Hope everyone's weekend was nice.  Mine was okay, and I got to see my great grandmother, so it was wonderful.  I shall tell you more about my weekend later this week.

As I mentioned earlier, my sister got me a CD player for my shower.  I think it's a wonderful gift, but I'm currently having a dilemma.

See, now that I got the batteries in it, and found a place in my shower for it, I don't know what kind of music to play in the shower.  I mean, I shower in the morning, and so I need something to get me going.

So.  Dance, right?

Um.  No.  The beat, the rhythm, the headache.  My goodness.  That's TOO MUCH before coffee, okay?

So.  Um.  Oldies?

Well, I've been known to sing Aretha's Respect in the shower more than once, but this genre is strange, too.  I just can't take it this early in the morning.

Um.  What else?

Well, I thought long and hard over this, and have decided that for now, I will listen to Angry Whitney.  Something about her just gets me going.  She's pissed, she's not taking it anymore, and it's not right, but it's okay, dammit.  Crack is for poor people, and wake the hell up, Tim, and greet the day!

I love me some Angry Whitney.  Just keep that troublemaker Bobby Brown away from me, okay?!

Actually, I'm going to make a mix CD for my shower.  Yes, that's right... my gadgets have once again inspired me to make CDs that nobody but me will find amusing or even tolerable.  Kudos to me for not including the obvious, such is Splish Splash, I Was Taking A Bath.  I like SEX first thing in the morning, not SAX, thankyouverymuch...

I am, however, going to include Rubber Ducky, You're The One, by Ernie, he of Sesame Street fame.  I've loved that song since I was young enough for that to be appropriate, and beyond that, I don't know what.  I suppose I could take suggestions... 

So.  It's the weekend, and nobody reads this on the weekend.  So why am I posting?  Damn muse.  I can't help it.

I'm often asked by people outside the journaling community why I do this journal thing.  I never really have a good answer, so I decided to think about it.

A large part of it is that I love to write.  I really do.  And I'm sometimes good at it.  I wish I were a better wordsmith, or funnier, but I'm not.  I'm just me, and this is what you get.

I also love computers.  I'm not as good with them as some people, but I'm better than most, and I love that I have the ability to publish to the Internet.  It's really cool if you think about it... I can write something, put it out there, and within moments, anyone... anyone in the world... can see what I have to say.  That's damn cool, you know?

Also, I think I lead an active, full life.  I do my damndest to stay involved in lots of organizations and such, and I therefore have lots to write about.  People are always telling me that I'm so INVOLVED in stuff, and they can't believe how busy I stay.  I don't think so, but, um, thanks, and really, I guess anyone could be this busy if they wanted to.  Just join groups.

In being so involved, I meet a lot of people.  I find it's easy to give my URL to people, and they'll come see me, and get to know me.  I'm pretty much the person I portray here, and this site reflects me well.

And speaking of joining, I have to say that the online journaling community is chock full o' some of the coolest and smartest people I've ever had the chance to meet.  Really.  At this point, if I had to give up all but one of my social obligations, I'd make darn sure I got to meet with the Austin Journalers.  Without exception, they are all wonderful.  I'm looking forward to working closely with these folks this year on the JournalCon stuff, provided, of course, that we get selected as the site

So that's why.  Because I can.  Because I like it.  And because a lot of other cool people do so, too.

Friday?  Are you sure?  Damn.  I guess we should take every Tuesday and Wednesday off.

So.  Not much to tell.  I went shopping after work to finish up my Christmas shopping.  Yeah, I know.  It doesn't make sense to me either, but the important thing is that it's done.  You know... two days after Christmas.  That's about right in my world.

Here's the thing, though.  The press keeps talking about these faboo sales and how they are hurting retailers, but I'm not seein' it.  I see the crap all marked down and stuff, but not the good stuff.  And I HAVE seen good stuff cheap.

The Old Navy Outlet in San Marcos is staffed with some of the stupidest tools in the free world.  Seriously.  This is an actual converstation:

Me: Excuse me, can you tell me if these are on sale?

Cluless Old Navy Guy who looked overwhelmed:  Um, I don't know.  When you get up there, they'll ring up correctly.

Me:Up there?  You mean, like... at the registers?  At the end of those long lines?

congwlo: Yeah.  At the front.

Me: So basically, even though I'm not buying anything else, you can't tell me if this stuff is on sale.  I have to wait in line.  Is that what you're telling me?

congwlo: Um.  Yeah.  Um.  Wait.  I can look for you. (He takes the items out of my hand and disappears.)

Me: (he took a long time to come back, and in the meantime, I found the item elsewhere in the store with a buy one, get one free sign.  I had given the guy two, because that's what I was going to buy.)

conwlo:  Um.  Basically, they are the price marked.  Not on sale.

Me:  Really?  So they aren't buy one, get one free?  Because this sign right here say they are?

conwlo:  Um.  Yeah.  Wow.  I guess they are.  That's a good deal, then.

