Not really, but close enough.

Not really, but close enough. What's the deal with it being midnight?
What's the importance? you ask. Well, at midnight the date rolls over
to July 29, 2004, which just happens to be the husband's birthday. The
husband is referenced in everyday, non-blogging, life as Michael. Or
Mike, as I like to call him. He would be the member of the phylla
Geekus Extraordinarius, the former Star Wars Galaxies player, the guru
behind the tweaking of this site's template and fixer of all that goes
wrong with Wee Bastard, and also happens to be the man whom I abuse on
a regular basis here on the blog. Fortunately for me, he's a good sport
and puts up with it. If anyone deserves to have a happy birthday, it's
him. So, anyway...Happy 34th, love. I hope this year is the one where
all your dreams come true.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:44 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Considering we live in a

Considering we live in a major metropolitan area, it should be
surprising that we had two run-ins with the local wildlife. But it's
not. We live near to two different marshes (read mosquito-breeding
grounds) and as a result, it's not a completely strange thing to have a
duck waddling through the yard.
It is, however, strange to have newly-hatched baby ducks up on the roof
of the garage.
To explain: the house backs onto an alleyway, so there's no backyard to
speak of, but as the roof of the garage is flat and has a doorway
leading directly to it, in the past, we used that as our deck. We don't
anymore because the Great White Hunter landlord refuses to authorize
Tweedledumb the funds to fix it. It's sagging and it needs to be
repaired, but because GWH would rather go on safari than provide his
tenants with a garage roof that's not about to cave-in, it hasn't been
fixed. The husband refuses to let anyone out there. He says it's not
safe to walk on. So, for the past, oh, what is it now, two years, our
deck has been off-limits. It's also filthy: we haven't cleaned off the
leaves and other detritus, including a whole heck of a lot of roofing
materials the cheapo roofers conveniently left behind, and neither has
Tweedledumb. But it's not filthy to the ducks, though. Apparently, the
leaves provide a pretty good spot to lay some eggs. Saturday morning,
I'm frying bacon for breakfast and trying not to burn myself with the
occasional splatters of grease, and I heard the oddest sound. Some sort
of chirping. Even in my early-morning addled state, I know this doesn't
compute. I know the bacon isn't giving off enough grease that it would
suddenly be chirping. Bacon hisses. It sizzles. It doesn't chirp.
Walking away from the stove, I go to the window on the opposite end of
the kitchen, and before I get there my sister says, "What's that
sound?" I reply that I don't know, but as soon as I look out the window
at our blighted side-yard (another thing that's wrong with this place:
GWH is too cheap to pay for sod---or even grass seed, so the side yard
resembles the exercise yard at Shawshank Prison)I see what the problem
is. There's a mama duck, squawking at her hatchlings from the yard. The
hatchlings, however, are on the roof of the garage, one floor up from
mom, trying to figure out how to get down to her.
Duckies
I run for the camera. My sister calls for the kids. The bacon keeps
frying in the background. Everyone is enthralled with the cute little
duckies until we realize that there's no way Mom is planning on flying
to the roof and the babies can't get down to her just yet. We worry. My
nephew has the bright idea of taking them downstairs and is about ready
to leap to the rescue when his mother stops him with a warning: if we
touch them, the mom might not want to have anything to do with them.
The mother is clearly getting annoyed. We empathize with the ducklings:
they're getting chewed out for their mother's stupidity for flying onto
a roof to lay her eggs. We wonder what we should do.
The husband then intervenes. He goes out onto the roof, fights to scoop
them into a small box, and just manages. By this time, mama duck has
about had it and is working her way round to the front of the house and
over to the marsh. The husband runs to catch up with her and opens the
box onto the lawn where the ducky family is reunited. He'd been very
careful about how much he touched them and apparently all was fine. Mom
didn't reject her human hand-tainted babies and they made their way
over to the marsh without incident. Only problem is that one egg didn't
hatch. It's still up on the garage and we keep forgetting to take care
of it. I hope it hasn't started rotting yet. Yuck.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Truthful street signs. As opposed

Truthful street signs. As opposed to the ones that lie to us on a daily basis.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:39 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Someone needs to contact the

Someone needs to contact the local chapter of the Eugenics Union and tell them to revoke this guy's membership.

Honestly. Should this guy be allowed to reproduce?

