For the record, yuck. I do not call Frank “honey,” nor do I allow him to call me same. We’re all about every other term of endearment in the book, but not that one. Anyway.

Frank keeps on hinting that I’ve done laundry in like… never. Whatever, dude. I’m busy, yo. So we just finished moving a ton of furniture to storage. Now all we have left to move over there are the TV and my chest (not that one, the one lined with cedar), which go tomorrow morning. And here we go with yet another round of the Frank J. / SarahK talky-talk.

FRANK J.: I’m gonna go take a shower now. But I don’t want to put these clothes back on, because they need to be washed [yes, we already discussed laundry like a half hour ago, I get it!]… So what should I wear?
SARAHK [hey, I’ve got my own life questions to ponder, husband! what the dealio?]: Um… [knowing that he can’t just walk around neckid like I’d prefer, hubba-hubba, because we don’t have blinds up on the giant livingroom windows yet]… Why don’t you just wear boxers and a white t-shirt or something? [Yes. I’m a genius. I can’t even come up with the word “undershirt” right now, y’all. Fifteen days left of this gluten mumbo-jumbo. Fifteen days.]
FRANK J.: Why don’t you?!
SARAHK [ha! that’s what he says when he wishes I wasn’t so smart!]: Because I’m not you! Or a dork!

Buuuuuuurn. Again. It’s too easy, I know. I shouldn’t even take credit.

Postscript: He called me from the bathroom before he started his shower.

FRANK J.: Sweetie, I need a towel!
SARAHK: Are you already undressed?
FRANK J.: Yes.

HaHA! This was a win-win question for me. If the answer was no, I was going to follow up with, “Do you have legs?” but since the answer was yes, I was ON IT! Neckid man in the shower alert! So of course, I took a peek.

SARAHK: Here’s your towel, monkeyface.
FRANK J.: Thank you, sweet-sweet.
SARAHK [opening the shower door quickly]: NECKID MAN! SCORE!
FRANK J.: :-O

Life is good in the house of J. Life is good.

So. Tha Pinkytoe has decided to disobey my wishes that she at least survive until we sell the house. That rascal has decided she doesn’t want to start. In fact, she has decided that her starter is dead.

So now the work list for Pinky is:
Tune-up
New tires
Window washer thingy has some kind of disconnect
New starter so that she’ll even run in the first place
New windshield
Aaaand she’s sportin’ over 125K miles.

Oh yeah. And she’s a Ford.

1 My brethren, let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment.

2 For we all stumble in many things. If anyone does not stumble in word, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body.

3 Indeed, we put bits in horses’ mouths that they may obey us, and we turn their whole body.

4 Look also at ships: although they are so large and are driven by fierce winds, they are turned by a very small rudder wherever the pilot desires.

5 Even so the tongue is a little member and boasts great things. See how great a forest a little fire kindles!

6 And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. The tongue is so set among our members that it defiles the whole body, and sets on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire by hell.

7 For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and creature of the sea, is tamed and has been tamed by mankind.

8 But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.

9 With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God.

10 Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so.

11 Does a spring send forth fresh water and bitter from the same opening?

12 Can a fig tree, my brethren, bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Thus no spring yields both salt water and fresh.

I went to see Dr. Wonderful (the neuro) today for a checkup. He asked if I’m fat. Yes, thank you, I am, let’s move on and talk about the migraines, the seizures, the full-body muscle aches, the fatigue, the nosebleeds, the intestinal troubles, the meds, the vitamins, and the gluten challenge that plagues my health. Must we focus on the fat?

Actually, it was nicer than that. He didn’t say, “Hello, SarahK. You’re fat, yes?” I mean, he is a man, so it could have gone like that, because men are dumb and say incredibly stupid things when it comes to women’s bodies, but I should give him credit. It was more like this…

DR. WONDERFUL [looking fully disappointed, because see, I promised him I’d never touch that evil protein ever again, my hand to the skies]: So you’re eating gluten again, huh?
SARAHK [talking quickly in explanation like I tend to when I’m nervous]: Yes, but it’s only until June 15th. June 15th I’m having the endoscopy and biopsy to confirm the celiac disease. And if I’m not on gluten, I could get a false negative, and I really want a confirmed diagnosis yes or no, and even if the diagnosis is negative, I am never touching that evil stuff again after the 15th. But I only want a no if it’s a real no, not a no because I’m not eating gluten. That’s why I’m stuffing my face with it. And I mean, really, it’s all gluten, all the time, 24/7. I can’t wait to stop eating it. I hate it. [I hate that garlic na’an I ate last night with such delightful passion!]
DR. WONDERFUL [who has been nodding and trying to talk during my spiel]: So how long have you been back on the gluten diet?

I love the fact that he calls it a gluten “diet.”

SARAHK: Since March 15th.
DR. WONDERFUL [motioning at my body and face, especially my face]: I see you’ve gained back the weight you had lost, yes?

Make that Dr. Wonderfully MEAN! Just too mean!

SARAHK: Oh yeah.

So we moved on, and I told him how terrible I feel all the time. He was surprised about Excedrin Migraine giving me seizures. He’s never heard that one before. I think I’m a mystery to him. Yes, welcome to Frank’s world.

I told him that we’re moving, and he said, “Yes, to Texas?” Do you google yourself? I didn’t ask, but I thought it. I have named him here before. Anyway, I didn’t set up a followup, but I’m going to make an appointment after my biopsy, after I’m off gluten, to let him know how I’m feeling, what’s going on with my body, and we’ll figure out my med adjustments. When I was off gluten, I had no need for the Lyrica (nerve pain), and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to wean off the Topamax pretty quickly after the 15th. Keppra will be my friend for a while, I’m sure.

So. Shift gears. I got home, and I had an email from Serenity that included (I hope she doesn’t mind my disclosing private emails) sentiments that she can’t wait until I’m off the gluten and able to prove to the docs (the ones like Dr. Arrogant and Dr. Ego) that I’ve been right so they can eat crow. Amen, sista. The last two days with all of this muscle pain, I seriously started counting down the days until I can ditch the poison forever.

After I read Serenity’s email, I had another from wRitErsbLock. I know she won’t mind, because she devoted a whole post to making sure I knew about someone who was on Orlando radio this morning promoting a cookbook and talking about celiac disease.

It really makes me feel good to know that when some people hear celiac or gluten, they think SarahK. I’m not joking. I think that’s really cool. It means there are a few people I’ve educated. I want to do that so much. Educate people about this disease.

