(Now that I’ve got your attention – brownie points if you know where that quote comes from!)

Karel did this neat meme-type-thing, so of course, I must also!

1) My uncle once: moved to North Pole (it’s a town in Alaska…no, really).
2) Never in my life: have I worn a tiara.
3) When I was five: I learned to hula, and to love sand castles.
4) High school was: quite possibly the most horrible experience of my life.
5) Fire is: hot – don’t touch it, it’ll burn you!
6) I once saw: a cat named Pepper sleeping on a man named Salt.
7) There’s this woman I know who: follicularly tortures me once a month.
Once, at a bar: I sang “Like A Virgin” for karaoke when I was 6 months pregnant.
9) By noon I’m usually: just starting to wake up, even if I’ve been conscious for several hours.
10) Last night: I had dinner & enjoyed excellent conversation with a terrific guy.
11) If I only had: said no more often, and made it stick.
12) Next time I go to church: will probably be for a relative’s funeral.
13) The best thing about my last relationship was: how much I learned about what I will and won’t tolerate.
14) What worries me most: is that something will happen to me before my kids are adults.
15) When I turn my head left: really quickly, my neck vertebrae crack.
16) When I turn my head right: really quickly, some more vertebrae crack!
17) You know I’m lying when: I claim to be sweet & innocent.
18) What I miss most about the eighties: my firm, perfect breasts.
19) If I were a character written by Shakespeare, I’d be: an anonymous townsperson.
20) By this time next year: I’ll be 37.
21) I have a hard time understanding: why accents are so sexy.
22) You know I like you if: I hug you and feed you and maybe even flirt with you.
23) If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: the housecats that raised me.
24) Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: never rode a unicycle.
25) Take my advice, never: bluff…it makes your threats more nerve-wracking.
26) My ideal breakfast is: medium-rare perfect prime rib, exquisitely scrambled eggs, a bagel with cream cheese, and a tall glass of pineapple-mango juice.
27) If you visit my hometown, I suggest you go to: Powell’s City of Books, but give yourself a predetermined spending limit or you’ll wind up eating ramen noodles for several months. (What, you expected “hometown” to mean someplace I used to live? How silly. Portland is a town and it’s home; therefore it’s my hometown.)
28) Why doesn’t everyone: believe that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you?
29) If you spend the night at my house: you’ll probably be walked on by at least one cat.
30) I’d stop my wedding: if only I could find a reliable time machine.
31) The world could do without: so much stupidity.
32) My favorite blonde is: Mae West. What a goddess!
33) If I do anything well, it’s: sad that the first thing that comes to mind is “spelling.”
34) And by the way: my blood type is also a good piece of advice (B positive).
35) The last time I was drunk, I: was rather evil to someone who deserved it.

Never take directions from a 12-year-old.

I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening after my Monday. (Not that my Monday was awful; the only thing that I can complain about at all was my own fault – I didn’t charge up my iPod anytime over the weekend, so I had no music to keep me perky & bouncy while I worked my accounts. Oh well.) But a relaxing evening was not to be. Anxiety informed me that she was going to her school’s advancement ceremony (I guess they don’t call it a “graduation” anymore, when it’s only for 8th graders).

“It’s at Laurelhurst Park!” she announced. After some discussion over bus routes, and consulting the Trimet map of Portland that we have hanging on our hallway wall, I decided that there was just enough chance that I’d receive a panicked phone call from Anxiety if I sent her on the bus that it would be a better idea to drive her.

So, after dropping Geoffrey at work and swinging through the McDeath drive-thru for quick sustenance (and if that bitch in the green late-model Lexus is reading this, the next time you honk at someone for not getting out of your way, you might pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize that person is parked in the space reserved for people considerately waiting for their order rather than holding you up in the drive-thru lane, and not assume that they’re as arrogantly rude & inconsiderate as you are!), we headed to Laurelhurst Park.

