judisunshine

1. Lie in bed half awake for an hour, despite having gone to bed at 2 in the morning.

2. Reluctantly leave bed at 7:30.

3. Wander around, say good morning to cats.

4. Trip over clogs.

5. Give props to cats for working out new routine overnight, in which Dr. von Rockenstein meows plaintively, and Chip backs her up by doing manic somersaults and banging into walls.

6. Feed cats Fancy Feast, turn on shower.

7. Glance at cell phone, see that it is actually 6:30.

8. Look at computer clock to make sure that phone is correct, and not plotting against me.

9. Check AIM and Myspace, despite telling myself no more Myspace in the morning before work, get annoyed when site is down.

10. Think, “I could do yoga right now.”

11. Think, “If I start getting ready now, I could wear a skirt to work and do my hair nicely.”

12. Think, “I could get to work early and get my overtime hours in the morning, not have to rush home to watch ‘Gilmore Girls,’ and also look like a responsible employee.”

13. Go back to bed.

14. Drag self out of bed at 7:37 after briefly wondering if maybe it’s an hour earlier like before.

15. Feel proud of self for matching up volumizing shampoo with volumizing conditioner, take shower.

16. Wonder why I never think to tie bathrobe sash before Chip uses it as rope ladder.

17. See that cats have eaten all of their food, glare at Fancy Feast cans and wonder what kind of cat crack they put in it.

18. Give cats more Fancy Feast, admire the silver sardine chunks, point them out to cats.

19. Get dissed by Dr. von Rockenstein when she gives me a “Whatever” look, get dissed further by Chip, who sniffs the food, then runs away to bang into more walls.

20. Notice that it’s only 8, enter my “time will now stand still” portion of the morning.

21. Go into bedroom, consider wearing skirt, look for stockings.

22. Give up, wear jeans.

23. Straighten up living room.

24. Blowdry hair, scare cats with noise.

25. Remove cell phone from charger, notice it’s 8:18, stare at phone, aghast.

26. Heat up piece of chicken.

27. Open door, realize it’s raining.

28. Go look for umbrella.

29. Give up, leave.

30. Do makeup in car while eating chicken and making up fun new route to work.

31. Get lost.

32. Fume at truck driver in front of me for driving like drunk old lady.

33. Vow to go to bed at 9, get up at 6:30 tomorrow for real.

34. Debate odds of this happening while sitting in parking lot, get lost in reverie.

35. Marvel that I’m only sixteen minutes late, trip on carpet, begin day.

© November 15, 2005

What I would like to know, seriously, is what kind of crack the folks over at Sony are smoking. See because, okay. I went into work at ShopRite on Saturday, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of working an 8-hour shift, but in a decent mood.

Decent quickly turned to AWESOME, however, when I heard Rich’s voice a few feet from my register: “When did we start selling CDs?” When did we start selling CDs? This was news to me! And before I knew it, I was in seventh heaven, because one of the CDs was called “Metal Ballads!”

Now, I won’t even try to front. I am an absolute sucker for hair bands. I was in junior high in the late ’80s, so how could I help it? Sure, I listened to Debbie Gibson, and was in love with New Kids on the Block, mostly Donnie, because he was the bad boy, but the REALLY bad boys were all the dudes on MTV with the long, messy hair full of Aqua Net. Something about the combination of larger-than-life ‘dos and leather just really got me, you know?

And that is why the Power Ballads were so key. The Power Ballads were hair bands’ way of saying, “Yes, we are sexual energy incarnate, but we also have deep feelings.” And that right there is every teenage girl’s dream — a sexy, misunderstood bad boy with a good heart and a large capacity for love! Because you know, he could talk a good game, about wanting girls, girls, girls and someone to talk dirty to (him), but what he really wanted was you — that special girl who would totally just GET him and be able to say I love you (babe) without a sound, and also chill on the playground whilst discussing the plight of crying children.

Sure, I know better now. Or, ummm, maybe I still have a bit of a ways to go with the whole bad boy thing. But the point is that I was very excited that ShopRite was selling “Metal Ballads.” Filled with anticipation, I grabbed the CD and brought it back to my register.

The cover was as excellent as you would expect:

There was a metal…I don’t know what that thing is called. It’s in lots of videogames, and the idea is that you don’t want it to get you. Maybe a circular saw? Anyway, in front of that was a rose, to juxtapose sharp edges with soft romance, you see — the formula for the great Power Ballad. Over this ingenious design were the words “METAL BALLADS,” in jagged letters to represent the edginess of the whole production.

