must...bitch...or head...will...explode...

Most who know me or are in contact with me at all are aware that there was a storm here on Sunday (a strange one - all wind, no rain. Just sunshine, as all our trees came toppling down) and as a result, we have no power. Now, it's not all that bad. I was fine on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and most of yesterday. But today, I'm completely over it. The novelty of using candles to read or go to the bathroom is gone. The open windows, while at first were nice, what with D's aversion to fresh air, are kind of old, since all we can hear at all hours is the humming chorus of several generators. I'm putting off cleaning out the refrigerator, because I'm a procrastinator and a glutton for punishment. (in my defense, D hasn't made any attempt to do it, either) I've come to work looking like ass every day because I can't see in the bathroom to do hair or makeup, and I'm a little wary of shaving my legs in the dark. Yesterday I took the kids to the laundromat (my first time!) and managed to wash some clothes. Notice I said "wash." Not "dry." The children could only put up with so much at one time, so both loads of laundry are hanging out to dry on our porch. Luckily, I have absolute saints for friends and they offered their washer and dryer for our use. They offered last night, and damned if I didn't take them up on it. Tonight, I will.
The main thing that is so irritating is that I can see where the problem is. There's a pole that snapped in two and the transformer is lying in bits all over the street a block away. It has been this way since Sunday. And there have been no trucks nearby at all. Down the street, a mere block in the other direction, there is power. There are people watching tv, running dishwashers, reading by lamplight, maybe even sewing. Gah.
And I swear, if the power isn't back on by the 22nd of this month, heads will roll. I'll have to move in with B & P.

So, when I'm bored at work I sometimes look up a random city and see what types of homes are for sale there. Today, my city was Portland, Oregon. People, I want to live there. Badly. Now the only thing I need is about a billion dollars (Portland appears to be pricey) to move my friends and family with me.

The Contemporary One (late 1970s, early 1980s flavor)

The House on a Hill

The Duplex

And then, just for kicks, some European abodes:

Outside of Stockholm: little & cute. And cheap? If the price is listed in Euros, wr're talking $52,018.50. Not bad.

France, gorgeous farmhouse that I must have. Costs a little bit more. Like $631,987.40.

And I've also been sewing recently. I'm going to post pictures for all to see just as soon as I can round everything up and get the camera going. My goal this year is to make all Christmas presents for friends & family. Which is why I'm starting now.

And just so you know: Wilco's Sky Blue Sky is amazing. I love it.

So I've found another website that is a total time-suck. (but such fun!) You can put together outfits/collages on Polyvore. Mmm. Clothes. My ensembles, below:

nom nom nom

This weekend, D and I began watching season one of Heroes. (Finally - A brought it over for me to watch when I was on bed rest before the debut of Midget 2.0) And I am addicted. Not only does the show completely suck you in, but you get some serious eye candy with it. My top pick: Mohinder Suresh (that's him right there). One of the other attractions is his (character's) accent: a British-Indian mix. (listen here)

I don't consider myself squeamish when it comes to things eye-related (contacts, etc.) but this makes my skin crawl.
Another day, another something(s) overpriced and ugly (encore!) from J.Crew. (Ooh! I forgot slightly pointless in addition to the overpriced!) But kudos to them on naming these shoes.
Uhm...what?
On the other hand, these something(s) are overpriced and beautiful. And I want so many of them. Yes, I do.

So a thirty-something douchebag tries to meet up with a 14 year old girl he met on the interweb, and he shows wearing a "World's Greatest Dad" t-shirt. Priceless.

We have a new definition of abortion, brought to us by ol' Bush himself: “any of the various procedures — including the prescription, dispensing and administration of any drug or the performance of any procedure or any other action — that results in the termination of the life of a human being in utero between conception and natural birth, whether before or after implantation.” (emphasis mine) The pill prevents implantation. So now I am taking abortifacients each time I take a birth-control pill? This is one hell of a slippery slope, friends. Add to that the fact that any entity receiving federal funds is not allowed to discriminate against (read: discipline, fire, etc.) any employee who is opposed to birth control, abortion, or women's general well-being. I'll be so glad when this poophead is out of office.

Worst headline ever: From Fistula to Fab! (and no, it's not a joke) First, do you know what a fistula is? Yeah, makes me cringe just thinking about it. The text reads:

"Lovinsa, mother of two, is recovering from surgery to correct the vasco-vaginal fistula (VVF) that she endured for over ten years. Though she has borne five children, three died at birth because of the fistula. She has been deserted by her husband and is raising her children alone. Lacking self esteem because of what she has had to go through, African Woman decided to lift her spirits. And makeover they did...who knew that behind the facade of a she and depressed young woman was a hot and sexy babe just waiting to get out? Look out world, Lovinsa has arrived!"

Sarah Illenberger makes wonderful organs. Here, have a heart.

Second worst headline: "80 year-old Vegas stripper still does it 'classy'"

No. They. Didn't. But unfortunately, they did. Folks, at left, let me present to you the Brum. Kind of like the Bro (mansiere?), but for ladies' bums. Apparently, anal cleavage (yes, that's what they're calling it) is the new thing. To me, having pants that go so low as to reveal your crack (or the top of uber-low-rise underpanties) is plain ol' plumber's butt. Not glamourous. Not sexy. And those underpanties (the Brum at left) are just asking for trouble. Can you imagine what your behind would look like after sitting on that for any length of time? Stripey, that's what. No, thank you. (For more cringe-worthy options, go here.) For a slightly different take, try this on for size.