Islamic hamhandedness in the workplace.

Islamic hamhandedness in the workplace. (Pun completely intended.)

ORLANDO, Fla. -- A Central Florida woman was fired from her
job after eating "unclean" meat and violating a reported company policy
that pork and pork products are not permissible on company premises,
according to Local 6 News.
Lina Morales was hired as an administrative assistant at Rising Star --
a Central Florida telecommunications company with strong Muslim ties,
Local 6 News reported. However, 10 months after being hired by Rising
Star, religious differences led to her termination. Morales, who is
Catholic, was warned about eating pizza with meat the Muslim faith
considered "unclean," Local 6 News reported. She was then fired for
eating a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, according to the report.
"Are you telling me they fired you because you had something with ham
on it?" Local 6 News reporter Mike Holfeld asked.
"Yes," Morales said. Holfeld asked, "A pizza and a BLT sandwich?"
" Yes," Morales said.

Unfortunately for Rising Star Communications, the
no-pork-on-the-premises policy wasn't written. Usually, I'm a big one
for letting a company set up its own corporate culture, and if that
includes some sort of religious grounding, so be it. It's their
company. As long as they're following the law and informing their
employees of the rules and regulations---and the employees agree to
it---I have no issues with it. The problem arises when everyone's not
on the same page. Apparently, the boss-man at Rising Star was on one
page; the employee on another and her rights to a discrimination-free
workplace have been violated. I'm not a lawyer, but this just screams
lawsuit.
The world is a big place, and America is can be even bigger with its
diversity. We have room for all sorts of people who have all sorts of
beliefs. How they choose to express them is one thing, but if they
choose to impose them on others, well, that's a problem. This chick had
better sue the pants off these people. If for no other reason than to
send a message that we will not put up with a woman being fired for
eating a BLT in a lunchroom. {Mmmm. Bacon. MMMMMMMM.}
{Hat Tip: Enlightened Cynic}

Posted by: Kathy at 11:58 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Recently, I've been reading Possession

Recently, I've been reading Possession
by A.S. Byatt. Now, I'm not one who generally goes in for "literary
fiction." And by "literary" I mean fiction that wins the National Book
Award here or the Booker over in England. I generally can't stand these
books because their authors are snobs, forever looking down their noses
at popular fiction. This is the same popular fiction whose proceeds
allow publishers to generously publish works of fiction which do not
sell---namely literary fiction. These authors regularly bite the hands
that feed them, and the world applauds---particularly the world that
reads The New York Times Book Review
every Sunday. I can't stand this sort of thing. On the whole, I find
literary authors to be a group of people who can't wait for the day
they're dead and their work is shoved down the gullets of unsuspecting
college freshmen.
No, I generally like there to be a plot to my books. Literary authors
focus on prose. Not plot. And it leads to some seriously boring books
that have, quite literally, lost the plot in beautiful wording and excessive description. Memorable case in point: Underworld
by Don DeLillo. At page seven hundred and two, I flung that Goliath
across my bedroom, where it crashed into the wall, and,
disappointingly, failed to cause any damage to the plaster or the spine
of the book. De Lillo got lost in his excessive description, and I lost
patience with waiting for him to get to the freakin' point. I've been
leery of literary fiction ever since, preferring to get lost in a story
that---ahem---goes somewhere. If that story happens to have great
words, all the better, but I'm not going to discriminate against an
author who uses the phrase "big shiny car" rather than "the excessively
large automobile brought to mind a kinder, gentler time, where my
father refrained from beating me. Ah, the halcyon days of the summer of
1954, when cars were Gilgamesh-sized beasts, which slurped petroleum
products like they were children sucking on sodas at the local
drugstore, twirling endlessly on their stools at the fountain, like
ants resting on revolving red vinyled covered toadstools. A time when
fathers had some kindness towards their sons, perhaps realizing that
beating them only brought out the worst..." BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, AD
NAUSEAUM. I think you get the point. While I don't mind some
description, a book full of that sort of thing gets to be quite
annoying. If Possession must be called "literary fiction," which I
suppose it must, having won the Booker Prize in 1990, then at least it
has the saving grace of having a plot. And some lovely poetry written
by Byatt on behalf of her fictional Victorian poets, around whom the
plot revolves. Here's a quickie synopsis: two modern day scholars
uncover a secret affair between these two Victorian poets---one married
and renowned for his presumed faithfulness to his wife, the other
presumed a lesbian---and rush around England and France looking for
evidence to prove this affair, which could change the conventional
thinking when it comes to both poets. In the midst of all this running
around, and fighting off departmental and collegial backstabbing, these
two scholars fall in love. Ahhh, romance. Anyhoo. I liked this poem and
I thought I'd share. Swammerdam was written by Byatt on behalf of the fictional Randolph Henry Ash. If you don't know who Swammerdam is go here and take a peek around.