Just as we arrived, Anxiety mentioned that she might be wrong, and it might not be there. So she called her friend, the Red-Headed Stepchild, to confirm where the ceremony would be, and was told it was at Mt. Tabor Middle School. I thought it was odd that one middle school would be having their advancement ceremony at another middle school, but I cheerfully rerouted on over to that location.

Upon arriving at the Mt. Tabor Middle School, and seeing a dearth of vehicles or people, I told Anxiety I didn’t think we were in the right place. Then she decided that it must be at Mt. Tabor itself, not the middle school. As we rerouted once again, I began a running commentary in tour guide fashion:

“As we travel through lovely Southeast Portland, you’ll notice many cozy houses with adorable wrap-around porches, some in a faux-Victorian style…and on our left is the verdant field next to some water resevoir-or-another…coming up on your right is the Mt. Tabor retirement community…and just up ahead, the lovely hillside covered in trees that you think is Mt. Tabor before you go around the corner and see the sign that tells you Mt. Tabor is yet further up the hill…”

At this point, Anxiety promised that if it wasn’t at Mt. Tabor, we’d just go home. Then she cried out in horror, “You’re going to blog this, aren’t you?!”

“Until you mentioned it,” I replied, “I hadn’t thought of that. But yes, yes I will!”

The largish group of pubescent teens at the Mt. Tabor park, with the girls wearing flowered wreaths in their hair (hey, they spent 3 years in the Happy Hippie School, so no surprise there), made it pretty obvious that we’d (finally) arrived at the right place. I dropped the little darling off, and wearily headed home, after ensuring she had her cell phone to give me a ring when the festivities were over and she was ready to be picked up. I certainly hope that trip is much less eventful…

Everyone’s got those bracelets (okay, if you’re a guy, you probably prefer the term “wristbands”) that support one disease or another, right? There was the original yellow “Livestrong” bracelet, and pretty soon there was a pink one for breast cancer, a blue one for prostate cancer, and I even found a purple one (which I occasionally wear) for cancer in general, which says, “Strength, Hope, Courage” – and I can support those things, regardless of what disease the bracelet is for.

Now there’s one to support fighting migraine disease. Of course I love it – and it’s purple! I ordered a dozen (so I can’t wear a dozen bracelets…I have lots of friends to give them to!).

They’re only a buck plus shipping ($2 for up to 6, $3 for a dozen) and 100% of the proceeds go to support charities providing Migraine education, support, and awareness. The GelStat Corporation has assumed all costs associated with production of the wristbands. When you order wristbands, you are making a donation and covering the expense of mailing them to you. That’s all. There are no administrative expenses. The design and hosting of the “Fighting Migraine Disease” web site have been donated, and volunteers fill the orders.

That just rocks.

I detest the neighbors who are playing bad Spanish rap at top volume.

I’m glad it rained on my birthday.

Every time I think, “I’m old,” I try to comfort myself with the thought that my mother thinks it even worse.

I was terribly flattered when the cashier at the Seattle’s Best near my work, which is on the campus of PSU, assumed I was a student at the college. It was even more flattering when I said I wasn’t, and she then assumed I was a professor.

It seems that everyone I know within 5 years of my age has either bought a house, or is seriously considering it…and I can’t figure out what it means that, every time the thought of home ownership crosses my mind, I panic.

I hope that, before I die, my species will be colonizing another planet. One of my “impossible dreams” is to walk under the sky of another world.

Compared to a decade ago, my life is far better than it was. Overall, I’m supremely blessed.

You know you’re having a long week when you have a quad-shot mocha at 7 am, a triple-shot at 9 am, munch on chocolate-covered coffee beans all day, and still find yourself yawning regularly.

