People appear to really like to be defined by type. For example, what Sex in the City character are you? (for the record, none of the above- I would probably gleefully push any one of them down a steep flight of stairs)

I am not immune, but tend towards the more arcane examples of typecasting.

For example, what kind of Jim Carey movie do you enjoy? Personally, I am a Cable Guy kind of chick. Something about that man examining his dark side is really funny, and creepy, and all that. Just like I loved Death to Smoochie and One Hour Photo, but totally piss on Patch Adams and the other Robin Williams movies of that ilk. And we'll make it asparagus piss at that. Because that kind of treacly nonsense deserves no less.

We quote Cable Guy at least once a day. At least. "Dude, I got a lot of tables." Exactly.

So do you have a black heart like me? And my man? Because if so, climb aboard the bitter train. Enjoy the comedians when they go horribly wrong. And hope, yes pray, for the day that Eddie Murphy gives up on Disney and goes all serial killer in a movie. It would be brilliance personified. Unleash that inner demon, Eddie! Let it go. You know you want it. You know that the dark side would feel soooooo very good. Like that red leather getup you wore on the cover of your album, back in the day. Spanky.

I would pay lots of money, also, to see Steve Martin be all villainous again. The Spanish Prisoner was so worthwhile because of him. Not that I always enjoy Mamet- sometimes it is just too difficult. Oleanna was unbearable.

So, rock on evil ones. And I am going to play in the sun. And dream of the funny boys embracing their dark sides truly and fully.

Nothing gripping or compelling. Just not sleeping for shit again. It's the periodic insomnia thing. And it's delicious. Or not really, as I am out of Ambien, and not likely to ask the Dr. for it when I go in for my next arm evaluation (all better, thank you.). Just not needed normally. And it was such a struggle to argue with my general Dr. about the Ambien. When she learned where I work, she outright refused. Just refused. Said that I needed to learn to deal with it. And that she has seen that place turn sane people all crazy. It's all about life choices or something...blah...blah...blah.

But I can joke fine. I have followed her advice, to the letter. I still can't fucking sleep for shit. And it is kind of annoying. Feeling a tad frayed around the edges. Better not deal with too many horses' asses today, it might make me snappy. And not in a good, "hey, nice comeback" kind of way. More of an "I've got a call into HR about you" kind of way. Not good at all.

Ah. Best get to it then.

Kman decided to buy a pressure washer prior to the weekend. We have a clean driveway. It took all weekend. We could no doubt eat off of it. But I would be a little concerned about the groundclear chemicals I dumped on the weeds leeching onto the cement/aggregate. That would make us sick.

So I think we'll not eat on the driveway after all. Silly idea, really.

There really isn't much else going on- had to hit work early yesterday to prep for a meeting. Had one go catastrophically wrong last week, and was all jumpy. But all is well, and no one brought up the disaster. They appear to have forgotten. It probably helped that I didn't sit there and cringe, but was all brave and up in it. Something about keeping eye contact and not showing that a significant part of me was dying inside right at that moment- I suspect it was my pancreas. But I could be wrong, it might have been my spleen. Probably my spleen, upon reflection- I think you can function pretty well without a spleen, and I doubt you can without your pancreas. But my anatomy is a little sketchy- probably got them mixed up. It wouldn't surprise me a bit.

Ok, gotta go. Time for more of the work vibe. It happens, people. Until Kman wins the lotto. And I don't believe he plays often enough. He keeps after me to buy a ticket, but I won't- no luck there, folks. None whatsoever. He's the meal ticket in the lotto pool, I just know it.

NOW who's the ignoramus?

Well, that would indeed be me.

I heard that it is a military kind of holiday. On the NPR. So that mystery is solved.
I guess I would prefer to carry my dead around with me inside...forever.

Now for another mystery.

What are people around here going to do on July 1st when it becomes illegal to speak on the hand-held cell phone whilst driving? It might make for some heads exploding. I am just guessing here.

Pardon my ignorance...

