Suckers...

The King of Annaland is the KING of diffusing my bitchy wrath. I have a VERY short temper - and though I am good at hiding it with most folks - he is married to me and gets the brunt of the bitch. But he is GRRRREAT at stopping the moment where I am about to loose my top and snap - he will say something that stops me in my tracks and makes me simply giggle. It's basically a survival tactic. A good one.

The other night he was sore from working on the house. His hands ached. He kept complaining about his hands. He told me to call him "Hans" because of it. Accent and everything. All night long he referred to himself as "Hans with the hands". It was pretty lame actually.

Later when we were in bed, we were discussing something and it became a heated debate. He could tell I was inching closer to blowing a fuse. As I began to rant and rave, he sat up in bed, looked straight at me and smiled and YELLed - "Shut up and suck on my Hans pop!"

Doesn't seems as funny now when written out for all intereneters to see. But I can assure you - I died it was so funny.

Somewhere, there is a little old man sending me retarded bulk mail - to spite me.

It's really a bummer when you get loser bulk mail. I am used to the PennySaver, the oil change coupons and the realtor letters. But when people have narrowed down your demographic so much that the mail you receive is talking directly to you... You gotta wonder - is there a think tank out there who has a file on me and are looking for bulk mail opportunities to fuck with me?

Yes people. I think that there is.

Case in point. A postcard I received yesterday. There is a picture of a woman, who looks a great deal like me. Which is to say she is STUNNING and you can't take your eyes off her and her huge rack.

Anywho... It's a HUGE postcard - all glossy and cardstock like and stuff. A really pricey piece of mail. It's addressed directly to me. Not Current Resident. Not King of Annaland. Nope. It's got my full name. All of it. And if you knew me, you would know my name is a handful. It's got my full name on it. This card was meant for me. Forged from glory specifically for me to send me a magically mystical message. It's urgent. It's urgent, urgent bulk mail that THEY NEED me to see before it's too late.

What was it for? It was an offer to freeze my eggs. THOSE eggs. Because, apparently, demographically speaking, my kind (mid 30's) are in dire times if we ever hope to become mothers. The end is near. Like a whole 6-12 years and closing FAST! It points out how I should be able to set my OWN biological clock. That freezing my eggs is my best choice right now since I am a terrible female for not using my God given eggs sooner and if I get my head out of my ass and call them they can save my future family from oblivion. Thank God they found me. I had these eggs just SITTING here and had no idea what to do with them. Lugging them around wherever I go. It really is a huge burden. Until this post card came, I was at a loss. Now, I am free.

Yee- fucking haw.....

Two Enter, One Leaves......

My dogs are super excited these days with the remodel and all. It's like a month long camping fest for them. When they get excited, they play around ... and it's getting pretty crazy over here in Annaland. Lot's of dog on dog action. It's like Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. No furniture to hit - huge open spaces to pounce each other. All we need is Tina Turner and some primal chanting. I think my dogs would look good in some sort of post apocalyptic loin cloth and headdress.

Needless to say, though this remodel may slowly kill me - my dogs are on on some puppy/survivor vacation apparently.

Dear 8 lb, 6 oz. baby Jesus... Help Me!

Today, I made breakfast in my bathroom. Tomorrow, I shall do the same. In fact, that's where my microwave is now. My spices and snacks? In my linen closet. My trusty cast iron skillet we use to live the camping lifestyle that we so lovingly named Hank, because everyone should have a cast iron skillet named Hank? He's in the bathroom too. Hanging with my microwave and stash of paper plates. That's because I no longer have a kitchen. The two opposing pictures were taken at the same vantage point one day apart. Ka POW!

I am now knee deep in remodel mode. It's fun. Super fun. Yesterday we (my friend Jean and I) annihilated my former kitchen. Very therapeutic. Picture two women shorter than Tom Cruise (that's hard to do folks) swinging away with all the fury we could muster at my poor old crappy kitchen cabinets. It was great. Our husbands, who had the tricky task of framing our fireplace (don't ask) we actually a little afraid of us. All that mess you see? Two women did it. Not a man in sight for that. We made that kitchen our bitch.

