It's like cow-tipping, but not

I took a picture of my TV when I saw this news promo, then I forgot to watch the news that night. That name lends itself to so, so many possibilities.



The video's here, but I don't think it lives up to its name.

P365 Day 220: "I'm not in your way, am I?"

For once, I'm happy to let Joe get in the way. I'm frustrated with the Interwebs. I'm going to take a step back and hold her for a while.



Blogger announced a couple of weeks ago that it will no longer supporting FTP publishing by the end of March. That's not horrible news; I've been meaning to move over to WordPress for a long, long time, and this is a great catalyst. But it's time-consuming. I want it to look Just Right, and that means spending a lot of time playing with this file and that file. And then, I assume, I'll have to help CFD migrate his blog, too.

I've become attached to Patches, the little bear in the top left corner. The last time I toyed with WordPress, I got rid of Patches and it just wasn't the same. Patches has been with me a long time. I'm going to do my best to keep her around. Anyway, if the blog goes up and down over the next couple of weeks, there's a good reason why: I'm screwing up something or another behind the scenes.

Mom said more snow moved through Memphis last night, but it looks like that rare coastal snow isn't going to make another appearance this season. It's 46 and raining. I like cold weather and winter, but I'm kind of ready for this season to be over.

OK. Time for news, Olympics and dinner. Probably not in that order.

P365 Day 219: Snuggled up on V-Day

Why is Joe-Kitty all snuggled up in the carrier? She hates the carrier. It represents all those trips to the vet when she had renal failure, plus all those 12-hour drives to and from Memphis that she barely tolerated. Maybe she likes it because it's Fred-Kitty's carrier or because it's red instead of green. I don't know. That cat is an enigma.



I hope everyone is having a lovely Valentine's Day, if you're so inclined. Paul gave me truffles and an adorable card with a kitten and a puppy on it. Sweet, considering I'm not one of those women who constantly nudges her husband about Valentine's Day, birthdays, anniversaries and so forth.

I give you all this short Neil Gaiman poem, which makes me a little bit happy in my heart. (Read it!)

Edit: Also this, in case you haven't seen it:

Assume the position

This is the strangest and most engrossing pop-up I've ever seen. I wish I could have actually posted the ad — all the little dudes were animated and did a little yoga pose when you moused over them. I moused over every single one. Sometimes twice. Most of the time twice.



So many of them are in "bend over and take it" poses. Coincidence or pretty close to real life?

P365 Day 218: It's snowing. Who made a deal with the devil?

Yesterday was a "hell has frozen over" kind of day, and here's some proof: SNOW! Now, before you laugh at our 1-2" of accumulation, remember we live on the coast. Paul and I are about ten minutes from the Atlantic. And Tweeters are saying it's snowing on Isle of Palms — the beach. It's snowing on the beach.

One of the local news stations is hashtagging this as #snomg. I guess for this area, it really is. Paul snapped this pic of the snow falling on the parking lot of our apartment. It's coming down pretty hard!



And a couple of shots of the accumulation —

The trees on the back side of our building (very close to the view from our screened-in porch):



The overhang of our building:



Accumulation on the ledge between our floor and the one above us:



I didn't stick my finger in it, but I think it's about an inch and a half. Don't laugh at me, people who have had eight-foot snow drifts. This is strange, very strange, for Chas.

I sent this text message to my dad today: "It's going to snow! We're expected to get a couple of inches on the coast; inland forecasted at 6-8". People here REALLY don't know how to drive in snow/ice." He wrote back: "You can have it! I'm am very tired of it this year. Go get you some groceries, hunker down and enjoy it. Love, Dad."

I assume the "You can have it" sentiment is pretty widespread at this point?

P365 Day 217: Ring, phone, ring!

That's a phrase you'll likely never hear me utter again. But this one is more important than usual. Enough that I'm dragging the phone from room to room. I hate the waiting game. Not the movie The Waiting Game. I've never seen it and am not qualified to make a judgment call.