I think not.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:27 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I am back.  Omaha was

I am back.  Omaha was good.  The fam was
good.   The beer was especially good.  I would
swear that the only time I ever drink beer is when I go to Omaha. 
And 311 on Friday night was memorable.  I was there, dude!
 
Currently, however, I'm swilling Chardonnay and staring at
this newfangled Blogger post page and wondering what the @#$k is going
on with Blogger.   
Oh, they fix one thing and suddenly they have to get all
proactive?  What the hell is the matter with these people? 
Don't they know that we don't want them to change anything because
anyone who uses Blogspot is a technological idiot.  The reason
we're on Blogspot is because Moveable Type scares the hell out of
us.  We're dumb and easily frightened.   Don't they know this??? 
 
Although, I must admit, I like this new business with the control-i for
italics.  Just like Microsquash Word.  This way, I now won't
come across HTML tags in the manuscript.   Because you know
I'm easily confused that way.
 
Hmmmm.   I don't know how this will work out, but if past
experience is any indicator, give me twenty-four hours and I'll be
fully behind these new changes.
 
Anyway, the husband tricked out wee bastard over the weekend and---from
what I can tell so far---it's sweet.  Hasn't crashed yet. 
Woohoo.  Which is exciting.  I thought we were back to that
horrible Era of the Arabic Enabled Windows 98.  Blogging will
resume tomorrow, once I actually have a chance to read the news and
find some Silly German stories and the usual assorted lot of crap that
goes up on this blog in place of quality content. 

Posted by: Kathy at 11:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Man, it's a banner day

Man, it's a banner day here at the Cake Eater Chronicles! Three Silly German stories.

Here's a tip: when in windy places, disconnect yourself from your windsurfing board ASAP.

You never know where you might wind up.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Sticks and stones may break

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me...

Er, unless you're a blonde and then your thought processes slow down dramatically.

God. I just love what the German Government spends it's tax dollars on, don't you?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:22 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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"Should I stay or should

"Should I stay or should I go?"
If I were a Jew in France, you'd bet I'd be on a plane, too.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:19 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...Cats are evil.

...Cats are evil.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:19 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Well, only if you'd consider

Well, only if you'd consider ground squirrels to be worthy of
victimhood status.
Which I don't. While the kiddies were napping on Sunday afternoon, my
sister and I went to the local needlework store. She's recently taken
up knitting and wanted some fat needles with which to knit a hat. We go
and come home. Enter the house and all is well. No hassles. This
morning, however, when we're downstairs, seeing them off, my nephew,
Colin, decides to shout, "Aunt Kathy! Look! You ran over a chipmunk! COOL!"
But it wasn't a chipmunk that was flattened by the right-front tire of
the car: it was a ground squirrel. Poor little guy. He was positioned
in such a way under the tire that he would have made a lovely fireside
rug for one of the Little People---you know should the Little People
employ taxidermists. Flat. As. A. Pancake. Arms outstretched. Eyes
bugging. And I didn't even notice. No telltale bump. No ground squirrel
screams of agony. No nothing. Christi, my sister, didn't even notice
and she was on the passenger side of the car. Now that I think about
it, I proabably ran the little guy over twice,
because my sister's minivan was crowding the parking area and I had to
maneuver to get into the spot. Do I feel guilty that I squished one of
God's little creatures with a Grand Marquis? Nope. It's payback time,
baby. One of those damn things scared the life out of me a few weeks
back. I was taking trash down to the garage, one had weaseled his way
into the garage to hide in the woodpile, which they love
to do. It was dark. I saw motion out of the corner of my eye, and
thinking it was a mouse or something of the sort, squealed. Wimpy, I
know. But when it comes to rodents, flying or creeping, I'm a
girly-girl. I squeak and head for high ground while calling for the
husband to come and deal with it! But he wasn't home this time.
I had to rely upon myself. So, taking a deep breath and trying not to
freak out more than I already had, I turned on the light, and then
opened up the garage door. Once the situation was illuminated, I saw it
was a harmless little ground squirrel and afforded him the means to
make a run for it by leaving the garage door open until he was out.
All's well that ends well, right?
Nope. I squealed like a stuck pig and if there was ever an undignified
action, it's that. I hate that. I can't help myself, though. So, of course, it's not my fault: it's the squirrel's. He made me squeal: hence he had it coming. It was just a matter of time until the playing field was leveled.

