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Monthly Archives: February 2009

Hey Miranda, I heard you wanted to have your face on an airplane?  Don’t say I never did anything for ya!






And don’t worry, if the plane doesn’t fly you can always get your fake boyfriend to pose on a balcony with you.

(Yes, I did get my 3-year-old to assist me.  Thank you for asking.)


My dearest darling Orlando,

Despite what you may have heard on the internets, specifically at the Wanda Rizzuto Fan Club over on Live Journal, I still love you.  Well, I mean, I still want to do the nasty with you.  However, you have been behaving like a tool lately.  And looking kinda not so hot.  Oh, and the slags in your fandom?  Crazy!  Seriously, have you been to JJ lately?  It’s like one slag talking to herself over 400 posts!

All this is enough to make me seriously consider not being a fangirl anymore.  But who am I kidding?  You and I both know that I can’t stay mad at you for long.  So, after careful consideration, I’ve decided to give you up for Lent.  As you know I’m a nice Catholic girl, and since I must atone for eating Szechuan beef at lunch today, off you go.  No more message boards for me!  Sayonara YouTube trailers!

Don’t worry darling, it won’t hurt for long.  I’ll be back on Easter Sunday.  Don’t go getting rabies while I’m gone now!

(And before the members of my fan club get their panties in a bunch thinking I’m poking fun at Catholics, I’m totally serious.)

Hiya slags,

I just want to say that I’m sorry for being so pissy on my post yesterday.  If you remember, I wrote about a group of slags that put up a website on LiveJournal, dedicated to the fatjellushaters of the world.  When I wrote that post I hadn’t actually been to the site.  I thought it was about a bunch of people and some stuff about me.  It turns out there’s a lot of stuff about me.  (OK, some stuff was about Vy too, but sorry Vy, I’m hogging all the glory on this one.)

Words can not begin to express how I feel.  I feel…amused.  And flattered.  A whole site just for me!  Listen to what some of the slags are saying:

“They say Wanda is a nice person…!”

“Wanda likes to make jokes about dingos eating babies!”

“I don’t know Wanda, but I wish I did!”

I don’t know what to say girls.  I’m proud to be such an inspiration to you.  As always, you are welcome to come by any time, day or night, touch my sleeve, and worship me face to face.  Come on down, slags.  I want to give you a big kiss.

Oh, and congratulations.  You’ve made it onto my blogroll.  Three cheers for reciprocity!

I guess I’ve been slacking.  Someone named Dingo Bytch came by and left this comment:

“Pohst sumtheeng gnu allreddy!”

I wonder who that was.

Perhaps Dingo Bytch should read my tagline.  Hello?  Sad and tired?  What can I say, the fandom is in terrible distress these days.  If it gets any worse I’ll have to change my fake name and leave the house with a paper bag over my head. Read More »

Greetings and salutations!

OmbudsBen asked me to post some stuff about the wildlife around here.  (I haven’t really even met OmbudsBen.  What’s up my dude?)  Since I’ve been too lazy to post lately, and since I’ve had a floating intention to post about my wildlife adventures, I’ll indulge you all.  In fact, there will be two posts.  Aren’t you lucky.

When we first moved into the house, my dog Noggin got the idea that there was something living under the basement stairs.  I didn’t really blame him for thinking that, because once I had seen something that might have been a mole in that general vicinity (the basement stairs are right next to the back door).

After a few months the thing under the stairs really started to mess with Noggin’s head.  Sometimes he’d just stand there, wagging his tail, staring at the stairs.  Sometimes I’d find him in the middle of the night scratching at the bottom step.  Eventually he tore the bottom step right out of the stairwell.  That made me mad, especially when I had to go down to the basement.

One night not to long ago Mr. Rizzuto and I were sitting on the couch, not doing anything in particular.  I was talking to him, facing the kitchen, when all of a sudden a big, huge rat walked into the kitchen from the direction of the basement stairs.  He kinda walked in, looked around, said “hey, how ya doin’?” and went back towards the basement.  Mr. Rizzuto didn’t see, but I just sat there dumbstruck, pointing.  When I finally managed to tell him what happened (and convinced him I wasn’t hallucinating) he put a mouse trap under the stairs where the bottom step used to be.

That night I slept with one eye open.  Not for me so much, because I sleep on the top floor, but I worried about my kids.  I didn’t exactly want them to wake up with a big ass rat chilling in the bed with them, right?  Some time in the middle of the night we heard some kind of commotion.  Mr. Rizzuto went down to check it out and found Noggin curled up in a ball in the bathroom, shaking like a leaf.  Also?  The mouse trap was gone.

The next morning I left early to take Dante to his drama group.  When I got back Janey was bouncing up and down and couldn’t wait to tell me that Daddy had caught a rat.  Mr. Rizzuto was holding a huge bucket and I could hear something crawling around inside of it.

Now, where I come from rats are filthy, dirty, disgusting creatures that live in subway tunnels and only come out when the sanitation workers are on strike.  Needless to say, I hesitated when Mr. Rizzuto brought the bucket over.  But I peeked inside and what I saw was…cute.  I’ll be damned if the rat wasn’t cute as hell.  He also walked kinda funny.  Mr. Rizzuto said the trap broke it’s carriage.  That made me feel bad. 

In the end we decided to take it outside and let Noggin have his way with it.  We figured that would be the most humane thing to do.  We were right, it was all over in about two seconds.

That’s all I have to say about that.  Next I’ll tell you about the deer that Mr. Rizzuto hit.