No, I'm talking about Actually. Waiting. For. Something.

'Aural' is right with the world

Cut me some slack. You try coming up with a clever, punny headline at 2:15 a.m.

I wrote a bunch of stuff here about why I like the musicians that I like. Then I erased it. My taste in music is as eclectic as the people who brought that music into my life. You'll meet them some other time.

The reason I'm posting: Until tonight, Tori Amos reigned over the music on my iPod — not the music I listen to most, but the music that takes up the most real estate. And that was 483 songs — 34 hours, 49 minutes and 33 seconds, or 2.38GB. And that does not include her latest studio album (not the Christmas album; the one before that), which I did not buy because, frankly, she's started to scare me a bit with her multiple personalities and strangely wax-like plastic surgery. ::shudders:: Still, a sizable collection.

Then, tonight, I downloaded a bunch of Ben Folds/BFF bootlegs, chose only the best ones (none of that "I taped it from the 44th row while screaming!" stuff) and added them to my iPod. And that did the trick. Ben Folds/BFF have moved into the top spot by a large margin: 1,090 songs — 71 hours, 36 minutes and 3 seconds, or 5.86GB. Only about half the boots I downloaded made the first cut, and I'm going to give it another listen tomorrow and cut out any other boots that I don't totally love.

(I should also add here that I have bought every Ben Folds and BFF release. Every one. I believe in supporting artists. I also believe in bootlegs released into the wild. Some of the greatest music can't and won't be made in a studio. It happens on the fly in a crowd of people. And Ben Folds gets bonus points for his liberal use of audience participation — something else you won't find on a studio album.)

I've used 126.8GB on my iPod. I have 19.06GB free. If I really need to free up space, I can cut out some Tom Waits (2.27GB), Dave Matthews (4.8GB), The Who (1.94GB), Ween (1.27GB), Dead Milkmen (1.07GB), Flaming Lips (1.25GB), Queen (1.8GB), Billy Joel (1.28GB) or The Beatles (1.71GB). [Edit: And Ani DiFranco (1.27GB).] I'm sure there are other bands with well over a GB dedicated to them, but those are the first ones that come to mind.

Like I said before, I have my friends to thank for my taste in music. I feel like deleting some of these albums they cherish is akin to deleting the part of them that shared that music with me.

I will reassess when I wake up.

[Edit: I'm usually pretty good with math, so I'm going to chalk this up to being tired. My original post was completely wrong -- I said Tori had the most real estate, then, a couple of grafs later, listed Dave Matthews with more. A lot more. NIN and Metallica have more too. I'm not rebuilding the original post. But I felt it important to point out I do know 4 is more than 2.]

P365 Day 216: I am a fan of City Name Sports Team

This is one of Paul's favorite shirts. I'd say it's in the Top 3; the other two are the same shirt, but he has two of them — see here. When I post pictures of Paul, there's a solid 85% chance he is wearing one of these three shirts.

Front:


Back:


Big problem: His CNST shirt has a big hole in it. He swears the hole isn't big enough to warrant getting rid of the shirt, though he concedes he can't leave the house in it anymore. I was going to buy him another one, but they're out of print. :(

So, knowing it's just a matter of time before this shirt is gone forever, I have memorialized it with a couple photos. I might turn it into a pillow. I think that would be a fun project if the choices are "turn it into a pillow" or "throw it away."

P365 Day 215: Not home alone anymore!

A suitcase is home! And that means Paul is home too!!



Fortunately the snow in Paul's region wasn't as bad as it was/is in other parts of the country, so his flights weren't delayed. (Actually, that's not true. His second flight was six minutes late in the gate. Tsk.)

It's nice having him back. I haven't left in a few days and have been surviving on glorified ramen noodles. Did you know they come in a billion flavors, some with dried vegetables and whatnot? The one I had last night had teeny-tiny blocks of dried tofu. Very classy.

