You wouldn't be the first person in our family to walk down the aisle carrying more than a bouquet.

(Note: The title is not an actual reflection on anyone in my family, but rather a funny quote that probably only Imladris will understand. I'm not insulting anyone, nobody e-mail my grandparents. Oh, who am I kidding. My mom would probably trade my immortal soul for the chance to play with a grandchild, and Mickey would just give me fashion tips. We're so weird.)

Oh my children, do not worry, for I have not abadoned you. I just have no life, and therefore, not a whole lot do write about. And I had craploads of laundry to do and fold and still had to get to work by six. And even if I had had the time, energy, or inclination to do such an entry, it probably would not have been terribly interesting as I had negative creative energy yesterday. I know, you're upset. But fear not, as I am back.



I also had very little extra time yesterday because of this really good book, John Paul the Great. As we all know, sensationalized histories of the British monarchs are way more my style, but my mom got this book and loved it so much that she told me to read it. I was avoiding wiping up the floor yesterday morning, and this had big letters and was only two hundred pages, so I figured I'd start it. It was so good I read almost the whole thing before begrudingly actually doing the floor. I finished it later in the day.

It was really interesting, and not terribly heavy in that biographical way (not that I have anything against biographies), and her love for him was so apparent that it gave the whole narrative this transcendent quality. I loved it, and was moved almost to tears several times. Everyone must go read.

Now we've moved on to the slightly less spiritually-enlightening but still entertaining The Dante Club. Love me some literary mysteries.



OMG, y'all, could not sleep last night. I think it was the gallons of free coffee I consumed while twiddling my thumbs at work last night. I closed, so I didn't go to bed until like eleven thirty, and then I kind of tossed and turned until three, and then I gave up and watched Without a Trace from last night. Oooh, goodness. A schoolbus full of kids disappear. Where I'd seen the mom before kept me up all night. (Paul Lewiston's daughter on Boston Legal.)

I couldn't fall asleep until six, and then it toally screwed me up because I usually get up at about eight and leisurly work out and then watch Regis and Kelly. Yeah. That didn't happen. I skipped walking and missed the Regis and Kelly monologue. So now I feel fat and I missed the witty banter. And I have a pimple on my cheek. I'm not pleased. *scowls* And my dad's home for some reason that I'm not completely clear on and don't really have the energy to go out and find out why.



I am happy, however, because The View is a taped one with The Devil Wears Prada cast (OMG, SOOOOO seeing!!!!!) and the opening banter was about being fired. And Star just sat there and glowered. The whole itme. She didn't say a thing.

Meanwhile, she apparently retaliated on Larry King last night, which my gossip monger sister taped for me. I haven't seen it yet, but I'd just like to say that my Inner Pop Culture Whore is eating this shit up. She cannot get enough. Yes, she's a little sick. That's okay, she likes herself. ;)

Whoo---Criminal Minds!!! Snaps for the chubby girl. I'm smaller, right??? My Inner Pop Culture Whore is also slighlty insecure.

As I'm' sure you all noticed (*winks*) I changed my profile pic to Van Gogh's Outdoor Cafe at Night. It's actually part of the Starry Night series, but less reproduced, which makes it obscure enough for me to use it. I think it's one of the prettiest, though.

I contemplated putting up Magritte's Le Voil (which I'm not even going to link here, if you want to see it be creative and google Magritte), to be inflammatory and see how long it would take everybody to notice, but then thought the better of it. When Google Images's safety filters won't even let you see it, it's probably not appropriate for a family blog...

Have a good Friday, y'all...

My Inner Pop Culture Whore Cannot Help It

She is going to post this and then go throw up a little (read the post from her more intelligent alter-ego below, please). Warning: Naked, pregnant trailer trash ahead. Not suitable for small children or those who just ate.

OMG, Candace Bergen!!! I love you!!!