Deadly.

And it was only $6.98! I eagerly turned over the CD to examine the track listing, wondering which songs were soon to be filling my apartment with scratchy-voiced angst, paving the way for nostalgic melancholy for many a night.

The first song on the album was “Carrie” by Europe. Awesome! Europe earned my undying love with “The Final Countdown,” a song featuring everything necessary in a perfect hair band single, right down to the nonsensical lyrics. I mean, I think he was comparing his love to a rocket ship? And there was some really dramatic synthesizer going on, and like, explosions, so what’s not to love? Really, my affection for “Carrie” does hinge heavily on my deep love for “Countdown,” but it’s cool. “Carrie” was exactly the kind of song I was hoping to find on “Metal Ballads.” I was a tiny bit surprised that Europe was the first band on the album, as I always saw them as the Jessica Simpson to say, Def Leppard’s Britney Spears, circa 1999. But whatever, I like “Carrie,” no problem.

Second track: “I Saw Red” by Warrant. Hmm, don’t know that song. When I think “slow Warrant song,” I think “Heaven,” but maybe “Metal Ballads” was taking a more avant-garde approach. Cool!

Next up was “I Live My Life For You” by Firehouse. Now, I won’t lie. I somehow completely missed the fact that Firehouse was a real band, much less a metal band, although they are on all the ’80s hair band sites, I am finding. All I knew of Firehouse was that they had that single, “Love of a Lifetime,” which fit in perfectly with my Important Highschool Romance of 1992, in which every slow song had Deep Meaning, including Vanessa Williams’s “Save the Best for Last,” so lets just move on, shall we?

Bad English had the next song with “When I See You Smile.” Really, I have no way of knowing if this is a legitimate pick or not. In the very late eighties into the very early nineties, there was a new type of band that came around, this Hair Band 2.0, which featured shorter — but not short — hair, less makeup, and deeper, soulful lyrics. Think Creed before Creed was Creed, and before Creed begat all of that mush-mouthed music that was to come ten years later. Although grunge overtook the music scene, I think Hair Band 2.0 was supposed to be the next wave of music for the new decade. And in this group I am including Damn Yankees, “Miles Away”-era Winger, and Bad English. I don’t know if there is any validity to this compartmentalization, but it really does make a lot of sense in my mind, and which is to say that when I saw “When I See You Smile” on the “Metal Ballads” CD, my apprehension was steadily building, but I was still thinking I’d probably buy the CD. After all, we were not even halfway through; things were bound to get better!

Well not quite, because the fifth song was “A Man I’ll Never Be” by Boston. I don’t like Boston. To me, Boston sounds like everything bad about hanging out with musicians, with none of the good. There’s something about the sound, like they are just a little too pleased with themselves, and one step away from saying that they know you had plans, but the guys are gonna come jam, and maybe you could just chill for awhile with that girl who hates you because you brush your hair sometimes and also don’t own enough Ani DiFranco CDs.

Yeah okay, anyway. At this point, all was not lost. I was still holding out hope. Halfway through, things could turn around, couldn’t they? I mean, we had still not seen Cinderella, even! I looked to the next track, thinking we were about to really kick it up a sexy notch, and sure enough, there was…

…Meat Loaf.

WTF!

Meat Loaf? Why? WHY! Is it like, because of “Bat Out of Hell,” the makers of this CD thought, “People won’t know! It’s like Ozzy! Ozzy ate bats, and was the prince of darkness, and so people will think of that” and just whaaaaaaaaattttt??? So anyway, the song was “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” and it was at this point that my brain began to melt, and the rest of it’s all sort of a blur.

Thank God, because the next song was “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler. I’ll let you all just think about that for a second.

Up next? What else, but Loverboy, with their Metal Classic, “Heaven In Your Eyes.” You may better recognize Loverboy from their hit heavy metal song, “Working for the Weekend.” They were extremely edgy.

But not as edgy as the band from the 9th track. Thats right, I’m talking about REO Speedwagon! I wasn’t even allowed to listen to REO Speedwagon until I was 16, for fear that I would be too influenced by their suggestive lyrics, sick guitar riffs, and overall badassery. And “Can’t Fight This Feeling” was just the metal-est of the bunch.

So obviously, the makers of “Metal Ballads” had just completely lost their shit at this point in like, every way. There is no other explanation for ANY of this. Or else they did the track-listing version of Babelfish, and plugged in all the info to churn out a bitchin’ CD, but something along the way went terribly wrong because, seriously, you might think that it couldn’t get any more bizarre.