I put the trash out last night -- we have door-to-door trash pickup five days a week -- but I didn't take the trashcan in early enough today and had a note hanging on my doorknob saying it had been noted in my file and I would be charged $25 the next time I didn't bring my trashcan in on time. And yet my next-door neighbors (the ones with the kid who sounds like a cat being tortured) leave their trash out all weekend. In fact, when I left to take Paul to the airport Sunday morning, they had a couple of bags outside their door; by the time I returned, some creature had torn into the bags and strewn the trash everywhere. And I get the warning letter?

Breathe, Kate.

Ah, it's nice to again have somebody with whom I can converse. And bother. And watch the Slam Dunk Contest Saturday night. If you've never watched it, now's a good time to start. It's awesome.

Bucket list: Bonnaroo

Bonnaroo is making its line-up announcements on its MySpace page today (people still use MySpace?), with one band announced every six minutes. They play this annoying music every time a band is named, but at least it gives me a heads-up to change tabs and wait for the announcement.

I've always wanted to go to Bonnaroo. When I lived in Memphis, I had the good fortune of being just four hours from Manchester. Now I'm eight hours, almost to the minute, from Manchester proper. ... Not that distance is really a consideration; a road trip would certainly add to the experience.

But every year, I talk myself out of going for two reasons: money (each ticket is about $250, plus the cost of food, camping, etc.) and agoraphobia. I hate to leave my apartment. I hate it. The funny thing is I love being on the open road, but I hate stopping. I've mellowed in the past couple of years — for a long time, I was unable to go into a grocery store or department store — but I much prefer the solace and comfort of home.

And going to Bonnaroo is the complete opposite of being at home. You spend four days squished up with people you don't know. Here's a picture of Bonnaroo 2009 for reference:



My stomach turns over just looking at it.

So on one hand, I've got two very good reasons why I don't want to go, but on the other hand, the lineup is always impressive. It's a chance to see a lot of bands I love, in one place at one time — bands I might otherwise never see by themselves. (That's a lot of expensive concert tickets!) I could sit here and run through the list of people on this year's roster that I'm dying to see, but I'll link (again) to the lineup instead.

The Beale Street Music Fest is nice — and there are always three or four bands I want to see — but it just doesn't measure up. Not by a long shot.

So I guess I'm going to add "Go to Bonnaroo" to my bucket list, bringing the grand total of things on the list to one item: "Go to Bonnaroo." Some day I'm going to make it there. I just hope all the bands I want to see aren't dead before then.

[Edit: I will move heaven and earth if Dresden Dolls RSVPs.]

P365 Day 214: Bite my head off, why don't ya

Ever get so mad you want to bite someone's head off? Joe-Kitty took the directive literally. It's not really her fault though; I woke her up and was trying to get her to play with her birdie. In retrospect, it's clear she did not want to play with birdie. (Hindsight is 20/20.) And after she chewed on its head for a while, she clawed the crap out of me.

Diplomacy at its finest.



Paul's meetings went OK yesterday, not hindered too much by the snow. I know the region he's in melted and refroze last night, but I'm not sure if they got any more snow.

For what it's worth, Mom said Memphis-area schools (and thus her school, which follows the county school system's inclement weather policy) were closed, but added, "This is no fun anymore because we have to make them up." I'm not sure how many snow days are built into Memphis-area schools' calendars, but it can't be many. Snow/ice/etc. is rarely a problem there.

Paul's flight arrives at 2:42 p.m. tomorrow (assuming no weather delays — and that's a big assumption). In any case, I have to get back on a regular schedule. With him gone, I've been staying up all night and sleeping very, very late. My doctor knows routine is very important in my treatment, and I think he'd be frustrated (he doesn't get "upset") with me. Switching things up that much is enough to edge me toward mania. So here's a resolution: meds before 11, bed before midnight, up before 10. That sounds reasonable enough.

P365 Day 213: Nice weather we're having (how about you?)

Paul's meeting is in a part of the country that woke up this morning to snow/ice. (From what I understand, that's most of the country.) I haven't spoken to him in a while, so I don't know how much that affected his day. I do know schools there were canceled, so it must have been a significant amount of snow.

