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September 30, 2004

I'm a Rock! It! Man!

I hesitate to subject you, gentle reader, to the following experience, because I'm not sure your mind is quite ready for it. And yet, I must. Today I bring you ...

William Shatner's spoken word performance of "Rocket Man." (Right click to save; Quick Time required)

Now, let's get one thing straight before we start. In my world, The Shat is the shit. The man can do no wrong, and I enjoy his work. Not enough to, say, watch The Practice or his new show, whatever it's called. But that's mostly because I don't like James Spader.

ANYWAY, I love William Shatner and I firmly agree with the worldwide cabal that believes this performance of the Elton John classic, especially the ending, is "the apex of entertainment in our civilization." It is, honestly, just that good. So be sure you watch the clip all the way through.

This momentous event apparently occured at the 1978 Science Fiction Film Awards.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 06:44 AM | Comments (2)

September 29, 2004

Choose or Lose

There's an interesting piece on MSNBC.com called Where Do They Stand? It's a 17-part comparison of where Bush and Kerry stand on various issues of importance in the election. You choose whose position you agree with more, and when you get to the end I think something is supposed to happen ... but I get a javascript error, so nothing does.

The one thing I think is flawed about this piece is that it is clearly written from an anti-Bush stance. Not that I mind, of course. But it is not as unbiased as I think it should be.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 01:57 PM | Comments (0)

September 28, 2004

Better Late Than Never

Rollin', rollin', rollin'
Though the streams are swollen
Keep them doggies rollin'

What the hell does "heeb" mean?

You know how I waxed poetic about the fabulous new bra I bought at Victoria's Secret yesterday on my lunch hour? Well, uh, I changed into it while I was at work that afternoon. But Roo told me to! So I blame her. Anyway, it was a life-altering experience - so much so that I went back to the mall after work to buy another one, in Naked (*eyebrow*), which is actually a little darker than my skin. It's "naked" if you're, say, Tyra Banks.

How is it that something as trivial and meaningless as a well-fitting bra can bring me such happiness? Are good foundation garments really that difficult to find?

Yes. Yes they are.

*burns all other bras*

I'm wearing my new Franco Sarto 3" heeled pumps with the buckle on the top and not only do I feel seriously Amazonian (mmm, tall), but I feel like I could kick the piss out of anyone who dared cross my path. Like, say, a certain person that is annoying. I feel like I could deliver a kick to his solar plexus that would pierce his heart with my pointy 3" heel and leave him gasping for life. Well, if his heart was located behind his solar plexus. WHICH WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME, because he's just that reptilian.

Move 'em on, head 'em up
Head 'em up, move 'em on
Move 'em on, head 'em up

Oh, another thing - I do believe that Irish eyes are smiling. I think he just needed some time. Let me throw out some clichés:

Time heals all wounds. - I don't actually believe this is true, to the extent that I don't think it is time itself that helps people recover from a painful experience. It's the things they do during that time that makes the difference. Because we all know people that are still holding on to some big bitter thing years and years and years down the road, like a remora on the great white shark of life.

Time flies when you're having fun. - I agree with this, except for the times (ha!) when it relates to work. Then time flies because you're wrapped up doing mindless busywork after having been shackled to your desk. Tempus fugit, yo. How you like me bustin' a little Latin on your azz, homes?

A stitch in time saves nine - The what? Is that some weird double entendré? I'll bet it's somehow related to "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," or whatever that saying is.

Comedy is tragedy plus time. - I couldn't agree more. *hugs Carol Burnett* What a buzzkill life would be if we were unable to look back on bad times (after we have some distance from them) and see the folly of our ways.

Time is on my side. - Yes it is.

December 14th, baby! Peter Jackson is only getting $40 more of my money, and then I'm done with him. I'm so over Orlando Bloom at this point, anyway. And yet, I feel like I am honor-bound and obligated to buy the DVD box set for the last entry in the Rings trilogy, simply because I already have the first two. All hail conspicuous consumption! The proletariat shall rise once more!

Count 'em out, ride 'em in,
Ride 'em in, count 'em out,
Count 'em out, ride 'em in


*exits stage left*

Posted by Highwaygirl on 03:56 PM | Comments (1)

Melting Clocks

I use a battery-powered alarm clock just in case the power goes out overnight. Wouldn't want to ever be late to work, you know. Unfortunately, batteries also go out eventually. Which this clock's did, last night at 11:45 p.m. So I got an extra hour of sleep this morning. I put it to good use.

Because I had the dream to end all dreams.

I remember two parts of it. The first was at my mom's house. I had a big bag of bird seed, and I was trying to pour some out of the bag into the plastic container I take outside with me when I'm feeding the birds and ducks. I was having trouble keeping the plastic container still and upright while pouring, and my mom was standing there watching but wouldn't help me.

I finally get the container filled and I go out into the back yard to feed the two ducks that are out there. I throw some seed on the concrete pool deck, and some underneath the grapefruit tree. The ducks run under the tree and start eating.

From the corner of the yard comes two penguins, waddling across the grass towards the pool deck. And I think, "How cute! The tuxedoed clown princes of the bird world!" So I throw out more seed in their direction.

Which is when the penguins attack.

First they were just trying to peck at my ankles. Then they started flinging themselves at me in an attempt to do major bodily harm. I think one of them might have even been foaming at the mouth, but I'm vague on that. Regardless, I was scared and freaked out, so I dropped to the ground and curled up in the fetal position (to protect my inner organs) with my hands wrapped around my head/neck (to prevent the little bastards from pecking the back of my neck and severing my spinal cord).

Someone threw a towel over me and I got wrapped up mummy-like within it, but the penguins were still trying to skewer me. I could feel their pointy little beaks stabbing at me through the towel. My screams for help went unanswered. I let one of the penguins bite onto my hand, then I slammed it into the jacuzzi, hoping it would drown. It didn't drown, but it did swim away. I repeated the trick with the other penguin and achieved the same result.

Success! The penguins swim off into the pool only to be menaced by ...

... the great white shark swimming within.

I think the shark appeared in my dream because yesterday I was looking at that news photo which showed this huge great white shark that was swimming around off the coast of Cape Cod. I've seen Jaws too many times not to be freaked out by great white sharks (or as Hooper would say, "Carcharodon carcharias!").

