Well, do you really?

Ummm. Well, see...here's the thing. You may miss moi, but I don't miss you.

At all.

I think more about which shade of polish I painted my toenails than I think about you.

Sorry about that. But I figured you'd rather have the truth than some half-assed lie to make you feel better about yourself, like that I was becoming a nun and heading off to a mission in Guatemala. That doesn't help anyone---you or me---so it's just best to tell the truth, that way you can go and start the healing process by getting shitfaced. There's a bar just down the street. Tell Jimmy, the bartender, that you know me and he'll spot you the first one.

Have a nice life. I know I will.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:12 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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I shot off to the movies tonight and saw The Worlds' Fastest Indian which is postively delightful. It's well worth the eight bucks.

A more complete---and not quite so quickie---pontification after the jump. more...

Posted by: Kathy at 10:43 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Wasn't it so wonderful??? LOVED this movie.

Posted by: red at February 08, 2006 11:14 AM (rNgdr)

2 DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! This movie hasn't opened in Des Moines yet. I can't wait to see it. Sir Anthony, 1920's Indian bikes, and the Bonneville Salt Flats, all in one movie? All they had to do was figure out a way to let some of the Vivid Girls do cameo appearances and this flick would earn the title of BEST. MOVIE. EVER. IN. RUSS'. OPINION.

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at February 08, 2006 04:53 PM (Ffvoi)

3 See, that's one of the reasons we moved out of Central Iowa---the movie selection sucks.Also, I didn't even have to drive to get there: It was at the theater next door to where we had breakfast. Heheheheheheh.

Posted by: Kathy at February 08, 2006 04:59 PM (JeBdM)

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Dude.

This being unable to sleep at three-fifteen a.m. thing sucks.

But seriously, folks.

It really, really sucks. I would like to sleep. I actually was asleep. Then I woke up because I was thirsty. I procured a glass of water and now, for some STRANGE REASON, I'm delineating this for all of you because I couldn't get back to sleep and I needed something to do.

How badly does my life suck right about now? Eh? Eh?

On second thought, don't answer that.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:17 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The Ministry of Magic has excellent casting news.

Yes, that's right, my devoted Cake Eater readers, I drank the pumpkin juice.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:34 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Robbo's chatting about Shroedinger's Cat throwing shadows on Plato's Cave.

Or sumtin' like that.

Shoot on over and read.

In good news, I think I've found the husband a reasonably priced Valentine's Day present!

Posted by: Kathy at 08:41 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Punk ass Opinion Journal is behind the times. And they got beat by a stay at home mom in Omaha.

{Insert Nelson Mundt HA-ha here}

Posted by: Kathy at 08:47 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Yep.

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If December is the delightful cocktail you just can't get enough of, January is the hangover.

Am I ever glad to be rid of this bloody hangover.

Hurrah for February!

UPDATE: And, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm plagiarizing someone with this observation, but damned if I know---or care---who it is.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:00 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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No, I'm not talking about illegal immigrants or criminals, but rather today's teenagers. And when I say "lock them up" the girls get locked in a convent and the boys gets stuck with a bunch of liquored up Jesuits who are determined to grill them for four years about the use of the past pluperfect in Latin.

Because, when they're left to their own devices, well....

{...}Alair is headed for the section of the second-floor hallway where her friends gather every day during their free tenth period for the “cuddle puddle,” as she calls it. There are girls petting girls and girls petting guys and guys petting guys. She dives into the undulating heap of backpacks and blue jeans and emerges between her two best friends, Jane and Elle, whose names have been changed at their request. They are all 16, juniors at Stuyvesant. Alair slips into Jane’s lap, and Elle reclines next to them, watching, cat-eyed. All three have hooked up with each other. All three have hooked up with boys—sometimes the same boys. But it’s not that they’re gay or bisexual, not exactly. Not always.

Their friend Nathan, a senior with John Lennon hair and glasses, is there with his guitar, strumming softly under the conversation. “So many of the girls here are lesbian or have experimented or are confused,” he says.

Ilia, another senior boy, frowns at Nathan’s use of labels. “It’s not lesbian or bisexual. It’s just, whatever . . . ”

Since the school day is winding down, things in the hallway are starting to get rowdy. Jane disappears for a while and comes back carrying a pint-size girl over her shoulder. “Now I take her off and we have gay sex!” she says gleefully, as she parades back and forth in front of the cuddle puddle. “And it’s awesome!” The hijacked girl hangs limply, a smile creeping to her lips. Ilia has stuffed papers up the front of his shirt and prances around on tiptoe, batting his eyes and sticking out his chest. Elle is watching, enthralled, as two boys lock lips across the hall. “Oh, my,” she murmurs. “Homoerotica. There’s nothing more exciting than watching two men make out.” And everyone is talking to another girl in the puddle who just “came out,” meaning she announced that she’s now open to sexual overtures from both boys and girls, which makes her a minor celebrity, for a little while.