Yeah. Mmmmhmmm. That's it.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:51 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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All this guy wants is

All this guy wants is to meet women.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:50 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Tonight, I was watching Anderson

Tonight, I was watching Anderson Cooper, as usual, whilst munching on
some delectable hamburgers the husband fixed for dinner. Much rambling
on about the Convention was going on, and as I was absorbed in eating
my accompanying potato chips, I wasn't paying too much attention.
This bit, however, turned my head in a Linda Blair sort of way.

COOPER: And welcome back. As we have seen here this week,
the Democrats are making a big show of unity, celebrating togetherness,
trying to project an optimistic view of the future. But some days the
reality of the outside world intrudes. Today is one of those days.
In Iraq, terrible violence. Four Americans killed, more than 100
Iraqis, including nearly 70, in this single sickening car bombing in
Baqubah, one bomb, 70 lives. Those odds aren't good.
Iraq, however, is not a word you hear mentioned much here in Boston.
Case in point, Howard Dean, the man who led the charge criticizing the
war during the primaries, last night, he never said the I-word in his
speech. Iraq, not once. In fact, over the last two days, in 108
speeches overall, the word "Iraq" was uttered in only about 13 of them.
We'll see if that changes tonight, when John Edwards addresses the
gathering, and tomorrow when John Kerry does as well.

Holy Christ! Nearly SEVENTY people die---including four
Americans---over sixty are wounded and Anderson uses it as a freakin'
segue to the ongoing debate of whether the Dems will harp on about Iraq
or not. Niiiiice. Anderson, who supposedly reads all his emails, will
be getting one from me about this.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:45 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...doesn't DC have one of

...doesn't DC have one of the highest crime rates in the country?
Aren't the police and all the city officials consistently saying they
don't have enough money to run an effective police force, blah, blah,
blah ad nauseam ad infinitum?
And yet they've got the manpower to arrest people for eating candy bars in the Metro?

Hmmph.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:43 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Thank you, Pakistan.

Thank you, Pakistan.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:36 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Mohammed at Iraq the Model

Mohammed at Iraq the Model response to the suicide bombing in Iraq today (hat tip: Martini Boy)

What hurts more than this daily terror is the soft way the
world is using to deal with the situation.
I believe that the presence of this terror is just a matter of time, as
hatred and deception can̢۪t last forever, but the reactions of some
parts provide it with the support it needs and give it a second chance.
Yes, all we need is the will and determination to crush a company that
is so close to bankruptcy but the disgraceful doings of some parts
postpone it once again, like what Spain, Manilla and Egypt lately did.
What̢۪s even worse and disgusting is that these governments smugly
come and ask the admirably determined nation Australia to apologize
while it̢۪s them who must apologize to the whole world for their awful
mistakes that encouraged terrorists and reassured them that their
criminal tactics can work.
These countries have found excuses for terror and gave the terrorists
the motives to carry on with their plans as long as these plans can
make "sovereign countries" yield in front of a true criminal action.
They̢۪re cooperating with the criminals and they make it easier for
terrorists to increase their activities in Iraq and elsewhere. This is
the goal of terror and this is what these countries offered the
terrorists on a gold plate. They̢۪ve said clearly "do more of your
work, as it will definitely bring an outcome that satisfy your sickness
and illusions".

This will undoubtedly be the most linked piece in the blogosphere
today, but go and read the whole thing. It's important.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:20 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Well, I fixed it. No

Well, I fixed it. No thanks to anyone from Blogger Support, those lame,
worthless bunch of lackeys who couldn't even bother to---ahem--- answer an email within a twenty-four hour period.
The new graphical interface posting window has been inserting all sorts
of extra code into posts. Apparently, on the post related to Andrew
Gilligan there was something odd in the code that set the whole damn
thing off. I have no idea what it was, but the post has been deleted
and will not reappear lest it gives me crap again. So, what to do?
Well, I'll be sticking with Blogger for the time being, as there is an
option where I can simply write in the old-fashioned straight-up HTML
window and life should be fine. Gawd, what a runaround for very
freakin' little.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:01 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Okaaaaaaay. Let's see if this

Okaaaaaaay.
Let's see if this works without messing up the works.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:00 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...that the Pious Agnostic has

...that the Pious Agnostic has called Round Two for Lizzie.
I'm dancing like Deion Sanders right now.