You would be wrong.

The last track…

…on “Metal Ballads”…

…(“Metal Ballads”)…

…was “Eternal Flame.”

By The Bangles.

And that was when my few remaining brain cells shut down, and I ran out of words.

KEEP ON ROCKING!

© January 31, 2006

*Or, How A Night Of Drinking Became A Film Festival**

**Without The Film***

***Mostly

6-8:30pm – The Fish Out Of Water Tale
Babz and Judi reluctantly go to Mirage to bid an awesome coworker farewell. Sit back and enjoy the wackiness as two girls accustomed to beer, jeans, and inexpensive tabs get thrown into a world of VIP sections, hair gel, and oonst-oonst music!

INTERMISSION

10-10:30pm – The Independent Film
Babz and Judi sit in Stingers and discuss life’s minutiae. They enjoy the company of bartenders and friends, Kevin, Billy, and Jamie. A beer here, a shot there, and good conversation, all set to a killer soundtrack, of course.

10:30-11:30pm – The Sure-To-Age-Awkwardly Technologically Hip Movie
Babz and Judi make calls on their cell phones! They text people! People text back! Bonnie might be coming but she left her wallet at home! Text her back, quick, Babz! You can lend her money from one of those ATM machines!

11:30pm-12am – The Tearjerker
Watch as Judi makes Bonnie cry within the first five minutes of her arrival!

12-1am – The Chick Flick
Megan completes this quirky cast of four girls bonding, laughing, and making memories. The girls’ friendship is tested when Hat Girl pisses off Bonnie, but in the end, they overcome their differences through the power of estrogen and beer.

1-1:30am – The Foreign Arthouse Film
In an ambitious departure from type, Judi becomes a British lesbian! For what better way to get rid of the annoying guy at the bar than by liking girls and having a European accent!

1:30-2:30am – The Self-Indulgent Vanity Project
This plotless piece goes on for too long and features mostly tedious conversations and uninspired character studies.

2:30-3am – The Musical
The highlight of this show features Megan in a career-making dance number, as a down-and-out Army girl who triumphs over adversity through cartwheels and dazzling spins!

3-4am – The Exploitation Flick
Babz starts fights in the bathroom, and Bonnie becomes a good-girl-gone-bad when the bartenders ply her with shots. Judi is miscast as a girl who just sits there and tells Bonnie how awesome she is.

4-4:30am – The Documentary
Whimsical fun as Kevin and Bonnie take turns behind the camera to document the evening.

4:30-5am – Film Noir
Kevin and Jamie engage in performance art, affixing drink stirrers to their bodies. Dim lighting, smoky air, and Cure songs complete the feel of this experiment in surrealism.

5-6am – The Summer Blockbuster
Action packed and fast paced, this movie’s got it all! Everyone wants to drive Babz home, but she’s got other plans! Don’t miss the non-stop thrills as our heroine outwits her captors, evading them at every turn. She’s not one, but two steps ahead at any given moment – escaping via the bathroom, even sacrificing her own cell phone to dodge the high-speed car chase at the climax! This film will have audiences glued to their seats, right up through the unexpected twist ending that will have everyone talking!

© October 24, 2005

I am hereby imposing a moratorium on the whole goddess thing, because I’ve officially had enough. Is there a company out there that has not yet named a product Goddess, or revolved an ad campaign around being a goddess? Nike is the latest culprit, and I have to see their silly ads every time I sign into Myspace (which is a LOT). So tired of it.

First of all, at this point, it lacks imagination. Are companies sitting around going, “Well, we didnt think to have cavemen who eat roast duck or a guy pulling physics-defying picture frames off of his neck — goddess, it is!” Because it sure seems that way.

Second, I think it is pretty ironic to use empowering words in order to sell women more girly crap they dont need. Dont get me wrong — I LOVE girly crap I dont need! But please. I expect companies to hyperbolize in order to get me to buy their stuff, but try to stay on topic, advertisers. I dont mind Halle Berry’s telling me that I can have Fabulashes if I buy Revlon. I was okay when Clairol implied that I’d be screaming in the shower if I used their shampoo. Wait, scratch that. Those were the most obnoxious commercials ever. Bad example.