So I scramble into the house and look out at the pool and see the shark swimming around. It's about half the length of the pool. THEN I see the two ducks bobbing innocently in the water and start screaming at them to "MOVE!" But they don't, of course. And then the shark fin starts swimming towards them, of course. I shut my eyes, and when I open them the ducks are gone. I ask my stepfather if the shark got them, and he said, "yes, it did."

Then I grabbed a spear (it scares me that my subconscious thinks my mom would have spears laying around the house) and vowed revenge upon the shark. But before I could accomplish that, I switched to the second phase of my dream. I was back at my apartment, and my mom and stepdad were there. I was still freaked out about the shark and babbling that there was probably a shark swimming around in the lake behind my apartment.

So I'm looking out the window that is in my foyer, and my worst fears are confirmed because I see a blob moving along the edge of the lake. It's gotta be a shark, right? It lifts up out of the water a little more and I see that, no, it isn't a shark - it's an ALLIGATOR.

Now, if you know me at all, you know that I am irrationally afraid of alligators and there's really nothing that would scare me more than being menaced by one in person. I would probably have a massive coronary due to fright.

Obviously, the dream me is freaking out. It's not bad enough that a great white shark has eaten my ducks, NOW I have to deal with a big huge alligator terrorizing me outside my home. But then the alligator rose up out of the water ... and it had a very long neck. An alligator head on a long neck, with a big bulky body with tree stumpish legs, and a tail with spikes.

Me: "That's not an alligator."
Stepdad: "No, that's a Pteranodon."

The thing in my backyard? Not a shark. Not even an alligator. It's a DINOSAUR. An alligator-headed, bulky-bodied, tree stump-legged, spikey-tailed dinosaur. And it's trying to eat the ducks.

Then two more pteranodons popped up from beneath the water's surface and stood there on the edge of the lake, scoping out the flock of ducks that were nearby. They started moving in the ducks' direction. I start screaming bloody murder to try and get the ducks to fly away, but it won't work because I don't have normal ducks, I have DEAF DUCKS that are about to be FOOD FOR DINOSAURS, but I keep screaming and screaming and screaming ...

... and then I woke up to Dawsey meowing in my face, because I was an hour late with his breakfast.

I managed to get to work on time, though.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 08:58 AM | Comments (0)

September 27, 2004

Touched By an Angel

I guess I'd better update with a post-hurricane assessment. The situation is good. I lost power for three hours Sunday afternoon, and there are some small trees down in the complex, but other than that no significant damage. Well, there are shingles all over the place, which means there might be some roof leaking going on ... but since I don't have a roof, I don't really care that much.

The fact that my computer was infected with spyware (the dreaded "begin2search.com toolbar") yesterday was really the bigger pain in the ass. It took me two hours - and two downloaded programs - to fix it. It was heinous.

I've decided that I will no longer boycott Victoria's Secret bras. I tried on the Body by Victoria unlined full coverage bra at lunch, and fell in lurve. I bought it in black; if I like it as much as I think I will, I will invest in more colors.

Their lined bras are a little too industrial for me. Maybe it's because I wear a 38DD, but all of the lined styles I tried on looked like something Jana from the (Eastern) Bloc would wear.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 01:59 PM | Comments (1)

September 26, 2004

Fourth Time's the Charm

Well, damn. Hurricane Jeanne is now going to come right over me. In mere hours. And it won't be a tropical storm, as they were predicting last night. It will be a full-on hurricane. My mom called at 6 a.m. to wake me up, so I could prepare. I've got the water jugs filled, the dishwasher is running, and I'm about to go take a shower. Must take advantage of electricity while I have it.

The witching hour is supposedly around 10 a.m. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Posted by Highwaygirl on 06:16 AM | Comments (2)

September 24, 2004

Stop! Hrcak Time!

The enterprising wench known as Slaebo has discovered that there is a Big Brother: Croatia and it has free! live! feeds! Apparently, these live feeds put the US version to shame - they're crystal clear. It also happens that these particular hrcaks - that's "hamsters" in Croatian - love to get nekkid.

The intrepid Hamster Time recappers have already starting giving these foreign freaks the Fisty treatment. Go read their work in the BB: Croatia thread; you'll see why I truly believe that HT has the most talented BB recappers on the 'Net.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 08:10 AM | Comments (3)

September 23, 2004

Aim Low

I had this conversation with my coworker, John, this morning:

[Walks by John's office]

Me: "JOHN!!"
John: "Morning."
Me: "OH, today deserves something MUCH BETTER than just "morning." It deserves ... "OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY!"
John: "Why, did you find another job?"
Me: "No! I've just made the conscious decision that today is going to be a great day. It's going to start out here [raises arm and holds palm horizontally to indicate elevation] and then it will have ... it can only go ... [looks downward] ... wait."
John: "It can only go downhill."
Me: "Dammit."
John: "You need to start closer to the bottom ... "
Me: " ... so there isn't much further to fall."
John: "Right."
Me: "Alright, then ... I think today is already a crappy day, and therefore it can't get much worse. Thanks." [walks off]
John: "Sorry to ruin your day for you!"

Posted by Highwaygirl on 10:35 AM | Comments (3)


Yeah, I don't know. I just ... don't ... know. I guess it will either work out or it won't (I'm leaning towards the latter. Not because I'm a pessimist, but because everything seems so weeeeeeeeird now), but still, it just makes me sad.

What's that cliché/quote? Better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.