You know what?  I'm going to stop recapping this conversation right here and now, because it's pissing me off all over again.  I hate how Old Navy puts the same shit in three places, and the Outlet near me doesn't sign the store for shit.  That would be one thing, but the floor staff doesn't seem to know anyting at all, and doesn't seem to have the tools they need to answer questions.  At that location, I've even had trouble getting a good answer from the Store Manager.  Obviously, that store has issues that start at the very top, and I don't like shopping somewhere that I don't know what things cost, the staff is not helpful, and I have to friggin stand in line for 30 mins if and when I decide to buy something.  If I want crap-ass service, I'll shop at K-Mart, okay?

Well.  I'm a bit ranty today, aren't I?  I think it's because my office is hot.  I like cold weather, but I hate people's tendancy to over-heat places.  I mean, in Texas, it might be cold at night, but by noon, it could be 80 degrees.  So blowing hot, dry air all over the place just doesn't seem like the thing to do.  Call me silly, but I don't think it should EVER be over 80 degrees in an office.

Gosh.  I'd better stop the rant.  Man.  I'm not even in a bad mood.  I think I need a nap.

Well, I guess I made it through another Christmas... sorta.

See, I still have a lot of Christmas left.  I have Christmas with my mother's family this coming weekend.  So while I have most of my gifts, I don't have all of my Christmas in place yet.

Ah gifts.  See, I tend to be happy with what I have, and I also tend to buy myself whatever the hell I want, so I am not an easy giftee.  In fact, I'm downright frustrating to buy for, and if you ask me to give you a list, you will either be sorry or you will not get a full answer from me, simply because I don't know.

But this year, I'd purposely not been buying what I need: I hadn't bought the Studio MX software package.  For one thing, it's hideously expensive, and for another, it's hideously expensive.

So I asked for that.  And I got it.  My parents rock.  I now have the tools I need to make a really flashy website.  I recommend sunglasses by your monitor, because I'm going to be playing with webdesign, baby!  CSS will be my bitch by February!

Or not.  That shit's hard.  But maybe by April.  Or May.

Other gifts?  Clothes and more clothes.  And a CD player for my shower.  Apparently, my sister, when she visits, would rather hear Madonna sing her hits while I'm showering instead of me.  Of course, nobody sings Express Yourself like I do.

I work Thursday and Friday and then I'm off to the Houston area, where there will be more holiday goodness.  I'll get back just in time for New Year's, which is always fun with me around.  More on that later.

Have a great day!

So. I'm in Dallas, safe and sound.

It's cold here. When I left my driveway, it was 72 degrees and muggy as can be.

In Dallas, it was 38 degrees, and of course will get colder tonight.

Basically, my sister lives five and a half hours due north of me. And that's under good driving conditions. We did not have those tonight, because it rained and hailed and the wind blew and it took almost six hours to get here.

What's this "we" you keep referring to? I rode here with my parents. In the back of their SUV. Listening to country music. Country CHRISTMAS music.

Yeah. So I remembered about ten minuites into the drive why I usually bring my own car.

BUT, with gas going up in price and we were going to the same place, for the same amount of time, and I couldn't think of a reason to drive myself, so I found myself riding with them.

I have said it here before, but I'll say it again: I love my parents. Very, very much. I'm so very lucky to have parents that I can be totally myself around, and they actually laugh at my jokes and understand me. Most people would KILL for parents like mine.

I think I was just freaked out because I wasn't in control. I can sometimes be a bit of a control freak (Tim's friends say: "A BIT? Whatever!") But I really do like to plan my own trip. To leave when I want to, to stop where I want to (Starbucks? On the freeway? Every fourty miles? With a DRIVETHRU? What a country!) But when I'm with my Dad, he takes on a Battaan Death Drive stance and we don't stop until our eyeballs turn yellow, and we are so caffiene starved we have the shakes. Our bladders must fill at the approximate inverse proportions of the gas tank empties. Plan your fluids, folks: Dad's driving now!

And I really, really do try to not bitch and moan. I know I do a lot, but really, I could be worse, trust me. Get me tired and needing to pee, yet somehow still thirsty, and see how much fun I can be. Now put me in a car that's just a bit too warm and I have no control of the radio.

My friends, the ones who know me best, are scared right now.

But I'm here, and without major incident. We laughed, we bitched, we made it. We're family, and that's the way it works.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pee again.

Twas the day before (the day before) Christmas,
And all through the office,
Not a creature was stirring
Except all of us who are out of vacation time.

Actually, it's not as bad as all that.  Since our patients have needs that don't quit, much of the clinical and psycho/social/spiritual staff is here, as is a contingent of medical records people.  But most of the administrative staff?  Gone.

I'm off tomorrow, though, so that's a Good Thing, as Martha would say.

Had a great weekend.  I went to several parties, and met a few new people.  If I met you this weekend, don't hesitate to say "hi" in the comments section below.  We here at the Jack Daniel's distillery would like to thank Tim for all his ebullience this weekend.  It really helped our bottom line for 2002.

And then, I went over to see my friend David and spend some time with him and his cats.  I had a wonderful time there, too.  The makers of Benadryl would like thank David's cats for Tim's time at David's house.  They appreciate the business in this soft economy.

