Right.  So I am kicking back, watching the Grammys, critiquing fashion choices, singing along, and generally enjoying myself when it happens:  a flicker.  Followed by a freeze in the commercial.  Then another flicker and blackness.  I flip the cable box off.  Back on.  I am greeted with the following oh-so-helpful, incredibly informative message from Comcast:  "ONE MOMENT PLEASE.  This channel should be available shortly."

AYKM?!

Okay, no problem.  I grab ye olde laptop and point my trusty browser to cbs.com and live streaming of the Grammys.  And, lo, what do I find?  Crappity crap crap talking heads and NO LIVE STREAMING OF THE REAL SHOW!  I don't CARE what goes on backstage.  I don't CARE what these ya-hoos think about whatever, or that Carrie Underwood won Best New Artist x number of years ago, or that Bonnie Raitt is still alive and kicking and winning Grammys away from groups like The Lumineers and Mumford & Sons.  I WANT TO SEE THE SHOW!

Seriously, CBS, you think this extraneous garbage is what people want to see?  Why waste your bandwidth?

Am so frustrated right now.  Does that make any sense, CBS?  Who made that decision?  Y'all must be a company run by idiots, because this makes absolutely no sense.  I am steering my browser away from cbs.com.  If I'm going to watch TV on the computer, I'm going to watch REAL TV on the computer, not some mindless not-music drivel.

*Or:  LeBRON JAMES.  The other is more appropriate, but LeBron is more accurate for now.  Here is why:

I do not know LeBron James.  I know of him.  I watch him on TV.  And, by golly, I have heckled him with the best of them over the last two years.  I mean, seriously:  The Decision?  I will freely admit I cheered for teams I could care less about just so they would beat LeBron.  LeBron = entitled, immature, and maniacally egotistical.

However.  That all changed beginning with this latest NBA Finals.  And it didn't change because LeBron won.  It changed because LeBron changed.

Don't get me wrong, in the beginning I was firmly entrenched in my anti-LeBron position.  I stumbled across this article, which I admit affronted my beliefs a bit.  Most begrudingly, I had to acknowledge a bit of respect for the fact that post-1st-Miami Heat NBA Finals Loss of 2011 LeBron James sought the wisdom of NBA sages.  Not only did he do that, he apparently put his money where his mouth was, and followed it up with action, working out and learning from Hakeem Olajuwon.

Also, as Sexy McSexy pointed out, LeBron is under an immense amount of pressure.  The scrutiny is unbelievable, and taking that into consideration, well...  Hmph.  Well.  (Doc Rivers agrees.)





Not only did he grab him on the way up, he elbowed him on the way down.  So there, see?  LeBron is still a jerk.

But...but darn it all, if he didn't get hurt and play through it - and not in an annoying, "I am so hurt, but look at what I'm doing for my team" drama queen kind of way.  In my expert opinion, this was "It hurts, but this game is more important than that, and I've got to give it my all."  I can respect that.

And then.  THEN.  Game 5.  I tried finding you the video, failed, so you have to suffer through my recap:

Mario Chalmers is getting a bit cocky, egging on the crowd, swaggering back down the floor in the 3rd or 4th quarter when Miami is up by 20+...Whereas last year that was LeBron, this year LeBron saw it happening, called Chalmers over, and admonished him (not rudely, but maturely, focused) "Not yet.  Play ball."

LeBron.  You have grown up.  You appear to have matured, to be focused, less egotistical, and much more in control of yourself.  I don't mind that you guys won.  In fact, after demonstrating such a change of character since The Decision, I am glad you got your title.  And I look forward to seeing you now become that superstar player that everyone will root for.  Well done.

1.  Have a Sexy McSexy breadwinner of your own.
2.  Have a nanny ± maid service.
3.  Like food.
4.  Spend all day at Panera "studying."*
5.  Grocery shop for essentials like monster bag of Laffy Taffys, peanut butter M&Ms, and Salt 'n' Vinegar Pringles.
6.  Sit on your tukkus in front of the sweet goodness that is a flat-screen TV, warming your ridiculously entitled, dying little soul in the soothing glow of The Gateway to Obesity and The Moral Corruption of Society.

Repeat ad nauseum.





*And by "studying," you know I mean fighting to stay awake, zombie reading through chapters of long-forgotten physiology (Starling forces for $500, please), and systematically working my way through THE ENTIRE MENU.  (The mac and cheese is the best eat-out mac & cheese I think I've had - just don't look at the calories.  'cuz yeah.  Then you'll understand why it's the best.)

Let's recap.  (Or not, because now that I think of it I have not told you a thing about where we live - or maybe I have, and it has just BEEN SO LONG since I've touched this little blog doohickey that I simply DON'T REMEMBER.)

Anyway.

We live in an apartment.  With a little balcony.  And no yard.  (Whatsoever.  Which is fine, tradeoffs, understood.)  Fruit Loop christened the balcony "our yard" during my second foray into gardening last year.*  That was somewhat successful, especially if you measure success by the dumbfoundingly pervasive number of petunia seeds that are sprouting this year (in my reused dirt).**

Anyway.

Last year's garden was a trip to the local big box home fixer upper store with a garden center***, wherein I purchased plants - heirloom and cherry tomatoes, petunias, pansies, snapdragons.  Somewhere I picked up some green peppers, plants or seeds I cannot recall.  (I suspect they were dollar section seeds.)  And things were good!  The heirloom tomato plant was appropriately prolific, though I think my choice of container limited it somewhat.  (Similar here.  But not really, because mine was the cheap red plastic version on clearance.  Score!)  The green peppers followed a similar course.  Overall, successful enough to make me ambitious this year.

