Some sort of update thing today, eh? And a meme that’s been floating around. And some other random shit. Will that work for you? Good, because that’s all I got.

• First up, Happy Birthday witchypoo! Go say hi to her and wish her many happy returns, eh?
• Go over here and cast your vote for the Rack. (Pssst. #27… they look hot don’t they?)
• See that button over on my sidebar that says “Verve”? Click on it or click here. Go exploring! I bet you can find some old friends and make some new ones.
• It’s actually hot here today. Hot and muggy and sticky and oh mah holy hell - thank goodness. Finally. My bare feet are grateful.  Mr. Hot turned on the air conditioner!  In June!
• If you’re interested in winning a copy of “I Will Not Be Broken” by Jerry White, come over to Hot Reviews Books. I’m going to have random.org pick a winner tomorrow @ Noon, Eastern time.
• I did NOT crawl over to the neighbors to measure property lines last night. I told Mr. Hot to “Stop looking at the driveway already, they’re going to suspect something!” And besides, I know he cuts grass past that spot anyway, so if they complain, I’m just going to tell them it’s payment for years of cutting grass. Ha ha, so there!
• One more day of school, then two half-days next week for Shortman. He’s already prepared us for his Chemistry grade. Sigh. I don’t need to say anymore, do I? Okay thanks.
• 24 is on his way to another interview. Again, I don’t need to say an… Thanks. Again. Sigh.

And now, here’s the meme that’s been making the rounds. Personally, I stole it from Badger, and you can feel free to steal it from me(me).

The usual shitte -

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name? Ree (There were several pictures of Pioneer Woman on the first page, but I went with a different choice)
2. What is your favorite food? Right now, Spinach Salad. The picture also shows salmon. Yum.
3. What high school did you go to? Canton High (Michigan, not Ohio or Georgia)
4. What is your favorite color? Pine Green
5. Who is your celebrity crush? Cate Blanchett. I also want her to play me in the Hot Affair story.
6. Favorite drink? Expensive champagne. Which is why I usually stick with mid-shelf vodka.
7. Dream vacation? Prague
8. Favorite dessert? Banana Pudding (I know. It’s not even chocolate)
9. What you want to be when you grow up? A math teacher. Yes, I know on this one, too. Shush.
10. What do you love most in life? My son and his father.
11. One Word to describe you. Compassionate (Snort. Hush!!! I am. usually. when people aren’t asshats).
12. Your flickr name. Hotfessional. I swear. This is what came up - the graphic representation of the code on this here, my very own site. Well, that’s original if nothing else, right?

—- Ooooh, and I almost forgot. I’m “on vacation” next week. Which is a hella misnomer, because not going anyplace. I will, however, be getting ready for the garage sale. So far, my contribution to getting ready has been agreeing to let my car stay OUT of the garage and sorting through about 300 cross stitch charts. —-

Hey, y’all. I missed you! Really, I did, but I needed some time away from the keyboard - because the time I spend every day on the computer is not good for my ancient eyes OR my right hand. I need that right hand (and Mr. Hot needs that right hand) since I’m butt-useless with my left. I know that it’s not good when your wrist at the base of your thumb starts tingling and and your shoulders start burning when you spend eleventy-kazillion hours surfing working. And no one is offering to pay me big bucks for my life story yet I still have to earn a living doing my real job.

****lalalalalala****

Aaaaaanyway, Saturday we spent the day out at Milan Dragway watching “Night of Thunder” - which was actually “all freakin’ day and into the night” of Thunder. Broken up by loooooong stretches of watching this guy:

go up and down the track very, very slowly. Because, y’know, when those suckers crash - or blow up (as in “he done blowed up”) - it takes a very,very, looooooooong ass time to get all of that oil and all of those little pieces up off the track. Oh, and obviously, I forgot to take my camera - so you get a cell-picture. Shush. It’s not nice to make fun.

****lalalalalala****

On Sunday, Mr. Hot and I loaded up the bikes into the back of the truck, drove a little ways into town, and then unloaded the bikes and took off. Will someone please remind me next time that hills? Suck. And when you haven’t been on a proper bike ride in 2 years? Your hips scream and your knees threaten to break through the skin and run away to live life in the flatlands. Your, um, lady-bits say “Enough! We’re shutting down here. This is NOT our idea of fun. In fact, we can make sure you never feel that kind of fun again!” But, we made it about 10 miles.

Then we came home and I laid on the peninsula and died of pain took a nap.

****lalalalalala****

Yesterday, we were invited to the neighbor’s house for a cookout. No, NOT the neighbors that I spy on every day between 7:30 and 5. Those are the “across the street” neighbors. These are the “on the right” neighbors. It was a nice, sedate crowd (y’all? if, at 45, you’re the youngest one of the bunch AND the only one who actually drank a glass of wine - it’s a nearly comatose level of sedate) - but it was nice to be included, and we did learn a thing or two.