Posted by: Kathy at 08:57 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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For this post and this

For this post and this post only. Feel free to skip on by if you so choose.

Am I the only one who couldn't honestly care less about what's happening at the Democratic National Convention?

Anyway, a few observations:

1. Theresa Heinz Kerry is no lady. I read a bit of Kevin Drum's commentary on the whole "shove it" episode and then read some of his commenter's opinions. (Hat Tip: Vodkapundit) One in particular stuck out like a sore thumb.

Yeah, I have to admit, I've never understood the appeal of
Laura Bush. She gives out a seriously strong "plastic robot" vibe. I'm
sure she's a wonderful person and all (and certainly she's been given
credit for stopping Georgie's public drunkenness), but... eurgh.

A plastic robot vibe? Keeping your nose out of your husband's business, and I mean BUSINESS,
does not mean one is a "plastic robot." It simply means one has the
good sense to know what is your business and what isn't. If Theresa
Heinz Kerry wants to run for President, fine, go for it, provided she
can get the Constitution amended. I have no issues with that. But don't
defend a foul-mouthed woman by comparing her to a woman who chooses not
to polarize the populace with her actions.
,
Yeah. Like I'm one to call someone "foul-mouthed." I know I don't have
a leg to stand on, but the woman is deluded. She said the words,
"un-American traits." A reporter, whom her spokeswoman claimed worked
for a "right-wing rag" asked for clarification on that phrase, she
claimed she'd never said it and then told him to shove it. Who's in the
right here and who's in the wrong? Who's pushing the agenda? Not the
reporter, that's for sure. She should apologize. Furthermore, she
should know her place. Yes, I too, hate that phrase, but it fits. Sue
me. Her place is as potential First Lady, not as policy wonk or
official mouthpiece of the Kerry campaign. She's there to wave, be
pretty and do whatever it is wives do on the campaign trail. If she
didn't know that going in and now wants her share of the spotlight,
well, that's just tough, isn't it? Ultimately, all of this is comes
down to the current conundrum that revolves around "the office" of
First Lady. Just because women have different roles nowadays, and can
bring the proverbial bacon home and then fry it up in pan doesn't mean
that two hundred plus years of tradition gets thrown out with the
bathwater. It just doesn't. If you want a position within the
government well, get yourself elected or appointed. But don't think you
have a say in what goes on, or that your opinion matters just because
of whom you're married to. The world just doesn't work that way.
Eleanor Roosevelt only made her contributions because her husband
wanted her to---and allowed her to---not because she had any political
standing, and the goodwill that comes with standing, as First Lady.
Hillary Clinton is a senator now. Good for her. But it doesn't excuse
her virtual coup d'etat with her health care commission when she was
First Lady. Hillary put herself between the rock and the hard place
there. She ignored tradition. She ignored that she was there to support
her husband, and that in itself can be a full-time job. She wanted
changes, however, and she got herself elected. Good for her. But she
should not be considered the role model of what a First Lady should
ever be. She is an anomaly. Laura Bush is a wife. Wife, by its current
usage, is not a limiting label, but first and foremost, in my opinion,
it means you're one half of a partnership; you're one half of a team
who wants to work for a goal. Most of us don't have ambitions as lofty
as the White House; most of us just want to live and raise a family and
for that we would like, and need, a partner. The Bushes are different,
and I have no doubts that President Bush would support his wife in
whatever she wanted to do, just like she's supporting him in what he
sees is the path he should follow. Can you honestly say the same of
Theresa Heinz Kerry? To me, she shows all the hallmarks of a woman who
thinks she got the better end of a quid pro quo marriage. There is a
difference.
The problem with the Democratic acceptance, and trumpeting, of her
remarks is that she will now be encouraged to get mouthy. Perhaps
"problem" is the wrong word. I don't see it as a problem. If the
Democrats want to put this woman forward, fine. Let her hang herself
and the entire Kerry campaign by echoing Hillary's behavior. Not a
problem for me. I just don't want to listen to it, and I don't want my
fellow sorority sister (Yes, Mrs. Bush and I are members of the same
sorority. Same with Lynne Cheney. And Nancy Kassebaum Baker. And Ann
Margret, too.) being bashed because of what this woman says. It's not
fair.
2. Have I mentioned that I don't care anything about this convention
and am completely bored by it?
3. Wonkette has a commenting
job on MTV. Whoop-de-freaking-doo. Anderson Cooper interviewed her last
night and I kept shouting, "Ass F@#$ing! Ass F@#$ing! C'mon! SAY IT,
Beeeyotch! Show us what you're REALLY famous for in the blogosphere!"
at the television. She never obliged me. Reportedly she has class now
that she's the senior commentator for MTV News. Whoo. Color me
impressed!
4. Andrew Sullivan had
better just endorse Kerry or risk lynching by all of the people who
have supported him over the past couple of years for his hawkish views.
Memo to Andrew: You're abandoning your hawkish audience by even
thinking that Kerry is a decent alternative. But that's your choice.
Fine, but GET IT OVER WITH, ANDREW. Just endorse the guy already. I
don't have an issue with it. I don't mind that you write for different
audiences, either. What I do have a problem with is guilting us into
giving you money while keeping us on the hook. You led us to believe
you held one thing above all others. Now you don't. Clarification is
needed. I would simply ask that, if you're actually going to endorse
Kerry, do it before your pledge drive is over with, please? People who
have supported you enthusiastically over the years have a right to know
where you stand before you write something that will make them quit
your blog. This pledge drive smacks of a short con. If Sunday's Times
op-ed is any indication, it appears you're going to endorse Kerry for
Prez. Then the very next morning, what should await us at the Dish but
a pledge drive? This doesn't appear to be a coincidence. Don't milk it
for all its worth before you pull the rug out from under a good portion
of your readership. It's dishonest and downright BBC-ish.
Ok, I feel better now. The ELECTION-FREE ZONE RULE is now
back in place.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:13 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I was in the mood

