'Cause what I'm doin', I'm doin' for you

That's my prerogative.

So I stumbled upon a new television channel today. With nearly 800+ satellite channels, there are several I have never, and will never, watch. But this one gave me pause: G4, channel 354. Understand, my husband is a self-proclaimed "ginormous" Star Trek fan. Me? Not so much. But I wanted to earn cool points in his book, even if I got negative points in my own. So I told him about my new-found Star Trek gold mine.

This is what caught my eye:



Star Trek 2.0. I laughed so hard, I cried a little. Now before you ask, no, the show is nothing like the ad. Very disappointing. The funniest part is that they have a fully-functioning "Spock Market," and yes, my husband bought stock in Spock, Captain Kirk and several other characters. I could explain what the show is really about, but after the explanation I got this weekend, I've decided not to bore you all to tears. Enjoy the ads for what they are because that's the best there is.

I've been subjected to more Star Trek this weekend than any non-fan should ever have to go through. But I will share one more thing ... this was the second ad I saw, after my husband commandeered the television for the rest of the weekend:



We have a request into G4 to do a show entirely like the ads, but I'm not holding my breath. See what you're missing without satellite TV?

Use Me

I'm making a recommendation for a product I truly believe in. Unlike some people, I'm supporting something I genuinely like ... not looking for a hand-out.

I've been using this stuff for almost 3 weeks now, and have graduated from "transparent" to "not half bad." Working toward "maybe spends free time sunbathing," without actually cooking myself poolside. My biggest bitch with other tanners is that they leave you smelling like you've just come from the tanning salon. Bath & Body Works® Breathe series has different scents, all nice in their own way, and does a better-than-expected job of covering up that trademark tanning smell.

*Note: This is not a recommendation for the guys. For my pallid friends of the male persuasion, get out there and bake! The repercussions of rubbing this kind of stuff on anything with hair could have dire consequences.

Now, if it was Half Nekkid Hump Day ...

So I am retiring from HNT. I realized last week that it interferes with my afternoon at the gym, which isn't something I relinquish easily. So HNT had to go. But in memory of the "good times" (insert sarcasm), I'm taking a poll.

What part of the body are you most attracted to on someone of the opposite sex?

Please (for once) don't get all perverted. Be serious. We know Matt has an affinity toward his own back, so think along those lines. And for the hell of it, name your own favorite body part. If you've got multiple favorites, at least try to rank them.

To get the ball rolling:

On a guy ... Eyes attract me first. Off the top of my head, I really can't think of any guy I've been attracted to who hasn't had gorgeous blue eyes. Second would be hands. I sometimes find myself staring at a guy's hands when he's not looking. My DH has caught me staring at his a couple of times.

On myself ... My feet. More specifically, my toes. I take great care in keeping my feet pretty.

Your turn!

Punk In Drublic

I recently confirmed that I have a two-drink maximum.

My initiation to Social Spirits was two weeks ago at The Grotto. Great place, but small. Felt like I was in some rich guy's wine cellar rather than a wine bar. But I digress ...

I enjoyed two glasses of fabulous wine over about two and a half hours. I also nursed a glass of water in between the two glasses of wine. Useless. I ended up feeling better than the wine tasted, which was damn good. I was by no means drunk; I'm not that much of a lightweight. But I certainly was packing a fierce buzz. Unfortunately, the friends I was with decided it was quittin' time, and I really needed to get home myself. The problem lied in getting home. I'm uber-paranoid when it comes to driving drunk. Granted, I've never been drunk, so I'm sure it would be hilarious to some for me to be the one to get a DUI. But I wasn't going to risk it. So I sat in my car for about 45 minutes, on the phone with my DH. He thought it was quite funny that I was incapable of coming home, that is, until I pointed out that he was waiting on me to get home to eat dinner ... and he was starving.

Fast forward two weeks to yesterday.

Social Spirits at Mark's Downtown. A much better place with an exponentially better drink selection. I appreciate a great glass of wine, but was in a mixing mood. I order a "fu-fu" drink called a Key Largo Kooler, and it's as though the barkeep poured me a sunset. I make short work of it and chat for about 30 minutes.