It's a quote from Saint Augustine. What a blowhard.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 06:29 AM | Comments (2)

September 21, 2004

Sinners With Saints

Roo: I am now having to order medals from the Catholic Press Association
Roo: St. Francis de Sales medals (the patron saint of journalists)
HWG: I want onnnnnnnnnnnne
HWG: *whines*
Roo: hee. no you don't!
HWG: why not?
Roo: hee...you want a saint medal?
HWG: yes I do
HWG: but for the patron saint of cats
Roo: oh!
HWG: whomever that is
Roo: that's St. Francis of Assisi!
Roo: he's the patron saint of animals
HWG: I've heard of that one
Roo: yes...there was also St. Clare of Assisi...my favorite saint
Roo: hence, Timber's middle name!
Roo: but St. Francis of Assisi's feast day is Oct. 4
Roo: and if you go to a Catholic church that day, chances are they'll be having pet blessings
HWG: Timber Clare!
Roo: my brother and sis in law got married last year on Oct. 4
Roo: and there were all these people waiting with their cats and dogs...hee
HWG: hahaha
Roo: not funny! :-)
Roo: http://www.stlukepalmharbor.org/index.cfm
Roo: you can take Caygeon and Dawsey there and get them blessed ;-)
HWG: that's less than a mile from me
Roo: there you go :-)
Roo: I went to all the trouble to look it up
HWG: will my kitties get medallions?
Roo: hee...I don't know!
Roo: they'll get some holy water and some holy words :-)
Roo: ooooh. ours is on Oct. 2 and 10 a.m.
Roo: I should take Timmie
Roo: she'd go batshit crazy
Roo: http://www.katpuke.com/shp/pb/st-francis.php
HWG: I wore a St. Christopher medallion for years
Roo: really?
Roo: I am not wearing any medals
Roo: I have a few, though
HWG: yes, but here's the funny thing about my medallion
HWG: I stole it!
HWG: *shocked face*
HWG: when I was 13
HWG: and then I felt really bad about that
HWG: so I wore it for 7 years
HWG: *smiley*
Roo: I have a story like that too
Roo: when I was in Catholic school in Michigan, we had a mass with the bishop
Roo: and he asked us questions
Roo: and I raised my hand FOREVER
Roo: and he never called on me
Roo: and then I went to school the next day and the teacher asked who had answered a question because we were going to get a special something
Roo: so I said I did
Roo: and they gave us a little necklace of mary holding Jesus
Roo: and I felt so badly I stuffed it into my jewelry box and never wore it
Roo: I still have it
Roo: I still feel badly
HWG: catholic guilt, personified
Roo: heh
HWG: I am going to post this!
Roo: what????
HWG: our medallion convo
Roo: no! you can't!
Roo: It shows how evil I am!
HWG: aww, come on!
HWG: it's very sweet
Roo: what? that I stole something?
Roo: hee
HWG: but I did too
HWG: so we're bonding over our thievery
Roo: heh
HWG: canIpostitpleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Roo: are you going to post about St. Francis so everyone will know to get their pets blessed?
HWG: pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease
Roo: hee
Roo: fine
HWG: yes I am
HWG: you will see
Roo: but if I go to hell, it's your fault
HWG: gotcha. I will protect you from Satan, don't worry.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 04:42 PM | Comments (0)

Troubles Of My Own

I finally re-located my Keane CD! It was under the bed, no doubt due to the interference of a cat I like to call "Caygeon," who has the tendency to bat things around if they aren't bolted to the floor. She's krazy that way.

I've missed you, Keane CD. Here's a track:

Keane, "Can't Stop Now"

I noticed tonight that the world has been turning
While I've been stuck here dithering around
Though I know I said I'd wait around 'til you need me
I have to go, I hate to let you down

But I can't stop now
I've got troubles of my own
Cause I'm short on time
I'm lonely
And I'm too tired to talk

I noticed tonight that the world has been turning
While I've been stuck here withering away
Though I know I said I wouldn't leave you behind
But I have to go, it breaks my heart to say

That I can't stop now
I've got troubles of my own
Cause I'm short on time
I'm lonely
And I'm too tired to talk

No one back home
I've got troubles of my own
And I can't slow down
For no one in town
And I can't stop now

And I can't slow down
For no one in town
And I can't stop now
For no one

Emotion keeps my heart on me

Posted by Highwaygirl on 07:46 AM | Comments (1)

September 20, 2004

Refuse To Even Choose

I started thinking about this song this morning when my coworker, Jake, started asking me for suggestions for a short-but-cool URL for a website. He never likes my suggestions so I don't know why I spent time thinking of some, but whatever. My two contributions today were "hateyourfriends.com" and "suckmyshiv.com" (which has made me laugh ever since it popped into my head).

I thought of this song because it's off Sebadoh's CD Harmacy, which sounds like a cool, malevolent word ... until you see the CD cover and realize it's a sign for a PHARMACY with the P missing. Sebadoh was one of those bands in the '90s that you said you liked even if you didn't, because liking them made you just that cool. I've never been able to get into them, though.

I have a vague memory of this video; during the "all the matters is the way you choose to frame it" line the lead singer makes to Ls with his fingers and brings them together to form a square.

Sebadoh, "Ocean"

So you think you're in the middle of the ocean
Stranded on an island of your own
Or stuck at the top of a mountain
Either way you're gonna say you're all alone

And I hesitate to say that you're a liar
I never tell the truth myself
But I tried to chase you down and I got tired
So I'm leaving you to you or someone else

'Cuz you never wanna hook up in the middle
And I'd meet you there to talk if you would show
But you answer every question with a riddle
And refuse to even choose to let me go

It used to be I'd tell you all my secrets
Giving you the credit you deserve
I guess you didn't care to lose or keep it
And we never quite connected from the first

And I wish I had a way to make it better
To rearrange the world and make you smile
But it's dumb to even think I had that power
And we haven't been that close in a while

I don't even wanna try to name it
Explain it for the one who couldn't care
'Cuz all that matters is the way you choose to frame it

And I hesitate to say that you're a liar
I never tell the truth myself
But I tried to chase you down and I got tired
So I'm leaving you to you or someone else

'Cuz you never wanna hook up in the middle
And I'd meet you there to talk if you would show
But you answer every question with a riddle
And refuse to even choose to let me go

Posted by Highwaygirl on 12:54 PM | Comments (1)

September 18, 2004

Lambchop - Part 2

I'm wondering if I have the patience for a novel. Short stories have always been more my thing, but I don't consider them challenging at this point because I know I can write them well. I honestly don't think I have it in me to write something that is 300+ pages. But I think I could give you around 150. I guess that would make this a novella.

I'm excited about it at this point, because I figured out what my "hook" is. Every story needs a conceit that sets it apart from every other story. I've come up with one that I think is good.

Instead of breaking this into chapters, I will honor my short attention span (and Teem's ADD) by posting this work in parts.