Rest assured, Imladris, I am not dead to the blogging world, I was simply overwhelmed by things to do yesterday and could not update. But now I am back, and you can all breath a mental (or physical, whatever) sigh of relief at my return. I know you were all waiting.

OMG, y'all, MAJOR batshit goin' down on The View today. As we all know (or at least those of you who have no lives do), yesterday Star Jones announced that ABC had canned her newly teeny ass. And then we all know (or at least those of you who check People.com before breakfast) that ABC did not take kindly to her announcment of said canning, and suggested that maybe she and her newly tiny ass should sleep in and not show up for the show today. Oh snap.

So I totally made Imladris tape it, because I was going to miss it, and it delivered like Dominos. Or as like Dominos as something that didn't involve Star storming the stage and flashing the audience or something truly good like that.

So Barbara starts out in a very calm, controlled (too calm and controlled, if you ask me) and kind of says how sorry they are that Star is leaving. And then...she kind of goes crazy, but still in that controlled, calm voice, like "Star made other decisions. She decided to sensationalize, and screw the rest of us over, and she can just take her now-famous, ex-DA, newly skinny, totally nipped/tucked ass TO HELL. *deep breath* When we come back, sex with your boss. A good thing?"

Oh the estrogen-fueled craziness.

Apparently Imladris is crazy bored, and is now amusing herself by watching old home movies of Baby Imladris and Baby Morena. (Baby Boy came along after Mom and Dad got over their fascination with the video camera). Also Grandma and Grandpa and Spawn of Mickey show up occasionaly. However, Baby Morena is being sorely under-represented here, because every time she shows up, Grown-Up Imladris changes the tape. Grown-Up Morena thinks that she is feeling threatened by Baby Morena's cherubic-like cuteness. Although Baby Imladris was pretty darn cute, too.

(Oldest Spawn of Mickey just showed up. He's misbehaving. Shocking, I know.)

HAHAHAHAHA, this was the year that Santa was drunk and had to go home and Grandpa was making black coffee jokes. Teehee.

(Mickey herself just showed up, sporting a very large hairstyle, a hole in the ozone layer right above her head, and a camcorder conveniently shovering her face. She looks very young, though. I know she'll appreciate that.)

Grown-Up Imladris just wondered why I'm not like I used to be (on crack, in her own words). I informed her that while singing a mangled medley of O Little Town of Bethlehem/Away in a Manger and Goy to the World (no, it's not a typo, that's how I pronounced it) while wearing a Notre Dame cheerleading jumper is adorable at three, at nineteen they're looking into thorazine drips and straighjackets.

Worked yesterday. Got paycheck- yay!!! Got schedule-yay!!! Got callusses- no yay. Have to work on Fourth of July night. Can't drink during the day. Bugger. How am I supposed to celebrate my nation's independence without Mr. Bartles and Mr. Jaymes??? I like them better that Mr. Jefferson, anyway. They didn't screw the help give their slaves such a comprehensive benefit plan.

Going to go watch the cuteness that is me...

Janet liked the ones in the blue box with the little daisies on the side...

Dear lord, it's Monday again. Sheesh. Where does the time go??? Meanwhile, eleven days until July 7th, and I am now in possesion of four tickets to the midnight showing of Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Woot. How sad am I? Hey, if I can do it for old British guys, I can do it for slightly younger and way hotter Johnny.

Wanna know how sad I am? I spent all night on Friday finding TV icons, which would be of major use if I had anything to update my TV blog with (summer television sucks). Instead, I shall put them here. But look how pretty!!! :)



I'm trying to get a passport, for no reason other than I think it would be fun. I mean, I have no money, and no travel plans, but I'm crazy like Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping, and think that having one would be da bomb.

