Grrrrrr............

Let me start by saying I awoke this morning to a stuffed up head and splitting headache (damn allergies that I never had till living in Seattle!). The sound that awoke me was that dreaded hack of a dog barfing! Yes, Shade, ever lovin' Shade, spewed barf in a six foot wide swath on my bedroom floor. So, as I wait for the carpet cleaner to kick in so I can shampoo the carpet on this NOT FINE Saturday morning, because it's cloudy and gray and icky out and yesterday was sunny and I'm pissed about that too, I will use this opportunity to bitch about a few things (and perhaps make an even longer run-on sentence than I just did!).

So. Last night I went on a long walk with my wonderful friend Amy and it was delightful, warm and sunny and good conversation. Then, we went to The Rock for a drink. I was starving so I ordered these little mini calzone thingys and chose chicken when asked "chicken or pepperoni?" Well, these were about the worst little balls of dough filled with nastiness I've ever had! For one thing, they were some kind of weird, shredded (probably canned) chicken mixed with BLEU CHEESE DRESSING!!! Now, I think bleu cheese dressing is about the worst thing in the world (and a bit pompous, if you ask me, with that "blue" being spelled "bleu" all French and shit). To me, bleu cheese is like eating curdled milk mixed with something really sour (vinegar? saurkraut?) with a little dirt mixed in. Yes, dirt. Bleu cheese tastes like fresh dirt smells. Just ICK! Why would you torture your taste buds with this nastiness? Oh, even thinking about the taste is making me gag a little. Anyway, I just had to send them back. I didn't want to be Miss High Maintenance customer or anything, but it was too much (and I was STARVING and drinking for God's sake, I needed some FOOD!). I got chicken strips instead and even those were weird. They came out looking for all the world like fish and chips. The batter was that thick and slightly mashy kind you often find on beer-battered fish and chips. But no, there was some chicken underneath. After carefully scraping away all the batter (because yes, it was just too much) I ate some chicken, dipped, thankfully, in ranch dresssing (and not that nasty BLEU CHEESE crap, if I haven't made myself clear enough.......).

Ok, enough about what I ate. Here's another thing that pisses me off a little. What is up with Michelle Obama wearing $540 sneakers to the food bank to volunteer? I mean, whatever, she's the Prez Wife and all, but still! $540? My entire shoe collection doesn't add up to $540 (I mean, that's a lotta damn shoes at Payless, you know what I'm sayin?). And it's not like they were diamond encrusted or anything. They looked much like low top Chuck Taylors. So, why the $540? My kids rather enjoy those low top Chucks in all the fun colors. But at $39.99 a pop (on sale) they got them for Christmas! Geesh, Michelle O, think a little.

Also, the stupid dogs are barking their fool heads off in the garage because we're having our neighborhood garage sale today and of course, they have to bark at everything, even when it's nothing! Speaking of garage sales, that is another thing that got me a little rankled. There is this HUGE neighborhood garage sale in my area and it's always held on the first weekend in May. Which means if you're not part of that HUGE sale, it's probably not the best weekend to hold your little ole neighborhood garage sale, based on the fact that you will only get the trickling customers and you'll be lucky if they have any cash left in their wallets after visiting the HUGE sale. This, by the way, is not just my opinion, but based on scientific knowledge (ok, really just a couple years' of experience trying to do this when I was in charge of said sale). But still. I'm not even participating because I wasn't supposed to be here this weekend. So why am I even bitching about it? Because I can...........

Which brings me to this weekend. I was supposed to drive over to Spokane with Jeff and cheer him on in the Bloomsday run (FYI one of the largest footraces, like, I don't know, EVER or something, but whatever). But because we 1. Couldn't get a definitive answer from anyone over on that side (yes, family included!) on where we might be able to stay two nights and 2. Didn't have anyone to watch the dogs, and didn't know if we could bring them along (because said family didn't get back to us), we decided I would just stay behind and watch the dogs and "enjoy" a weekend alone (refer back to previous paragraph about stupid dogs and know that I will probably spend the weekend doing laundry......). Anyway, so off Jeff goes to hang out, ride his bike, have drinks with friends, etc. And run Bloomsday, which don't even get me started on running a 12K! Ugh.

Hmm......have I exhausted all my bitching yet? I dunno.........but here's the thing. It just occurred to me that I could do absolutely nothing all weekend. I could lay in bed, read and eat Twinkies all day and no one would know. (Well, I don't have any Twinkies, but you get the idea). And I woke up with this allergy headache, which is about right for this crappy weather. So, who cares if I sleep it off for, like, 12 hours?

I can't believe my good fortune! Just when I was out of things to whine about, I get a telemarketing call! At 9:30 a.m. on a Saturday! Perfect. And here's the thing. They asked if it was the "Gordon" residence. Which, is halfway right. I mean, half of the people in this house are Gordons right? (But none of them are here, so technically today it's the Moore residence). But this reminds me that it's not so easy to get rid of your previously married name. Now, don't get me wrong. Gordon is a fine name - for my kids. But not for me. I am a Moore now, and I'd like to be known as a Moore to the oustide world. But NO! It's like the Ghost of Gordon Past will haunt me forever. Example number one - the credit card company that WOULD NOT take my ex-husband's name off my account no matter that I sent them copies of both my divorce decree AND my marriage certificate. I ended up having to close the account. Example number two - Safeway. For some reason, they still have me as a "Gordon" in their records so when I shop there and they hand me the receipt, they say "thank you Mrs. Gordon" and I do a double take? Where? Where is my mother in law? Geesh.

Ok, I should go have some Crunchberries now and move on to cleaning up the dog barf in my room. Good times.