Is Memorial Day just for veterans and war dead? Just wondering, because I remember it being the annual day when we visited the family at the cemetery. We would take annuals out and plant these little planters, and I would inevitably get bored and run around reading headstones. It was generally nice out, and didn't take an entire afternoon or anything. Usually we went for a car drive afterwards. I wish that those car rides made more of an impact- all I really remember is sun in the car, lots of trees and dirt roads. I couldn't take you to those places today. I couldn't tell you if there was anything unique. Just dirt roads and trees. Sometimes water. Not vast stretches of water, just creeks mostly.

It just never seemed like a big deal overall. I am seeing all kinds of articles in the papers about veterans. And it made me wonder. I suppose I really should know the answer to my question- but was never that into American history- it was the European stuff that I fixated on. And I thought that we had the whole war/dead/fallen heroes thing covered on Veteran's day. But I have no problem with giving them more than one day, god knows they deserve it.

I just wonder if anyone in the family still goes to the cemetery and plants annuals in those little planters anymore. I live a bit too far away to jump in the car and check.

From MSNBC.

Am I the only one who totally cringes when I see this image? (and doesn't it look like Betsy Brainiac misspelled Hillary initially???)

Sweet Jebus. No wonder the woman is doomed. Fucking chuckleheads.

And they gave us the right to vote, why exactly???

Time for more wine.

Heroclitus= misspelled Heraclitus

WTF, people!

If you haven't noticed, I have gotten all high tech- it appears to have rubbed off or something. And there was assistance- thanks Alex!

So I am looking at the reports of who is trawling through my site, and there is the strangest thing. The majority of people who traipse through without having me bookmarked either are searching for me specifically (Goggle search term- couchkitten), thank you. Or they have run a Google search on...hold on....wait....wait...Heroclitus. Yup. I mentioned the dead Greek guy many moons ago- after a discussion with Kman in the car. And it comes up as the #1 entry for Heroclitus on Google. That fucking weirds me out big time.

So all of these searches come back with me in them. Man. I feel the need for more coffee. Stat. Because the net is a very strange place, and my position in it is a little odd.

Heroclitus...

And I am betting that because I am mentioning it so much right now, this post will enter the pantheon of hits for Heroclitus. Take that, Google!

Now I gotta get back to work- am working "remotely" today. So no, I'm not dressed yet, and yes, I am eating candy. Before noon even. And yes, the tv is on. But it's the news, so I'm not totally fucking off. Just background noise.

Last night I proved once and for all (as if that was necessary) that Kman is a saint. Lovely, lovely man.

I dragged him to Third Place Books across the water and north (in rush hour traffic, no less) to a book signing by Jen Lancaster. I did placate him a bit with a Dick's burger and fries, but it was not what he originally wanted to do after work.

But Jen is one of my heroes. I don't often succumb to chick lit, but make an exception in her case. Because she is mean and funny. And in real life, appears to be just the same. Not that it would be easy to have her in a daily dose, but her blog and her books make me happy. Mainly because I read the first one Bitter is the New Black when I was unemployed and very, very low. It fit nicely into the firmament of what was going on. That book actually went on permanent loan when I gave it to a contractor at work who never came back one day. But that is good, because I suspect she needed the book too.

The reading was fun, Kman even laughed a few times, and I was near the front of the line, so we were able to leave early. I overheard a woman talking about me- she was happy that I was speedy with my hellos, and didn't take a ton of time getting my book signed. Had a quick chat with Jen, and then left. That was all. My entire being didn't rest upon meeting her, like I suspect some did. There were some pretty happy ladies present, and a smattering of very nice men.

And now I owe Kman an evening at the brew pub of his choice. Because, like I said before, he is a saint, and I really want to keep him happy. Oh, just for the record- he was going to clean the garage last night. I kept him from cleaning his mancave. Sigh....

Stepping away from the mundane on the outside, to face the mundane on the inside.

Just a quick commentary on things I wish I had done.

I wish that when I was younger and sillier, I had made more of an effort to take road trips.
I didn't have money for gas, but it would've been nice.