I swear I'm not rubbing it in, but it's still semi-warm on the coast. Warm enough for me to go out with my pretty socks and Memphis Snuggie, then take the Snuggie off after a while. (I was wearing Memphis colors underneath, too. I'm a good fan!)

Like my socks? I had trouble deciding which ones to wear. I own a lot of awesome socks.



The view from my porch is sunny, but the brush is still green and thick enough that you can't really see the river. ... Not that you could see the river in this picture anyway because my camera was pointed up so you could see how sunny it is.



Might as well have been a snow day at Casa Simone. I stayed up all night and slept very late (even by my standards). I've got some editing to do, then I'm going to catch up on reading one of the multitude of magazines already piling up around here.

Edit: I just re-read that and suddenly feel very guilty for having so many magazines. A lot of trees are going to die so I can read The Economist. :(

P365 Day 212: Real Good Lookin' Game

Paul left for his out-of-town meeting today. I dropped him off without incident. (In fact, I got to the airport in 20 minutes — not speeding. The roads were empty.) Then I came home and tried, with limited success, to catch a little more shuteye.

Paul called during his three-hour layover in Atlanta. Apparently, the hydraulics went out on engine 2 during the first leg of his trip — "I mean, they had back-ups," he assured me — so they were greeted on the tarmac by fire trucks. I'm glad it turned out OK. I'm still going to worry. I'm a worrier.

Also, I'm not one to leave the house much on my own, so when I did the grocery shopping for my four-day alone time, I picked up a six-pack of Abita Purple Haze — my favorite beer — as well as a sixer of New Belgium's winter ale, 2 Below:



Mom called a little while ago to check on me and on Paul's flight, and she asked if I had any plans for the next few days. "No, I'm probably not going anywhere," I said. "Taking care of the homefront," she replied. Phrase it however you want; it still comes down to cracking open a couple of beers and watching the Super Bowl in the company of my cats. (It's not like I don't have a chance to go out; I just don't really want to. If I decide to interact with real-life people, I can go to my apartment complex's watch party, but I doubt I'll feel like it.)

I think halftime with The Who gets its own beer. MTV has already reported The Who's setlist: "We're kinda doing a mash-up of stuff," (Pete Townshend) said. "A bit of 'Baba O'Riley,' a bit of 'Pinball Wizard,' a bit of the close of 'Tommy,' a bit of 'Who Are You,' and a bit of 'Won't Get Fooled Again.' "

So, unless they drop a huge bomb, it looks like they're not playing my favorite Who song — the song over which I bonded with my Rock Band buddies (including — here comes a blog plug! — Cheddar FonDrew). So at some point before halftime is over (now is good — do it now), I demand you all listen to The Who's best recent song.



Even when I'm home alone, that song generates warm-fuzzies.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday, folks. Geaux Saints!

P365 Day 211: In which I talk about people on the Interwebs

Guess who got her "go outside to the screened-in porch by herself" privileges revoked yesterday? Yep. Joe-Kitty decided to climb the screen and made it to about Paul's height (6'5") before he was able to get her down. Bad, bad kitty. (Those claws? Clean but deadly.)

If you haven't seen Bryce Donovan's latest "The Bryce is Write" column (You see what they did there? Huh? Huh? Bryce? Write? It's a funny play on words!), check it out here. It's about this website called Chat Roulette, where you can video/audio chat with random strangers, roulette-style. His advice? Turn off your audio and video, then go "people-watching."

I tried it yesterday afternoon around 4 p.m. and flipped through a few people before landing on an unabashed nosepicker. I figured nothing could top that, so I quit and left Bryce a comment. Last night, I told Paul about Chat Roulette and tried to get him to try it, but he has no patience for things such as that.