And then I clicked over to Gluten-Free Girl, because I haven’t been there in a couple of weeks, and due to the challenge of gluten and the gluten challenge, I couldn’t remember when her book comes out and thought maybe she was already on her book tour and possibly the woman from the radio. (It wasn’t her, it was someone named Joy Bauer whose book is called Food Cures–there’s only one chapter on celiac.) Anyway, I found this post. Yes! This is what I want to say. She says it better, and in a not so beating-you-over-the- head-with-it kind of way. Go read it. And the quiz that she links to at the end? Check it out. Frank and I both took it: he is at medium risk (8 points), I am at high risk (18 points). Oh, and I was telling a friend of mine about it, and I asked if she wanted to take a super-fun quiz. She scored a 27! She did not enjoy the quiz as much as I did. I told her she needs to be gluten-free, and she was like, yeah, I know. In that you’ve-told-me- a-billion-gazillion-times tone of voice. This is why you should read the article. Shauna articulates everything I want to say… much better, much nicer, much softer.

One more thing. When I was talking to my friend, I was telling her that I miss the new lifestyle I had and the way I felt when I was gluten-free so much more than I missed the foods I couldn’t have when I was gluten-free. I can’t wait to trade the foods for my health.

Sixteen days.

14 What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him?

15 If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food,

16 and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit?

17 Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

18 But someone will say, “You have faith, and I have works.” Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.

19 You believe that there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe–and tremble!

20 But do you want to know, O foolish man, that faith without works is dead?

21 Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered Isaac his son on the altar?

22 Do you see that faith was working together with his works, and by works faith was made perfect?

23 And the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for righteousness.” And he was called the friend of God.

24 You see then that a man is justified by works, and not by faith only.

25 Likewise, was not Rahab the harlot* also justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out another way?

26 For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.

* Joshua 2:1-21

of things to blog when i have time. i can’t tell you what the list is, because if i tell you, then it will never get done. y’all know me.

in other news, today totally stomped on my pinkytoe. hard. i feel like someone took a baseball bat to my ribs. ok, maybe that’s from yesterday. don’t know.

see you tomorrow.

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Actually, the only one I’m sad about is Chase. Cameron is a holier-than-thou do-gooder snit, and Foreman is a holier-than-thou, my-poo-doesn’t-stink, I’ll-kill-you-to-save-me-and-I-don’t-mean in-self-defense jerk. Chase, even though he was a big kiss-up, was an adorable sweet-heart. And he had an accent.

So weird. Someone I knew in high school, someone I thought was hilarious and super-cool, someone who just totally rocked? She popped into my head for some reason a few minutes ago. Naturally, I googled her. Isn’t that what everyone does? I sorta feel like I’m spying when I do that, though, you know?

Anyway, here’s the totally freaky kicker: she lives in Austin! Yeah. So I’m going to email her in a few minutes, after I email another friend of mine. I would love to know how she’s doing, and I really hope she responds.

Actually, the last time I talked to her, she had somehow found me a couple of years after high school. And I remember standing in my kitchen talking to her on the phone, and I’d recently been to the wedding of two high school sweethearts, where I’d seen someone else from high school whom I’d never really liked all that much. Long story short, I recall saying some ugly things about the person I didn’t like to this person I just found who lives in Austin. And that was the last time I talked to her, and I’ve never had a chance to apologize for saying those things about the other person… it’s eaten at me all those years. Instead of being able to focus on all the fun I used to have with her on band trips and hanging out in the band hall during lunches and whatnot, I’ve just relived that phone call any time I’ve thought of her.

Funny what gossip and stupidity do to a person, and how long words linger. I wish I could say I’ve learned my lesson, but sometimes I slip and say ugly things. It’s one of my weaknesses.

Anyway. I hope I have found her. I’d love to catch up.

too long. we’re tired. we’re rewarding ourselves with unveiling the couch and ottoman (oh so comfy the couch and ottoman! Pieras, you really should come for dinner and karaoke this weekend!), Indian food for tonight’s House season finale, and a quiet day of rest.

and if that dumb dog ever chases a cat again, i’ll make her walk four miles every day for the rest of her life. that bad dog will fear the walk. she already fears Minerva. i’m gonna change Minerva’s name to The Enforcer. “i’m right behind you, ma! i’ve got your back! you just say the word, and i will keeeeeel that slobbery cow! spit! spit! hiss! pitchawwww!”

by the way, the livingroom and entryway are painted. i’ve done touchups on some of the ceiling edges. just a few touchups to go, the miniblinds to hang, the decorations to put back in place, and we’re in business. oh yeah, and the ever-elusive decorative tables. maybe i’ll find those online today while we rest.

that Florida humidity kicked our pinkytoes up and down the flat streets today.

did i mention how much i love the couch? oh wait. i think in Florida they call this a “sofa”. weirdos!

Huh. Interesting fact about the Amazon River: there are no rapids nor waterfalls along the entire river. That’s craaaaaaazy.

I heart the travel channel.

Continuing from Saturday’s passage about showing partiality between people, this passage is about showing partiality between the Scriptures you choose to obey. Not that it’s easy.

8 If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you do well;

9 but if you show partiality, you commit sin, and are convicted by the law as transgressors.

10 For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in one point, he is guilty of all.

11 For He who said, “Do not commit adultery,” also said, “Do not murder.” Now if you do not commit adultery, but you do murder, you have become a transgressor of the law.

12 So speak and so do as those who will be judged by the law of liberty.

13 For judgment is without mercy to the one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.

We haven’t uploaded our pictures yet, but wRitErsbLock’s and sherlock’s pictures are posted over here. Make sure you check out the extended entry so you can check out Frank’s ridiculous face (please disregard mine–I’m on gluten).

This is a pretty long passage, and I could have gone longer with it, but vs. 8-13 are a subject in and of themselves, so I decided to cut the passage off at the end of vs. 7.

1 My brethren, do not hold the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with partiality.

2 For if there should come into your assembly a man with gold rings, in fine apparel, and there should also come in a poor man in filthy clothes,

3 and you pay attention to the one wearing the fine clothes and say to him, “You sit here in a good place,” and say to the poor man, “You stand there,” or, “Sit here at my footstool,”

4 have you not shown partiality among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?

5 Listen, my beloved brethren: Has God not chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which He promised to those who love Him?

6 But you have dishonored the poor man. Do not the rich oppress you and drag you into the courts?

7 Do they not blaspheme that noble name by which you are called?

Frank started talking about comic books just now. I could barely hear him, so I asked, “Why are you talking so quietly?” He shrugged and glanced behind him at the open patio door. I started laughing, because I knew. “Oh, you don’t want anyone to know you read comic books?”