When asked how many of her female friends have had same-sex experiences, Alair answers, “All of them.” Then she stops to think about it. “All right, maybe 80 percent. At least 80 percent of them have experimented. And they still are. It’s either to please a man, or to try it out, or just to be fun, or ’cause you’re bored, or just ’cause you like it . . . whatever.”

With teenagers there is always a fair amount of posturing when it comes to sex, a tendency to exaggerate or trivialize, innocence mixed with swagger. It’s also true that the “puddle” is just one clique at Stuyvesant, and that Stuyvesant can hardly be considered a typical high school. It attracts the brightest public-school students in New York, and that may be an environment conducive to fewer sexual inhibitions. “In our school,” Elle says, “people are getting a better education, so they’re more open-minded.” {...}

Read the whole thing. It gets worse/better. Depending upon how you view things.

There are times when I feel more like Methuselah rather than the thirty-five-year old that I am. This would be one of those times.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:43 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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My dear pal Robbo the Llamabutcher hits 41 today.

Go over and heckle wish him a very happy birthday!

Posted by: Kathy at 09:36 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Blogging will be light to non-existent until further notice as I have, ONCE AGAIN, gotten sick.

I can't even come up with a witty throwaway line for this space. I've struggled and struggled and can't string two thoughts together in a coherent fashion, so I'm going to go and shower (because I feel bleechy) and then I'm going to retire to the sofa where I will either read or watch something crappy on tee vee. I might even nap a bit. And while I'm lying on the sofa, my bones flabby with illness, I'll---undoubtedly---think up a witty line for this spot, and when I do...

...well, if I were you, I wouldn't have high hopes for it to make it to this page.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:05 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:02 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Just clicked over to see what the boys were up to and blew a mouthful of Sprite all over my screen when I saw the new banner they've put up.

JESUS CHRIST ON A PIECE OF TOAST!

The boys' obsession with this Melissa WhateverTheHellHerNameIs has gotten way out of control. She's WAY out of your league, boysl. WAY out of your league. Lest we forget their origins:

Didn't happen with Kelly LeBrock. Ain't. Gonna. Happen. With. Melissa. Give up the ghost already.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:49 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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The peanut has arrived!

Margi and Koolaid are now the proud parents of a baby boy, 4lbs, 15oz and 18 inches long!

WOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!

Posted by: Kathy at 09:26 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Catholicism Works!

DUBLIN (Reuters) - Scientists in Ireland may have found the country's most fertile male, with more than 3 million men worldwide among his offspring.

The scientists, from Trinity College Dublin, have discovered that as many as one in twelve Irish men could be descended from Niall of the Nine Hostages, a 5th-century warlord who was head of the most powerful dynasty in ancient Ireland.

His genetic legacy is almost as impressive as Genghis Khan, the Mongol emperor who conquered most of Asia in the 13th century and has nearly 16 million descendants, said Dan Bradley, who supervised the research.

"It's another link between profligacy and power," Bradley told Reuters. "We're the first generation on the planet where if you're successful you don't (always) have more children."

The research was carried out by PhD student Laoise Moore, at the Smurfit Institute of Genetics at Trinity. Moore, testing the Y chromosome which is passed on from fathers to sons, examined DNA samples from 800 males across Ireland.

The results -- which have been published in the American Journal of Human Genetics -- showed the highest concentration of related males in northwest Ireland, where one in five males had the same Y chromosome.

Bradley said the results reminded the team of a similar study in central Asia, where scientists found 8 percent of men with the same Y chromosome. Subsequent studies found they shared the same chromosome as the dynasty linked to Genghis Khan.

{...}When international databases were checked, the chromosome also turned up in roughly 2 percent of all male New Yorkers.

That's some seriously useful fertility.

{Hat tip: My Maximum Leader}

Posted by: Kathy at 08:46 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Well, actually it is fake, but...you should read it anyway.

Because Oprah said so.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:54 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Flask schmask.

Get one of these instead.

The dear friend, ML, carries a bottle of wine this way when she's got a long flight. She's informed me also that they're quite good for the single malts, too.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:57 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Today the boys informed me they were going to have Bones put on his Hulk costume and then shoot nerf stuff at his butt to see if he could feel it.

It gets better.

Go read the whole thing and don't drink any sort of beverage when you do.

{hat tip: Cal Tech Girlie}

Posted by: Kathy at 09:48 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Margi's on her way to the hospital.

Keep thy fingers and toes crossed, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, for it could be a bumpy ride.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:58 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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It's official: every time I hear AC/DC's Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, I think of this.

The image won't stop popping up every time I hear that song. I'll be in the middle of being conflicted about sweating copiously during a workout, AC/DC will come on and I'll start laughing at the thought of those words coming out of a four-year-old girl's mouth.

I don't quite know what to think about this, other than I doubt that's the image the band had in mind when they wrote it.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:05 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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