SWAMMERDAM

Bend nearer, Brother, if you please. I fear
I trouble you. It will not be for long.
I thank you now, before my voice, or eyes,
Or weak wit fail, that you have sat with me
Here in this bare white cell, with the domed roof
As chalky-plain as any egg's inside.
I shall be hatched tonight. Into what clear
And empty space of quiet, she best knows,
The holy anchoress of Germany
Who charged you with my care, and speaks to God
For my poor soul, my small soul, briefly housed
In this shrunk shelly membrane that He sees,
Who holds, like any smiling Boy, this shell
In his bright palm, and with His instrument
Of Grace, pricks in his path, for infinite Light
To enter through his pinhole, and seek out
What must be sucked to him, an inchoate slop
Or embryonic Angel's fledgling wings.

I have not much to leave. Once I had much,
Or thought it much, but men thought otherwise.
Well-nigh three thousand winged or creeping things
Lively in death, injected by my Art,
Lovingly entered, opened and displayed---
The types of Nature's Bible, ranged in ranks
To show the secrets of her cunning hand.
No matter now. Write---if you please---I leave
My manuscripts and pens to my sole friend,
The Frenchman, the incomparable Thevenot,
Who values, like a true philosopher
The findings of a once courageous mind.
He should have had my microscopes and screws---
The copper helper with his rigid arms
We called Homunculus, who gripped the lens
Steadier than human hands, and offered up
Fragments of gauze, or drops of ichor, to
The piercing eyes of Men, who dared to probe
Secrets beyong their frame's unaided scope.
But these are gone, to buy the bread and milk
This curdled stomach can no longer ingest.
I must die in his debt. He is my friend
And will forgive me. Write that hope. Then write
For her, Antoinette de Bourignon
(Who spoke to me, when I despaired, of God's
Timeless and spaceless point of Infinite Love)
That, trusting her and Him, I turn my face
To the bare wall, and leave this world of things
For the No-thing she shewed me, when I came
Halting to Germany, to seek her out.
Now, sign it, Swammerdam, and write the date,
March, 1680, and then write my age
His forty-third year. His small time's end. His time---
Who saw Infinity through countless cracks
In the blank skin of things, and died of it.

Think you, a man's life grows a certain shape
As out of ant's egg antworm must proceed
And out of antworm wrapped in bands must come
The monstrous female or the winged drone
Or hurrying worker, each in its degree?
I am a small man, closed in a small space,
Expert in smallness, in the smallest things,
The inconsiderable and overlooked,
The curious and the emphemeral.
I like your cell, Brother. Poverty,
Whiteness, a window, water and your hand
Steadying the beaker at my cracking lips.
Thank you, it is enough.
Where I was born
Was a small space too, not like this, not bare,
A brilliant dusty hutch of mysteries,
A cabinet of curiosities.
What did my eyes first light on? There was scarce
Space for a crib between the treasure-chests,
The subtle-stoppered jars and hanging silks,
Feathers and bones and stones and empty gourds
Heaped pele-mele o'er the tables and the chairs.
A tray of moonstones spilled into a bowl
Of alien godlings winked from dusty shelves.
A mermaid swam in a heremetic jar
With bony fingers scraping her glass walls
And still hair streaming from her shrunked head.
Her dry brown breasts were like mahogany,
Her nether parts, coiled and confined, were dull,
Like ancient varnish, but her teeth were white.
And there was too a cockatrice's egg,
An ivory-coloured sphere, or almost sphere,
That balanced on a Roman drinking-cup
Jostling a mummy-cat, still wrapped around
With pitch-dark bandaged from head to foot,
Sand-dried, but not unlike the swaddling-bands
My infant limbs were held in, I assume.

