Digi-Scene

I have to admit I get envious at times when reading other people's blogs in which they have all kinds of cute "look at what my little darling did today" moments to report. My brother-in-law told me about Nicole's first visit with the kindergarten teacher before school started. They were doing some preliminary testing like having her count as high as she could, whether she recognized colors and then they asked her about whether her Mom and Dad read to her. She answered that yes her Mom and Dad read her stories.

"What is your very favorite book, Nicole?" asks the teacher.

Without missing a beat, Nicole says "Walter the Farting Dog". And then she proceeds to go into great detail about the plot points of this literary masterpiece.

Yep, I bet that teacher is REAL impressed with Nicole's comprehension skills.

Not sure why, but lately lots of old friends and family have been calling me and sending little "thinking of you" emails. Is the karmic energy I'm giving off into the cosmos one of being distraught? I don't think I necessarily feel distraught, but I appreciate all of the expressions of love and concern, nonetheless. This is a sincere thank you to you all.

I've been planning for awhile to buy a new mattress and box springs, so yesterday I took the plunge and did it. However, I wasn't content to merely buy that. Nooooooooo. I decided that my new bed needed to be encased in a new frame too. So here's the new look for Kim's boudoir. Here's hoping that at some point I will actually have to share this new mattress with someone else other than myself.

*sigh*

I love craigslist. As a matter of fact I think I might be in need of a 12-step program to help me with my addiction to craigslist. Since I discovered it, I can't seem to stop going there for a daily fix of finding things I REALLY DON'T NEED OR HAVE ANY USE FOR. Kind of like an eBay for the more hip and technologically with-it geek.

Nevermind the fact that I actually used craigslist to find the apartment I eventually moved into here in San Diego. Also nevermind the fact that I found a gullible (and poor) college student and bought her dining room table set, but only after I haggled her down to a measly $125. Hey, I paid cash, so what do you expect?

However, I find myself cruising the postings for the perfect leather furniture at a steal of a price. I don't NEED leather furniture. I also don't need the vinyl records from my teenage years that I keep hoping to find. (Anybody know where I can lay my hands on an Ohio Players "Fire" lp with the original cover art?)

Do I really want to admit that I read the Men for Women postings? Or that that mid-50's guy that posts over and over and over again is really creepy? I wandered into Casual Encounters and found myself in utter shock at what some people will flat-out state that they are looking for in a sex partner. Thank goodness the firewall at work prevents me from accessing THAT on my lunch hour.

Forget Google. I have full confidence that should the time come that I need a liver transplant, craigslist will be right there to not only help with the search, but help me find someone that will deliver for an extra $25....

For several weeks now, my right ear feels like I'm on an extended plane ride where the pressure NEVER equalizes inside my head. I'll have brief glorious moments of being able to hear the world around me in stereo, but then almost immediately it's like going back to having only the left speaker in your car working.

Yesterday, the pressure built to the point where there is actual pain involved. I went home early from work (yeah, it surprised me too), stopped at the drug store to get a heating pad to place on my ear. That helps, but it still hurts. I'm on my way to the doctor to see if I can get some relief soon.

The doctor is a good second choice I guess. What I really want is my Mommy....

• My child is inmate of the month at Folsom State Prison
• Go Annie Duke!
• Guess what my Guiness World Record is

Today I had a strange dream early in the morning. I dreamed that a bright green tiny frog somehow found it's way into my house. As I was wondering how it got into the house, it merrily started hopping toward my bedroom. Giving chase, it eluded me until it made it's way into my closet. Strangely, it now blended in with the items sitting among my shoes on the floor of my closet. Just as I was going to reach for the frog, my "belts" started to move. They were snakes! I snatched my hand back just in time before these small green snakes caught and devoured the frog. Ewwwwwww!!!!

This is a relatively benign dream (and I'm aware of what these symbols are referring to in my waking life), but what scares me is that I might be slipping back to the place I was at in my mid 20's when I was sleep walking and I was afraid to go to sleep at night. I'm hoping this is a one time occurence and it's only because I happened to mention that time in my life recently to a friend of mine. Why does the unknown have to be so scary?

I admit it. I'm an anti-Zionist.

Please note gentle reader, that this statement has nothing to do with Judaism and the state of Israel but rather with Mormonism and the state of Utah.

I love my RELIGION, but I'm not all that crazy about some of the cultural and social stuff that goes along with it. Especially as that culture is being grown in the petri dish that is Utah.

You know it's bad when your religion has it's own set of jokes that can't be translated into any other religion or ethnic group. I mean how many blonde jokes can be retold as college co-ed jokes or regional jokes? Unfortunately, most Mormon jokes don't translate at all well as Catholic jokes. Peculair people indeed.