People in emotional pain are so boring. They think they've got the market cornered on sorrow, when everyone goes through the same gut-wrenching hell when they lose someone they love. It's a testament to the resiliency of the human spirit that we keep going back for more, time and time again. The faces are new, but the warfare is all the same. Or maybe it's a testament to the fact that the human spirit is an unrelenting glutton for punishment.

It doesn't matter anyway. Like I said, I have no future. My lungs are slowly turning into bricks, you see. It's just a thing, so don't worry about it. No one else does. Then again, no one else knows. I plan on telling people when they take me to the hospital because I'm suffocating, or because I'm drowning in my own fluids, or because I've finally killed my upstairs neighbors as retaliation for their habit of incessantly banging - literally and figuratively – at all hours of the night on the wall we share. Autoerotic asphyxiation is something my neighbors should explore. Right now.

Anyway, I've been thinking about things and I was hoping that at this point, three months out, that I'd have something deep and philosophical and poignant to say about the whole mess. But yeah, I've got nothing. Nothing but clichés about love and pain and that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. So thanks for that, Nietzsche. I always liked you. You understand the whole thing about being sick, yet being strong. Being almost all-powerful and all-knowing and very, very obnoxious with the whole "I understand the true meaning of life" thing. Sick people are pretentious people. But I wouldn't trade my experiences for anything. I wouldn't do it all over again, not even to change what happened with Ben. This is me, and these are the gloriously irrelevant trials and tribulations of one small person, floating in a sea of people, all trying to keep their heads above water.

I hardly dream for more than that these days. It doesn't seem like a worthwhile endeavor. Maybe you think that means I've given up, but I don't see it that way. I'm not accepting the inevitable, either. I know that the inevitable really sucks. I can't even comprehend what it's going to be like not to draw breath, not to experience consciousness. I have this feeling it isn't quite the same as being asleep. When we go to sleep we lay our heads upon our pillows believing that we're going to wake up in the morning and go through the motions of our lives all over again, day after unremarkable day. If we actually went to bed thinking, "If I die before I wake," we'd be a nation of insomniacs.

This is my second term as an inpatient and you'd think I'd have it all covered by now, wizened to the ways of the world. But I don't. And in a way I'm glad about that, because it means I have yet more to learn, and maybe that's reason enough to stick around. I haven't been slapped down enough for one lifetime. Thank you, sir, may I have another? My friends think I'm morbid, but I can't help it. When I was sick the first time I bought that book, How We Die, because I wanted to know how it was going to happen if it happened. Not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted to know. No alarms and no surprises. It freaked my ex-fiancé right the fuck out. That should have been a sign right there, but I must report that I was clueless. I stuck with him for six more soul-sucking months.

For a while after that I just didn’t pay attention to anything. Take this, swallow that, lie still, breathe in, breathe out, do what we say, do what we say, you’ll be okay (well, maybe). It was my life, and I loved it. I’ve never felt so alive as when I was slowly, systematically dying. It was my ritual and my routine, and there was only me; it was all mine, the burden and the glory. There’s only one thing I regret, and that’s how I failed Damon. My penance is to get into relationships where I’m constantly confronted by the realization that I’m not half the person I think myself to be. Relationships that throw acid on the portrait of my self-image, and all I can do is stand there, watching the person I’ve fooled myself into thinking I am bubble and disintegrate and become smeared into something unrecognizable. Unrecognizable, and unwanted.

But that didn’t last forever. I got better, and I got back. I built a life for myself out of what I had left, and filled it with friends, lovers and family. I moved away, and then I moved back. I watched my nephew grow up. I watched my friend die. I gave up certain vices, but gained others. I visited old friends, made new friends, and had inappropriate crushes on gay men. I fell in love with trousers and pointy-toed shoes. I survived both an earthquake and a hurricane. I stood on the edge of a cliff and dreamed of what it would be like to quietly, finally step off. I went in for an oil change and left with a new car. I had my first one-night stand. I stopped being a martyr. I started taking responsibility.

I fell asleep for a while. But now I’m awake.

And so it goes. I feel pretty good right now, so I guess this is the right time to tell stories. I can't promise you'll be moved, or enlightened, or even amused. Sometimes I think I have absolutely nothing of relevance to say, which is a sad, sorry assessment of my 29 years. There are people reading this right now who are sure I have nothing relevant to say. And yet, they're still reading. Not because they care, and that's okay, because - and you know who you are - I never liked you anyway. It's because they want to see if I'm going to talk about them and unleash their sordid little secrets upon the world.

You know what? I just might. I have nothing left to lose.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 04:10 PM | Comments (0)

September 16, 2004

Lambchop - Part 1

I've decided to write a book. A book of fiction that has just enough fact interspersed throughout to drive the people that know me crazy trying to figure out if I'm talking about them. I'm thinking about calling it It's Only a Flesh Wound, Lambchop, but I'll see how the story plays out before committing to anything.

Or I could just get right to the point and call it Roman à Clef, but I'm sure that's been done.

Anyway, even though Rappy thinks I should try to get it published by Random House (or someone) first, I'm going to just post chapters as I finish them. BUT - this is an original creative work covered by all the attendant copyrights, so no thieving it and passing it off as anything but mine. Because if you do that ... I KILL YOU!

So ... here we go:

In the beginning there was fire and water and smoke and dreams, and any number of other things that you didn't think you'd need, but would end up really wanting.

There was Helen, who had no shame. There was Kate, who had no sense. And Lena, who had no conscience. Three monkeys, neither hearing, speaking, nor seeing any evil.

But mostly there was Ben, who had no nicknames. Ben, and me. I have no future.

But this is not my story. It's theirs. A story about friendship and almost-friendship and love and almost-love, of anger and sadness and regret tempered by joy and happiness and the kind of acceptance you only feel with someone who truly knows you. It's a story of beginnings and endings, and of all the misery in between.

I was wrong. It is my story.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 03:38 PM | Comments (1)

September 14, 2004

Wave Your Foam Finger

I feel really, just, wonderful this morning. Yay, me! Go, me! *waves giant HWG foam finger*

My hair looks good, this new shirt looks good (french blue button down), I'm wearing the pointy-toed kitten heels that everyone compliments, and my body is practically vibrating. Those interval workouts kick my ass, but they're doing something to me.