And your hands, will the? presently will fold
This husk here in its shroud and close my eyes,
Weakened by so much straining over motes
And specks of living matter, eyes that oped
In innocent lustre on that teasing heap
Of prizes reaped round the terrestrial globe
By resolution captains fo the proud Dutch ships
That slip their anchors here in Amsterdam,
Sail out of the mist and squalls, ride with the wind
To burning lands beneath a copper sun
Or never-melted mountains of green ice
Or hot dark secret places in the steam
Of equatorial forests, where the sun
Strikes far above the canopy, where men
And other creatures never see her light
Save as a casual winking lance that runs
A silver shaft between green dark and dark.

I had a project, as a tiny boy
To make a catalogue of all this pelf,
Range it, create an order, render it,
You might say, human-sized, by typing it
According to the use we made of it
Or meanings we saw in it. I would part
Medicine from myth, for instance, amulets
Of dimunition or of magnitude,
Until I saw successive plans and links
Of dizzying order and complexity?
I could anatomise a mayfly's eye,
Could so arrange the cornea of a gnat
That I could peer through that at New Church Tower,
And see it upside down and multiplied,
Like many pinpoints, where no Angels danced.
A moth's wing scaly like a coat of mail,
The sharp hooked claws upon the legs of flies---
I saw a new world in this world of ours---
A world of miracle, a world of truth
Monstrous and swarming with unguessed-at life.

That glass of water you hold to my lips,
Had I my lenses, would reveal to us
Not limpid clarity as we suppose---
Pure water---but a seething, striving horde
Of animalcules lashing dragon-tails
Propelled by springs and coils and hairlike fronds
Like whales athwart the oceans of the globe.
The optic lens is like a slicing sword.
It multiplies the world, or it divides---
We see the many in the one, as here,
We see the segments of what once seemed smooth,
Rough pits and craters on a lady's skin,
Or fur and scales along her gleaming hair.

The more the Many were revealed to me
The more I pressed my hunt to find the One---
Prima Materia, Nature's shifting shape
Still constant in her metamorphoses.

I found her Law in the successive Forms
Of ant and butterfly, beetle and bee.
I first discerned the pattern of growth
From egg to simple grub, from grub encased,
Shrinking in part, in other putting forth
New organs in its sleep, until it stir,
Split and disgorge the tattered silk, which fast
Trembles and stiffens and then takes the air
Unfurled in splendour, tawny, sapphire blue,
Eveyd like the peacock, tiger-barred, or marked
Between its wings with dark death's eyeless head.

Within the crystal circle of the lens
My horny thumbs were elephantine pads.
I fashioned me a surgeon's armory---
Skewers and swords, scalpels and teasing hooks---
Not out of steel, but softest ivory,
Sharpened and turned beyond our vision's range,
Lances and lancets, that the naked eye
Could not discern, beneath the lens' stare.
With these I probed the creatures' very life
And source of life, of generation.
Their commonwealths are not as we supposed.
Lay ou the ant-hill's Lord, the beehive's King
The centre of the patterns that they weave
Fetching and carrying, hurrying to feed,
Construct and guard their world, the pinnacle
Or apex of the social hierarchy---
Lay out this creature on the optic disk,
Lay bare the seat of generation
The organs where the new lives lie and grow,
Where the eggs take their form. She is no King
But a vast Mother, on whose monstrous flanks
Climb smaller sisters, hurrying to tend
Her progeny, to help with her travail,
Carry her nectar and give up their lives
If needs be, to save hers, for she is Queen,
The necessary Centre of the Brood.