Sometimes at night, I wake up and they are just staring at me...

I think my dogs are planning something. I am not sure what, but I can feel it. Sometimes I will walk into a room where they are and they quickly stop what they are doing and try to act "natural". I know something is up.

King of Annaland thinks I am crazy. I dunno. You be the judge.

I am sure his parents are quite proud.

While I am at it in the "let's post some of my personal vidoes" thang, I thought I would share this little gem with you. My husband and I frequently view this wonderful peice of documentary cinema and think... "Wow, this guy has Talent, with a capital T."

We were on out way to pick up some lunch when we happened to see this yahoo...

We immediately, turned a round, drove back home to get our video camera to drive back and record this little private show for all the world to see.

The folks at Richmond Homes who hired him to hold this sign were certainly unaware they had hired a little go getter. A fireball. A pistol. Someone who was going to make certain that people followed his giant red and white home-for-sale-sign. He was going to make certain people took notice. And he was going to show of his mad musciain skilz at the same time. Quite the multi tasker. I for one, am impressed.

At some point, you just gotta wonder, is she really THAT bored?

I have a very strange dog. This video is of when we were training her to do on command a little trick she taught herself. We caught her doing it one day when we had first brought her home from the pound. Back then, she would take the ball in her mouth, roll it across her cheek and a wall, walk forward against the wall so the ball will travel down her back towards her tail. She would then reach back with her mouth and grab it from her back tail. She would do it over and over. What the hell?? I have no idea where she acquired this action - but she does it all the time when she's happy or if you tell her to "roll". She's gotten older and doesn't bother with grabbing it at the end, but whatever....

Excuse my and my husband's loud praising. In this video taken years ago- we were just in the process of training her to do her own trick on command. Otherwise she would just do it when she felt like it. That's why you'll hear us "ooooing" and "awwwing" for her. She thrives on our praise... hence a lot of noise on the video. Anyway - it's not at the best angle to see it so don't start complaining about video quality. King of Annaland isn't Francis Ford Coppola....

Anyway - if anyone can explain to me why the fuck she does that, I would love it.

Ok Oprah - this better fucking work...

As any female with ears and a remote control knows, Oprah has been on the "I am gonna change the world and you are gonna do it with me" bend for sometime. Part of this is her emphasis on "the secret" and it take that each person within their own positive thinking can change the trajectory of their life. It's really a metaphysical no brainer if you ask me. My parents were granolas and kooks... they pushed that shit on me all the time when I was a kid. So glad Oprah picked up on it. Whatever - with that said, it's not like I channel this positive shit on a daily basis. Think of all the wonderful things I could have done if I had stuck with it. Cancer would be cured. My boobs would be a healthy C cup, my hair would be less frizzy, Ryan Reynolds would have called me up ages ago for a little action, my dogs wouldn't shed, my check book would always be balanced and most certainly they would have built a speed train between here and Vegas already and I could commute there on the weekends. But alas, I slacked off.

But now, I am gonna pick it up with full force. Why? Because I am sick of my kitchen and I want it changed. NOOOOW. I hate it actually. I will perform any voodoo necessary to help alter it's current state. It was the first thing I wanted to change about my house when I bought it, like 6 years ago. Hello? Time a for a new one. And we are close. Like so close i can taste it. We spent the weekend packing up our entire house basically, except for 2 rooms. Went to Palm Springs on Friday to look at the cabinets our uncle the cabinet maker will be making for us, put in new windows etc... all this weekend. All in anticipation of a brand fucking spanking new kitchen.



But we have been this close before and I am not letting ANYTHING snag it. You hear me positive thinking world of Oprah!? Nothing will stop it. I just KNOW I will have my new kitchen soon. And if I don't? I will, happily and with positive thinking vibes, plop myself up on the nearest clock-tower and starting picking people off at random. Out of the goodness of my heart, of course.

(This WAS the inspiration for our kitchen when I allowed my husband to have input. Silly me. But since I am so heart set on keeping the Eichler like tone of our house thanks to it's mid century modern design - this will NOT be it. Thank God. Much positive blessing on that.)