But you need a birth certificate. This isn't a huge problem, as I was born perfectly legally to married parents one of whom is a lawyer and filed all the proper paperwork. I'm totally an indisputable citizen. Unfortunately, while my parents were law-abiding, they are not terribly organized, and I cannot find one around the house. And I know one is here, because I needed it three years ago to get my drivers license. But I cannot find one, y'all.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and yes, I still live in the city I was born in, and could easily go to the courthouse and just pick up a copy. Sounds like a plan, until you factor in the construction that makes it impossible to FIND the courthouse much less park and walk in, an obsessivly worried parent who doesn't like you driving anywhere, and my own disinclination to talk to people. So I asked Daddy to do it. THREE MONTHS ago. It has not been accomplished. Apparently, he feels that earning enough money to support me and send me to school is enough to do during the day. Whatever.

So I decided to take care of it myself, with little to no human interaction required, and get a copy sent to me by mail. Which required a lot of different websites from both the State of Wisconsin and the city I live in. The first one I tried was the whole vital statistics place in Madison, but they take a month to process it because they presumably have to take a couple hours a day to go hug trees. My city doesn't require that so much, so they're infinately faster, so that's the route we're going. And the only person I have to talk to is the person at the post office. That I can do. ;)



Whoo! Alias icons!!! *tear* We miss Alias. I find the last one a little creepy though, because it's Jennifer Garne and her ex pretending to be all happy and parents, and clearly he's not the father of her real kid. That's a little disconcerting, frankly.

So I watched half of Signs yesterday on TNT before I fell asleep (it wasn't the movie, I was exhausted). Good acting. I think I need to watch the rest of it today...

Awww...we are so thrilled for Nicole and Keith. And I love how they did it so normally. And her dress was beautiful---not many people can pull off poofy sleeves. But I guess she really is just a hanger with a head. I think that the State of California needs to seriously award sole custody to Nicole now, because clearly she is a better influence on her kids than the Cruisazy.

Oh, and Marcia Cross got married. I dont' care.

And because I am pathologically incapable of completing a post without some reference to CSI...



Have a good day, children!!!

Bridget! The baby! Daniel! I'm 'aving my fag!!!

Wanna know something funny? I thought so.

So I was sitting in the kitchen this morning, drinking coffee and looking dejectedly at the floor that I have to scrub today when a Pirates 2 commercial comes on. Now, I've seen all the trailers before (I went to a Russian website and clicked on twelve different cyrillic links to find it the day before it was released in the US!!!) and viewed it with the requisite sighs and gasps and shrieks. But today it came on and the music was in the background and I just started to giggle uncontrollably (the kind where your eyes start to water) just like three years ago. It was quite amusing. So now I'm sitting here looking at Johnny pictures and listening to the soundtrack on iTunes. I'm such a dork.

I cannot wait until the seventh. Fourteen days. I can do that. *deep breaths* In honor of the beginning of the giggling...





Completely changing the topic, but do you know what really is kind of gross-looking when you actually see it??? Splenda.

Yes, the zero-calorie sweetener. It looks like that fake snow you put on Christmas villages that you end up vacuuming until Easter. I've always used the packets, but I bought the regular little box yesterdy and was amazed at how disgusting it looked when I was pouring it into my little sugar thing. I mean, not that I'm going to stop drinking it, because I will eat anything without calories, I'm just saying that putting fake snow in your coffee is slighlty off-putting.



First icon curtesy of Colleen. While I did not appreciate the obnoxious e-mail accompanying it, I did appreciate the site. This from the girl who has a platonic universe planned out where she is married to Jack Malone (NO touching!!!!) and they have adopted children and Vivian is her BFF who will have coffee with her. Yeah. That's totally normal. :p

Watched Without a Trace last night, and I must say that, especially in reruns, Anthony LaPaglia and that scary woman with the tight curls have negative chemistry. It's not even just awkward, it's embarrassing. Seriously. That kiss? It made the GSR scene on CSI look Of the Lord. (Shower and a Xanax...) *shivers*



Oh, Rita Wilson was just on Regis and Kelly. Except today it was Kelly and The Weather Guy from Good Morning America. Which does not have the same ring to it.