First, the main drag (Michigan Avenue) is NOT referred to as Michigan Avenue around here. It’s “12″. As in “U.S. 12″. Now, I grew up in the area - only about 10 miles east of here - just a mile north of Michigan Avenue. It’s always been Michigan Avenue. Apparently, though, there’s some invisible dividing line where Michigan Avenue is no longer called that. It’s called 12. I thought maybe it was only a quirk of these neighbors and their friends, except that today, a complete stranger called Mr. Hot about a mower we’re selling. “Oh, yea, you’re out there off of 12, ain’tcha?”. Luckily we knew what the hell he was talking about. Two days ago, we would have had no fuckin’ clue.

Second, the “on the right” neighbors actually know the “across the street” neighbors. “The Husband” and “The Wife” have lived here a long time, apparently. Before their kids were born anyway, and they’re in Middle School now. I know I got sidetracked with the Hot Affair and all, but y’all? too freakin’ weird is what the whole thing is.

According to “On the Right” neighbors, The Husband lives in the house with the kids. But when I sit my butt down in my chair in the mornings, it’s her car that’s there. So, they must have some sort of arrangement where she comes over and takes the kids to school and then picks them up at least 1/2 the week. (Dudes, sound familiar? Oh Mah Holy Hell! It’s the reverse Mr. Hot and Ex-Mrs. Hot!) I haven’t figured out the whole Not The Husband thing, but I haven’t seen him since the 12th, so either they aren’t using this house as a getaway anymore or it really was a plumber fixing a broken toilet.

Sigh. I guess I shouldn’t quit my day job to become a private investigator, eh?

****lalalalalala****

Here’s what happens, though, when you spend an entire weekend away from the computer and actually outside, though. Even when you’re 1/2 Lebanese. Even when you remember occasionally to put on sunscreen:

Mr. Lady and I weren’t even on the same side of the Mississippi and we are both paying the price for being outside for three straight days.

—- And we have a freeze warning for tonight. It was 84 yesterday, and tonight I’ll be covering the tomatoes. Whoever is pissing off Mother Nature, please stop? —-

I’ll be here today.  All.day.long.

I have a couple of things for y’all though.

1. Y’know those “who’s stalking me” plugins?  Is it backwards stalking?  Because even if the reader doesn’t comment, it still shows that they’ve been there?  If you don’t comment here, would you want your identity showing up there?  (No, that’s not entrapment - ha!)
2. Don’t forget - if you have a favorite gardening website, leave me a comment here or send me an email at ‘reereep[at]gmail[dot]com’.
3. Garage Sale hints.  Mr. Hot and I are embarking on our very first garage sale ever.  Leave me your best hints and warnings!  Because, y’know, oh mah holy hell.  We’ve got lots of junk crappe priceless extras that we need to get rid of.

—- And now I must go break up the argument that is happening - over someone’s inability to put a sandwich into a baggie…. Sigh —-

I think I’m getting the plague. Or something.

Which is strange considering that a) I hardly ever get sick AND b) I haven’t hardly been out of the house. Can breathing your own air make you sick?

My ears are all stopped up - I may as well have my head under water. Which is going over real well with Mr. Hot. “Huh?” “Wha?” “Sorry, huh?” He already claims that I don’t listen to him. (But at least normally, when I choose not to listen to him I can hear him! He shouldn’t feel bad now, right? Because I really can’t hear what the fuck he’s saying! So the listening? Not a choice.)

Of course, I’m going to get my head shots on Friday, so let’s just be really miserable by then!  Let’s make sure death sounds like a less-shitty option.   Yay!

***lalalalalala***

MomandDad came over to my house yesterday because Dad fixed my birdhouse and made me some drawer-rails for my dresser so the drawers would stop falling out on my toes. It rained all day long. The plan was to head over to the bakery to pick up some goodies and grab Mom a present before they got to our house.  (Mother’s Day….Mom needs presents….even though I didn’t get any.  I’m not bitter.  Ha.)

Mr. Hot didn’t want to go out in the rain. (Snirk. Yea, right, he’ll melt. uh. huh.) So, even though MomandDad were supposed to be over at 1, I procrastinated until 12:40. Shush - the bakery is only 7 miles away. And a stop at the garden center to pick up a bunch of flowers or something wouldn’t take long. After all, when MomandDad say “One o’clock”, they really mean two-ish. Or thereabouts. Or “sometime that same day…y’know - the same day as the one o’clock day”.

I got to the bakery - picked up the goodies (hummus, bread, baklava and mahmool) - and left and it was only 12:53! (I rock. I also drive fast when necessary.) I ran into the nursery, grabbed a bouquet of purple roses and lilies and this:

for her garden - because he was so damned cute. (I think she should name him Steve. Do you think he looks like a Steve?)

Aaaaannnnnyyywayyyy, I turned onto our road (1.1 miles from home) at 12:59 pm - figuring I was golden! I had plenty of time. I could run upstairs, grab a card…write something sentimental and tear-jerky in it, and still have time to handcraft some wrapping paper ala Martha Stewart before they arrived.