I wish that when I was younger and dumber, I had made more friends who led me astray.
Looking back, it all seems pretty tidy, overall.

I wish that when I was younger and prettier, I had been less concerned with the boys.
That was the biggest mistake of all, they weren't worth the effort.

It wasn't exactly a profitable venture overall, but then I am not Warren Buffet, and have never conducted myself like that. But I do think that there was a significant amount of risk aversion that really did temper my experiences and provided a self-imposed lack of adventure.

And that's all the mundane I can handle for now.

There are a set of songs that I listen to sometimes,
and try to hear echoes of what he would have heard.
I try to imagine what the lyrics evoked
I try to imagine if he was comforted by them.
I am guessing that overall he was just stoned at the time,
and the songs sounded really good, man.
But I have hope that he was a little deeper than that.
I do know that he took things very much to heart.
That his life was determined and dictated by hurt.
That he was defined by low expectations, and little oversight.
That in the end, it was easier to slip away in the night than
to visit the pain and fix things.
Because fixing meant changing, and finding the strength wasn't
a choice he saw as viable.
But then again, that is no doubt me talking and interpreting.
Because he did slip away, and can't answer my questions
and accusations.
I get to carry them around.
And listen to the songs that I think might have had some meaning to him.

Welcome to the mundane.

Today was all about the yard.
And probably too boring to tell.
Suffice it to say that some order came of chaos.
Some weeds died.
Some flowers were planted.
The sun was shining.

Not to brag, but...

had a free lunch with a friend, then a free spa afternoon, including pedicure, and went to a boutique beer tasting.

Life is looking very, very good right now. Mazel tov.

Today we have sun. And record temperatures.

I will kill weeds.
I will plant container gardens.
I will get charged up on vitamin D.
I will wear sunblock.
I will wear short pants.
I will open the windows and let the air in.
I will wash the car.

It's all open to possibility.

For the record, the Kman had the time of his life yesterday. Didn't do anything rash or silly, and came out of it with more enthusiasm than ever...sigh...

He didn't wad up the motorcycle, but saw a few of those. He was just so happy. I can't deny him anything when it makes him that happy.

And today, he is a little sore. Not that he's in bad shape- he shames me with his fitness level. But it was an unusual way of using those muscles. I don't think he minds. He does have a couple of very oddly placed bruises...

So there you have it. Next up, he'll be running with the other lunatics on the Isle of Mann. Crikey. And I will be drinking myself into oblivion to cope...

Major anxiety producing issue of the day (and tomorrow):

Kman is going to participate in a motorcycle track day. Not a race, mind you, but a track day. Which means that he is taking my car with trailer attached, and driving to the track and then riding his motorcycle with a bunch of other guys (I would presume), and hopefully not wadding it up.

He purchased full leathers some time ago, and has also gotten body armor, and has a very expensive and light helmet. He rides daily to work, which should probably be more of a concern, given the general stupidity of most of the drivers we encounter around here. But this just makes me...nervous.

I just need to get the fuck over it. Today.

Additional lurkers out there....
you know who you are.
I heard about a couple of you.
It is nice to know that I am on the radar.
But it is kind of hard, in that I don't know how my words resonate.
I don't know how my words get interpreted.
Is it serious?
Is it literal?
Are my opinions, sometimes transitory in nature going to bite me in the ass
in my personal life?
Even my husband ignores this place.
He hears my voice enough, he said.
Only comes here when I make him, just to show off a clever piece of wording.
And then he goes away.
Just not that interested.
Sometimes I wish it was universal.
I am growing more and more fond of being under the radar.
Never want to be the main event.
Too much pressure.
Too much worry.
Too much resultant diplomacy required.
The message about the newly acquired lurkers- be careful.
Don't embarrass your family.
Don't embarrass your friends.
No pressure, really.
But not exactly what most would consider freedom of expression.
Gotta really think about this one.
Don't know if I'm all that interested in the constrictions provided.
Don't know if it's worth it to me.
Too many narrow lines to tread, and I have always been clumsy.
No doubt I have already crossed plenty of those, without knowing.
Without being told.
My ears should burn.
My nose should itch.
There are ghosts walking on my grave.
Or was it geese?