And then, time with my family.  My family is not so on the ball this year.  I myself was all smug with myself and shit because I'd done so much shopping earlier in the season.  I was so smug, I didn't do ANY shopping for three weeks, which put me in full freak out about noon on Friday.  I got a fair amount done, and I'm not doing anymore, because really, I'm over it.  The makers of Celexa would like to thank Tim and his family for their continued patronage.  In this economy, we're just glad people can still afford the stuff.

I don't know if I'm going to update over the holiday or not.  I'll be in Dallas but we all know that I update all the time no matter where I am, so that's no excuse.  I just might take a few days off.  But then again, maybe not.  Depends.  Depends undergarments have nothing whatsoever to do with Tim, but he took their sponsership anyway because the economy is screwy, and really, we can't be all picky and stuff about whose money we take, can we, really?  No.  So if you pee, pee in the best... Depends.

Merry Christmas!  Hope Santa comes to visit your house (you know... if you're into generous old fat men and all...)

Well, we've almost made it another week, huh?  Good news indeed.  And next week is short, given the whole Christmas and Boxer Day (for my friends outside the US) sort of "plunked" in the middle of the week.

I personally have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off.  That's all... I'll work Monday, Thursday and Friday.  But it will be a good time to be at work, because the office will be quiet.  I should get a lot done.

Tonight was kinda cool.  Mark picked me up from work on his way to Austin.  We were going to the monthly dinner with the Bears, and the going was stressful.  I-35 is no fun around five o'clock, and it took a long time to get there, but actually, we made pretty darn good time.

Anyway, we get to the restaraunt where we were supposed to go, and lo and behold, no Bears.  This location was selected two months ago, and I had checked the calendar just this very afternoon, and this is where we were supposed to be.

Have I mentioned that I love cell phones?  Have I?  I do.

I called an officer, and he told me that at the last moment, we had changed restaurants because that place was packed.

REALLY?  A FULL RESTAURANT ON THE THURSDAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS?!  SHOCK!

Um, why didn't someone call TWO FRIGGIN' MONTHS ago and make arrangements?  Why wasn't the whole group notified in time?  Why? Why? Waaaa.

For those of you who know me in real life, you can imagine what I was like right about then.  Unbearable?  Uh huh.  But I recoginized that I was being a rant-y asshole, and to tell the truth, I was even sort of pissing myself off, so I toned it down.  A little.

And the evening turned out to be nice anyway, even if I did have to eat at some place called the Golden Corral, but which should be called Fat People At the Buffet O' Crappy Food, but it was okay.  I got to see some of my very good friends.

Afterward, we all met over near 37th street off of Guadalupe and walked around looking at Christmas lights.

Y'all, you have NO IDEA how insane this whole lighting thing is.  Austin is known for and proud of it's uniqueness, and this proves it.  This is not your traditional suburban themed light show where the cul-de-sac all decorates alike, with the same white lights and the same wooden snowmen in the yard.  Oh no... this is Austin lighting.  This is a shining (hee!  a pun!) example of what happens if you smoke pot for years, and then decide to decorate your house.  It's all... cool.  And fun.

Some of the houses had lights still in the boxes, just staplegunned to the house and plugged in.  We saw an entire tree wrapped in foil and blue lights.  We saw a house that had a train out front, with a Barney tied to the tracks like a damsel in distress.  An evil Barbie with a Jack in the Box head held the rope, laughing hysterically.  One house was cheerfully lit with flashing pentagrams and stars and moons and by God (hee! an anti-pun) Pagans can be festive, too.  And don't forget the giant, rotating dreidel.  Even cars parked in front of people's houses had lights all over them.  No immovable surface seems safe from the doped-up homeowners!

So that was fun.  I, myself, am a dope and didn't take my digital camera with me, and Mark's?  Not so good in challenging lighting situations.  But we'll see if there are any worth showing here.  I'm very into lights myself, so you may see some pictures over the next week.

Oh, yeah.  As we were all leaving, we noticed what we initially thought was a statue of an angel praying, but then we saw that she had a white container full of money, and I slowly realized that this was a real person.  Well... you know.  As real as any other performance artist.

She was all white, and really did look like a statue.  As we put money in, she changed poses a few times, and then went back to her praying pose, waiting for more money from someone else.  Judging from the electric meters humming all over the place, I'd suspect that she needed it.

One more thing:  that entry on Monday?  The one where I bemoaned my Christmas spirit not being around?  Yeah.  Walk around Austin looking at awesome lighting displays and see if your hear doesn't grow two sizes that day.  I recommend some peppermint schnapps ice cream from Amy's right beforehand.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

So... I've known it was coming for over a month, but the whole process has begun.  We're in the middle of a big office move at work.

Our building is only about two years old, but we're actively outgrowing it.  Since we've added so much staff lately, including some new management positions, about one third of us are having to move around.

In order to bribe people to move, we've been enticed by the prospect of fresh paint and new window treatments in our new offices.  Also, "The Greater Good," something that all non-profit workers hear a lot about, has been called upon, so I am moving.