Anyhoodles, we love Rita Wilson. We think she would be the best step-mother-in-law ever, and we would totally not mind spending Christmas with her and Tom. Well, as long as they came here. Because I don't think Christmas in L.A. would be nearly as fun as Christmas here, even with Tom and Rita. Of course, I should probably meet their son first, before I start deciding whose house I'll be spending Christmas with...

Well, I'm out of funny things to say, so here's some more Johnny for ya...

Nikki Gonna Be Your Godmother

Summer is getting to me. I'm not even sure what day it is. Thursday maybe??? *checks calendar* Hey- I was right!! I'm so smart.

Summer is also getting to me because I have lost any and all ability I may have had to organize and actually get things done. Other than cleaning the brewery yesterday (and coming to the conclusion that her host family drinks way too much--- does one really need that many different kinds of bourbon???) Lupe has done nothing since the Bathroom Endevour of Tuesday afternoon. Except a couple loads of laundry. Which barely even count, because she lost the will to fold them. Oh well, maybe she'll feel better today. She has promised herself that she will Magic Eraser the kitchen floor tomorrow. And she has a mother of a guilt complex (I think Lupe's part Jewish), so she probably will do that. See??? That's productive.

At least I got to sleep in this morning, unlike yesterday. I was awakened at six thirty to gale force winds blowing through my bedroom. I woke up enough to lock the windows and pull my blanket over my head so that if the windows blew in at least the chards of glass wouldn't maim me. At six thirty I was really more concerned with permanent facial scarring than the windows blowing in. Yes, this is the throught process you have to go through when you live in a Matrix-like wind tunnel.

But then there apparently were some major storms, and Mommy Dearsest rousted us an hour later because she was worried about the top floor being taken off. Which is another sadly valid fear. So I curled up in a bundle on the living room floor and listened to the Today show (wow, they really did lose something with Katie) for awhile before it was late enough to actually start the day. But not before I brushed my teeth. The top floor would actually have to be gone before I go downstairs without brushing my teeth. *shivers*


Speaking of other nocternal horrors (and no, I don't meant the stifling heat of last night), I had this awful dream last night. I had this really long Latin assignment, but instead of just translating words, their were really hard (like Numb3rs hard) math problems that you had to do that somehow ended up translating the Latin. And it was right before school and I only had one done and you can't cheat on math problems like you can cheat on Latin. ("Um...yeah...veritas...something about truth...I'm guessing masculine accusative singular...")

Authors Bad Student Note: Little hint should you ever find yourself in Latin, children. If you get called on and you have butchered/not done at all the assignment, just say masculine accusative singular. Most nouns are masculine, and unless it's the first word in the sentence or follows cum it's almost gotta be accusative. Singular is more of a crapshoot, but when the professor looks at your stangely it's easier to say, "Oh, right, plural. I just misread my notes." If you screw up another one you have to go through like five cases, and by the third one you start to look less and less knowlegdable. :) Number is easy, there are only two!!!

Okay, so I can't do this and school is starting and it's math and foreign language and I'm hyperventillating and then I finally wake up. Wow. Do you think I'm a little bit crazy about my math/foreign language combination in fall???



Just a little one for Colleen---I'll never forget that look of barely constrained desperation in Starbucks---"Who is that? You have to tell me who that is!!!" Teehee.

Got my schedule for next week. Twelve whole hours. It's better than nothing, I guess. Have to miss Numb3rs, though. Bugger. Those DVDs are awesome, btw. The last one I watched Don got to rescue a five-year-old. My Inner Mother passed out halfway through. Seriously. I have a mother thing. Stick a baby in some guy's arms and I will love him forever. I'm so weird.

How happy are we for Nicole? So happy. Especially since I think baby Suri either never existed or has been taken and sacrificed to some shrine Tom has to L. Ron Hubbard in his basement. Probably right next to where he's keeping Katie chained up to the water heater. Seriously. It's been over two months. This from the man who probably would have broadcast her conception if he thought anyone would watch. Something is not kosher here. And Lupe would know.

