miles to put on my new Italian sports car.

Just to clarify…that whole end-of-the-world thing does happen today. Right?

Right?

If not, uh…could someone loan me a few hundred thousand dollars because DAMN it! I’m in some serious trouble here.

*Courtesy of Peter Mulvey. Is it courtesy if I used it without asking first? I can ask him tonight, at Don Quixote’s. Because I’m going to see him, for the second time in a week. Nice Wisconsonian. (Wait a minute…that’s redundant.)