The paint?  Sage green with beige trim.  A rust and sage green valance will compliment our beige blinds.  This was all picked out by a designer who is not enough like Vern, and too much like Bobby Trendy.  Lip gloss.  On a man.  Who's a decorator.  Ick.

So yeah, it's all Trading Spaces in my office right about now.  But without Paige.  Thank the dieties for that, because we have enough annoying people who are all in everyone's business.

The deal is, the move is taking place over a few days, and today, they made me move out of my current office, and I'm not able to move into my new office until Monday.  So currently?  I have a cart with a computer on it in the copy room.  That's right, I'm all Rob Schnieder in there, making small talk with the people as they make copies.  I'm totally trying not to be all, "Shauna!  Making copies!  The Shaunameister!  Shauna-lana-ding-dong!  Using the toner!"

That would be creepy, and frankly, many people in my office are not much into pop culture, and would think that I was actually weirder than they think I am.  If that's possible.

At least I actually have a computer that's attached to the network.  Of course, since I'm in charge of the network, then that would never happen.  No Internet at work?  I don't bloody THINK so!

SO, that's about it.  By Christmas, I'll be all esconced in my paint-fumed cocoon, and I just pushed through a brand new computer for myself, a reward for being so budget-conscious in 2002, and I should have that to play with during the week between Christmas and New Year's, when of course only the dopes who don't plan their vacation time well will be at work.

Should be fun.

Last night, Kurt and I went out to dinner tonight because I'm not going to get to see him before Christmas, and so we decided to go somewhere we don't normally go.  Kurt and I tend to eat at one of about ten different places here in town (if that) and you must really understand that San Antonio is FULL of great places to eat.  That's why we're among the fattest cities in the nation.  Seriously.  They had to retrofit the seats on the buses here and everything.  I'm so proud of my city.

Anyway, so we decided that, even though they can be a bit pricey, we'd eat at Canyon Cafe.  There are Canyon Cafes all over Texas, Arizona and some other state that I don't feel like looking up.  I've got to tell you... if you live near one, don't hesitate to tell your friends and neighbors not to eat there.

Yeah.  Dinner went well.

I ordered a special that sounded good: boneless pork chops with veggies and stuff.  One of the things I like(d) about Canyon Cafe is that they always had unique flavor and texture of their food.  I should point out that the pork chop was 14 dollars, and did not include salad or soup or anything.

The alleged pork chop I was served had the texture and taste of old chewing gum.  When I complained about the lack of taste, the waiter said, WITH A STRAIGHT FACE that if I was used to the flavor they have on the menu, I should order off the menu, because the specials are intentially less flavorful.

Um... yeah.  I'm going to just say bullshit to that right there.

The placard on the table didn't say "not-so-specials," or "our food for old people who can no longer taste", it said SPECIAL, and my meal?  Wasn't.

No manager was ever notified, and the waiter authorized a hundred bucks on my card for a fourty dollar meal, which ties up sixty dollars of my money for about a week.

So dinner was fucked.

At least the company was good.

On Saturday morning, my great grandmother, whom we call "GG," was found unconscious on her bathroom floor, but breathing.

Upon being revived, she was taken to the hospital where they have determined that she broke her hip, and probably had a slight stroke. She is in intensive care, because she has been plauged with congestive heart failure for almost ten years.

The timeline of what happened, when, and how is fuzzy (she lives with my Grandmother) and is really not important now, because we all need to focus on getting GG well, but I'm not happy with some details about what happened.

So those are the facts. The reality is that when stuff like this happens, I have to fight my inner drama queen to remain calm and stay the hell off of my cell phone, telling everyone I know in a shaky voice what happened.

I'm not even kidding.

The truth of the matter is, I know that this is the beginning of the end. It might be six days or six years, but we are going to lose her, and she won't be in the best of shape from now on.

Not that she wasn't already showing signs of advanced age: she's been on a walker for about ten years, and her mental acuity is a bit diminished, but she was still vivacious and funny and cool and I will miss her so very much.

So what now? I think they can stabalize her and get her our of the hospital, and then I need to make a concerted effort to see her as much as possible. I love her so much, y'all. She's always been funny, outragous, outspoken, and her own self, no matter what people said or thought about her. And people said and thought she was crazy.

You know... not "gonna shoot from a clocktower" crazy... more like, "zany believer of the the National Enquirer" kinda crazy. She really has, over the years, influenced me to be whoever I want, and to enjoy life. She might not know that, but she has.

So that's all there is to say about that right now.

I think I lost my Christmas Cheer.

I mean, I spent most of my twenties depressed, and I really hadn't used it since before I was depressed, but I thought when I felt better, I'd have it back. So... I've felt better for about two years now, and the magical feeling of Christmasness is not coming back, and I think it's because I'm not ten years old anymore, I don't believe in Santa Claus, and for God's sake, I even forgot how to play "Silent Night" on the piano.

When I was young, my parent's Sunday School class used to have a tradition where we would go on a hayride through my subdivision, sing carols at random stranger's houses, and then go to a bonfire where we cooked s'mores and basked in the glow of our Methodist fellowship.

Yeah, my childhood was a bit idyllic and suburban... what's your point?