---

I take this moment to go up to a guy I half-recognized from the last Social Spirits and ask where I knew him from. I got his name from his nametag, which made it worse because at that point I knew I knew him, and couldn't pinpoint from where. Worse still, once I asked him, he told me he knew and it took some coercing to get it out of him - we worked for the same company back in 2002/2003. Small world ... be careful which bridges you burn and who you shit on. He didn't fall under that category, but did serve as a reminder.

---

I decide, hell, the night is young. Another Key Largo Kooler for me! About 30 minutes later I'm slurping the ice at the bottom of an empty glass, and realizing I have no self control. I'm laughing, being perverse and can't stop smiling ... at everyone. Great times, don't get me wrong. But I'm feeling serious deja vous from two weeks prior. Not good. Now at this point a certain someone I won't mention made it clear to someone else I won't mention that I wound up in my car after the last Social Spirits, and I was told not to do that again.

So rather than expose my vulnerability, I stayed later than anticipated to wear it off. This time, I was good and ready to drive home after the evening's festivities. What remained of my buzz was quickly lost while driving through downtown and hitting the highway, windows down, singing with Chris Demakes.

Oh, and anyone who can tell me who that is, without cheating, gets brownie points in my book. Thanks all.

For everything else ... there's MigrantWorkers

Two tanks of gas ... $68

Lunch for the family ... $35

Starbucks for the crew ... $10

Time spent with family, and not one fight ... PRICELESS

For those who don't know the background, here's the short of it:

My sister, Samantha, and her [then] fiance bought a house back in October of last year, but had been living with his parents since April. The house was deplorable and condemned, and needed a complete overhaul. The walls and foundation were the only things salvagable. Kenny (the fiance) and his dad work in construction, so they had the resources to do the work, but anyone who has done significant work to a house knows about all the red tape involved in getting permits and stuff. Sam and Kenny got married on March 18th, so they are chomping at the bit to get the hell out of the in-laws' place. So here they are, with the checkered flag in sight, asking for our help this weekend.

My husband, myself, my parents, Sam and Kenny all went gung ho on this house over the weekend. The guys laid out an entire house worth of wood laminate flooring (just over 1000 sq. ft. by my estimate) while we ladies painted the ceiling in the bathroom and bedroom, the walls of both rooms (2 coats), and enough baseboards for the entire house. We also sanded and primed the window frames and took all the stickers off the new windows (with some kind of putrid shit that'll make you ill).

I know at this point you're probably thinking, "Why on earth are you wasting my precious time with this shit? This is the worst post EVER!" Quite frankly, I'm writing because I'm proud of what we accomplished, and have no one else to brag to. Sorry I have no pictures as of yet. It probably would have added a bit of substance to this. Hopefully, I'll have some shortly, though. Plus, I don't have a house of my own, so perhaps I'm living vicariously through Sam.

But I'll never admit to it.

Better late than never

I'm always following in the wake ... never the one making waves. So hopefully this will help:

Ever notice how a slight camera tilt can add a bit of intrigue? Yes, this was on purpose. I'm an artiste, y'know. Don't question it ... just appreciate it. I promise to try to be more timely next Thursday.







Join the fun!

A vision of perfection

People. They're such interesting creatures.

I spent this past weekend in St. Augustine and realized there is a magical plethora of people to watch there. Dirty hippies. Bums. Foreigners. Street musicians. Generally crazy people.

Good stuff.

But there was one lovely lady who stood out in the crowd. She rivals Maki's Dangerous Beauty. My husband and I were crossing the Bridge of Lions and encountered her among the pedestrian cross-traffic. She was a tiny gal (though most are, in comparison), sporting a pair of denim shorts and a pale pink camisole. She must've taken a nasty spill recently, as her right knee had a giant square of gauze taped onto it. Her hair was filthy and disheveled, and she was toting two plastic grocery bags full of aluminum cans, likely from her afternoon trash can raid in the park.

But the piece de resistance would be the glittery word written across the camisole: Perfect.

Ah, yes. Perfect. Though in my head, I heard it with a tinge of sarcasm, with a choice expletive in front of it. Now before you ask, no, I did not take a picture. First of all because I'm not that quick on the draw with the camera. Secondly, even in times when I enjoy being a blatant bitch, I didn't want to make the obvious mad-dash for the camera and snap one off in her face Paparazzi-style. Now should I have had a camera phone, I'd have no qualm about it. But I don't, so I didn't.

You'll have to paint this vision of "perfect" for yourselves.