Now I, too, am magically delicious!

And I've listened to "Walkie Talkie Man" twice already this morning. Everything is right with the world.

So in acknowledgement of that, I think I'm going to post something super-ultra-positive and happy today. And I would like you to join me. Yes, even you, the lurker who just reads and never comments. This is going to seem incredibly cheesy and sappy and optimistic, but ...

What are five things you really like about yourself? I'll start:

1. I'm independent - I value the opinions of the people that I'm close to, but ultimately, I make my own decisions. And I have no problem doing social things (like going to movies, or a restaurant) by myself.

2. I'm a thinker - I like to ponder. I like to think about issues and discuss them with my friends ... especially if the friend has a different take on the issue than I do.

3. My eyes - I have really pretty dark brown eyes. Just like a baby seal. (I had to make at least one of the five things superficial.)

4. I love to learn - This is a quality that I'm so happy my parents instilled in me, because it keeps life interesting.

5. I feel things deeply - Sometimes too deeply, but I'd rather be like I am than the alternative (cold and detached). I really like that I can be moved, or affected, by seemingly simple and random things. Empathy is an underrated quality.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 08:35 AM | Comments (5)

September 13, 2004

Speak No Evil

The comments, they be fixed. So fire at will.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 09:55 PM | Comments (0)

Pimp My Ride

Today's going to be a really bad day, and let me tell you why: because last night I had one long national nightmare about alligators.

Not just any alligators, either. An alligator with a head as big as a Cadillac. "The biggest alligator I have ever seen!"

I even woke up in the middle of this nightmare to use the bathroom, and when I laid back down in bed and went back to sleep ... the nightmare picked up right where it left off. Clearly my subconscious hates me.

What happened was that I threw a pair of Nikes into the pond behind my apartment, and some time later I looked out my window and saw an alligator's snout bumping the shoes from underneath (they were floating). Then the alligator surfaced and I could see that ITS HEAD WAS AS BIG AS A CAR. And I was skeered.

So then I tried to find the phone number that you're supposed to call to report an alligator sighting - I have no idea if there is actually such a thing, but I was pretty adamant about its existence in my dream - and I was frustrated because I just could not find it.

Then a group of us were in a parking garage (!?) watching the alligator play with the shoes. Somehow the alligator transported 180 degrees to the other side of the garage, where there was another pond (by the way, none of this part of my dream is based in reality)(unlike the other part). And now it had two friends, who were also enormous but not quite as big as the Autogator.

So the people are all standing around with mouths agape, and I'm railing against the very existence of alligators and how they're against God's great design and they are clearly minions of Satan ... and then the three bastards start walking out of the pond up towards the garage. Everyone dives into their cars, except this one old woman who just stands there, ready to be alligator food.

Autogator comes up first, and this bitch is so goddamn big that I am on the verge of sobbing, I'm so scared. Then the other two compadré alligators come up and ... and ...

There are people inside of them. Which perplexes me, even in a dream state.

So I watch the alligators go by and after they've passed, I make this statement - "I want to know how people can be driving alligators and not know it." Because they were driving them like they were cars. The "hood" was the top half of the alligator's jaw, the roof of the car was the top of the alligator's head, and the "body" was the alligator's scaly body.

It was really weird, man.

That's where the alligator portion of the nightmare ended. Then, for some reason, I started dreaming about a three-legged American Eskimo dog named Puffy. My dad insisted it was our Puffy, but I helpfully pointed out that if it was, we were looking at a 30-year-old dog.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 06:32 AM | Comments (1)

September 12, 2004

My Walkie Talkie Man

Have you seen the iPod commercial with the black outlines of people dancing/flailing around? It speaks to me because I dance just like the chick with the big long ponytail (and if I had long hair like that, I would flip it around every single day). Anyway, the song is apparently by a New Zealand band called Steriogram, whose members look like 16-year-old skate punks.

Steriogram, "Walkie Talkie Man"

Well you’re walkin’ and a talkin‘. And a movin’ and a groovin’. And a hippin’ and a hoppin’. And a pickin’ and a boppin’. Those bods are being bad. You better take a stand. You gonna wake up that thing in your hand. You’re looking all around. There is trouble to be found. Make sure when you find it you get to say it loud. Gotta code three. Need back up. Bring me. My bright red fluro jacket. He’s fat and he don’t run too fast. But he’s faster than me. Last night at the show we saw him. Going out of his tree. Well you’re walkin’ and a talkin’. You’re my walkie talkie man. Well you’re walkin’ and a talkin’. Go Go Go Go. Well you’re walkin’ and a talkin’. And a freakin’ and a yellin’. And a bossin’ and a speakin’. And a lookin’ and a pointin’. Always tell us what to do. With your high top shoes. And you wave your torch. With your black short shorts. Don’t let ‘em get away. Don’t think they can play. Nail ‘em to the wall. ’Cause you really need to say. Gotta code three. Need back up. Bring me. My bright red fluro jacket.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 10:56 PM | Comments (1)

September 11, 2004

You Are My Liar

I can always tell when I'm comfortable with someone; if I am, I'll sing in front of them. I don't think I have a horrible singing voice, but I don't think it's very good, either. I have a limited range (lower register, for the most part). My speaking voice is excellent; singing voice, not so much.

But I just sang this entire song to me Lucky Charms - "Thief" by Belly. It's a track off the CD single for "Now They'll Sleep" which I've always liked and always liked singing along to (because it's solidly in my range). This CD happened to be in my stereo when I turned it on in search of a little background music. "Thief" is track two, and once it started I just reflexively started singing.

Once I caught myself I stopped, but was encouraged to finish. I just can't say "no" to that smile, it seems.

This song also made me want to learn how to play guitar, so I could attend some open mic night (i.e. Amateur Hour) at some local coffeehouse and play it. Not that I'd ever have the courage to actually do so, but it's a pretty nice dream.