So now, I'm all grown up, and despite my relative good fortune, I just don't get as excited as I used to about this time of year.

And that really sucks. I remember when I was a kid, I used count the days until Thanksgiving, so that we could come home from my grandparent's farm and put the lights up. And two weeks off? I could get behind that right about now.

It's not like I don't look forward to this time of year. I love it. I enjoy the parties and whatnot, but I don't have the sense of wonderment and ebullient cheer that I used to when I was young. I guess the reality of the holidays, such as the rush to get shopping done and relatives visited, overshadow the joyousness.

I guess this is just more of that growing up stuff that sort of bites, and I've said over and over that I'm glad to get older and to pile up life experience. I guess the life experience makes me harder to impress.

Or maybe I just need a hayride, some s'mores, and some good old Methodist cheer.

I totally fell in love last night.

We had a little gathering of the Austin Journalers last night and I was really excited, because we were going to meet a new person.  I mean, I'd already MET her, you know... online... but I was really looking forward to knowing her in real life.  Who, you might ask?

InvincibleGirl.

I was late arriving (but well ahead of everyone else) and she was already there, sitting with Greg, and I instantly liked her.  She was funny, smart, sweet, sassy, and really cool.  Did I say cool?  She was super-dee-duper cool.  But not Coolio.  She had better hair than that.

So as time progressed, the other Journalers all went back to their respective and respectable lives, and IG and I decided that we were going to START what we finished!  That's right... we were going to get our DRINK ON!.

She totally was into the whole gaybarhopping idea, and so we did.

We ran into my friends Adrian and Andres, and we had a cool visit with them.  Soon, even they went home, and we were left to our own devices.  We gossiped about some of the people whose journals we read, and were talking all about funny, smart people that we haven't met, but that we want to meet, and that was great fun.

At the country and western gay bar (yes, there is such a thing) we watched an extremely hot guy linedance, and you could tell by the way he shook that fine booty that he was not interested in the females... knowwhatImean?

But that did not deter the Drunkest Girl Ever from trying to get up in that booty.  She was rebuffed.  Repeatedly.  IG and I took great delight in this scene, and were openly laughing.  So Drunk Pathetic Girl stumbled over to us, and asked us if we were laughing at her.

In situations like this, it's important to always tell the truth.

"Oh NO, of course not.  We were talking about a mutual friend of ours named Sarah.  She's really funny."

"Ohmigod!!  Sara'smynametoo." she slurred.

Poor Sarah The Drunk Pathetic Straight Girl.  I hope she finds a man with a fine booty who will wiggle it for her one day.  In the meantime, she might want to check her lipliner, which was crooked.

So I had fun.  I always have fun.  IG is a great new partner in crime.  Watch out, Austin.

It's back... the Random Web Photo!!!!

Look at THIS shit:

Oh my... where to begin?

• Isn't it wonderful how Senator Thurmond still has dark hair, even at 100?
• Note to his daughter: honey, if you are going to be in a situation where the national press will be taking pictures, you might want to touch up your roots, okay?
• Your father did.
• This is waaay too much Republican in one room to suit my tastes.
• Senator Thurmond and Michael Jackson have the same nose!  NOW we know what look Michael was going for: creepy old white racist senator!
• It's a good thing I can see BOTH of the daughter's hands, because otherwise, I'd say something nasty about that look of utter joy that Trent Lott has on his face.
• What IS up with that?  Oh.  Yeah.  Elections.  Took over the country.
• Dude... I guess Cheney is out of his "undisclosed location" and attending birthday parties, huh?  But what's up with him hiding behind Bush?  No... I mean in the picture... not in... well, okay.  There too.
• That "cake"?  Does that look good to you?  Yeah, me either.
• Finally, I have asked this question  before, but it bears repeating: Where are George Bush's lips?!

So we may be getting into TMI territory here, but I had to abandon a pair of underwear over the weekend.

I won't talk of the unpleasantness that led up to this, because I would hate for my site to get Google hits for the words "anal leakage" or something vile like that, so I won't say that, and really... who cares.  You get the idea.  Suffice to say that Thai food was involved. 

First of all, thank goodness for those underwear, because they kept me from making a big mess of my sexy Dockers.  I mean.  Really, they served their purpose as the first line of defense against emergencies such as this.

However, in fulfilling their duty, they got filled with doody, so they had to go.

Y'all, it's WINTER here.  I know, I know... fifty degree highs are not really winter, but in Texas, we dress like it's colder.  It makes us feel justified in bitching about how cold it is, when really, most of the US would LOVE our balmy climate.

Anyhow, since it's winter and all, I'm wearing some pretty significant boots, and the bathroom I was in was not exactly "hospital clean".  I would put it in the realm of "Calcutta clean" or perhaps "disgusting" would best describe the custodial condition of this bathroom.

At any rate, I was going to be damned if I was going to touch a sock to that floor, I'm telling you right now.

So what do you do when you can't take your shoes and pants off, but the underwear has got to go?  You start ripping.

