The Web Has Corners.

My last renter, Julie, has moved out and now we welcome a new tennant who's made herself a little comfy spot over in her corner of the web. It's a personal diary type of blog, and I will say, that I'm still a little confused on what her name is...is it Suzanne, or is it Keadamna? I looked on the "about me" and it didn't totally clear it up for me. But, then again, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But I do know that she lives in Middletown, Ct., a place where I have quite a bit of family history, including my own contribution of getting married there. Small world.

Anyway, go check out Julie's Life in a Nutshell for one last time and then hop on over to Suzanne/Keadamna's Corner of the Web and give a hello.

Pass With Care

A deflated spirit and an inflated ass have left me trying to eat less and move more. I stopped eating a couple of hours before going to bed. Baby steps.

I’ve decided to actually use my membership at the local rec center.

Thursday, I dropped off my son at the preschool in my sweats and sneakers, that way there was no reason to drive back home. I had my headphones so that I wouldn’t have to listen to the shit they try to pass off as "good workout music".

Seriously, the music is awful. I’m not getting real motivated listening to Michael Bolton sing "Said I love you, but I lied". What kind of a shitty line is that? I bet the girl he told that to threatened to cut all his stringy hair off. I bet that gave him the idea to cut it off in the first place which actually worked out in his favor. He’s almost hot. Almost, because behind his new look lingers the memory of his horrible old one.

So, now I was walking around on the indoor track. Going around in circles. Being passed by runners. Being passed by walkers. Ouch.

I didn’t let that get to me, until an old guy, and I mean old as in his seventies trotted along the right side of me and then took off like a fully charged electric wheelchair. Alright, that’s it. I will not be passed by anymore senior citizens that are leisurely walking to keep their blood pressure down. But Speedy OldGeezer was already a half lap ahead of me and I wasn’t up for the competition. That was okay, I just needed to pick up the pace to help prevent further humiliation.

Soon I was passed by a woman who had a good fifty pounds on me. She was running. She couldn’t have possibly been in better shape than me. Apparently, she’d been training for a race involving passing people that looked like they might be able outrun her.

After a half hour of being passed by like an old lady driving on the freeway, I pulled off the exit closest to the door. I took a look behind me to make sure I wasn’t going to get plowed over by the old, fat people. I’ve come to learn, they are surprisingly fast.

Are you there, God? It's me, DebbieCakes.

Last night while I was getting dinner ready, the phone rang. I couldn't get to it and checked the answering machine- it was the movie theatre! The movie theatre where my wallet had last been seen alive and on my person! And they had it!!

Well, I can't give "Julie", the movie theatre manager, all the credit now. I think I need to give a "Holla" and a "Whoop, whoop" to Anthony, Patron Saint Of Lost Things.

My man really pulled through for me this time. And now I spread my joy onto you, so that you may hear about the true miracle that occurred last night- not only was my wallet recovered, but everything was in it, including the cash. If that's not a real live miracle, I don't know what is.

Oh, you didn't think a Jewish girl prayed to Catholic Saints? Well, this one does, sucka.

Lose your wallet, car keys, your car in a giant parking lot, or even your mind and try St. Anthony sometime.

St. Anthony. It works.

Fun with Bud at the DMV

Somewhere between the arcade at the movie theatre Saturday night and home the next morning, my wallet disappeared.

I wasn't go to lose my mind over it. It's nothing that couldn't be replaced, except for ten bucks in cash, which kind of irritated me because I almost never carry cash with me, except for when, you know, my wallet makes a run for it....ERRRGH!

With credit cards cancelled and replacements on the way, I knew there was one thing left on my to-do list. Go to the DMV.

The DMV. It's what I imagine the receptionist office in Hell must be like. I don't know whether it's the tension in the air caused by lack of Muzak playing, or the buzzing of fluorescent lights. Maybe it's how you look under those lights, it makes even the healthiest of human beings look
as though their circulation has been cut off and they're awaiting their own autopsy results.

When I walked in, there were only two other people there. Their numbers were called up within minutes of each other. I was number 53, and I was next. Then, two more people walked in, and then another one, and another, and another, and ANOTHER.

It's okay...I'm still next....It's just getting busy. It's just more people...Just a bigger audience to watch me get my license mug-shot taken.