Belly, "Thief"

She wears her dress high
As high as she pulls her hat down low
She's seeking out the places those other people can't go
And hold her

Untouched by the sea
She's walking on water when she walks in her sleep
She's dragging me through places I didn't want to be seen

She is a liar
As I am a thief
Because of you I came
Because of you I leave

I wanna know (I wanna know)
Why the monsters that hurt you so
Don't look like those things that we battled so long ago

And I thought I did my part
When I pulled you out of there
That night you left boot marks on my wall

You are my liar
So I will be your thief
Because of you I came
Because of you I leave (x3)

Be calm, baby
We are home now

Posted by Highwaygirl on 03:13 PM | Comments (0)

Hurricanes Are a Total Ugh


I am so over this hurricane nonsense. The National Hurricane Center is now predicting that Ivan will make a direct hit on the Tampa Bay area - where I live, yo - as a strong Category 4 storm overnight on Monday. But you know what? That's exactly what they said about Charley, and it turned while I was taking a nap.


Actually, yes I am. People here are already going batshit crazy. There's long lines for gasoline - at the places that still have any gasoline - and the stores are being emptied of nonperishables as I type. I will be subsisting on tuna fish, crackers and water if things get bad.

I'm going to keep updating this entry with the forecast tracks as they're released by the NHC. I'll link them at the top of the entry and change the date.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 11:43 AM | Comments (0)

September 10, 2004


From the It's About Goddamn Time file - Powell Says Rapes and Killings in Sudan Are Genocide. I guess better late than never. Oh who am I kidding? ARE YOU PEOPLE DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND?!?!? Nothing has changed in the Sudan over the last few months and just now ... just NOW ... the U.S. goverment has decided it constitutes genocide?!?

Was there some threshhold as to the body count that we needed to go over before we were willing to call this situation what it is ... what is has been all along? The Bush Administration should be ashamed of themselves for taking so damn long on this. And if they're not ashamed of themselves, I'll be ashamed of them myself.

*slams head on desk repeatedly*

Why does it appear to be so damn difficult for some politicians to do the right thing?

Anyway ... in news that doesn't make me want to RAGE, I read this on NYTimes.com this morning - The Duel Between Body and Soul. Do you believe in the concept of a soul? If so, do you believe that the soul is a separate entity from the body? According to this op-ed piece by Paul Gross, a professor of psychology at Yale, it is this dualism that will shape the scientific and religious thinking in the future.

Because your soul? Inextricably linked to your brain. Which means your soul is, in fact, corporeal.

As the Harvard psychologist Steven Pinker points out, the qualities that we are most interested in from a moral standpoint - consciousness and the capacity to experience pain - result from brain processes that emerge gradually in both development and evolution. There is no moment at which a soulless body becomes an ensouled one, and so scientific research cannot provide objective answers to the questions that matter the most to us.

The conclusion that our souls are flesh is profoundly troubling to many, as it clashes with the notion that the soul survives the death of the body. It is a much harder pill to swallow than evolution, then, and might be impossible to reconcile with many religious views. Pope John Paul II was clear about this, conceding our bodies may have evolved, but that theories which "consider the spirit as emerging from the forces of living matter, or as a mere epiphenomenon of this matter, are incompatible with the truth about man."

Really thought-provoking stuff. It's enough to make your brain go ...

Nah, I won't say it.

By the way, comments appear to be wonky this morning.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 10:26 AM | Comments (0)

September 09, 2004

But I'm a GIRL!

And here is where I go on a gender equity rant.

But first, a declaration - I don't personally identify with the term "feminist." It's become such a loaded word that it doesn't serve my purpose, and I don't particularly care enough to try and reclaim it for myself (but more power to the people who are willing to fight that fight). However, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that I am equal to any man - to anyone - and the first person who tries to tell me otherwise will be rewarded with my boot upside their head.

With that out of the way ... today's NY Times includes a feature written by Monica Davey (an excellent writer, by the way), called For 1,000 Troops, There Is No Going Home. It's a wonderful article about what kinds of people are actually dying in Iraq, demographically speaking.

There is a section on women in the military, and how 24 women have died in Iraq (the most in a war since WWII). This is attributed to women being much closer to the front line of combat, even if they're still not yet allowed to actually fight (Yeah, right). Here is a quote:

But others, like Elaine Donnelly, president of the Center for Military Readiness, an independent public policy group in Livonia, Mich., said Americans were largely oblivious to the role women were playing in Iraq and would be disturbed if they knew. Female soldiers who die receive little attention, she said, except in small hometown newspapers; the same is true of the 207 women who have been injured in Iraq. ...

"The risk of capture is why we oppose women in combat," said Ms. Donnelly, who wants the Pentagon to reconsider the jobs close to combat that women now hold. "We're a civilized nation. Violence against women is wrong. I hope that we don't become that kind of a nation that doesn't care about this sort of thing."

Okay, no. I don't want to hear this "violence against women is wrong" nonsense, because if you tack on the phrase that is implied - "... but violence against men is okay" - then the statement is shown to be what it truly is: ridiculous.

I hope we don't become the kind of nation that believes ones GENDER determines their inherent value and the way they should be treated. Because, you see - women can be just as horrible as men. Just as violent and vile. It's the person, not the genitals.

I know, I know - testosterone is a bitch. Estrogen isn't? I can buy the argument that men are, per capita, more violent than women. But I know absolutely that women are capable of the exact same behavior. The fact that there are a proportionately greater number of men imprisoned for violent crimes is not solely a matter of biology and genetic programming - it's also the result of societal factors.

If a woman joins the military knowing what the risks are - that her role could bring her close to combat, and therefore there is the chance that she could die serving her country - then by all means let her take on the same level of risk as a male soldier in her position. Why shouldn't she? Her life is no more intrinsically valuable than a man's ... and her sacrifice would be no less meaningful.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 12:30 PM | Comments (3)

Where the Heart Is

Gay Dads Get Daughters, Plus Praise From Judge

Judge Irene Sullivan is my new hero.

LARGO - Two young girls from Florida's foster care system should be allowed to live permanently with the two gay men they call "Dad and Daddy," Pinellas-Pasco Circuit Judge Irene Sullivan ruled Wednesday.

Denying a motion that could have moved the girls away, Sullivan said the state owes the two men "a debt of gratitude" for the way they took in two troubled foster children, now ages 6 and 7, and transformed their lives.

"I'm going to personally thank Dad and Daddy here, for in their way, stopping the cycle of abuse," Sullivan said. She even suggested the state use the men to train other foster parents.