He started laughing and nodding his head. “Shut up.” Then he lowered his voice again. “Anyway, Captain America…”

Mannheim Steamroller: Legendary
Kennedy Space Center: Awesome
Free: Icing

Thanks to sherlock and wRitErsbLock for informing us of the wonderful event! And thanks to my sweetie for saying yes.

Mannheim Steamroller at KSC! Free in concert! How once-in-a-lifetime is that?

26 If anyone among you thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this one’s religion is useless.

27 Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.

The first one is a picture of the chair and loveseat. The second is a picture of the ottoman, which the kitties have already claimed as their new sleeping spot. No picture of the couch yet.
(more…)

22 But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.

23 For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror;

24 for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was.

25 But he who looks into the perfect law of liberty and continues in it, and is not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does.

And I have come to some realizations. I will share them with you before I go to bed (yes, Frank and I are just now hitting the sack), so we can grow together.

1. If you step off a ladder and do not watch where you’re going, there is a possiblity you will step in your edging tray, turn it upside down with your foot, and pour a giant glop of paint all over the floor (thank goodness it was the tile, right?). Furthermore, this giant glop takes many hours to dry. I learned when I poured a giant glop on the bathroom tile right after I walked under the ladder that smearing it all around with paper towels leaves smudgy paint remnants everywhere. So we’re letting this one dry into one big glop to see if we can peel it off. It’s still drying.

2. I become irrationally angry when I listen to Fox News from 6 p.m. to 3:30 a.m. I yell at the TV *a lot* (most especially during Hannity & Colmes–how do people watch that shoutfest?). And when they all start talking over each other so no one can actually complete one sentence (even when they’re not disagreeing, NO ONE! can finish a sentence!), I just start talking over them. I say, “Yes. Let’s all start talking at once. Let’s yammer yammer yammer. Talk talk talk. No one can complete a sentence.” And then Frank starts saying, “Now we can’t hear them, because you’re talking over them.” And I say, “Yeah, well you couldn’t hear them anyway, so what’s the point?” At least we can hear people talk on Red Eye. If it turns into one of those lets-all-talk-at-the-same-time-so-we-can-spout-our prefabricated-talking points-together shows, I’ll just stop watching so I don’t destroy the TV. I like the TV.

3. I really miss podcasting. Especially when we watch Red Eye. There are so many commercials I want to parody that come on during Red Eye. I also miss it when I think about movies and books. I want to review stuff.

4. I really want to learn the guitar and the piano.

5. Cats can play with the smallest things and make the loudest and scariest noises.

6. The disconnect between the COBRA company and the health insurance company makes me want to pull my hair out plus the hair of anyone standing near me (I think about these things in the middle of the night). I’ve now paid over $700 for prescriptions in the last month on top of the $1500 + that we’ve paid for the health insurance. Yes, we’ll get reimbursed on the prescriptions, but here’s what I don’t get: If you’ve received our payment and are able to get out that next bill immediately, you should be able to contact the insurance company to let them know that I have the hook up. Otherwise, you’re just being a bunch of thieves, and I want to kick you in the shins until your tibias break in half.

7. If I never have 12 ft. ceilings in my house again, it will be too soonllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Uh… Fell asleep there. Ok, so now it’s 2:28 p.m. UPDATE: Now it’s 5:37. Anyway, moving along. Around 6:30, Frank woke me up, I was asleep in my chair. He told me to put away my Helluva Good French Onion Dip and come to bed. We were awakened by a delivery of season five of Scrubs just now. Man. I have a killer headache. As I was saying, 12 ft. walls are a gritch to paint. By Grabthar’s Hammer, I hate them. Last night when I was done painting one 12 ft. wall, my body hurt so much that I just through threw away the $15 paint stick so I wouldn’t have to clean it. Wasteful, I know! But it was after 4, we wanted to watch LOST, and I had a paintbrush to clean, too. The paint stick takes a good half hour to clean, and I was just over it. Goodbye, paint stick. Enjoy neverland.

8. My Werner Multi-Ladder is still the best thing since ALIAS. Y’all thought I was gonna say sliced bread, right? Yeah, well, celiacs feel like poopy after having sliced bread, so I decided to go with something that doesn’t make me think agonizing thoughts.

9. That American Idol song “This is My Cow”? Great for Clay Aiken. But really, Jordin shouldn’t record it. She should leave it for the next 2nd-best boy band that comes around, because it is truly a boy band song. Like I said in my AI recap on Finale Eve night, it’s not ‘NSYNC-worthy, but it would have been perfect for the Backstreet Boys. OH! Almost forgot. When I was looking for video of the last segment of the Finale, Tool of the Week who was interviewing all the top ten or twelve (this is the same guy who asked The Doo if she was gonna go back to being a backup singer now, yeah) asked Blake if he was upset about not getting to beatbox on the ballad song that won the contest. Blake’s response started with, “That was a ballad?” It was quick, and he moved on fast so no one would catch it, but your lovely muser caught it. It’s what I do. True. Not a ballad. Just had a ballady tune. There’s no story in there. A ballad is something like “Papa loved Mama, Mama loved men… Mama’s in the graveyard, Papa’s in the pen.” or “Brender & Eddie were the popular steadies and the king and the queen of the prom…” and “Scenes from and Italian Restaurant” is a stinking long song, so y’all don’t want me to write that out for y’all. Anyway, ballads have stories, interviewy dude.

10. One Tuff Drop Cloths are great. I’m so over the thin clear plastic ones.

11. My paint-color-picking ability is none to be trifled with. I’m gonna call it the bomb, baby.

12. My husband is becoming cooler every day. It used to be if we finished painting at 4 a.m., he’d be like, “Ok, let’s go to bed.” Last night, I said, “My body is so tired, but my brain is wide awake.” He said, “Yeah, I’m actually in the mood to watch LOST when you’re finished if you can stay awake for it.” I LOVE THIS MAN! We had to rewind scenes three times during LOST after I fell asleep.

13. *This next bullet point not suitable for children.* HeadOn is just mocking us now. PreferOn? Are you kidding me? This is the main reason I miss podcasting. I want to make a commercial for… come on… you know where I’m going with it… works like Viagra… apply directly to the penis… apply directly where it limps. Yes. HardOn. I’m sorry. It’s been in my head ever since they came out with PreferOn, apply directly to your scar, and now every time I see the commercials, I think of it. And so will you. You’re welcome.