I would like to take a moment to go off on a tangent here (which is TOTALLY NOT LIKE ME) and tell you again how much I hate laundry.  I know.. I bitch about this a lot, but it relates to this story because I was NOT wearing my cute 2(x)ist underwear, because they were all dirty, so I was wearing plain old Jockeys, and am not mourning the loss of a $22 pair of basket-building goodness.  Yes folks... that expensive underwear is like a bra for your balls... pass it on, tell everyone...

I find if you rip around the waistband, and then down each side, you can effectively remove them without touching the offending area, and without stripping.  The elastic waistband that is left?  Leave it if you want a souvenir of your experience, I guess, but it goes over your head nicely, and right into the trash.

I chose to remove mine, because I had vivid dreams of being rushed to the emergency room and not only not having ANY underwear on, but having a tattered elastic Jockey waistband with the shredded remnants of abandoned undergear.  That would suck.  Honestly, the one-and-only time I've ever been rushed to an emergency room in an ambulance, I had ditched the underwear earlier in the day, and was freeballing it.  Most embarrassing, but I figure the ER people have seen it all, so whatever.

So what did we learn?  Well, besides the fact that I should change my Internet nickname to TMIbrat, we learned that I should not eat Thai food and begin a new medication on the same day.  We also learned that I am quite handy at ditching undergarments, and that some men's underwear is like a bra for men.

And some people say this a vanity site, when it's clearly educational.

Today we had our Holiday Volunteer Tea. That's where we throw a big reception and invite all of the various and assorted volunteers at work to come be told by everyone how much they are appreciated. And it's true... we couldn't do half of what we do without them.

What all do they do for us? Well, they staff our thrift store for one. Our Thrift Store pulls in some great money, and has helped us provide more services to our community. We are lucky to have them.

Our office is filled with plants, and they are always lush and green and bug-free, thanks to a volunteer who comes in every week and shows her love in that way. It sounds small, but our office is very nice, and the plants help a lot. When you deal with death everyday, it's nice to have cool, living plants.

We have several committees, which are all staffed entirely by community members who just want to make a difference. Some of our fundraising would not happen without the help and expertise of these fine people.

And then, there are the folks that I don't know they do it. The angels among us. The patient care volunteers. These folks are actually part of the care team that includes nurses, nurse aids, social workers, chaplains... they spend time with our patients, and help the families cope and when there is no family, they visit as a friend would. How in the world they do it is beyond me. I'm not afraid of death--working at hospice has helped me understand it differently--but I don't know these folks do it. They are angels among us, and I'm glad they are there, doing the work that needs to be done.

So that's the deal. I'd like to challenge each and every one of you to volunteer somewhere... not for the rest of your life, or even for an extended time, but give away some of your time to do good in your community and in your world. It's easy to do, and you'll enjoy it as much as the community will benefit. You might meet some new people, learn something and change someone's life in a way that can change the world.

Really. Please. Force yourself to make a difference, even for just a few hours somewhere. For more info about how (and WHY!) to get involved, visit Yahoo!'s great guide.

I don't really have anything exciting to tell you, and I'm for some reason tired as hell tonight. Must be because I not only burned the candle at both ends, but I broke it in half, and burned both pieces at both ends, too. Yeah. I'm tired, and not making sense.

The truth is that compared to my weekend, today seemed so... boring. I actually was very busy today and worked straight through lunch... I do that every now and then... look up at the clock, and find out it's four... I don't do that often, but sometimes.

When I was in Dallas over Thanksgiving, I bought new shoes. I really live up to the whole gay sterotype with the shoe thing... I'm way to into shoes to be straight. Most people (Mark notwithstanding) compliment my taste in shoes, and others (like Mark) shake their head in disbelief. Whatever. I know I'm stylin' in my wrestling-looking dress shoes. They are all the rage for now.

Actually, I was beginning to notice that the really fashionable boys (and by fashionable, I mean my friend Steven, and the boys who work in the stores that sell coture clothing) are wearing really pointy shoes. I swear I won't wear anything like that. This season.

Not much else to tell, so I'll cut it short. Thanks for reading, good day.

Man oh man... what a weekend.

I spent the bulk of my weekend with Kurt, and then Sunday, I went to Austin with Mark.  Big fun all weekend.

The following is a list of SOME of the things that I saw or did this weekend:

• A drunk woman standing in a booth at a live rock-and-roll show who was so drunk, she kept turning around, toasting us with her always present longneck bottle (which really is the only kind of beer bottle you find in Texas), and shouting, "Merry Christmas!"
• Later in the evening, she turned around again and slurred, "Feliz Navidad!"  You go, girl.  Kurt thinks she's a dishwasher somewhere, because her hands were as dry as any calloused foot he's ever seen.
• I went shopping with Kurt and we went to a very very nice store named Sloan/Hall.  It is upscale to the max.  They carry Prada shoes, awesome books, bath accessories and fine art, and it's just to cool to describe, but there you go.
• We got in the car and immediately went to the flea market, where we browsed assorted illegal and stolen goods.  I considered a "Gucci" watch that was either fake, or fell off a truck, for seventeen dollars.  I decided against it.
• Also at the flea market, we found some dolls that were labeled "Authentic Porcelain Dolls".  My toilet is also Authentic Porcelain, so I'm sure I have something special on my hands. (so to speak).
• Mullets are still popular among the flea market crowd.
• Bad perms are REALLY popular with the women.
• The bad hair trifecta of bad roots, bad perm, styled in a mullet was spotted.  Three times.  Once on a man.
• Kurt and I, being somewhat catty homosexuals, make fun of this guy every time we see him, because he's so white trash it hurts.  Well, we spotted him... working at the SNACK BAR at the flea market.  Alas, we caught him in a rush, and were unable to say hello.
• On Sunday night, there was a fundraiser put on by the Austin Leathermen.  Some of my favorite carnival booths were the dildo wreath toss, and fishing for cockrings.
• Over this weekend, I saw people dressed like naughty elves, leathermen, drag queens, dick dancers and who knows what else.  If I'd have seen and Indian and a construction worker, I'd have seen all of the Village People.

I'm so glad I'm gay.  My life is SO interesting.

Well, that's over.

Jury duty was fun.  Actually, there were some interesting and kind people on the jury with me, and they were all smart and we came to a unanimous verdict in about five minutes.

We found the lady not guilty.  She was charged with interferring with someone making an emergency phone call.  The State didn't prove that she did any such thing, and I can't believe the whole thing went to trial to begin with. 

It's a darn good thing that the State didn't accuse her of being white trash, because I would have had to find her guilty as charged. And the "victim?" The one that pressed charges? Trashier. I swear to you, these people belonged on The Jerry Springer Show.

It involved trailers, over-the-road truck drivers, running down the road to use a neighbor's phone to call the po-lice, broken plant stands outside that the officer who responded couldn't ascertain if they were recently broken, or just trash on the deck... you get the picture.

Honestly.  I thought at any moment, somebody was going to get pissed off and take their clothes off.  Or introduce a suprise witness who had slept with the defendant.  At least then, it would have been fun.  As it was, it was just boring, and a waste of my time. 

I'm convinced that two people got into a disagreement, tempers rose, and people behaved like angry (possibly drunk) white trash, and things someone pressed charges against another, and for some reason, the DA took the case, and thus wasted court time (and my time) on some bullshit matter.

With all the stuff they said she did, they could have pressed any number of charges on her, and they didn't.  Why?  Probably because they couldn't prove them.  So why they thought they could prove this one is beyond me.  They couldn't.

Here are a few things I learned about jury duty:

• It sucks.
• If you are white and clean-cut, you are in.
• If you have a mullet, you are out.
• It sucks.
• Defense attorneys are pond scum.
• Proscecuters are convinced they are right, and will do everything in their power to convince you of that.
• The real victim here is the juror... at least in this case.

In the end, I'm glad I got picked, and even though I had to miss a bit of work.  It was not a bad experience, honestly, and I'm lucky I live in a place that has such a system.  I hope not, but you never know... I may need such a system one day.

So. I got picked.

I told you I would.

But here's the thing: the trial's not over, so I can't talk about the trial. I WANT to, but I can't. Yet.

I CAN, however, talk about the selection process and how I was almost outta there, but it didn't happen, and I got picked.

When we got there, they seated us in juror number order. You will recall that my juror number was very high, and indeed, I was in the last chair.

There were 22 people in that room, and they pick six. And they pick them starting with the first person, so I just KNEW I was going to get to go soon.

After the civics lesson, and the judge's long-winded "thank you for being a juror" speech (in which he mentioned God, family, fighting in combat, family and his life story, including his education and other cases he's worked on) we got down to business.

The first thing the Assistant DA asked of the judge was a "jury shuffle"

SHIT.

I was placed in seat number 12 after the shuffle. Since each attorney could strike six jurors, I was likely to be on this panel if I didn't make myself undesirable, and get stricken myself.

But I am white, educated, well-spoken, reasonably non-creepy looking, and work for a non-profit and therefore must have a heart, so of course, I am on the jury.

My comments about Johnny Cochran and CourtTV seem only to have charmed the attorneys.

And I'm not TOTALLY pissed about it. I really am so idealistic and altruistic, I feel that this is an honor and a privledge to get to serve.

On the other hand, my work is PILING UP at the office, and that's just no fun. I am in the middle of two different projects right now that I want to finish up, and I just can't do that while I'm sitting in a jury box, listening to people argue a case.

It should all be over tomorrow. And then boy... do I have a story to tell YOU!

Colgate Simply White sucks.  Don't get me wrong.  I wasn't expecting a miracle for only 12 bucks, but damn!  This shit sucks.

The concept, in theory, is pretty cool.  You brush the shit on out of a container that looks disconcertingly like a Liquid Paper bottle, and then go about your day, whitening your teeth until you look like that chick who hosts Trading Spaces: all toothy and shit.

BUT.

It seems you have to dry your teeth.  You know... with a towel and all.  No problem.  Seems a bit weird, but whatever.

The next step is the one they show in the commercials.  You brush the stuff on your choppers.  No problemo.

THEN, the final instruction: keep your teeth dry for five minutes.