What a wonderful story. For once, the judicial system in Florida gets something right. And the State Attorney's office needs to shut up and leave this ruling alone.

How could anyone read that story and not believe that the foster children in question aren't better off with these men, no matter what their sexual orientation is? Seventeen different foster homes in two months. And the Department of Children and Families wants to argue that these sisters might be adoptable, and so if there's even the slightest possibility of that - and it isn't proven, it's just someone's optimism at work - then we shouldn't allow the gay guys to care for these kids? Despite the fact that it's the gay guys who, at least for one of the girls, have shown themselves to be the only people to have given her the stability she needs to grow up mentally and emotionally healthy.

I just wish that people could get over their biases when it comes to homosexuality and make decisions that are in the best interests of the children in question. It almost never happens. Fortunately it appears that there's at least one judge sitting on the Pinellas-Pasco Circuit that has both compassion and a clue.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 10:12 AM | Comments (0)

September 08, 2004

Secret Survivor Handshake

I just finished watching the episode of VH1's Bands Reunited that features the group ABC. Why does this show always make me cry? I was upset when two members of the band chose not to take part, but it was nice that the other two members - singer Martin Fry and drummer David Palmer - went forward with the one-off show. Martin was who I wanted to see most, anyway.

But the show left me stunned for an entirely different reason. Martin was the last band member they tried to talk into participating in the reunion. During his segment, the host started talking to Martin about 1986, and what happened to him.

What happened to him? He was diagnosed with cancer. What kind of cancer? Hodgkin's disease (like me). How old was he? He was 26 (like me). He married his girlfriend right after he finished treatment. What is his girlfriend/wife's name? Julie (like me).

When the words "I couldn't wrap my brain around it, but I had Hodgkin's disease, which is a kind of cancer" came out of Martin's mouth, my reaction was a loud "NO WAY!" And then I said "Martin's in the club!" It was that statement that elicited a puzzled look, and subsequent questioning, from the person watching with me. Who didn't know I was a cancer survivor. But who does now, and, well, I'm just not sure it went over all that well.

Anyway... I really liked some of the comments Martin made about his experience. Especially two statements:

"The people who see you at your best, and who see you at your worst ... when you're crawling around on the floor - that's a friendship."

"I kind of feel like I was robbed, in a way, of some time. And that's what motivates me today."

As cheesy as it sounds (and I know it does), I feel a sort of kinship with this person because of our shared experience ... and more importantly because I think both of us got the same life lesson out of being sick, and made the conscious decision to let the experience ADD meaning to our life instead of detracting from it.

Martin and David performed two songs (with help from Nick Beggs of Kajagoogoo!) at the end - "The Look of Love" and Poison Arrow (right click each to download) - and both sounded fantastic.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 06:53 PM | Comments (1)

I Need Direction to Perfection

I must thank you, Andy, for encouraging me to buy The Killers' Hot Fuss CD. I am in love. Well, at least I am in love with tracks 3-5. I don't know about the rest of the CD so much, because I keep going back to those tracks and listening to them over and over and over. Which is my way.

I will say this about those tracks, though - they didn't grab me right away. But after listening to them 4-5 times they started sinking into my brain in the most profound way. And now I listen to them obsessively.

Eventually I hope to get around to listening to the rest of the tracks in the same way.

My favorite song is called "All These Things That I've Done." I especially like the two verses that come right after the tempo of the song speeds up at the beginning.

So give this a listen five times and then let me know what you think.

The Killers, "All These Things That I've Done"

When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more song
One more song
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know - no you don't, you don't
I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

Another head aches, another heart breaks
I'm so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no

Help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah

And when there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more song
These changes ain't changing me
The cold-hearted boy I used to be

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier (x 10)

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down

Over and in, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
If you can hold on
If you can hold on

Posted by Highwaygirl on 06:25 AM | Comments (0)

September 07, 2004

Words to Live By

"Vengeance is a waste of time if wreaked upon those who will wreck themselves, if left to it."

Posted by Highwaygirl on 07:29 AM | Comments (1)

September 04, 2004

Ridin' the Storm Out

Here come the squalls!! My neighbor's kid's pink Big Wheel just went spinning down towards the lake.

We're supposed to get between 8-12" of rain from Hurricane Frances. Which means flooding ... and that's bad because my apartment is at the bottom of a slope.

*places sandbags*

The power has flickered a few times, but I don't think we're supposed to get the worst of it until 2 a.m. Sunday, continuing throughout the day.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 10:06 PM | Comments (0)

Rains / Pours

If it's Saturday, that must mean a cute boy is giving me his phone number.

Today I spent most of the morning and afternoon out and about. First stop was Sonic for a Diet Cherry Limeade (I needed liquids to pace me throughout my big day), and then it was on to Nordstrom. I didn't need anything at Nordstrom; I just wanted to go.

So go I did. First stop was the Bobbi Brown counter, to purchase this cute little travel sized concealer thingy, and the brush..

Then I traipsed over to the Stila counter, to say hello to the counter manager, Christina. This girl (well, she's probably in her early to mid 20s) is so incredibly nice - one of those people who are genuinely warm and friendly. We have a good rapport and she likes the fact that I let her experiment with new products on me. I tried the new Eye Mousses and bought two - Honey and Flame - but they'll be going back because they creased within about two hours on me.

As I was leaving, I made an appointment with her for some trend event in a few weeks, and she gave me a hug to thank me for talking to her about some stuff she has been going through with her sorta-ex boyfriend.

Then I flounced upstairs and bought two shirts. One is a geometric print and the other is stripey. Me like long time.

I grabbed a strawberry babana smoothie from the café and went to Sam Goody because I wanted to buy a CD. Any CD. As much as I love Pete Yorn's musicforthemorningafter, it's been the only CD in my car for more than a week now and I was just tired of listening to it.

So I'm standing there trying to decide what to buy. I consider Tears for Fears' Greatest Hits (remastered!) for $8. I wander back to the Pop/Rock section and peruse the stuff on sale. There's a guy standing around the Js, and he pulls out Jimmy Eat World's Bleed American, which is one of my Desert Island Discs. I comment that he's going to love that CD.