But my point is, I don’t mind that advertising is shallow and full of empty promises. I saw “Picture Perfect;” I know the deal. What bothers me is when advertisers try to be something they’re not — meaningful. They are sending a message that they think reads as, “Women are the bestest people in the whole wide world,” but comes across as sort of lazy and cynical — “We know your self esteem is sagging, so here you go, have some razors.” Cause I guess once we have hairless legs, we’ll be all ready to be worshipped. Or something.

And that is my biggest problem with the endless goddess campaigns and products. I get the idea in theory, that we women are supposed to feel good about ourselves, and treat ourselves with respect, and I do appreciate the sentiment if it’s ever genuine, but there’s something about the word “goddess.” I don’t know about you, but I have enough issues without thinking that every time I look in the mirror, I am face to face with a deity. Is that really as good it gets? Me? Because I would really hate to think that the best life had to offer was me in Nike sneakers and Avon perfume.

But if all of my arguments and pleas are not enough to stop the goddess madness, there is one thing that I truly believe should be a very clear message to advertisers to cease and desist. And that one thing is Fantasy by Britney Spears. The commercial. I dont know that Ive ever been more horrified by anything in my entire life, and I watched every episode of ‘Jack and Jill.” I mean, “once upon a time, there was a goddess and a hunter”? WHAT??? Even if Id been on the goddess train…or chariot…beforehand, the thought of being hunted by a Kevin Federline wannabe whilst flitting about a forest in my bare feet (natch) would most certainly send me right off of it. Because…ew.

So there you go, advertisers. My arguments basically boil down to “Yawn,” “WTF,” and “Ew,” but I’d really appreciate it if you could find a different well to frequent for a while. Perhaps you just need a little pick-me-up to get the imaginative juices flowing. Maybe you should chug some Red Bull. I hear it gives you wings.

© October 14, 2005

1. If you’re going to tattoo blueprints all over your torso in order to break your brother out of prison, you probably shouldn’t walk around all nonchalant with no shirt on, no matter how hard you’ve been working out, because then your schizophrenic cellmate with bipolar tendencies might try to take your top off when it’s dark outside.

2. You can go crazy and bald and blow up your entire apartment complex, and Jack Wagner will still love you.

3. It is okay for your boyfriend to have a fugue-fueled emotional affair with his ex-girlfriend, and as long as he only goes to second base with her after making you cry, you are wrong to sleep with the sexy art student who is nice to you.

4. Nothing says “I love you” like a good Texas Hold ‘Em reference.

5. You can throw a dodgeball really hard at your best friend, and sexually attack your other best friend, but as long as you are a hyena at the time, it’s all good and they will forgive you.

6. If your boyfriend whom you love, and who deflowered you at the Spring Dance, happens to fall in love with your best friend while you are in France eating brains and hooking up with Superman, then you are obligated to forgive both of them, because you have brown hair.

7. Want to get laid? Throw a temper tantrum!

8. If you are experiencing a lull in your marital relations, have an affair with a clown. Then, when your husband catches you and kills the clown out of jealousy, keep the costume. Be sure there is a bitter mime around to frame.

9. Not only can heroin save you from dying in a plane crash, but it also transforms into beautiful moths when thrown into a fire.

10. If you are in love with someone, but he is a commitmentphobe and you would like some indication that your destiny is with each other, throw a Filet o’ Fish at his head.

© September 13, 2005

1) I’m no Freud fangirl, but I doubt that he would ever use “impact” as a verb.

2) Frasier is especially annoying in this episode. I could see his beef with guests’ not taking the party seriously, but they have! They just didn’t exactly do what he was looking for. Geez, Frasier.

3) I love John Mahoney, and even though Martin is fictional, I love how happy Niles’s dressing up as him made him. (And no, Freud wouldn’t write that grammatically meandering sentence either, but whatever.) And Niles’s speech-as-Marty was beautiful and touching.

4) How could anyone not respect a Wonder Woman costume? That is one of my goals, to be hot enough to rock a full-fledged Wonder Woman costume.

5) Alexis Bledel just will not stop getting prettier. Yes, that’s from a commercial, and yes, I’ve said it before, but it cannot be said enough. You go with your crazy beauty, Alexis. Now, SHE could rock a Wonder Woman costume tomorrow.

6) Do any boys have bowl haircuts outside of TV?

7) I used to find Frasier nerdily endearing, but after knowing and sometimes dating men as self-absorbed and self-humorless as him, I now just want to smack him and get him to enjoy life a little.

8) Niles should drink beer more often.

9) Good on you, Frasier — you should say “I’m terribly sorry” more often. And you should also drink more beer.