Today was especially busy, as I went to work (and had to sit through some of the most stupid “ethics” training in creation for an hour – thank heavens it wasn’t longer), and then I went to my doctor’s appointment (I hate having my ovaries prodded – bleargh), picked up Geoffrey at home & took him to work, and then I went to my waxing appointment. Jane & I had a really terrific chat, although we got so caught up in trashing stupid boys (and smiling fondly in recalling the nifty ones) that I think she forgot I get a modified bikini waxing, rather than the almost-total defoliation most of her clients prefer. (I prefer that you can’t spot my tubal ligation laproscopy scars without intensive searching – and since the one in my navel looks like a totally-natural crease, that means there’s only one other place to look…which is usually hidden fairly well. *sigh*)

Anyway, then I grabbed some dinner for Geoffrey & me at Burgerville, took him his food & strawberry shake, went home to get his work keys that he’d forgotten when I took him to work, and finally was able to go home and stay there! Hey, it was only 9pm (I’d left the house at 6 am.) And it was a nicely empty, quiet house since the demonspawn were away for the night! But no – the younger spawn had a girly emergency, so I had to go to the store for her & take what she needed to where she was (babysitting my goddaughter). Then I got home, again.

Where I discovered a growing mountain of laundry, so I started up a load. With any luck, by Monday I’ll have a new dryer, to replace the decade-old one that has to be run through two cycles to actually get anything dry. And a couple more paychecks down the road, a washing machine! The washing machine I have isn’t broken; it’s just old, and doesn’t wash all that efficiently anymore, and I want a new shiny front-loading one.

New, shiny, sparkly things make me happy. My mother should have named me Magpie.

A new study shows that the female orgasm is heavily influenced by genetics.

Why am I not surprised? Because I’ve just known too many women who could (reportedly) climax at the drop of a hat, a few who couldn’t at all, and a bunch of us who would like to have multiples but can’t. (Newsflash for the Orgasm Nazis – and you know who you are, boys! – the vast majority of women don’t have multiples. And many of the women that men think have multiples are faking. Sorry, Charlie – that’s the truth.)

The next time a guy makes the pronouncement that I’m “difficult” in bed – which we all know is the male ego’s way of saying “I don’t want to bother with actually making an effort to please you sexually” – I can refer him to my parents. I’m sure they’ll find that amusing. Or something. *snicker*

This is the last Midweek Music Meme; it’s run a year and I’m about out of ideas. So here’s the final question:

What hit song of the last 5 years do you think will become a “golden oldie” 2 or 3 decades from now?

I’m rather stumped on an answer, myself. So I’ll just say, “Thanks for playing!” and hope that there will be some good answers in the comments box.

Life is just so darned twisted sometimes, I could just scream. And not in the happy “hey, sailor” way, either. I don’t know that there’s enough time in the day to vent about it enough to keep my sanity, but in any case, I’m not going to share it with the general Internet public.

I think it would just be better if I didn’t do much more than go to work, come home & play Neopets, watch a little escapism TV on the SciFi channel, and try not to overindulge in too much comfort food. (I’m pretty sure that yesterday’s binge on peppermints, popcorn, and pizza was overindulging.) Maybe I’ll actually start that Crazy Cat Lady Guildhouse that Lyse & I have been kicking around…

My garage looks phenomenally tidy – and nearly empty! – as almost a half-ton (960 pounds) of stuff left it today to take up temporary residence in Portland’s waste transfer station, before being settled wherever they finally put the stuff you bring there. Xena, Gabriel, and Callisto (uh, well…actually it was me, Lyse, & Anxiety) unloaded that almost-half-ton from the U-Haul I rented just for the occasion (although we had help in loading, from Geoffrey & Beanpole). Anxiety now loves the dump, since she’s actually allowed to break glass there…and she did learn a bit about “equal & opposite reactions” today, in doing so.

I am a wee bit achy, even after a steak dinner (thank you, Lyse!) & a long hot soak in the tub (during which Zadya kept me company on the tub ledge, and Geoffrey took a few “candid” pics – *grin*). So tomorrow I’m going to be a total slug.

That delightful demonspawn of mine, Anxiety, had a friend of hers burn me a copy of the Eurotrip soundtrack! So now I have not just one – but two! – versions of “Scotty Doesn’t Know” on my iPod (as well as a dozen other really neat songs, including “My Generation” sung in French…kinda weird, but okay). Yay!!!!

Now I can indulge my “Scotty Doesn’t Know” song fetish anytime I like. Maybe I should change my name to Fiona. *very silly grin*