14. I want to do a show for the Travel Channel. Me and Frank and the animals. I already have the show planned out, I have the concept for it, know what I want it to be. It would be the wackiest, funniest, crankiest show on the Travel Channel. They’d probably cancel it after the pilot. But I don’t know. That Samantha Brown keeps getting shows, and she’s just one woman talking to the camera by herself. I wish they’d put someone else on screen with her, you know? It looks stupid. “Here I am, having the most wonderful time in Scotland, all by myself! What a great place to be… by yourself!” What? In one commercial for the upcoming Latin America show (no thanks), she mentions her husband. Unless he’s completely face-for-radio, maybe they should send him with her. I mean she’s likeable enough, but by herself, there are so many awkward moments.

15. Limestone is eroded by fresh water but not salt water. I had no idea! Thank you, Planet Earth. I’m guessing it has something to do with chemical properties of limestone? I know it’s made mainly of calcium carbonate (but it’s sedimentary, so other stuff is in there, and that’s what makes all the pretty designs), but that’s as far as I’m going into the world of geochemistry, if there is such a thing, with this raging headache.

16. Cats get really angry and BANG on the door if you lock them on the patio or in the garage to keep them from stepping in paint.

17. Frank and I are both somewhat worried about Big Ro’s mental stability. We’re praying for her. Y’all know she’s not returning for her final three weeks on The View, right? Anyway, other than being worried that she might kinda hit rock bottom and do bad things to herself, I’m also wondering who will replace her, and I hope it’s Kathy Griffin. She’s lefty to the max, but she’s hilarious, and she bags on celebrities, and on morning network TV, she would have to watch her language. Must View TV indeed. I’d watch that.

18. I cannot wait for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

19. I want to duet onstage at the Kodak Theater on American Idol with Simon Cowell. I am truly a sick freak. I know. You don’t need to tell me.

There were more realizations. I’ve forgotten them. That should be enough for you to soak in for now, though.

We watched this Monday night, but we were painting, I missed part of it when I was out of the room, and I didn’t get to blog it.

We were a little let down by the finale. It’s been the best drama all season long, so we expected much more. I hope that the finale was a setup for most of these characters for next season, rather than wrapup of most of them, because I like most of these characters, and I wasn’t satisfied… that’s a lot of uses of the word “most.”

I wonder if Mrs. Petrelli (the elder) wants Nathan to still let the bomb go off because her husband is really Linderman’s boss, and he never actually killed himself? Linderman and Mr. Petrelli (the elder) were in Vietnam together, so maybe Linderman wasn’t in charge, after all? Or she’s the boss? We don’t know which Petrelli parent has or had the powers.

Yeah, it’s a little hard to lie to and control your little brother now that he can read your thoughts, huh, Nathan? And Peter, you should know that cheerleaders are always right. If you learned nothing else from Bring It On, it should have been this fact. Your brother cannot be trusted.

A lot worse than Sylar? Dude. “When I think about him, he can see me.” Mohindar, stop looking at her while she looks at the map! Seriously, he was a bad guy when they did the future episode… so maybe he’s the bad guy next season.

Aww. No wonder that pretty girl liked Peter.

Aha. So the pretty girl’s dying dad was a Hero.

Yeah, Sylar, I do think Hiro can do his trick before you can do yours. I’m so glad Sylar didn’t kill Ando. And I hope Ando is in next season, even though it looks like he won’t be.

I LOVE the guns in this show. I hate that Weiss cocks his 1911.

Claire diving out the window was awesome. It’s good she didn’t get a piece of glass lodged through her brain or accidentally impale herself on a fire hydrant, or she’da had to wait for the Petrellis (anyone ever want to call those two–Nathan and the elder Mrs.–the Fratellis?) to come help her un-die.

Hey, cool! Nicki has super-strength now and has integrated herself to herself! So she’s good and superstrong!

I love how one second Mohindar’s covering Molly’s eyes so she doesn’t see DL, and the next second, he’s going, “Hey, watch this guy for me so I can check for bad guys, will ya?”

Maybe Ando will be back. He has Hiro’s sword.

Pretty girl’s dad’s name is Charles. And he’s in a wheelchair. Is his best friend’s name Erik? Does Erik control metal?

HRG’s name is Noah! And I love how he had to cock his gun in front of Peter to let him know it was real and that he would really kill him if needed. Like, “Look, Peter. It’s a real gun I’ll shoot you with. Not a toy gun. And unlike most semi-automatics, I have to cock this one’s hammer like every five seconds. The hammer just decocks all the time.”

Is it just me, or is Sylar becoming a worse actor with every episode? I think it’s because he’s trying to have a deeper voice every week, and he’s just cartoonish now. I hope next season’s villain is David Anders. I’d pay-per-view to see that one.

You can’t just Matrix Weiss and not make me angry. That’s right, Sylar. You’ve made me angry.

Peter picked up Sylar’s creepy-speaking powers.

Ok, so I know wRitErsbLock has already asked the question. Why did Nathan have to fly Peter into the sky to explode? I’m thinking if he’s already having trouble controlling one power, he can’t be thinking about using the flying power. He’s focused on not exploding long enough to get out of the city or get killed by his neice.

Also, they left it open for Nathan to not be dead. Perhaps he flew him far enough out, flew away from him before he exploded.

I wanna know… is there gonna be some sort of major fallout over New York, or did they fly into outer space? Did they destroy the ozone layer? If so, is this seriously going to hinder Nathan’s chances for reelection? And are all the future fish gonna have three eyes? And is next season gonna be about the environment? I sure hope not.

Well, as long as Molly told Weiss not to die, he won’t die. Wow, the cheerleader died and everything, and she still has perfect makeup on, lipstick included.

Adoption? Do you think Molly will be adopted by DL and Nicki? Or Weiss and his pregnant wife? Or will she stay with the potentially evil Mohindar? I mean, he started out good, but I think he’s easily turned.

Creepy… So did Sylar crawl into the manhole or get dragged there? Or did he reincarnate into that cockroach crawling around on that manhole cover?

And in Volume Two, outside Kyoto in 1611, both the man in the middle who raised his sword toward Hiro and the lone horseman with the funky symbol on his flag… I’m pretty sure that one of those guys was Hiro, and the other was Franklin from Scrubs.

Another Jack-centric episode? Isn’t there someone else we can focus on? All he does is cry and think he deserves to be king.

So he read in his paper that someone died, and he decided to off himself too? That’s nice. Let people deal with that too, while they’re dealing with the other.

Kate, just forget about Jack. He’s a terd. Sawyer’s way cooler.

Jin and Sayid: Total badpinkytoes. They just look like guys you want on your side. Bernard? Well, he needs to do some situps. No offense.

Hey, that girl beating up on Charlie is from ALIAS! She was a spy married to Christian Slater. I think the episode was called Endgame. Season 2?