Then this old guy came and sat two seats away from me. Peee Uw, what did that guy eat? Maybe he was gnawing on one of those foot-long, shrink-wrapped, salamis you see hanging by a gas station register...smells like giant rotting garlic bulb...oh, I don't think I can take it anymore! Breath through your mouth...ew, I think I tasted it.

We were running out of seats and then this skater guy came in and sat next to me. Right NEXT to me. Not that he had much choice, but now my "Sit at least three chair lengths away from the next stranger" rights were being infringed upon. I like my personal space, I take pride on how far away I sit from people.

Miss Fancy Coat & High Heeled Boots came in and got a number....and then she sat right next to me. What, am I that likeable? There were other seats, you know.

Then the old lady with a walker and her middleaged daughter made their way in. Someone else moved to sit right next to another unfortunate soul so that the two of them could sit together. I could tell that Walker Woman wasn't really put out by the whole ordeal of going to the DMV. She probably pretended that it was a nuisance, but secretly loved getting out of the house to be just about anywhere.

I was squished. I was antsy. What the hell is taking them so long?!! Call number fifty-three! FIVE, THREE! SAY IT!!!

I stared at the crooked posters on the wall. "Don't Drink and Drive", "Become an Organ Donor, TODAY!". There were some homemade posters that the DMV employees put together, like the one by the number-ticket-machine written in marker that read, "Take A NUMBER!!!! HERE---->". There was another one taped up by the counter that was done in a computer font that started out real big and then got really tiny at the end. It said, "DON'T WASTE TIME!!!!! HAVE ALL DOCUMENTS READY!!!!" I noticed that one when I overheard the Walker ask her daughter, "Have documents....dear, what does that say there? Oh...it's my eyes. It looks so small to me...I can't make that last word out."

There was another poster on the wall with a bunch orange and white striped construction barrels lined up on the road. They all had these creepy looking cartoon man-faces drawn on them. It said "Make BUD happy, GO SLOW!" Huh? Who's Bud? The barrel? Is the barrel, Bud?

Miss Fancy Coat's counterpart walked in with hips swinging. I heard a cartoon whistle in my head, because I saw GarlicFunk Man sit up in his seat. Fancy Coat 2.0 sat next to him. Now the Funk had two lucky ladies on either side of him. I didn't mind, better them than me, their fluffy coats were containing his smell.

Oh, God, PLEASE...Get me out of here? Oh, she's gonna call a number! "Number Fifty-two? FIFTY-TWO!" No! That can't be.... But I didn't panic long because nobody claimed it. "Number FIFTY-THREE?" I shot up and ran to the desk.

"I'm pulling out....Watch your boobs."

We have to bid farewell to my last tennant Nonsensical Flounderings. They were such lovely people, I'm gonna stick a link to them on the sidebar so you can visit them anytime.

But now it's time for the newbie to schlep her stuff up to the third floor of the SmileIfYou'reLying complex, and there's no elevator...or cable.

This week we bring you a nice italian girl from Quincy, Mass. You really ought to see what going on with Julie. She sounds like a real trip. And you know what else? She's going on a date with a firefighter, I can't wait to tune in and see what happens next. It's almost better than Desperate Housewives.

Speaking of underweight overpaid actresses, the award for best line goes to Eva Longoria. Gabby drops her hootchiemama-mama off at a hotel to get her out of her hair. Mama steps out of the car with nothing but the clothes on her back and her newly purchased silicone breasts. Before she drives off, Gabriel shouts, "I'm pulling out; watch your boobs."

Well, I thought it was funny.

Hey! Them things is worth money!

I can only guess how it got started. Jack was playing on the computer while I was doing laundry, then he quietly slipped away.
"Hey Jack, watcha doin'?" I called out. No answer. That ussually means he's up to no good, no good at all.

I wandered into the kitchen and found stamps stuck on the table, stamps on the chair, stamps on the pantry shelf and the counter, stamps everywhere. I tried to calmly explain that those weren't stickers, they're stamps. They cost money, more money than the stickers, and each and every single one was 2 cents (hey, there's no cent sign on the keyboard?) more expensive than they were just a couple of months ago. He kept saying "Sorry, Mommy," and who could be mad at that little face? I never was, really, I actually thought it was pretty funny. Rather, it was the thought of John coming home and finding stamps pasted all around the house like it was giant stickerbook that made me shiver me timbers.