Excuse me?

I don't recall the guy in the commercial... the one with the good hair who's watching a basketball game?  The one whose teeth are already white?  Yeah, him.  I don't see HIM snarling like an idiot, trying desperately to not get his teeth all wet and shit.  I mean, I'm pretty sure I would have remembered that part of the commercial.

I challenge each and every one of you to try to keep your teeth dry for five minutes.  It can be done, but you feel like a psycho or something.  The other day, I was wearing a purple shirt, and the belly I carry and the lack of hair and the keeping-the-teeth-dry thing was making me look a whole lot like Grimace, which is not a Good Thing, even if he IS a friend of Donald Trump and has a high-profile job with a major corporation.

I've actually getting pretty good with my keeping-the-teeth-dry skillz... that's right, baby... I gots the Simply White Skillz.  Don't mess with me.  I'm doing this shit driving to work and all.  And there's a benefit: other drivers don't seem to mess with me.

And my fucking teeth had better GLIMMER in two weeks.

So I spent about half my day as juror #248, and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  Except for all the ugly people, and the creepy woman staring at me, I had no problems.

My friends who have had jury duty in the past had horror stories about how they keep you in a room until they put you on a panel, and how they keep you all day, and how awful it is.  It is worth noting that these people live in large cities, and I live in a suburban county, where they take for granted that you are a good, kind person who will actually show up at appointed times.  In short, they treat you like an adult.

SO I get there right on time, and am seated in a courtroom with about 150 other people.  It was truly a cross-section of humanity... which is a good thing.  I knew no one.  The only seat left is next to this man who has somehow managed to be dirty at nine in the morning on a Monday.  He smelled of beer and cigarettes and sweat and that's a lot to handle on a Monday morning after a holiday.  He was released early, however, because he could not read and write the English language.  Damn my literacy!  I'm going to be picked, I just know it!

The judge is kind, quick and efficient.  She has to repeat herself several times because as a rule, people are stupid.  I sometimes forget that, because I don't deal with the mass of humanity on a regular basis, and most of my friends are smart.  But really...  when the judge says "We will now take a twenty minute break, and it's now 9:40,  Please be back here at 10.  Are there any questions?," wouldn't you feel stupid asking, "What time do we have to be back?"

Wouldn't you?

So the judge tells us all about the different cases that are to be tried this week, and what the schedule is, and then asks us to approach the bench with any potential conflicts.  I decide that I will request to take a case earlier in the week, because on Friday, my office is closing early for the holiday, and we're having a party, and I'm all for civic duty and all that jazz, but I don't want it to infringe on my time parting with my coworkers at a winery.  That would make me sad.

So I explain to the judge that my work will suffer if I miss the second part of the week, so if we could please keep the latter part of the week free, I would be most grateful.  She seems to have accommodated me: I report for a panel on Wednesday.  The way she was assigning, I would have been later this week, because my juror number is so high.  Or she might have dismissed me.  Who knows?

So on Wednesday, I report back to court, and we'll see if I get selected.  If so, the judge said the case will complete on Wednesday, so I'd be all free after that day, which of course is what SHOULD happen, but if I get picked for that jury, they will be doomed to my luck, and the case will go three weeks over a fence in someone's backyard or something.  So it's in their best interest to not pick me.  I will have to make sure to tell them that I've been a plaintiff in a personal injury case before, and that I hate insurance companies.  I'm hoping that will keep me off any jury.

And if not, at least I'll have lots to write about.  You know... after the case.

I'll have a link on my sidebar soon.  I would have done it today, but civic duty and working on a website in the same day?  You must be MAD!

That was a great weekend. I’m looking forward to getting back to work, but I can’t, because today, I have jury duty. Fun, fun.

The rest of my weekend was great. I went to the Galleria in Dallas. That’s an amazing place… full of clothes that are too expensive and jewelry that’s expensive as all hell and the shoes! Oh my goodness the shoes…

It’s a beautiful building, actually. It has a big glass ceiling, presumably so that the sun can shine in and blind people, preventing them from understanding that their price tags all have too many zeros. The floor is all marble, and the Gap there is SO big! I was amazed at the sheer size of this Gap! Surely, it is the mother or all Gaps. Love me some big-ass Gap. Gap is good. It was all big and… Gap-py. So much khaki and knits! I'm still in awe.

There’s also a cool store that sells imported candy from all over the world, especially the United Kingdom. I bought some Kit Kat bars from England, which are MUCH better than the Kit Kat we get here in the US. The label read “Red Bar Found, Win Twenty Pounds” It was cool, because my bar was red. That means I won twenty pounds, right? No, because “offer void outside the UK.” Well, shit.

I also went out drinking, which I’m doing less and less these days. I don’t understand how ten years ago, I could drink all night, and be fine in the morning. Sunday morning, I felt like hammered dogshit. Ten years, people. I’m so lame nowadays.

I have jury duty today, so I kinda get an extra day out of the office, although I’m pretty sure that I’d rather be at the office. But, it’s cool to be a part of the whole civic process and all that stuff… and hey… six dollars a day! I should do this for a living!