Charlie’s an idiot. Why would he tell the girls that Juliet told him about the Looking Glass? Bad Charlie!

Jin’s not the one I would have picked to miss. Frank says, “Well, he has a handgun.” True. They should have given the handgun to a girl. Don’t leave such daunting tasks up to a man. Or why didn’t Sawyer or Kate stay behind to do this? We know Kate can shoot like a girl.

How did Jack Qaeda hurt himself in that car accident that he wasn’t involved in? I bet someone punched him for trying to be King of the Bridge.

Aw, man. Sayid unconscious is a bad thing.

Yes, Ben. Your daughter hates you. Maybe if you try a little tenderness? Don’t be such a murderous creep? And if Bernard was gonna talk, why didn’t he just say, “Uh… they went to… the Pearl Station.” Or the Black Rock. Or the place where the big yellow balloon was. Yeah, Kate should have been with Jin and Sayid.

Oooooooh. “Kate, there’s always someone to go back for.” That’s Freckles to you!

You all, everybody! Man, Elsa Caplan is being a big meanie.

Juliet is always smirking. She has a certain look always pasted on her face.

Ben is KOO KOO. Every letter in that needs capitalization. Twice. And Mikhail is creepy looking without the patch.

Poor Hurley.

“I didn’t want him to get you pregnant.” Brainwashing and torture. Yeah, that’s a good tactic.

Walt? Is he the real Walt or a vision of Walt? And if he’s Walt, where’s Michael? Will he come back… 28 Days Later?

Jack to Kate: “Because I love you.” Huh. Right after he kissed Juliet like she was going out of style.

Rousseau and Alex face to face!

DON’T BRING HIM THE PHONE!

I have a feeling that Sayid, Jin, and Bernard aren’t really dead. Well, maybe Bernard. But yay for Jack beating the crap out of Ben. I hope Alex got to watch. And I don’t mind Jack so much this episode.

Eh, that’s a bad plan, Jack. You need to kill Ben now.

GO HURLEY! I love Sawyer. “Stay in the bus, hero.” Whoa, Sayid! He is such a badpinkytoe.

Ok, I got all teary-eyed when the Israelites got the news that Hurley saved everyone.

Shoot him, Locke! At least in the kneecap!

:( Charlie. The whole thing with Desmond banging on the porthold with a fire extinguisher–nice throwback to the season one finale of ALIAS (Almost Thirty Years), when Vaughn is trapped and drowning, and Sydney is banging on the window with a fire extinguisher. Maybe Charlie will escape using a screwdriver. Or he could swim out the other porthole.

This is the future Jack, then. And the future Kate. And they’re off the island, and Jack is sure they weren’t supposed to leave, and he’s addicted to prescription drugs, and Kate needs to get home to her man. I hope her man is Sawyer. And there’s a funeral for “neither friend nor family,” and Kate doesn’t want to go. Frank thinks maybe it’s Ben. I think it’s Locke. But don’t they reference his dad being alive then? Weird.

If they hadn’t had the whole Jack in the future thing, I would have given that a 5 out of 5. I’ll give it a 4.5, docking .5 point for creepy future weirdness.

SARAHK: Hey, I got an email from one of my readers. He said he loves my blog. He especially loves the conversations between you and me.
FRANK J.: Well, ’cause they’re good material.
SARAHK: Yeah, ’cause you’re so dumb.

BUUUUUURN!

FRANK J.: You’re dumb.

Too late. I burned first and best.

19 So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath;

20 for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God.

21 Therefore lay aside all filthiness and overflow of wickedness, and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls.

Thank you, I just wanted to give a greeting and tell you I enjoyed reading your material.

That is so sweet! Thank you, Alien Overlord Xanax. Thank you. Mwah.

Why won’t Constantine Maroulis GO AWAY?

Just go!

Has my blogging turned into just me writing conversations?

SARAHK:
FRANK J.:
SARAHK:
FRANK J.:

Such like that? No, nobody said so, I just noticed it when I was writing yet another one earlier. Anyway, I don’t suppose that’s gonna change any time soon. Maybe I’ll vary my style occasionally. Like this:

A minute ago, Frank called to me from the bathroom. “Sweetie, can you bring me some paper towels? I need to dry off.” He had been cleaning the paint stick. I don’t make him dry off with paper towels; I mean, I hate laundry, but not that much.

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” So I rushed through the bedroom toward the bathroom, and halfway through the bedroom, I realized that I had forgotten the paper towels. Sounds just like me. I spun on my heel without a word and started laughing as I rushed right back out.

Behind me I heard, “Good hustle.” Hey, I tried.

Over at IMAO. Please go read it and leave me comments. And then please come read that super long-pinkytoe post I wrote yesterday. It’s broken down into chapters with great chapter names, so you can read only the chapters that appeal to you. I spent 5 hours on American Idol, 3 hours on that long post… I’m working hard to keep y’all reading. Please de-lurk, people. I need to feel the love.

Oh! Also, go check this out. Elisabeth called Rosie a coward to her face today, and Rosie tried to act like a victim. My favorite part is when Elisabeth says something like, “It was easier to fight with Donald Trump, wasn’t it? Because he’s obnoxious.” She finally stopped letting Rosie bully her. And tomorrow? I’m recording it again. Not forever. But tomorrow, it’s Trutherism versus Logic, Science, and Facts on the View re: 9/11. Should be scintillating.

12 Blessed is the man who endures temptation; for when he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.

13 Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone.

14 But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed.

meaning Satan.

15 Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death.

I was going to end today’s passage here, because it’s kind of a section break, but that’s kind of a downer way to end things. I mean, I get it–the wages of sin is the death of your immortal soul, but I’d prefer to end the reading with the following verses which talk about gifts from God.

16 Do not be deceived, my beloved brethren.

17 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.

18 Of His own will He brought us forth by the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures.

SARAHK [pointing at the toothbrush dangling out of my mouth, walking toward the bathroom]: Oo ant oo aht inh eyen uh een eye eeh.
FRANK J.: What?
SARAHK: Oo ant oo aht inh eyen uh een eye eeh!
FRANK J.: I can’t understand you. What?
SARAHK [finally reaching the bathroom, spitting out the toothbrush water that I’d been hanging onto for five minutes while he held up the facilities]: You can’t do that while I’m brushing my teeth!
FRANK J.: Do what?
SARAHK: I walked out of the bathroom with the toothbrush in my mouth, and you walked in and took over the bathroom! You can’t do that when I’m brushing my teeth, and I can’t get to the other bathroom right now because the hall is blocked off!
FRANK J.: Oh. Sorry.