Okay, it's not like he beats me or anything(not funny), but when it comes to matters of wallet, John gets a little testy. TESTY.

We cleaned up the scene of the crime, but I know that sooner or later, John's gonna be all, "Hey, Deb? Why are the stamps not so sticky, and why are they a looking a little roughed up?" See, I put them all back in the stamp book, but they never stick as well as they did the first time when they were spanking new. The adhesive suffers some kind of Post Tramatic Stress.

Well, I'll just have to wait and see what happens now. And buy some more stickers for Jack.

Maybe we need some magic mushrooms...

Last night on HOUSE, the ever cranky doctor had a migraine, like me. Gee, I wonder how many Vicoden he's gonna chow down tonight? But instead, he turned to the streets and dropped some acid, chased that down with some anti-depressants, and then before he could make a smartass remark and piss off everybody, he was hobbling on one leg to save lives.

Hmmph. Well, I don't know anyone (anymore) that I might get some LSD from. So I'm stuck with Codeine. Not bad stuff, but don't take two at once, because last time I threw up. But I remember throwing up and being really cool about it. No nervous pacing beforehand, holding my stomach and trying to psych myself out of hurling. I just calmly walked my green-self over to the toilet and threw up, washed off, and went back to making dinner. Codeine does wonders for your nerves.

Ask your doctor about Codeine. Codeine may not be right for you. You might like it too much and start popping em like a handful of M&Ms, much like actor Hugh Laurie does on HOUSE.

Nothing says "Happy Valentine's Day!" like an angry screaming man

I woke up with a beauty of a migraine this morning. Where's the codeine? Get me the fucking codeine. Now! I only said inside my pounding head as not to frighten the child. I don't need a blubbering three year old on top of my hurting head.

While forcing pills down my throat, which is not easy when you're nauseas, I saw a Valentine's card and a cd on the counter next to the coffee maker. First, I thought Awwww. Then I thought Crap! because I forgot to leave John's card out for him. Oh, well. Let's see what we got over here... The Nine Inch Nails cd I told him I wanted! Sweet!

Of course, I got to thinking, that this may not sound very romantic to most girls, but it is to me. John's not one for standing in front of crowds of people and shouting "I... LOVE... THIS... WOMAN!" causing many white doves to fly up and almost shit on our heads and then gingerly pull a ring out his pocket after I ask him what's up with the psychotic behavior. So, the fact he remembered that I'd mentioned that the new NIN cd sounded pretty good in the car a few days ago, was as sweet as could be.

And what wouldn't put a girl in the mood like Trent Reznor screaming at top of his lungs? That's hot. Okay, I did have a big crush on him about ten years ago, but I've always had a thing for disturbed people. Especially disturbed people who put their disturbed feelings into a peice of music or slap in onto a canvas. Expression through art, I get. People talking about their feelings and not raising their voice the slightest bit, I don't.

When I need to get something off my chest, painting, writing, or just stewing in a pot of my own depression with a pinch of animosity stew is what I do. It just feels right.

By the way, WITH TEETH rocks.


Happy Valentine's Day to all ya lucky lovers.

And if you're not so lucky, just know this; the boy who is geeky in high school will be cute when he grows up. I'd show you a picture of John, but he won't be too happy with me if I do, but I have seen his yearbook picture, and all I can say is teeheehaha.
But I will give you this instead:

Blog Hopping & Paying It For(ward) No Reason At All

I recently (an hour or so ago) put up a FOR RENT sign, and a bunch a people just started beating down my door. Well, since I could only take in one of ya's, I thought I'd give a little something to the folks who didn't make the cut:

Now out of the six bids, a couple of the blogs just weren't going to be associated with me or a tiny thumbnail size rental spot on my blog for that matter. For starters, one had a gianormous picture of Carrie Underwood (American Idol! Oh, pleeeease.) and another that was by this loser Merv the Perv guy with a picture of an unfamous skanky-looking girl whose reason for having a huge photo layout on his blog left me quite disturbed and I really didn't hang around to see long enough to find out the reasoning behind the skank scrapbook....Eeew.

Then there were a couple others that I found to be interesting enough that maybe when I've got nothing better for you to read about (which is often, lately, let's be honest.) you might just wanna move yer mice on over to.