It was these eyes first saw the Ovaries,
These hands that drew them, and this fading mind
Discerned the law of Metamorphosis
And wrote it down to show indifferent men.
I had no honour of it. Not at home---
My father cast me bankrupt in the street---
Nor 'mongst my peers in Medicine. When, by Want
Driven to sell my library of slides,
My demonstrations and my experiments,
I found no Buyer, nor no man of Science,
Philosopher or Doctor, who would take
My images of Truth, my elegant
Visions of life, and give them hope to last.
And so I came to penury and beg
For sops of bread and milk and scraps of meat
Scattered with maggots of the self-same flies
I marked the breeding of.

Great Galileo with his optic tube
A century ago, displaced this Earth
From apprehension's Centre, and made out
The planets' swimming circles and the Sun
And beyond that, motion of infinite space
Sphere upon sphere, in whihc our spinning world
Green grass and yellow desert, mountains white
And whelming depths of bluest sea, is but
A speck in a kind of star-broth, rightly seen.
They would have burned him for his saying so,
Save that the sage, in fear of God and strong
In hope of life, gainsaid his own surmise,
Submitted him to doctors of the Church
Who deal in other truths and mysteries.

It was one step, I say, to displace Man
From the just centre of the sum of things---
But quite another to step to strike at God
Who made us as we are, so fearfully
And wonderfully made our intellects,
Our tireless quest to know, but also made
Our finitude, within His Mystery,
His soft, dark, infinite space, wherein we rest
When all our questions finish and our brain
Dies into weeping, as my own taxed mind
Died in dissecting the Ephemera.
I found their forms, those dancing specks of life,
The one-day flies, I gave my years to them,
Who live one day's space, never know the night.

I ask myself, did Galileo know
Fear, when he saw the gleaming globes in space,
Like unto mine, whose lens revealed to me---
Not the chill glory of Heaven's Infinite---
But all the swarming, all the seething motes
The basilisks, the armoured cockatrice,
We cannot see, but are in their degrees---
Why not?---to their own apprehension---
I dare not speak it---why not microcosms
As much as Man, poor man, whose ruffled pride
Cannot abide the Infinite's questioning
From smallest as from greatest?

{Desunt cetera}

Posted by: Kathy at 11:57 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So, I'm browsing through the

So, I'm browsing through the referral logs today and what to my
wandering eyes should appear...
...a hit from the usdoj.gov. That would be the United States Department
of Justice for the acronym unenlightened.
The place where Ashcroft holds his Black Masses, carves '666' into the
foreheads of unsuspecting regulatory attorneys, drinks the blood of
newborns, ritualistically sacrifices virgins, blah, blah, blah. {YAWN}
I think you get the picture. Anyway, I was more than a wee bit worried,
wondering what the hell could I have done to piss off the government,
until I realized it was Robbo o' El Llamabutchers just
checking in from his new job as a slayer of whatever/whomever he's now
going after since he quit his megabucks regulatory lawyering job.
But despite the fact he's joined the up with the Dark Lord Sauron, he's
still having problems with the Wraith Rabbits.
Apparently, Ashcroft isn't as evil as he's cracked up to be. You'd
think that by aligning himself with the dark forces, Robert wouldn't
have a rabbit problem anymore, but this isn't the case. I've told him. Does he listen? Nope.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Sully's back to blogging. Didn't

Sully's back to blogging.

Didn't miss him. Hmmmph. That's interesting in itself.

Think I need to eject him from my bookmarks/blogroll?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:22 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I'm not the only one

I'm not the only one who imagines press conferences where public officials verbally bitchslap the press.