Finally, I just had to link to the 213 Things Skippy Isn't Allowed to Do in the Army Anymore, as it is the funniest thing I have read in a long time. (Some are slighlty off-color, just warning ya). I can't even pick a favorite. Probably between the Princess Anastisia one and "The Revolution is not now". I laughed so hard.

Have a good day, everybody!!!

Another Episode of The Young and the Boring

The gods of Blogger are in a good mood this morning. They actually let me in on the first try and are letting me post pictures. Woot.

So I'm trying to decide what little cleaning project I should accomplish today. Because, while it is summer, my ever-so-intriguing life needs some structure or I end up going crazy, like my little sister, and I don't have anywhere near her photoshopping capabilities and I've already read Anna Karenina so I'd end up sitting in the corner staring at the wall or pathetic.

On Monday I washed the hurricane glasses from the chandelier, and I moved some of the furniture and vacuumed underneath it. And then yesterday was, of course, the bathroom. Today I'm thinking maybe the brewery. Technically, that's Daddy's domain, but he only cleans when we have members of the clergy over, which is infrequently. And the microwave is pretty icky now too. Yes. I think that's what it shall be. Maybe tomorrow we'll tackle moving the sideboard, which I don't think has been done since we moved in when I was eleven. And maybe I'll make Daddy go through this pile of important looking financial papers on the desk that you cn now actually see from outside.



Worked last night. But you know, it was totally worth driving through the sadistic road construction and standing for four hours on feet with open sores to serve annoying people who wanted weird little variations and this one woman who would not stop talking to me about physics and her weight loss (yes, I do think it would be insulting if you handed out copies of your diet to random people) and unloading a big shipment of syrup all by myself and getting weird wet stuff from the trash bag all over my arm only to drive home and have to load the dishwasher because everybody else in the house (except Mom) is incapable of opening the damn thing, because I made a whole dollar in tips. One freakin' dollar. Bugger.

Finished this awesome book, Whole World Over, yesterday. It tells the story of a bunch of different people in New York whose stories are all connected, and it culminates with 9/11 and its aftermath when the consequences of all of the decisions they've made over the course of the last year show up and they all have to make decisions about which direction they want to take their lives. It's really well-written and completely absorbing (I read three hundred pages in one day and didn't really even notice it). Plus, it's got infidelity, a loveable politician, a funny gay guy, and a girl whose family is keeping a secret about her life before she was involved in a horrific accident that left her with memory loss! What more could you want???

Now I'm reading Dracula, and loving it. Despite my nineteenth century French and Russian literature-loving exterior, I'm really my Daddy's little girl at heart, and there's nothing quite like a good horror novel to keep me interested. Well, that and I have to finish it before The Boy finishs LOTR and hijacks it, even though I paid of it. Psh. Whatev.

Finally, I was reading Ojava's blog this morning, and he was talking about Those Damn Kennedys, and their involvment with Marilyn's "suicide" and it got me thinking about all the unanswered questions that history has given us.

I love a good conspiracy theory, believe me, and when I die there are so many things that I want to find out. Where are the bodies of Alexei and Marie Romanov? Is it really Marie? Or is it Anastasia and Marie just had a freakishly undeveloped vertebrae??? Because there's some talk about that, you know... What happened to the inhabitors of Roanoke Island??? What did Croatoan signify? Was there a second shooter??? Was Stephanie really driving the car??? Did Elizabeth I really bump off Robert Dudley's wife??? (No, I'm sure she really fell off the stairs...all alone...) Who was Jack the Ripper? (Queen Victoria???)