The first is Coffee Stoned, whatever the reason, I liked it. It left me with a feeling of freshed brewed bewilderment. It had sort of a cozy cafe feel to it. Seems like a groovy bunch, so, go on and check it out, will ya?

And the second is Haunted House Dressing. It's little bit spooky, it's a little bit "Huh?" and "What the fuck?". The way I see it, anyone who is willing to stage a live fingerpuppet show that reads like a Sunday's comic strip about a pumpkin, rotten banana, and a black cat is definetely worth investigating further.

And since we're being all nicey nice and promoting other people's blogs for no good reason at all, you should be checking out who rented thst little spot over to your right.....Nonsensical Flounderings, they're not so bad either, and that's why I accepted their bid. And those bitchy bitches gave him 4 smacks, and to be smacked around like you're a bitch's bitch is a good thing in their fuckyaverymuch world.

You should also be taking a look-see at some of the new additions on the "Other Liars" list. Some of these folks have been listed there for quite a time now, but I added some fresh new talent I think needs to be associated with smiling and lying and whatever it is I'm doing here.

The newbies, in no particular order would be Horace Finkle, a 13 year old ghost that's sort of being put upon by his mother and school classmates who recently TP'd his house, a mess he later was ordered by that foremetioned pain-in-the-ass mother to clean up. No fair, but funny, and don't ask me to explain how the paranormal are blogging these days.

Also, there's Mommy Matters, a mom, a woman (der?), a writer, and a funny read for the most part. And now I may not know too much about templates, but her's does rock the kasbah (sp????).

We've also got Spinster War Diaries. Okay, anyone willing to take the preemptive strike to go ahead a refer to themselves as a spinster is so not one. You can go ahead and assume that she's as cute as can be, almost always has a funny little ditty posted along with about 583 loyal commentators following her every move, and I believe she's still in her twenties. So why, you ask, don't I just start calling myself an old lardass and fish for compliments, now? A popular blog and a good one at that.

And lastly Ah, yes, medical school, a blog that became one of those overnight sensations due to Blogger's Blogs Of Note is on the list, too. So you've probably seen it before, and this guy needs no more publicity, but I'll betcha ya didn't know....that he linked back to little ole me in Ask the Fake Doctor Part 3. It was in regards to my rant about Grey's Anatomy. And so besides being an entertaining, educational, and sometimes "Warning:Reading Some Entries May Cause Mini-Throwup", he's pretty cool just for that link. So there.

Under new management

It's the same manager, just a new look. One template shared by many, I suppose.

I had to change templates. I really didn't feel like this was so much better, but the other one was giving me a headache. I could never get the fonts to be a normal size for all the links and a bunch of other malarchy.

Anyhoo. Hope this looks better. And besides, the bitches over at italk2much had some really big issues with it. I agree the fonts were ultra annoying. But ugly? Oh come on. I couldn't really call the old template "ugly". It was kinda cute, in a sort of Old Navy commercial kinda way. Whatever.

I don't love this template, but it's a lot of work getting all your links and other junk up on a new one, so this one's gonna stay for a while. Until Blogger gets some nicer looking free ones, this is how SmileIfYou'reLying is going to look.

So yeah. That's all that's going on.

Okay, there's a lot more than that going on. And no, I don't want to talk about it right now.

Ah. I'll tell ya later.

Still off the wagon.

Okay, honestly? I never got on it to begin with. I ate way to much crap yesterday(and for about all the other days going back to and before Christmas, but I digress).
It wasn't the Zeppe's pizza, and extra helpings of salad smothered in dressing. It was the Meltaways.

Meltaways are the Devil's brownie. My mom has been whipping those suckers up since I was knee-high to a chocolate chip.

Rich, chocolately, dense brownies covered with buttercream frosting and a layer of hardened semisweet chocolate atop of all of that.

Then she forces me to take the rest home, as if I wasn't bloated enough. I already ate 2, this morning. Then I cut them all up, wrapped them in tinfoil, stuffed it into a Ziploc and shoved the whole thing in the freezer. I was hoping that it would make it almost too much work to make it worth defrosting one and eating it. Or that maybe if I tried to eat one while still frozen, it would chip a tooth and then I'd learn my lesson.

But, noooooooooooooo.

They're even better frozen.