Press: “Mr. Ridge, how do you respond to charges that
this security alert is really a scare tactic being used for political
purposes by the Bush administration?”
Ridge: “Christ almighty, what is it with you people? You’ve spent a
couple of years asking why we didn̢۪t prevent 9/11, calling for an
investigation, asking ‘how much did Bush know and when did he know
it?̢۪ You blamed us for something we failed to prevent after eight
months in office, and yet to this day you give the Clinton admin a free
pass, even though he had eight years—eight fucking years, people—to
do something about al Qaeda and didn̢۪t do one goddamned thing.
“You finally get your investigation, the results of which confirm
most of what we̢۪d been saying all along, but you don̢۪t want to hear
that any more than you wanted to hear about the fact that one of the
Democrat commissioners, Jamie Gorelick, was responsible for the
so-called “wall of separation” prohibiting information-sharing
between the FBI and CIA, which nearly everyone now acknowledges was one
of the biggest problems preventing any effective defense against
terrorist networks. You do deign to acknowledge that problem, but the
part you originally claimed to be most interested in—who was
responsible—is suddenly not so interesting anymore the moment you
realized you couldn̢۪t reasonably blame us for it.
“You insist that Condi and Bush must testify publicly to the
commission (even though Condi had already testified once), but it
doesn̢۪t seem to bother you when Clinton gets to testify behind closed
doors. You laud Richard Clarke̢۪s and Joe Wilson̢۪s credibility, but
when it̢۪s clearly shown that they̢۪re liars you don̢۪t seem to want
to bring it up anymore. You hint at all sorts of sinister skullduggery
on our part, but when Sandy Berger openly admits to stealing classified
documents for God only knows what reason, you couldn̢۪t care less.

Go read the whole thing.

Man, that was more satisfying than a ciggie after sex.

(Hat Tip: Jeff "I'm Having Issues With My Levis" Goldstein.)

Posted by: Kathy at 10:43 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So, this weekend is the

So, this weekend is the big weekend. What's going on this weekend to make it so big?

Why, it's the weekend of The Walk To Cure Diabetes! of course.

In case you might not know about my nephew James, go here.
My sister informs me that James' Jaywalkers are about $500 shy of their
original goal of $3000 and she was wondering if all of you kind people
out there in the blogosphere could help to raise the much needed cash.
Some facts that might sway you into slapping down your credit card:
1. 85% of the money raised by JDRF goes toward research---not
administrative costs.
2. It's TAX DEDUCTIBLE, meaning more cashola in your wallet come next April 15th

If for no other reason do it because you know
that every time you bite into a snickers bar it's a lovely experience.
Yet, there are kids all over the world with Type I Diabetes who have
never known that wonderful pleasure simply because their bodies can't
process that sugar into energy. Share the chocolate, kids---make magic
happen and make diabetes disappear!
To get straight to the giving because you're magnanimous that way, go here. All major credit cards are accepted and no donation is too small.

Once again, in the words of Bartles and James, I thank you for your support!

UPDATE! And it's an exciting update to boot.

Thanks to the very kind Michele Catalano at A Small Victory, we've made $95.00 already today!

WOOHOO
So, thanks to everyone who's donated. You are truly making making magic
happen! James and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts! But...
{you knew it was coming, didn't you?) ...we still have a ways to go.
Please consider giving, and if you can't (hey, budgets are tight
everywhere. we all understand.), well then sending some happy thoughts
our way on Saturday would be equally appreciated.
Thanks again and if you can, please help James make diabetes disappear!
UPDATE II. Ok, well. Hmmph. Once again, I am out of the loop as
far as information-sharing. Just got off the phone with Christi and she
said there were a few last minute mail donations that have shot them
over the $3000 goal! YAY! With today's donations added to her total,
we're currently at $3145!
Thank you everyone for being so very generous! We appreciate it. If
you're still interested in giving, we would enthusiastically welcome
your support and thank you for helping us blow the roof off of our
expectations. It's truly a great thing!
UPDATE III Another hundred dollars! $3245 total! THANK YOU!