So, at about 2 a.m., completely under the influence of Ambien, I went through the same routine: turned off my video/audio and just flipped through random people. I was surprised by the number of ... uh, exhibitionists (Paul said, "What did you expect at 2 in the morning?") ... but fortunately, there's a "report activity" button. (Aside: I also landed on a dude who had a gun to his head and was holding a sign that read, "Convince me not to do it." I didn't feel like doing any convincing, so I went on to the next person. Hope that turned out OK for him.)

Then I landed on this dude who didn't seem to care if I had video/audio because he had to tell me this story Right Now about another person he'd seen on Chat Roulette. (I won't repeat the story. I can't repeat the story.) Anyway, we struck up a conversation, with his friend and his friend's girlfriend chiming in at various points, and — long story short — he's my Facebook friend now! :D

See, not all people on the Internet are bad. I mean, plenty of people on the Internet are bad, but if you have some common sense, you can figure those people out rather quickly. I was doing a little math and realized I met Paul online 13 years ago this May. Thirteen!

"If you have some common sense" aside, I admit I'd be pretty pissed if I found out my 16-year-old daughter met up at an arcade (ahh, love) with some dude she'd met on the Internet, which is precisely why it took me a couple of years to level with my parents about how I met Paul.

And I can guarantee if we'd gone the eHarmony route, we never would have ended up together because we were — and still are, in some ways — so different. (If you know us both, skim through the list of 29 dimensions [OK, they say 29 then list 32] and count how many ways we're alike. Not many, right? Yeah, that's what I thought.)

But, hey, we're coming up on our 8th anniversary, so it all worked out in the end. Online people rock! Paul and I rock! Go us!

P365 Day 210: Kitty zits

A couple of Christmases ago, Mom told me about a conversation she'd had with my cousin about my cousin's cats, Cairo (left) and Thebes, one of whom had feline acne. Kitty zits! Neither Mom nor I had heard of it, and I thought it was hilarious (and a bit outlandish).

But, oh no! The Fred-Kitty has come down with feline acne! :-( It's really hard to get her to sit still long enough to get a good picture, so I have two:

One with the flash, where you can only sort of make out her kitty zits:


And one without the flash. It's blurry but you can see her soul patch better:


Fred doesn't look sick or anything. Actually, it kind of looks like she ate a bunch of Oreos and they got stuck to her chin, which I wouldn't put past her if we had Oreos in the house.

I sent the pictures to Johanna, who wrote back to say her cat, BK, also had a bout of feline acne. (BK, like Fred and Joe, has her own Twitter account. Follow her here.) Apparently, it's a pretty common ailment. That made me feel a lot better.

And I really appreciated the About.com article that reminded me that, unlike humans, kitties are not embarrassed about their acne. Good. I'd hate for Fred to be the laughingstock of the neighborhood cats.

We're going to take Fred-Kitty to the vet once Paul's back from his out-of-town meeting. That way we can get those kitty zits under control. ... You know, to avoid any long-term embarrassment on her part.

The Friday Five (Kate edition)

I came across a site called Ickmusic via Popdose (and Popdose via Smacky). Ickmusic has a feature called The Friday Five. We've done this before; this is just an excuse to do it again. And Ick does it every Friday, so maybe this will become regular. (Don't count on it. I'm already super-devoted to Project 365.)

Put iTunes (or your music player of choice) on shuffle and list the first five songs that come up. Here's mine:

"Road Trippin'," Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Time Bomb," Old 97's
"Sloppy English," NOFX
"Cache Cache," The Who
"Chicago," Sufjan Stevens

I admit I own too much music to know it all (most come recommended by friends), so I've only heard two of those songs above. And only one is in regular rotation. Want to guess which one?

P365 Day 209: Naptime

Shh, it's sleepy time.



Paul's grabbing a much-needed nap on the couch. He's under a ton of stress right now — planning presentations, writing tests, preparing for an out-of-town meeting next week — and I don't know how he's doing it. OK, I kind of do know how he's doing it: He's staying up late and not sleeping much. He's immunity is probably down the drain. I should make sure he takes some extra vitamins.

I hate when he goes out of town. I don't always do so well on my own.

Your ... what?