Of course, history also teaches us that sometimes the answers are not quite as fun as the mystery surrounding them. Like Deep Throat. W. Mark Felt the old man being exploited by his money-grubbing family isn't quite as intruiging as the idea of an unknown shadowy figure bringing down the President in a parking garage. And while I'm pretty sure that the missing Romanov bodies just fell off the back of the cart and are rotting in the ground somewhere in the woods at Ekaterineburg, it's not nearly as fun as thinking of Yurovsky getting rid of them for some reason. I'm also pretty sure that the Croatoan tribe just killed the bunch of them and probably burned the bodies, but I much prefer the vanishing into thin air idea. So I guess I should be careful what I wish for. On the other hand, I'll be dead, so maybe the mystery won't matter anymore...

Have a good Wednesday everybody!!!

I choose Vodka. And Chaka Khan.

I have just cleaned the entire bathroom from top to bottom (and I literally mean top- I had to stand ont he side of the tub to wipe all the dust from the tops of the walls), and even scrubbed (REALLY scrubbed) the entire bathtub with God's gift to people because it was getting really kind of grouty looking. And my mom thinks I'm pretty enough to have stalkers. Obviously, nothing is quite as sexy as standing in a bathtub with rolled up jeans, a tank top drenched in sweat and deoderant marks with my hair ever-so-lovingly yanked into a knot on the top of my head. Oh, and runny makeup, because I was trying to wash the residue off and the water literally jumped back and hit my square in the face. It was so pretty. *rolls eyes*.

And now my arms are shaking and I want to die. But the tub is clean. Please, do not hate your own lives. Everyone's pales in comparison to mine, really... :)


Foot update: I think skin must have grown over the exposed nerves because they don't burn like Hell when I brush up against something. This is good, we're making progress. I'm trying to figure out exactly how to bandage it up tonight, as I have to work and thus cannot wear the flip-flops I've been wearing since Saturday night (I'm sorry, y'all, I will never feel comfortable calling them thongs. Having thongs on your feet is not of the Lord, okay???)

On the bright side of work (well, not too much of a bright side, as I will be making like twelve fifty this week, which won't even buy the gas to get to school, much less the tuition check UMC wants) I changed all my tip change into actual money yesterday and ended up with twenyt-six dollars. Yayness!!!

The not so good part of work? I have to miss the Vanderbilt/Jolie Hour of Humanitarian Crazy. This will be worth watching, y'all, if only to see which one thinks they're the better gift to the world. I have to tape. Bugger.

Desperately need a new Alan movie. There hasn't been a new one since An Awfully Big Adventure last April. Which didn't even really count, because while the idea of him being with a teenager is infinately satisfying and gave me so much hope that "Yes, dammit, he IS my soulmate", I didn't feel like watching him actually be with said teenager. And this was a big part of the movie, so I've only see like forty-five minutes of it. Hmmm. When is Snowcake coming out??

I'm going to go fold laundry. Please, don't be jealous. I'm sure you all have very exciting lives, too...

Warning

While your adorable new beaded wedges may be beautiful and sparkly and look really cute with your skirt, you should refrain from wearing them while standing for eight hours. Open sores and exposed nerves and an actual bleeding toenail which you won't notice until the next morning may result. Thank you.

So yeah, I can't move. I drove home barefoot last night. That's how much it hurts.

Fathers Day- yayness! I'm so glad I have a normal father, because I know a bunch of people who don't, and I go out with them and hear these horror stories and then I come home and my dad, who has let me take his car, is either putting my horse to bed or sitting with my mom, his one and only wife. So I guess I don't really mind so much that he's manically obsessive about not having the air conditioner on... :)

And as it's Father's Day, we are having another lovely family get together, which are always so much fun. I know people my age aren't supposed to have massive amounts of fun at family parties, but honestly I'd rather be at a family party than one with friends where weird people are making out or better and you can't hear yourself think. Not that I get invited to these parties often, but I've heard this happens.

Tonight we shall experiment with screwdrivers. Oh those crafty American oil-rig workers...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA *chokes* *ahem*Um...yeah...perhaps you should first learn to speak English...