Posted by: Kathy at 10:23 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Does the US Press know

Does the US Press know we're at war?

Ummmm....no.

{hat tip: seldom sober}

Posted by: Kathy at 08:22 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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"I've never been arrested or

"I've never been arrested or anything like that and I get arrested for taking a dump..."

{chuckle}

Posted by: Kathy at 05:55 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Two Russian airliners. One crashed,

Two Russian airliners. One crashed, the other went missing and then crashed.

Scary.

UPDATE: It appears to be terrorism.

Two Russian airliners carrying a total of more than 100 people crashed almost simultaneously south of Moscow (search), the ITAR-Tass news agency reported Tuesday. There was no word on survivors.

{emphasis mine}

This doesn't look good.

UPDATE II: The second plane's hijacking signal was activated.

{...}Witnesses reported seeing an explosion before the
first plane crashed about 125 miles south of Moscow, and suspicions of
terrorist involvement were compounded by the reports that the Tu-154
airliner that went missing in southern Russia's Rostov region issued a
signal indicating the plane was being seized. Citing an unidentified
source in Russia's government, Interfax said the signal came at 11:04
p.m., shortly before the plane disappeared from radar screens.
Emergency and Interior Ministry sources in southern Russia, speaking on
condition of anonymity, also told AP that a distress signal had been
activated{...}
{...}In Washington, a U.S. official, speaking on condition of anonymity
Tuesday evening, said it was the understanding of American officials
that the two Russian planes disappeared within four minutes of each
other, which "in and of itself is suspicious."

Why?
Well, no one really seems to know much right now, but despite their
lack of aviation terrorism, the Chechyn rebels have the early lead in
the perpetrator race. Presidential elections are being held in Chechnya
on Sunday. Given the evidence, it would appear that they're trying to
influence the elections via terrorism. I hate to say it---and I may not
be right---but it appears the People of Spain with their governmental
switcheroo in March sent over a hundred Russians to a horrible death.
The People of Spain caved, sent the wrong message, and people died as a
result. Good Job! I hope you're proud of yourselves!
Or maybe it won't matter to them because it didn't happen in Spain.
After all, this wouldn't be a global
War on Terrorism, would it? Nope. Not according to them. They think
they can wrap themselves up in a blanket and all the hobgoblins will go
away. I'll be very interested to see what the Spanish newspapers have
to say about this.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:43 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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A new blog has come

A new blog has come across my ever-shrinking radar screen, courtesy of Instapundit. Written by the Weekly Standard editor who called me out about my review of his review of Saved!, and a couple of other Weekly Standard
writers, it looks to be good. (And no, I'm not going trolling through
the archives to find that post so I can link myself. Pffft. It was
sometime in late May, early June. Go and look for yourself.)
Anyhoo, Go and check it out.
Although, I am hurt I did not recieve a link-whoring email from these
guys. I can send...what...something like five readers or so over there?
{Sniffle. Waaaah. No one likes me anymore!}

Just kidding. Yet, I suppose they'll find out that, much like Kerry and the DNC Convention, no one ever gets a lasting bounce from an Instalanche.

Although, I have to wonder, is Bill Kristol stifling dissent over at the Weekly Standard? I mean, why else
would three writers for the same magazine join forces to create a
blogspot (Gott in Himmel!)blog? Hmmmmm. Inquiring minds want to know.
Welcome to the blogosphere, guys. It's a pretty friendly place as long
as people don't bother linking you. Less controversy that way. {wink,
wink}

Posted by: Kathy at 05:31 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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It's installed. I'm blogging from

It's installed.

I'm blogging from the living room.