10) Damn, John Mahoney rocks my world.

11) Six beers, Niles? SIX BEERS, and you are having drunken moments of shame? That’s pathetic. And also confusing, because don’t you always drink sherry and wine and brandy and all that? I can’t date you.

12) How late are kids allowed to trick-or-treat in Seattle?

12:30) I love cats, but I could be totally into having a dog if he was as awesome as Eddie.

1 am) Yay, another Frasier! I love the new WB nighttime lineup! Now just switch “Everybody Loves Raymond” with “Friends,” and we’ll be all set.

© September 20, 2005

So, okay, am I missing something with this whole Kate Moss/cocaine thing? In case you haven’t heard, I believe the deal is that someone got a picture of her sniffing coke. Now H&M and a few other companies who were using Moss have dropped her, and apparently it might be hard for her to get future work.

Huh? Now don’t get me wrong. I can’t stand coke. I’ve never done it myself, but I hate what it does to people, making them mean and shady and moody. I’m not advocating cocaine use. But – huh?? What is the big deal here, exactly? Because on the news last night, there was this definite tone of shock and judgment towards this *terribly damaging* photographic evidence. And I don’t get it. Why is anyone so surprised that someone famous – particularly a model – did/does cocaine? Doesn’t that like, come with the territory? Or am I basing too much of my model world knowledge on the movie “Gia?”

And even if it doesn’t come with the territory, why is it that Robert Downey Jr. can be constantly cracked out of his mind, but the second he’s sober for five minutes, studios are banging down his door to work with him? Colin Farrell, at least before his child, can be on a perpetual bender, but ha ha, what a funny Irishman, he so crazy! Let’s cast him! Matthew McConaughey gets arrested playing bongos naked while high as a kite, and makes no apologies, and he still gets work.

Well, okay, the pot-induced musical nudity is definitely kind of awesome. But my point is, why is Kate Moss in such big trouble? It seems completely hypocritical and sort of ironic in a meta kind of way. It used to be, back in the late ‘80s into the early ‘90s, that there were your regular people, then the thin supermodels – Cindy Crawford, Claudia Schiffer, et al. Cindy Crawford was wearing a size 6 in ‘92 when her first workout video came out.

Then came Calvin Klein with his “Boobs? What’re those?” starving-children-aren’t-they-sexy campaign, and that became model skinny, while people like Cindy Crawford became “healthy sized models.” And the poster child for that grungy, bony “new” look was…Kate Moss! Since then, skeletal became the new thin; thin with a curve here or there became “refreshing,” and regular bodies became even more undesirable than before. And the NAME of this modeling revolution? Heroin chic. Heroin chic. Heroin = chic! Heroin = drugs = chic = tons and tons of money for Calvin Klein, for everyone who cashed in on this new look, company after company who hopped on this sketchy and controversial bandwagon in order to cash in on the profits derived from setting an even more unattainable standard of “beauty.”

But now, the same media are horrified and appalled that Kate Moss did a line of coke? Give me a freaking break. It’s a bit hysterical at best, and completely disingenuous at worst, for companies to be shocked that a model who, considered way past her prime at the ripe old age of 31, is doing a drug that enables her keep up in a world that they used her to help create. Cocaine helps people get and stay ridiculously skinny. It helps people work insane hours. It helps people not to wither in the spotlight while upholding a fun, party image that companies are willing to profit from, but not take any responsibility for.

So shut up, H&M. Shut up, WB11 News At Ten. Shut up, everyone who has a clear picture in his or her mind of what a woman should look like, but doesn’t want to see how how the filet mignon gets from the cow to the plate, if you know what I mean. I don’t think that Kate Moss is a victim here, but I think that maybe people should be worrying a little bit less about whether celebrities they’ll never meet are doing drugs, and a little more about why exactly it enrages them so.

© December 24, 2005

I have an avocado pit in my freezer. I mean, who doesn’t, really? But my avocado pit is my special friend.

Maybe I should back it up. Okay, so I’ve learned over the past several months that I might not be as good with single living as I’d originally given myself credit for. I was finally able to get another apartment. While I craved my space when I was living at home with my parents and siblings, once I was in my own place again, I felt very lonely. Sure, it’s nice to be able to decorate, and walk around naked, and have the TV all to myself. It’s wonderful to not have to deal with others when I don’t want to.

But I’ve never been in my own place when I was single. I’ve lived with my family, Shannon, and my ex-husband. For a year before getting married, I did have my own place, but the ex was over all the time. And at night when I went home, there was often no one there, but I always knew that there was someone not so far away that loved me more than anyone else in the world.