She's baaaaackkk....

I go down to the garage yesterday morning and see it literally wallpapered with flyers that this chick has made up addressed to Jack saying stuff like "You really hurt me, Jack" and "Tell the truth, Jack". Plus there are printouts of emails between the two of them and a picture of someone and their tatoo. Plus many, many more. It was freakish like every cliche of a stalker you could think of.

I feel sorry for poor Jack, it's like he's living a Lifetime Movie with this psycho kitty...

Top 5 household tasks that I will avoid doing today even at the peril of my health:

5. Vacuuming
4. Sweeping
3. Mopping floors
2. Washing dishes
1. Cleaning the toilet

Patrick got us wonderful seats along the first base foul line to see the Padres play the Phillies last night. Too bad the Padres FELL APART in the 9th inning and allowed 4 runs to lose 5-2. I love everything about the baseball experience: over-indulging on hot dogs and peanuts, nearly getting your head taken off with a foul ball, yelling helpful advice to the coaches and players ("If you just would have let that pitch hit you Klesko, we would have scored with the bases loaded. Don't be such a wuss and duck, that's why you're wearing a helmet you know. Next time take one for the team, wudja?")

If it wasn't such a darn expensive experience, I'd be ditching church today and worshipping at the altar of Babe Ruth's bat. Sorry, God....

Last night I swear I died and went to food heaven. If there isn't scrumptious stuff to eat in the next life, don't bother taking me Lord, cause I ain't going. I'm going to place a list of demands on God right here and now of things that must be stocked in the fridge and pantry of my mansion in the sky when I arrive:

• A full rack of ribs from Phil's BBQ
• An entire array of desserts from Extraordinary Desserts
• A full gallon of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
• Fresh raspberries and blueberries from Henry's

It goes without saying that all of this would be calorie free of course. Thanks in advance.

OK, I'll admit last night was entertaining. I mean REALLY entertaining. And that's the only reason I didn't call the cops.

I'm a small town girl that has little experience with living in the big city. I've seen in movies the kind of scene that went on last night, but never in person. I mean, how cliche is it to have your drunk former girlfriend show up at your apartment building and start yelling at you through the intercom at the door downstairs? And at 1:00 in the morning to boot?

Unfortunately, I only heard HER side of the conversation so I can only interpret the situation based on that. All I can say is, dude, I think you dodged a bullet by breaking up with her. She's a shreiker when she's upset. She also curses like a sailor when she's begging you to let her in. Also the fact that she was banging the phone against the wall when you wouldn't let her in to me is a big red flag. I think you are well rid of her.

I have a question for you though. You told her you loved her? Are you insane???? I'm assuming you're not 20 years old (based on the appearance of the shrieker in the street), so I gotta ask. What possessed you to tell her you loved her? I'll just assume your brain was sex addled at the time.

Piece of free advice for ya. Next time make sure the woman you're with knows what kind of woman she is. I mean a woman who thinks she's a queen bee when she's really a bar fly, is just a recipe for trouble.

Wearily yours,
The Woman in Apartment 40C

My worst fears were realized when I was told at the DMV this morning that because my old California license had expired, I was required to take the written driving test in order to renew it. After getting my mugshot taken (complete with deer in the headlights open-mouthed stare), I was given the dreaded #2 pencil, a multiple choice test, and was shown to a long counter where I could stand in complete silence with other similar panic-striken adults.

I handed in my test in the little wire basket and then slunk over to sit in one of those hard molded-plastic chairs to nervously await my fate.

"Kim?"
I scurried to the counter, hoping to avoid having them yell my score across the room at me. Though why I should care that a room full of strangers should know that I failed my driving test is beyond me.

"Yes, I'm Kim."
"You passed, ma'am."
"I passed?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Can you check the score again?"
"Yes, ma'am, you missed one question."
"I did?"
"Yes, ma'am, congratulations. We're taking a short survey to understand better our patrons preparation for the test. How many hours would you say that you studied for the test?"
"I didn't study."
"You didn't study?"
"No, ma'am."
"Not at all?"
"No, ma'am."

And that, my friends, is how I came to be allowed to drive the freeways of California with impunity...

I'll be spending this morning at the California DMV. 'Nuff said.

Pride weekend in San Diego was loud, flamboyant, and well.....wonderful. Makes me very glad that I've moved to a place with so much diversity. It also has me thinking a lot about how far gays have come in our culture and just how much more needs to be done. Miss you, Kirk and Larry....