Because on-time? And The Hotfessional’s MomandDad? Are not on speaking terms.

Except, apparently, yesterday. Because they were already there. At 1:0-freakin-4.

Oh well. No card, no handcrafted paper. Just a bag (paper, though! It wasn’t plastic!) and a Happy Mother’s Day!

Still, isn’t that one cute toad?

***lalalalalala***

And because I’ve subjected you to too much whining and moaning lately, here are some search term gems:

• business casual walking shorts 2008 - y’all? my business casual wardrobe is now cut-off sweats, a t-shirt, and slippers. (Kelley - look away, you’ll disown me)

• city shorts business casual - No. Just no. If you’re one of the women who worked in my office setting, do NOT wear city shorts. Please.
• all-green dry penis - Um. I’m sorry. I bet you can find a prosthetic one that is realistic though after yours falls off.  Veronica or Cookiebitch may know where.  And maybe next time you won’t do whatever it was you were doing.
• what would you do if you knew you could - Good question! Unfortunately, I’m 45 and don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
• quotes from superbad lemonade - “Ewwwwww, this stuff sucks.” “Tastes like piss!’ “Just give me straight vodka next time!”
• natasha richards revealing dress - I can tell you with 100% certainty that I have never written about natasha richards. I don’t have a clue who she is…but I think she’s the one that Mr. Hot was ogling the other day.
• hotfessional - Yes? that would be me.  As opposed to witchypoo - who is not me.
• stats how many people feel bluetooth is - better than green tooth?   Let’s vote shall we?
• another birthday got it right- yea, got it right in the gut. Oh mah holy hell, let’s not think about it, okay?
• have you sunbathed topless - Well, yes, I have. Y’all, here’s a hint. Use sunscreen. Lots and lots of sunscreen. SPF-783 is probably about right.

—- And for those of you wondering. - Mr. Not-the-husband drove up at 12:20 p.m. today and didn’t leave until 3:18. Guess they had the weekend to make up for. —-

A Day and a Post
Both filled with nothing at all
Except randomness.

Quiet has reigned here.
I would have slept on my desk
Except it is wood.

A special email
And a haiku that she wrote
did brighten my day.

But other than that
there is nothing happening
in the Hot household.

As much as I bitch about stupidity and the craziness that surrounds me on a daily basis, today was bor-ing.

(I have just completely jinxed it by typing that, you realize? Okay, so long as we’re on the same page here!)

So randomness - I haz it.

• The other day, some asshat decided to steal money out of our checking account using Mr. Hot’s debit card. We have two suspects. We have filed a police report. We have canceled the card and the bank has started its investigation. We should have our money back in 7-10 business days…because I can say, with 100% certainty, that I did not get a first-class ticket on Malaysian Airlines for my birthday….although that’s what Mr. Hot’s debit card paid for. I cannot even begin to express how many different ways I’ve thought about dismembering this prick. Believe me, his prick would be one of the first, um, removals.
• The past few days, around lunchtime, the woman who lives in the house across the street comes home. A few minutes later, a van pulls up and parks on the road in front of her house. A man gets out and goes into the house with her. He stays for about an hour, and then leaves. Sometimes, afterwards, she leaves, too. Sometimes she doesn’t. As far as I can tell, her husband (who is not the man who comes over at lunchtime) is there on a regular basis - walking the dog, taking the boys for bike rides, cutting the grass - although not when the mysterious van is there. I can’t figure out whether the husband is still living in the house. I’m guessing if he is, he won’t be for long. (Yes, this is what happens when you sit at a desk looking out over your street for 8 or 9 hours every day.)

The view:

Hey, you’d wonder too if you sat in front of this window 9 hours/day.

• The cable that connects my camera to my laptop is the same kind of cable that connects my Blackberry to my laptop. Since I’ve discovered that, my life has been much easier because I’m not staring at two cables trying to figure out which one is which. It also saves me walking downstairs and back up when I decide to take a random picture of the house across the street… the one I sit and look at all day long.
• The plan for this evening involves driving several miles down the road to watch cars go straight, really fast, for a quarter-mile. The things I do for the testosterone laden members of this house will never cease to amaze me. Therefore, on Sunday, NO ONE better wake me up before Noon unless it’s to open a present, drink champagne, or feed me peeled grapes. And chocolate. The good stuff, not the cheap kind. Take note all penis-bearing members of this house. You have been warned.
• I’ve been watching three rabbits chase each other around the yard. They play leapfrog; they play hide-and-seek. There are finches that fly by, their bright yellow bodies zipping through the air and past my window. I can hear Poopy the Puppy downstairs, whining to try and get out into the yard, because, “Mom. Mom. Mom. Want to play wit teh bunnehs. Mom. Mom. Come let me out.” Were it not for that, I could almost make believe that I’m Snow White or Pocahontas surrounded by little forest creatures in a Disney animated film. (Ahahahahahahahahah. snort. Yea, right.)

—- When is it going to be warm enough to open the windows? I think I’m going a bit stir-crazy around here, breathing my own air all the time. —-