Life is good.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Good for her. If I'd

Good for her.
If I'd just received a divorce from a man who'd slapped me around I'd
wanna party like it was 1999, too. Although, when it comes to Saudi
Arabia and women it's more like 1599, but hey...progress is progress.
Take it where you can get it.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:18 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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For the love of all

For the love of all that is good and holy, make up your friggin' mind already.
My father always used to tell us that, "It's a woman's perogative to
change her mind." This was always said in jest, but at times there was
a wee bit of frustration and desperation added in. I personally think
this was his way of making it easier to bend to the whims of his five
females. It's not like he was outnumbered---the man has four sons---or
outvoiced. He's was just going with the path of least resistance. With
this firmly in mind, I have to wonder if Al-Sadr has realized how much
he's acting like a woman with this
"IwantatruceIwillspilleverylastdropofmybloodforAllahIwantatruce...
IwillmartyrmyselfforAllahIwantatruce" business?
I can't imagine that he'd find the comparison flattering. UPDATE: like I said--- make up your friggin' mind already

Posted by: Kathy at 04:49 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Courtesy of the husband, the

Courtesy of the husband, the Aquatic Center/Water Cube for the Beijing 2008 Olympics (it's a video...takes some time, but it's worth it) and then go and read
about how they solved the earthquake-prone zone problems. It'll
probably be built with slave labor, but damn...that's cool.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Because I'm likely to hurt

Because I'm likely to hurt myself if I do say something.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present The Great American Shout-Out.

I'm going to lay down and take a nap now.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:53 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The. Compulsion. Has. Struck. AGAIN!

The. Compulsion. Has. Struck. AGAIN!

Feel free to skip on by if you so choose.

1. Your name spelled backwards. Noslen Neelhtak

2. Where were your parents born? Dad: Tarnov, NE (pop. 83) Mom: Omaha

3. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? The husband "downloaded" Photoshop for me. Does that count?

4. What̢۪s your favorite restaurant? The French Laundry,
Yountville, CA. I only pray I get the opportunity to go back there some
day with the Gourmand Dining Circle. Oh, the trouble we'd get into. Mmmmmmmm.

5. Last time you swam in a pool? Last summer I could have said, "today." Now I'm having a hard time remembering.

6. Have you ever been in a school play? Yep. A villager in Fiddler on the Roof The rest of the time I was on crew.

7. How many kids do you want? Three.

8. Type of music you dislike most? Gangsta rap. And by that I
mean rap where people talk about offing other people and how damn cool
that sort of activity is. I do, however, like other forms of rap. 9. Are you registered to vote? Yessireebob.

10. Do you have cable? DirecTV baby!

11. Have you ever ridden on a moped? Yep. When I was fifteen and stupid.

12. Ever prank call anybody? Nope. I was the one who was prank called.

13. Ever get a parking ticket? I owned a legal courier company and knowing that lawyers always
procrastinate with getting their filings ready to go, what do you think
the answer to that question is? However, they did start getting their
acts together when I threatened to bill them for any tickets I might
receive. There's an important lesson in there somewhere, if you're
willing to look for it.
14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? I'm alive, thank you ever so very much. I don't need to feel alive by trying to kill myself.

15. Farthest place you ever traveled. London.

16. Do you have a garden? Yep. Hostas and lilies. My annual fetish was cut back severely by budget limitations this year.

17. What̢۪s your favorite comic strip? Calvin and Hobbes. Bloom County, back when it wasn't hackneyed.

18. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? Yep. Choir auditions. Enough said.

19. Bath or Shower, morning or night? late morning shower (hey, I work from home. I can shower whenever I want to blow the stink off. I'm not on a schedule.)

20. Best movie you̢۪ve seen in the past month? Spidey 2. The Bourne Supremacy wasn't half bad, either.

21. Favorite pizza topping? Pepperoni and sausage.

22. Chips or popcorn? Popcorn.

23. What color lipstick do you usually wear? For day, I line my
lips with MAC "spice" lip liner then fill in the rest with their "lust"
lip gloss. For evening, Estee Lauder in "polished bronze." Lipstick is good.

24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells? ????

25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? Nope. But I got all
the tips on how to keep a swimsuit from crawling up your butt from a
friend who was. Vaseline has interesting uses as well.
26. Orange Juice or apple? Orange.