Rarr!

Regarding last night… huh.

Yeah. I went back and read what I wrote at 1:30 or so this morning. Koo-koo! Sorry about that. If I were a post deleter, this is one of those posts I would either delete or revise to make myself look less insane. Unfortunate thing (for you folks) is that I am a yeah-I-wrote-that-crapper, not a deleter. I’ve deleted one or two posts over the three plus years I’ve blogged, but I had good reason each time, and other people were involved. I’ve never deleted a post that embarrassed only me. At least I can’t remember doing such.

Even my mom thinks I’m Britney or Whitney.

So. Bikermommy called me this morning.

BIKERMOMMY: How are you? [You know. Like when people ask in that tone because they know you’re to the point of using skillets for mirrors instead of the real thing because you just can’t bear to see the true visage because wow, check out that stress acne you’re sporting!]
SARAHK: Oh, I’m good, how are you? [all casual-like]
BIKERMOMMY: I’m good. I… read your blog this morning.
SARAHK: Oh. Yeah, I read that too. [Very fast] I didn’t sleep night before last, and yesterday I only got a 2-hour nap, and on gluten, power naps just don’t work for me the way they do off-gluten [no, I’m not crazy, that’s true], so yeah, I was just rambling. I’m fine. Seriously. Every part of my body hurts, but I’m totally ok. I’m not even stressed or anything.
BIKERMOMMY: And you shouldn’t be. Did you get the livingroom painted?
SARAHK: Most of it is primed. But it’s fine, it’s totally fine. Right now I’m making sure the room is cleared out so the furniture people will have a place to put the new furniture.
BIKERMOMMY: And yeah, just put plastic over the furniture when you paint, no big deal.
SARAHK: Yep. Not worried about it.

So yeah. I think Bikermommy was a tad worried that I was going a little bonkers. I’m totally fine, I was just rambling and so stinking tired. And Rowdi was so bad yesterday, that stupid dumb escaping dog; that just added to the tiresomeness of painting. More on that later. Bad dog. But when I was talking to Bikermommy, she asked about the drug that makes me dopey and incoherent at times, though I only notice that side effect when I’m completely exhausted.

SARAHK: [long, incoherent, rambling sentence with a lot of words only half-finished]
BIKERMOMMY: Are you still on the Topamax?
SARAHK: Yes. But you know what? It’s because I have hardly slept. When I am this tired and on the Topamax, yes, I am completely incoherent. But right now I am on gluten and not having migraines, so I’m not getting off the Topamax. After my biopsy, I’ll start getting off Topamax, but for now, I’m staying on.
BIKERMOMMY: No, that’s not what I meant.
SARAHK: Uh-huh. It’s because I sound completely crazy and can’t talk. I know.
BIKERMOMMY: No, I mean because you don’t feel well. [Suuuure.]
SARAHK: Well, I’m not having headaches, it’s just my whole body hurts. We’re doing a lot of physical work. A lot of moving, a lot of painting, a lot of [incoherent who knows].
BIKEY: Oh, I thought you were having headaches.
SARAHK: Not that many. I get twinges, and they are migraines, but the Topamax keeps them from going full-blown and lasting for days.
BIKEY: Oh, I thought maybe you were off the Topamax because you didn’t feel well.
SARAHK: [Very fast] No, I feel awful because I’m eating gluten and we’re doing all this work, and I’m so tired, and I’ll be so glad when we get notified that the COBRA payment has been received so I can call the doctor and ask him if we can please move the biopsy up any earlier, because I’ll be so glad to be done with this evil crap forever, but then again, I feel like I should give it the full three months to work, because what if the biopsy is negative, and then I’ll always wonder if maybe I should have waited just two or three more weeks.
BIKEY: Yeah, that’s true. When is it?
SARAHK: June 15th, and I can’t wait, and oh. [New subject.]

I was all over the place. I’m sure she felt so much better about my mental status after we hung up. By the end she was all, “Well, um, ok, love you, talk to you later, go take a nap, don’t worry about anything!”

What a perfect day to have a talk with your son about the rest of his life.

Here’s what happened with Rowdi yesterday, whom we should have dubbed Bullet McSprinty when we got her from the shelter 15 months ago. Not that I’m counting the months. 15.5 months. Frank took Rowdi for a very long walk, because the preacher’s son was coming over to help with everything. Oh, and this is funny. We had made arrangements on Sunday with Alcazar the preacher’s son (more on the name later, that’s not his real name) to come yesterday morning. Told his mom, told his dad, they all knew he was coming to work and to learn; by the way, we decided to pay him $12 an hour plus a little extra for gas since he’s driving 45 minutes each way. Well, he drops off his sisters at school, so he could be leaving his area of town at 8:30, and he said he’d come right after that and stay until around 3 when he needed to leave for his other official job, which was good for Frank and me, because that made us be on a schedule and set goals and me stay up all night. Ok, so Alcazar called at 9 to tell us that he was going to have breakfast with his dad and would be here a little later. That’s fine, we’ll be here all day. He got to our house at 11:25; it turns out that the preacher, we’ll call him Brother A for anonymity’s sake, picked yesterday morning to have the come-to-Jesus talk with Alcazar about how he really needs to be serious about college and not just chase chicks. Hahaha. I thought it was funny that Alcazar totally got one of the big life talks, because those are so uncomfortable, and don’t we all delight when kids get those talks? But at the same time I was like, he doesn’t start school until September, and our furniture gets delivered tomorrow. But I still thought it was stinking funny, all the dadding that his dad did yesterday. So yeah, Alcazar was only here for 3.5 hours. Oh, and I fed him lunch before he left, and I was listing off quick stuff I could make (daylight was a-wasting), and Alcazar gasped in delight when I said Totino’s pizza. Ha! Good kid.

Winner: Bad Dog of the Year

Back to Rowdi. Frank tired out Rowdi good, because she was going to meet a new guest, and she was pretty good when Alcazar arrived. She greeted him and sniffed all over him, and she only tried to jump up to about his hip level, and that only twice or thrice before she finally got the point that mommy is not ok with that. He petted her, and then she totally leaned up against his legs and rolled over on her back and asked impolitely for him to please rub her belly forever and ever amen. (Later he asked what kind of dog she is. “Oh, she’s a shepherd / pit bull / lab mix or something. We don’t really know.” His eyes got huge like “oh crap! she’s a pit bull!” when we said pit bull, but then he remembered that he’d already met her and was totally cool with her.) Well. Rowdi decided she wanted to show off her mad sprinting powers to her new friend. Frank and Alcazar carried my cedar chest out to my car, and I called her to me, and she came and stood calmly on the carpet until we were all out the door, never once went onto the tile of the entryway. Very good dog, very sneaky dog who just wanted to catch us off guard. Next item of furniture: Queen Anne chair. She went to the door, and I called her to me on the carpet. She did not come, and I said, like I always do, “No, Rowdi, you have to stay inside.” Normally my saying this is enough. She knows that this means she is not going outside, so she doesn’t even try to escape. But she was like, “Forget y’all! I want Alcazar to see how fast I can run!” So the first chance she had to get between the chair, Alcazar, and the door, her sprinty little butt was wriggling past, and all I saw was muscles and that dumb little stub she has where her tail should be.