I was in the mood for an espionage flick the other night and, not
seeing anything that tripped my trigger in the new releases section,
went browsing and ultimately wound up picking out Enigma.
I've seen this movie a few times and I should just buy it, because I
will keep on renting it. Based on the Robert Harris novel of the same
name, the story revolves around a brilliant, but fresh off a nervous
breakdown, mathematician named Tom Jericho. Jericho, disgraced in an
era where mental illness didn't purportedly exist, has nonetheless been
pulled back into Bletchley Park. The reason for Jericho's reappearance?
The German U-Boats have gone completely off-line: they've switched
codebooks and blocked the Brit codebreakers out---right before a large
convoy of ships from America, bearing Allied war material, hits the
mid-Atlantic, out of reach of air support and rescuing. It's essential
that Shark, the U-boat code, is cracked, but it seems an impossible
task to accomplish in the few short days offered.
Add into this, the woman Jericho had been seeing before his breakdown,
has disappeared. Quickly he discovers, with the help of her best
friend, that her disappearance and the abrupt lock-out of Shark are
intertwined. I simply have no idea, when we get so much absolute crap
out of Hollywood, how this film was overlooked. It's wonderful. It was
written by Tom Stoppard, who I believe is our modern-day Shakespeare,
and whose screenplay actually makes the movie better than the book. I
read Harris novel quite some time ago, but it failed to make a lasting
impression on me, mainly because of his convoluted explanations of what
an Enigma machine actually did, and how much goddamn math was involved
to break it. The movie, however, is much, much better and a must-see
for anyone interested in what's involved in code-breaking, let alone
anyone who, like myself, is a spy-movie junkie.
The performances, wonderful to start out with, yet somehow manage to
improve with multiple viewings. In particular Jeremy Northam's smarmy
spy-catcher, Wigram. The character is just so damn snotty and superior
you can't help but be absorbed in watching all of the various maneuvers
Northam makes to bring this man to life---because, honestly and truly,
you don't notice them the first time around: you're too busy wondering
what his game is. On second viewing, however, the words, while
important, lose some of their hold on you. You start to notice the
little things that Northam did to make this man come to life, like the
way he walks with absolute confidence, as if he's a man in control of
his environment and faculties. The coat worn draped over the shoulders,
which no one but the most confident of men can ever get away with. The
gleeful twitchiness that comes over him, which he doesn't bother to
restrain, when he interrogates Jericho. It's truly one of the
overlooked performances of the decade because of its subtlety. If this
movie had come out around Christmas time, I'd wager that Northam would
be propping open his back door with an Oscar right about now. So,
anyway, longwinded as usual, but go and rent this. It's well worth two
hours of your time.

Posted by: Kathy at 06:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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