This year, the garden has expanded.  Flowers were relegated to a few spare, small pots - pansy and snapdragons seeds from last year.  (Please, please let the sprouts I see NOT be more rogue petunias!)  The bulk of the garden -- 2 of my beverage bins of red plastic awesomeness + 2 balcony boxes + a raspberry bush!  That is flowering!  (I am worried about a distinct lack of bees / pollinators of any sort.  Maybe I should send the ya-hoos out to stick their grubby little fingers all over and hope pollination happens that way.  Oy, I know there's a terrible joke in there somewhere related to puberty and general boy grossness.)  The green onions are already growing, and a cucumber (or zucchini...I don't remember which box is which at this point), sprouted today!  Overnight - literally!  (Clearly these are fascinating times.  And I don't get out much.  Whatever.)  Green pepper seeds harvested last year are being given a second shot with more space, and jalapeno seeds have been planted in the hopes of diversifying our pepper output.

So.  Not one of those sophisticated setups, but it's a start.  And it's more than what we even have time for right now, but something about growing my own food has always appealed to me.  Even if it's just a little bit at a time, I'll go for it.



* Two years ago was the first "yard" - balcony boxes of cosmos, calendula, and marigolds galore.  They were beautiful.  Unruly, but beautiful.  Harvested bajillions of seeds, especially cosmos and marigolds.  Will have to add those to the list to plant next year.  Because seeds last indefinitely, right?  :)?  Also hit up a well-known dollar section, ("the fun stuff section," as the ya-hoos are wont to call it), and snagged seeds for a strawberry plant and a basil plant.  The strawberry plant was given approximately 3 years before I axed it, (sacrificing a few measly unedible "berries" a year for the space to plant! more! things!)


**I think this may be my new business venture.  Mail-order petunias.  Purple.  Only.  Forever.  Because that's how many seeds were apparently sown.

***Which thankfully was NOT Lowe's, those Muslim-hating bigots.  :)

Appalling.  I cannot believe stuff like this exists.  Given an unbelievably thin veneer of "wanting to help," the website FindMyAccident.com crassly publishes motor vehicle accidents across the US.  With details apparently garnered from a hodge-podge collection of sources, including police reports, accident victims, eyewitnesses, and random voyeuristic users (all of these people unverified, mind you), this site composes an erroneous summation of any number of vehicular accidents.  The worst part - aside from the blatant insensitivity (to put it mildly) - is that FindMyAccident.com participates in rampant supposition and furthering of unfounded claims regarding those individuals involved in the accident.

Please don't tell me you are trying to help victims of accidents by offering lawyer connections, bolstering accounts of accidents with putative eyewitness information, and being a general community do-gooder website.  BS.  This is far and away purely voyeuristic, and the folks who conceived that site and are in charge of running it should be ashamed of themselves for allowing very real tragedies to become just another piece of rubbernecking fodder.

So. I think I mentioned those cats. (See: CONE OF SHAME.)

Technically, they have names. We've been over this. However, I need something more descriptive. I mean, "Tap?" What does that really mean, anyway? So let me give you a quick rundown of the various monikers these beasts have had in the whole six days we have had them.

*May Day --> Maytag --> Grumble --> Poopcat --> Grumble

*May Flower --> Whirlpool/Kenmore/Jenn-air --> Tap --> StiiiiiiiinKY --> @^F&#(*) !!

You see what happened there? Grumble redeemed herself. Upon removal of the Cone of Shame, she shaped up re: the general cleanliness of cats.

Tap, however. Tap is downright manic, and is an absolute booger when it comes to mischief. And continuing to do what you just told her not to. And doing it again. And then again. And then I finally carry her by the scruff of her neck and unceremoniously dump her in her catbed for a kitty timeout. 'Cuz she'll totally learn from that, right? What - she won't??

So. Yeah. Those cats. Endless entertainment for the kids. WHICH REMINDS ME. Haha, Tap, this is called "coming full circle" - you have officially been tortured by The Despot.* He's a pretty good tail puller, isn't he? And he keeps doing it, doesn't he? Ahhh, I knew we had kids for a reason.**




*Okay, peeps, seriously. THE CAT IS NOT BEING ABUSED. YOU DO NOT NEED TO CALL THE HUMANE SOCIETY. It was a friendly tail grab between, well, friends.

**Okay, also seriously. THE KIDS ARE LOVED. YOU DO NOT NEED TO CALL CHILDCARE PROTECTION SERVICES. We had them for more than just animal control.

Whoooooaaa, Nelly! It has done been almost a month and a-half since I posted here. (Truth to tell: I haven't even visited here the whole time, either. Forgive me, little blog!)

Some odds and ends to report, nothing that seems earth-shatteringly important. Got 2 kittens. One is uber-mischevious. The other is uber-...well, right now, uber-ucky. Not entirely her fault (though it is). The kittens were spayed just over a week ago, and the ucky one wouldn't leave the surgical site alone. 'Round here, that, my friends = CONE OF SHAME. Which is great and all, except for when she uses the litterbox.

She will inevitably return with cat poo ringing her cone of shame. (As if it wasn't shameful enough before??)

So, yeah. Not quite sure how that works, what with the cone of shame being AT THE POLAR OPPOSITE OF HER BUSINESS END OF THINGS. But whatever, it is what it is.

I Windex her Cone of Shame. Haha! I shall sanitize these feral outdoor beasts yet!

So, what else. Nothing that can't continue to wait. Maybe some reviews at some point. Maybe some recipes. Maybe a discussion of upcoming plans. Maybe some quotable quotes from the kids. Maybe some FUBAR stuff, that's always fun!

Or maybe another six weeks of absolutely nothing.

Aren't you just on pins and needles with anticipation?