Retrieval: Closing the door and pretending we didn’t want her back didn’t work. I watched out the window, and she was like, “I just sprinted, so I need to poo!” Totally disinterested in the fact that we were disinterested in her. Dangit. Frank never could find the poo next to that neighbor’s mailbox. I hope they don’t find it on their shoes. Next trick: Bag of biscuits. She never gets biscuits anymore, because of the food allergies thing, so I shook the biscuits loud and proud, good bait, embarrassed though I was. Not interested. I hate that female dog sometimes. So Frank started walking down the street, calling her. She was just soooo happily sniffing everything she could get that stupid sniffer on. She’d be the world’s best drug dog, I swear. I walked around the back of the houses toward the gator pond, because I figured the last time it took this long to get her back, she went for a swim. I was all calm, just waiting for her to come my way so I could calmly entice her with biscuits and then ground her sorry butt. Talk to me all you want about “you never want to punish them when they come back to you, because then they think they’re being punished for coming to you and it makes them less likely to come when you call in the future.” Bullcrap. Maybe with your dog, not with this princess. She always knows exactly what she’s being grounded for. She does something bad, and if I can’t catch her and then finally just give up and call her and wait for her to come to me? I ground her. She comes to me now more than ever. Unless she’s outside, because y’all, she’s only ever been off-leash outside of the house four times now, and they were not planned excursions. Dog spa doesn’t count. No back yard, nowhere to train her, and we have nosy neighbors that would have her impounded by animal control in five seconds if we regularly practiced offleashiness with her. These people have nothing better to do. Ok, so every single yip-yap dog in the neighborhood (besides Rowdi, the dogs next door, and the lab across the street, they’re pretty much all yippers and yappers) was screaming “Mommy!” at the sight of her. Over and over, too, like the seagulls screaming “Mine! Mine! Mine!” on Finding Nemo. So now we had a quietly sniffing mutt running all over the place and a bunch of attack-watch-yippers interrupting The View and Fox News. Rowdi ran right into the garage of some of the yippy dogs, and Frank was able to corner her there. She didn’t actually run to the yippy dogs, she just ran over and started sniffing one of their dog beds. The dogs themselves were behind a gated-off section in the garage with their owner, barking mad, and Rowdi was completely ignoring them so she could sniff their sleeping spots. Frank and Alcazar walked into the garage to grab the dog, and the owner jumped out from behind the gate and started walking toward Frank, Alcazar, and Rowdi, glaring at Frank. Frank said, “Sorry. Dog got away from us,” grabbed Rowdi by the collar, and started walking her out of the garage and back home. The owner of the house didn’t even respond. He didn’t say, “KEEP YOUR EVIL VICIOUS DOG OUT OF MY GARAGE!” or “No problem, dogs are hard to catch when they get away from you, especially when they are faster than a speeding bullet. Dogs will be dogs, and she obviously didn’t want to hurt me or my dogs,” or “I’M REPORTING YOU AND YOUR DOG TO THE HOA, AND THEN I’M CALLING ANIMAL CONTROL!” Just continued to glare at Frank without acknowledging that Frank had spoken. I asked Frank if it was Neighbor Bill, and he said it was quite possible, because the guy was just weird and totally could have been Neighbor Bill.

Whatever. Anyway, I was about a block behind the guys and the female dog, so I was yelling, “As soon as you get her in the house, you GROUND HER!” And he did, and when I got inside the house, she knew exactly what she had done wrong. And today, when Frank and I were taking boxes and things to the car, we had the door open to get the boxes out, and Rowdi looked hopeful, and I looked at the dog, and I said, “Don’t even think about it, or you are so grounded.” She hung her head so low that her nose was almost on the tile, and she did not even think about trying to escape the pit of despair. Maybe the dog spa should have tried alpha rolling her. I’m thinking it would have taken about four times before she finally got it.

Renaming Alcazar.

Alcazar’s name: No sleep + Topamax, right? Ok, so Alcazar’s name is really Alister. And every time I said his name before he got to the house, I would cycle through the names. And here’s how it went yesterday when I told Alister why I am officially changing his name to Alcazar.

SARAHK: Hey, I can’t remember your name today. You know I know your name. But every time I try to come up with it today, first I think Alcatraz. No idea why.
ALISTER: Alcatraz? What?
SARAHK: I know! I’m insane. Then I go to Alcazar. That’s because he’s on my soap opera, not that I watch soap operas [you can’t tell a PK that you watch soap operas, because PKs tell their mamas or their sisters, and then the whole church knows!]. Anyway.
FRANK J.: Alcazar. [He says that in a sinister way every time he hears it, because he thinks it’s hilarious and would make a good alien name, just like Lipitor.]
SARAHK: And then finally I get to Alister. But you know how when your grama is trying to say your name, she cycles through all the names of your aunts and uncles first and then finally gets to your name? [Not necessarily his grama, but both of mine are like that. I’m always Karen, Sandra, Terry, Wanda, Carol, Linda, and Kyle.]
ALCAZAR: [laughing at how truly craaaazy I am] Yeah.
SARAHK: Yeah, that’s how I feel today. So I’m sorry, but you’re now Alcazar.
ALCAZAR: Wh… That’s… um… Ok.

You know he was thinking, “White people are crazy. Alcazar? What the heck?”

More of that stupid bad dog.

So Rowdi also chewed a hole in one of my kickboxing gloves. Yep, she’s never chewed up anything that wasn’t one of her toys or Sydney’s mice, but she picked yesterday to decide to be bad bad bad. And she decided that in order to eat one of Sydney’s new mice, she would have to be super-secretive about it, because if we catch her, she gets grounded and rolled, and I will crank those pit bull jaws open, stick my fist in her mouth, and pull out that mouse if she doesn’t swallow it before I get to her. Of course, usually she just knows what’s best and drops it as soon as I say to. But I accidentally bought catnip-filled mice (I try not to, because I don’t want my cats any wackier than normal–they’re crazy enough), and Rowdi wants them badly. So badly. So she’s been finding them, slinking off with them, holding them between her paws, and quietly licking / nibbling them so that we don’t catch her. She got two of them yesterday, but I totally caught her the second time when she had barely gotten started.