27. Who was the last person you went out to dinner with and where did you dine? The husband. The neigborhood wine bar---Beaujo's.

28. Favorite type chocolate bar? Do Reese's peanut butter cups count as a candy bar? If not, 100,000 Grand

29. When was the last time you voted at the polls? Last fall.
There was a property tax referendum on the ballot and I voted "NO" on
behalf of the Great White Hunter landlord who already charges us a
small fortune in rent. 30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato? When we were in Omaha. Then I converted about a thousand of them into tomato sauce last week.

31. Have you ever won a trophy? Nope. But I won a medal in Synchronized Swimming from the country club when I was eleven? Does that count?

32. Are you a good cook? HELL YES!

33. Do you know how to pump your own gas? Yep. But my mother doesn't.

34. Ever order an article from an infomercial? Good God, no.

35. Sprite or 7-up? 7-up

36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work? Sigh. Yes.
Twice. Food service in college, which was a white T-shirt and jeans,
and when I worked for Caribou. A shirt emblazoned with their logo and
jeans. As far as uniforms are concerned, neither one was too
humiliating.
37. Last thing you bought at a pharmacy? An anniversary card and smoky treats.

38. Ever throw up in public? Ummmm...

39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love? I've got the true love, I'll take the million bucks, please.

40. Do you believe in love at first sight? Yep.

41. Ever call a 1-900 number? Nope. But I've shared a phone bill with people who have.

42. Can ex̢۪s be friends? Not in my world they can't.

43. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? The husband's Grandma Nelson. Fantastic lady. We miss her a lot.

44. Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby? Not really. In my baby pictures you can see the sharply defined corners on my head quite well.

45. What message is on your answering machine? "You've reached
952... We're not available at the moment. Please leave your name and
number after the tone and we'll get back to you. Have a good day." Or
something like that. Recorded in my very professional phone sex voice.
Er, that didn't come out quite right... 46. What̢۪s your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character? Why, Mr. Robinson, of course.

47. What was the name of your first pet? When I actually get my
first pet, I'll let you know. I'm leaning towards "Pavlov" if we ever
get a dog, because you know, payback's a bitch. 48. What is in your purse? Wallet. Cinnamon Hoof Mints. Spare
pair of glasses in case of catastrophe, along with sunglass clips. The
husband's anniversary present, his card, lipsticks, powder, and various
other female stuff that makes men go eeeeeew.

49. Favorite thing to do before bedtime? Not answering.

50. What is one thing you are grateful for today? My husband. More so than usual. See below.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:45 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 1083 words, total size 7 kb.

Tilex Mildew Remover smells a

Tilex Mildew Remover smells a wee bit too much like baby pee for my comfort.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:42 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 25 words, total size 1 kb.

Tilex Soap Scum Remover is

Tilex Soap Scum Remover is the shit.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 17 words, total size 1 kb.

...and Fausta's not going to

...and Fausta's not going to take it anymore. I haven't said anything
much about the McGreevey business in NJ because I have no horse in that
race. I find it interesting how the media tried to spin it that he was
resigning because he was gay and how quickly a claim of "bullshit" was
called on it, but that's beside the point. I don't reside in NJ, and
while I have a lot of sympathy for the residents of that fair state, I
don't have much pull.
Fausta, however, would like residents to get involved. Go over to The Bad Hair Blog and
read what she has to say. Just keep scrolling. She's got the arguments
all laid out as to not only why you should want McGreevey gone toute
suite, but how to help join in and get it done. Lefties aren't the only
ones who know how to organize. If you're a blogger, link the woman.
Things are bad in the Garden State and she needs help to make it
better.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 183 words, total size 1 kb.

So, providing that you're an

So, providing that you're an uncoordinated klutz like myself, do you
bang into things one day, completely forget all about it because this
is something that happens all the damn time and then, a few days later,
wonder what the hell you did to earn a bruise the size of Texas on your
shin?
Just wondering.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:19 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 66 words, total size 1 kb.