I had lunch yesterday with an old friend from work. I don't currently work in the same group with him, but haven't lost touch, because he is wonderful.

We were dishing about mutual acquaintances. One has cancer. One is a really vile human being. It is all interesting. Overall it makes me ponder a bit.

Where I work, competitive people congregate and freely screw eachother over on a daily basis. It is one big game for them. And the consequences are pretty dire for some. It takes me aback when I hear about new examples. Mainly because I can't really fathom being dim enough to behave like that. Not only is it careless to be an ass and forget that people have long memories, and love to wreak revenge when given an opportunity, but it's also just such bad manners. And I know that the manners argument makes me sound kind of priggish. But it really is true. This is it. This is our only opportunity to play this game, and if you're a dick about it, you lose. That's it. You fucking lose. Because not only did you not make a positive difference in the world, you added to the bad shit that's out there. You fucking lose, chief.

Whereas if you weren't a dick about it, and stumbled on occasion, there is redemption. But it's those people who see it as merely a game, and don't understand how deep it really goes- those are the ones who make me...sad. They are stupid. And one of them has cancer, and the other is a really vile human being (whose vileness is readily on display, and getting a bit of attention). And those are the ones who won't be missed by many when they go. They lose.

Go see "Iron Man". It is good. Now I have a serious thing for Robert Downey, Jr. Which kind of sucks, since it pulls attention away from Jack White and Michael Schumacher. What's a girl to do?

Roundup of the weekend: Saw above movie. Had sun yesterday, so weeded some- until shoulder revolted, and had to stop and watch a movie on tv. Watched "Duel in the Sun." Hated "Duel in the Sun." Fast forwarded through large parts of "Duel in the Sun" to make it stop. Think that Jennifer Jones was horribly miscast in "Duel in the Sun." But still think that Gregory Peck was really, really beautiful.
Back to weekend roundup: Spoke with many family members. Things are good. Settling down, really- the people in the family (actually person) who was all winky/crazy has seen the error of his ways, and gotten a nice fresh breath of sanity. All is well. Drama averted for now.
Kman got his car back together, and appears to have rebuilt the engine to the point where the aged oil leaks are historic, rather than current. Now he will prepare for track day for his motorcycle. Not sure how I feel about this...
Bought books at the bookstore- written by people I know via MySpace. Because they are my friends, dammit, and I owe them allegiance as such...right?
Actually cooked. Which was a nice return to being a normal person.
Drank too much coffee. Ate things with MSG in them at a party and got a nasty headache and hangover from it on Sunday morning. Thus the too much coffee.
Did the rest of the typical and normal weekend stuff- with the addition of wrote about 20 pages of the project that has started to consume my life around the edges. And I gotta say I kind of like it. So far. We'll see....

Kman was singing to himself this morning- not an uncommon occurrence, and a nice one at that. He reminded me of my favorite Neil Diamond song. "Cracklin Rosie." It's not the most dramatic of the Neil oeuvre, nor is it the most singable. But it is my Christmas song.

When I was probably 3 (could have been 4), we were at my grandparent's house. We were celebrating Christmas, and had a fire going in the fireplace. The presents had been opened, and everyone was happy. My father picked me up, and was dancing with me. That was the song that was playing. I hear it now, and remember the warmth, and the love and the security. It is by far one of the happiest moments of my life, and one that I have trotted out on occasion when needed to get through something worse. Funny, I don't invoke the song often. Don't even own it, actually. It's like if I did, it would lose some of its potent firepower. Kind of like if I think about that time too much it might go away. Funny how that works. Because in actuality, it will go away some day. For sure.

("for sure" is part of an elaborate F1 based drinking game in our house now- though we watch the races too early to actually make it a drinking game- currently it's in production, and theory mode- to be unleashed at a later date.)