Yeah, she spent about eight hours in her crate yesterday. I’m starting to feel a lot better about leaving her crated up in the house for an entire day when we go to Disney or the Space Center. Not joking. She stays in there 12 hours at night anyway. As long as we give her a long walk beforehand, yeah, why should she keep us from having fun?

I’m mean to Brian the Sailor because I’m SICK IN THE HEAD!

Then at the end of a very looooooong day, I got an awesome comment from Brian the Sailor, nice guy, Navy man himself, friend, etc. Oh, and he’s blogging at Pereiraville because this one time, wRitErsbLock made a comment on one of my posts, and Brian thought she was insulting me, and he came back at her in the comments to my defense, and I emailed him to tell him that she is my friend and was not insulting me… long story short, they became friends, and he blogs with her now. Isn’t that cute? Yes. So Brian left this comment at IMAO on my post about how I accidentally hung up on the Navy vet calling for money.

I’m drying my eyes, here.

I read that: “Wah, wah, wah. SarahK is always whining. What a crybaby.”

I’m surprised Frank lets you crosspost here. He’s supposed to be the funny one.

I read that: “I’m surprised Frank lets you crosspost here. You’re not even funny. He’s the funny one.”

Girl, you’re getting your comic chops down!

I read that: “Girl, you’re not funny, and you’re bringing the readers down. You get less funny by the day.”

I wouldn’t worry so much about the Navy call. They’ll call back.

I read that: “Quit your worrying about the Navy call, Miss Worrypants. They’ll call back.”

Yes, I’m a complete dimwit. So I sent Brian a very ugly email. Boy, am I glad I didn’t fully embarrass myself by responding in the IMAO comments where everyone would see what I wrote. So I’ll post it here.

um, if you didn’t enjoy the post, which i thought was hilarious and was really meant to highlight our funny bickering and my bad timing (and didn’t i say at the very beginning that i was still going to say NO? we’re not donating right now to any charities other than church, and if we were, we would research and pick out our own charities to donate to, we wouldn’t be donating based on a phone call.), you feel free to refrain from commenting. i don’t understand the purpose of negative comments. and he lets me crosspost at IMAO because last TV season proved that my AI and 24 blogging generated an extra 1500 hits a day in traffic. and there’s no LETTING me crosspost. i read him something that i’m writing, or he reads it on my blog after i’ve posted it, and he says, “hey, you should put that on IMAO.” there have also been times when i’ve tried only posting my TV stuff on my own blog, and he’s like, what’s going on? why didn’t you post that on IMAO?

any questions?

And he’s still speaking to me! Editor’s note: I think it was actually more like 1000 hits last TV season, and I don’t think I’m bringing in anything this season. Brian responded.

“any questions?” Yes, Sarah. Did you actually read what I said? That post was absolutely hilarious. The only reason I was wondering why Frank was letting you post is because you generate more belly laughs than him. Hence the compliment which was posted. Love, Brian

I still got LOVE from him after being a total gritch like that! What is wrong with that guy? I emailed him again and again explaining how I’m such a terd, and Frank’s response to the whole situation.

Frank and I had a giant laugh at this and hope you are laughing at how stupid I am too. Of course Frank’s like, “He bought 6 books! You can’t be mean to him!” Actually, you bought 7, but I didn’t correct him. I said, “I know who Brian the Sailor is! He blogs on Rachel’s blog now! We’re friends! So when I got this mean, nasty comment, I was just like, what the heck? Why so mean?” And I am crying laughing so hard at how I took absolutely every sentence exactly the opposite of the way you meant it. I chalk it up to being a woman on no sleep… Actually, the first thing Frank said was, “You have to blog that.” And when I read everything that you wrote in your comment and then my response, he was laughing so much by the end of it. He’s like, “You’re CRAZY!”

Brian told me it’s just one of those things to write off and laugh about, but I corrected him and told him it’s one of those things to write about and laugh off. Pretty good, huh?

Furniture delivery: Some men are dense.

Oh. The furniture people came today, and when the guy walked in and saw the ladder and the primed walls, he asked if we were painting. Why, yes we are. We wanted to have it all done before the furniture got here, but whatever. Then he told us if we would like for them to leave the plastic on the furniture, because it is all kinds of covered in heavy, thick plastic and cardboard for shipping, and they can just leave that on for us. “Oh yes, that would be awesome!” And it is way better than paper-thin plastic dropcloths, and the cats can’t scratch through these plastic covers without significant effort. I was so happy with the furniture delivery people. And so sad for the one guy who twice hit his head on the chandelier over the new sitting area.

Now we have motivation, because we can’t uncover and sit on our new couches until we finish painting this room. Not that we weren’t motivated before, but yay! I can’t wait to use the furniture! And the color looks awesome in here and with the decorations! Score! One thing about the delivery guys though. They picked the wrong person to ask about age.

SARAHK: [to Frank] We’re clear that the ottoman is mine, right?
FRANK J.: Yeah, sure, whatever.
FURNITURE GUY: Are y’all married?
SARAHK: Yeah. I just wanted him to know that I claim it for purposes of use.
FG: Yeah, usually the boss does that. [HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That is not how things are!]
SARAHK: Oh, he’s totally the head of the household. I just want that ottoman.
FG: How long have y’all been married?
SARAHK: Almost two years.
FG: Really? Wow. He looks like a little kid! [Frank hates it when people say that. Hates it.]
SARAHK: He’s almost 28. [And totally in the room!]
FG: Yeah, you just look way too young to be married. You look like you’re 17 or something. [Frank looked utterly unamused and went into the kitchen to pour more coffee.]
FRANK J.: Yeah, add 11 years to that.
SARAHK: Um, I’ll have you know that when I haven’t just gotten out of bed and, you know, I’ve showered [in the last month], I look about 22. So it’s not just him. I look young too.
FG: Nah, you look old enough to get married, but he looks like a little kid. [It’s pathetic when you are begging people to tell you how young you look, and then they still just deny it to your face. Ratface.]
SARAHK: Yeah, you know, guys don’t really love hearing that. Women do, though.
FG: [Now there’s that look of comprehension I’ve been waiting for. You’re lucky y’all got a tip after all.] Oh, yeah, I see. You’re right, you look young too. [And I can tell you mean it.]

Random.

Prepare yourselves, people. We have some of the most adorable animal pictures coming your way soon. I found the camera.

TMI below the fold.
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