I hate ads that leave me hanging.


(I did not become a fan.)

P365 Day 208: Why we don't buy cat beds

Small cat, large box:



Large cat, small box:



Yeah, Fred-Kitty might be the big(-headed) cat, but she knows to choose her fights wisely. If Joe wants the big box, Joe gets the big box. I actually had to take the microwave box away from both of them today because Joe-Kitty was eating the Styrofoam inserts. I don't know why. I can't imagine it tastes good ... or tastes like anything, really.

I can't settle on a soundtrack for today. Some Green Day, some Dresden Dolls (hard time deciding which video to link), a little Ben Folds, a little Weezer ... even the new Rob Zombie released yesterday (so far, it's so-so, so ...).

Speaking of Green Day, I made a big request of Paul last night: If, in the unlikely event we fall into a mountain of money, could we drive to New York to see "American Idiot" on Broadway? (Load that link. Listen to "21 Guns" on the front page.) We have done this once before: We drove to NYC to see "Avenue Q," so this wouldn't be unprecedented. We decided it's a go if money and time fall into place. I'm not packing my bags yet, but that would be so awesome.

OK, I'd better go check on cats and boxes and such things.

P365 Day 207: We bought a new microwave before the other one blew up

When Paul and I moved in May, we realized our new apartment didn't have a microwave. That's an important thing to know before you sign a lease. But, as it so happened, my parents were driving in from Memphis that weekend and brought with them a microwave we'd received as a wedding gift (I think?) and had left behind when we came to Charleston. We left behind quite a few things when we moved to Charleston.

The microwave worked fine ... for that one week we lived in our new place before we went to Memphis for the rest of the summer. That might have been sheer luck. When we came back and plugged in our appliances, the microwave tripped the circuit. That happened occasionally for a while, which was little more than a nuisance. Then, the other day, it got to the point where it would run for five seconds, trip, reset, run for five more seconds and so on.

I realized (ding!) that I was probably dealing with a fire hazard. Please don't call the fire department — or, worse, the leasing office — and tattle on me.

So last night, Paul and I went to Wal-Mart looking for a specific GE model they had on their website. Then we went to another Wal-Mart. Then, empty-handed, we drove across town to Best Buy (that's when Paul got the speeding ticket I mentioned yesterday).

This is what we ended up with:



Now, my first thought was that I'd take a picture of my nice, new, sleek microwave in its cozy spot on my counter. But then I actually looked at the box, and I realized GE is trying to market an 1100-watt microwave by advertising it popping popcorn. The whole top of the box — popcorn.

And that's all well and good, but unless you're a microwave-watching hawk, popping popcorn in an 1100-watt oven is more than likely going to end like this than the glorious, buttery goodness in that picture on the top of the box.

We've cooked a Lean Cuisine and a bowl of ramen, but for what it's worth, we haven't done the popcorn test yet — and everyone knows that the true test of microwave worth. I'll let you know how that goes.

P365 Day 206: Envy our parking spot!

This is what our friends would call a "Paul and Kate spot." Until it was pointed out to us, we didn't realize we always get really, really good parking spots. Like this.



Sorry for the lack of commentary tonight. I honestly didn't think it was possible to feel anything while taking this much medication, but apparently it's possible to squeeze some frustration out of me when dealing with a blown-out microwave ($91), Paul's speeding ticket tonight (57 in a 45, $89) and some job stuff with which I'm not ready to deal.

Something strange struck me today while I was on Facebook, of all places. I realized that maybe I shouldn't even care if we don't end up in Memphis. Life has moved on without us. You can never go home again, you know?

Heh. And suddenly, instead of squeezing frustration out of me, it's tears. Lots and lots of tears. But, hey, I still got my photo up, you know?

[Edit: OK, I cried it all out and feel better. And, hey, if you're in the market for eyeliner and/or something with which to draw tattoos on yourself (Really. It's marketed for that, too.), I fully endorse Kat Von D Tattoo Liner. It's crazy indelible.]