That is the hardest thing, I think. Putting the key in the door, and knowing that there isn’t anyone inside who cares, or even knows that you’re home. It sort of feels at odds with the concept of home to begin with. There won’t be someone on the other side of the door to kiss you hello, or welcome you to bed, or to tell you he loves you. There won’t even be anyone out there that night thinking that he loves you. It’s sort of humbling. And very lonely.

But you know, that’s how it is right now. And I always thought I was someone who could be single, no problem! But it is harder than I realized.

So anyway, after about a week of feeling very sad every night in my new place, I decided to stop at the supermarket on the way home. If there is one upside to single living, it’s the control over the refrigerator that can basically make you lose weight without thinking about it. I decided I was not going to keep any junk in the house, but rather, make conscious food choices each night, bring them home, eat them, and then be done with it. No late night snacking! Because ironically, I am far too lazy to actually leave my house to buy junk food.

Part of my dinner purchase was an avocado. I truly love avocados, but had never actually bought my very own. Yet there I was, peeling my avocado (owww!) and preparing a healthy dinner in my own kitchen. And then going to eat it while watching “Felicity” in my own…well, bedroom, because that was the only place I had cable at the time. Don’t judge me!

As I’m trying to figure out what to do with this avocado, I see the pit! And I have this obsession with seeds, and I’m not even sure if the avocado pit is a seed? Because I really suck at science. Or, you know. Basic knowledge of life facts. But so yeah, there is the avocado pit — this cute, round, little ball! I am not exactly sure why this avocado pit gave me this surge of renewed hope, but it did.

All of a sudden, for the first time since I’d moved into my apartment, I was happy to be spending the evening there. It was like this tangible reminder that there is beauty to be found where I least expect it, and if I pay attention and just chill out a little bit, I can find myself standing in random places, crying (because I had PMS), and laughing (because I might get trite and corny, but I am not actually insane, and I realize that crying about fruit (even one that seems like a vegetable) is bizarre.

And then I can take the avocado pit and put it in my freezer as a remembrance of my epiphany, and a symbolic reminder for the future, to not take things too seriously.

And then I can name the avocado pit Appy, based on Babz’s suggestion, and scare people who come to visit me by showing them said pit, and telling them the story…

I think it’s time for me to get some cats.

© August 2, 2005

So all of a sudden, it hit me – I really, really want a Hello, Kitty toaster. It should have been obvious, I suppose. I love Hello, Kitty and all things pink, but I’m not looking to go all Anna Nicole Smith with my apartment. However, I do not actually own a toaster. I have never owned a toaster.

Perhaps this stems from fear. When I was 17, I set a Pop-Tart fire while babysitting two infants, and that was fairly traumatizing. I did use toasters in my parents’ house, although my OCD with making sure it was unplugged and not setting new, invisible fires was fairly debilitating.

I do own, listed in no particular order, the following: a Foreman grill, a waffle iron, an ice cream maker, a fondue maker, and at one point before they went missing, a s’mores maker, a skillet, and a wok. How many of these have I used? Three. 

So given my penchant for kitchen appliance collecting, it’s kind of silly that I don’t own a toaster. I mean, the appliances I just listed could easily band together to set a fire in the middle of the night. They might resent my checking the oven knobs 1,237 times before I go to bed, and think, “Hey! We are just as bad-ass as your oven!” And all hell would break loose. Maybe if I got a toaster, it could kind of be the quiet leader of all the minor appliances, and keep them calm and in good spirits, like Hurley on “LOST.”

And who’s kidding whom? I might actually use a toaster more than say, a waffle iron, ‘cause Lord knows it doesn’t look like I’ll ever be cooking breakfast for anyone else again. Plus, if I ever get it together long enough to buy the scary, dark-brown German bread from ShopRite, I could use a toaster to prepare a nutrient-rich snack, and what’s not good about that?

So I think I’m going to do it – get a toaster. And as long as I genuinely need a toaster, why not speed up the inevitable anthropomorphization of said toaster by purchasing one that has a cat on it? Solid plan, if I do say so myself!

~ THE END ~

P.S. If you read this entire thing, you’re awesome.

P.P.S. If you read this entire thing, and connected with it to some degree, please email me, because I want to be your friend and/or marry you.

P.P.P.S. Yes, I learned the word “anthropomorphize” from Calvin and Hobbes.

© September 28, 2005