He responded that he actually already had it; or, well, DID. He loaned it to a friend who "lost it" ... but the implication was that the friend just kept it. He said he loved it so much there was no question about replacing it.

So armed with this knowledge, I ask him "What CD are you playing the most these days?" Because I wanted to buy something new, and anyone who loves Jimmy Eat World can be trusted for a good recommendation. I name some other bands I like, and then he pauses for a second before offering up a name - The Killers. He drags me down to the Ks and hands me their CD; it's only $10, so I'm willing to take a chance.

I thank him and walk to the register to pay for it. As I'm leaving, the guy hands me a folded up flier from inside the store (a giveaway entry form) and says, "Let me know how you like the CD." I open up the piece of paper and see his name (Andy) and his phone number.

Now, normally I would think this is weird, having this kind of experience with another random guy. But he really had no choice in the matter. I was carrying the Handbag of Irrational Monkey Love, and I was wearing my cute Depraved Prep outfit. I don't think any man can resist that combination.

Plus, I'm just too damn cute when I want to be.

Then I drove back to my side of the bay and went to another mall (didn't find anything I wanted), then came home.

Now I'm going to nap.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 05:06 PM | Comments (3)

September 03, 2004

Letters To, Well, Not Cleo

I get some very interesting e-mails in a given week. Most are from friends, but some are from people who have visited this site and for one reason or another decided to contact me (which I enjoy, don't ever be shy about e-mailing me).

I was trying to think of what to write about today but I'm coming up blank at the moment (actually I'm having a major internal conflict with myself. Like Helm's Deep, only ... prettier, with less gore), so instead I will give you some of the more poignant moments from a week's worth of e-mails.

No names will be revealed, except for the one quote that belongs to frazzledglispa (but I asked for permission, so it's OK).

I am going to go make me some maple and brown sugar oatmeal with skim milk. Because oatmeal with water is NARSTY.

Dirty girl! Yay!

I got to see your picture the other day and you are beautiful, too (as well as brilliant).

You have seriously raised my stature amongst my geekier friends.

BOO HOO. *points at river of tears* Sad, no?

It's really important that you put yourself first. It's such a difficult thing to do.

Donal Logue? i have met him a few times over the last several years and he is a very cool, very amusing, very real person.

People are horrible, so nasty to each other in the most casual ways. Not that everyone is that way all the time, but everyone has the potential to be, and moments when they are just vile, myself included. - frazzledglispa

Has anyone told you lately that you're the coolest?

People who are always happy and perky and bouncy make me want to kill myself and take them with me.

Now like, um, rub your balls for me and stuff.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 03:39 PM | Comments (0)

September 02, 2004

Bush vs. Winston Churchill

winston churchill.jpg

The person with the best caption gets to avoid Hurricane Frances this weekend.

Posted by Highwaygirl on 09:10 AM | Comments (5)

September 01, 2004

Why Teem Needs AIM At Work

Teem: Hurricane Howard!
Teem: hee!
Teem: in the eastern pacific
HWG: this has been a skeery season
HWG: and it's just getting started
Teem: I know!
Teem: what the hell.
HWG: we could have three mo' months of this
Teem: it's all because of global warming. and bush.
HWG: because of bush
HWG: who is from texas
Teem: exactly
HWG: and you know what THAT means
Teem: *knowing nod*
HWG: poor Eckerds, they got bought out by CVS
Teem: really?
HWG: mmhmm
Teem: well, they were satan's minions anyway
HWG: dfakdfakhfal ECKERDS! alsdfjaldjfads
Teem: *runs Eckerds through*
HWG: hee!
HWG: I wish I had a real cutlass
HWG: *wishes upon a star*
Teem: seriously, me too
HWG: it's orangey in my office
HWG: the sky is green outside
Teem: uh oh!
HWG: um...
Teem: that means you've been transported to the 70s!
HWG: green sky at night...
HWG: sailor's delight?
HWG: oh WHAT. EVER. teem
Teem: green sky in the morn, sailors be warned?
HWG: you're the one who worked at a mariner's museum, you should know that saying
HWG: go call Neven
Teem: *jumps around*
Teem: *jumps around*
HWG: *kriss krosses*
Teem: *puts pants on backwards*
Teem: *walks backwards*
HWG: *adopts thug stance*
Teem: *runs into wall*
HWG: I should do up my hair in cornrows
Teem: *puts pants on correctly*
HWG: pants!
Teem: you should answer the door in full pimp gear
HWG: oh yes
Teem: when Ian comes over
Teem: you need an afro
HWG: yes, I will do this
Teem: oh, what's ian's middle name? do ya know?
HWG: I do not know, sadly
Teem: but I bet it's something delightfully irish!
HWG: yes!
Teem: Unless it's like, Bob.
HWG: liiiiiiiiiiike...
HWG: Seamus
Teem: Paddy!
HWG: Padrington
Teem: Ian Patrick
Teem: that's nice
HWG: you know, it probably IS Patrick
HWG: a one syllable name should be followed by a multi-syllable name
Teem: yah!
HWG: and vice-versa
HWG: like as in "Julie Lynn"
Teem: although tiffany susann works just fine thankyouverymuch
HWG: yes, because both are multi-syllable
HWG: But, say "Ian Sean" would be wrong
HWG: wait
HWG: Ian is two syllables
HWG: *hides face in hands*
Teem: hahahaha

Posted by Highwaygirl on 10:27 PM | Comments (0)


Today I am wearing the Touchable Pants of Eminent Touchability! I am going to get some HOT! PANTS! TOUCHING! ACTION! tonight!


My mommy sent me this email last night about the death of one of the zebra finches, Leonardo da Finchi II:

I know you are watching your Big Brother show but I wanted to tell you that Leonardo died yesterday. Don't know if he was old or sick but I had him in a hospital cage for a few days because he was all puffed up. Dave buried him alongside Scuddy so they will have a friend to watch over each other....

Isn't that sweet? My mommy is a good egg.

Here comes another hurricane.

Finally, my favorite Scotsman, James "Scotty" Doohan, was given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Which is a lovely honor for him; I just hate that he is in such ill health, now.

And where the hell were YOU, Shatner! *rage*

Posted by Highwaygirl on 01:53 PM | Comments (0)