How MUCH do I love Target?



Let me count the ways...a truly last minute trip yesterday with my redhead revealed not only do we have silly fun in the car(he was hurling sunflower seeds out the window at passers-by), I also know that it is damn near impossible to spend less than $40 at any given time in that place. Not that $40 is bad, it's good! A 25 pound bag of cat litter and a 5 pound canister of cheez balls is great when you have a car. I am simply stunned that on any given trip, I have never been able to spend less than $40. Last night, I came close--$32.79, but he added to the mix by dropping $19 since I didn't have enough on me, and we spend every Sunday together anyway. It makes sense to have the foods he likes in my cupboard. That's still a bit over $50. We also got microwave popcorn, which we go through like water. We are movie maniacs, so proper snacks are in order.



I've got enough cereal, laundry detergent, cat litter, cat food, OxyClean, apple juice, eggs, and bathroom products to get me through the end of October, if not further. It's really really amazing. I could barely fit the Purex allergy-free detergent under my sink, it was about 4 pounds! Dexter sniffed the cheez balls, he's been known to enjoy potato chips and other weird things when I'm not looking. My only regret is that I did not have time to go through Isaac Mizrahi's new clothes section. I was hoping he'd turn up again--Todd Oldham at Kmart is just not my style, neither is Martha Stewart. I don't need Kermit the Frog Spring Green colored sheets. Kermit sheets, ok, but not the color of Kermie.



Target is so wonderful I look at my coupons and wonder "what do I do with these?" I don't actually need them, although it might be fun to pick up a $1.89 item and take 60 cents off. I think I'd get a kick out of seeing that at the register.



We made it home in time to catch "Carnivale", that new spooky show on HBO. Carnies are not just creatures that soccer-ball heads enjoy (wink, wink Ms. Penguin)! This is freaky stuff. You've got a healer who'd rather not heal, a priest who really does want to be God, a midget whose entire existence is a dream sequence, albeit a dark one, and a catatonic telepath whose daughter "hears" her "speak", and is quite nifty with tarot cards. Set in the dust bowl, this gives marvelous background to those suffering from tuberculosis. All that dust must do damage, eh? Nick Stahl has grown up. It's nice to see him in a real show. The last thing I saw him in was "Safe Passage", a pure piece of tripe where Susie Sarandon and Robert Sean Leonard wasted their talents. Nick was a baby with bad white-guy dreadlocks in that one. Don't bother, it's not even worth a rental. How these crappy movies get made I don't know. But the allure of buying the DVDs for $10 or less at Target makes it all better, I guess.

Grim Reaper 17? 18? The rest of us 0



I'm fucking losing count!!!



Rock Singer Robert Palmer Dies at Age 54

LONDON (AP) _ Rock singer Robert Palmer, known for his sharp suits and

hits including ``Addicted to Love,'' died Friday in Paris of a heart attack,

his manager said. He was 54. Palmer was on a two-day break in Paris following

a television recording session in Britain, his manager Mick Carter said from

the French capital.



But that talentless dimwit with SHITTY HAIR AND GRAVEL IN HIS THROAT, Michael Bolton, has a new record coming out.

Go play the Power Station record with Andy Taylor and Tony Thompson from 1985 and then play "Time, Love, and Tenderness." Which one made you want to cover your ears? Wasn't Bobby, that's fer sure....



I need to climb back in bed and cry.

I'm livin' on the air in Cincinnati....WKRP



In other radio news, our favorite pop star's high school yearbook is up for sale on eBay from Huntington, Lawn Guyland! 10 bids so far, and it's up to almost $300. One of her wonderful classmates decided to pimp it out and make some dough.

My yearbook wouldn't fetch $5 and a free peanut butter sandwich at a flea market.



I guess when it comes to his opinion of her singing, Screech is not just a character on "Saved by the Bell", kiddies! Yes, I'm talking about Mariah.



BTW, the Christmas "off" day war is still on. New developments to come in later weeks...

Baby, if you ever wondered...wondered whatever became of me



Gordon Jump of 'WKRP' and Maytag Ad Dies

LOS ANGELES (AP) _ Gordon Jump, who played a befuddled radio station

manager on the sitcom ``WKRP in Cincinnati'' and made his mark in commercials

as the lonely Maytag repairman, died Monday. He was 71. Jump suffered from

pulmonary fibrosis, said his cousin, Katherine Jump Wagner. The illness

causes scarring of the air sacs of the lungs, leading to heart or respiratory

failure.



Awww. I really really liked this guy.



Money problems persist, plus my umbrella blew out this morning, my shopping bag broke, my bus was skidding and the train I transferred to broke down! I had to get off and walk through Times Square before I chased my inside-out umbrella down the block. My hair and clothes look like a rat's nest. I'm tired, getting sick, I'm raggedy and rain-spattered. Why the hell did I get out of bed this morning? I could be sitting watching Kashi do the Dance of Death with The Evil Catnip Sock. That, kiddies, is mucho entertainment!

I can't believe how goddamn broke I am



Yes, kiddies, my salary is just paying bills. I make money, and it goes right out the window. I'm being nickel-and-dimed to death by all these tiny little taxes and surcharges and don't get me started on my cell phone bill. Apparently, Albany and Bloomberg have decided that cell phones are luxuries, they don't actually do anything other than annoy people in restaurants. It really doesn't make a difference that a family member might be miles away and needs to get in touch with you in case of disaster or death or dismemberment. Cell phones are for people who drink $5.95 lattes in Starbucks, yuppie scumbag bastards in SUV's, and hipster assholes who need to look cool and super blase as they go dancing in Webster Hall, which used to be edgy and cool, now it just sucks. I get a replacement phone through my equipment insurance plan, and the damn thing doesn't work. I pay a non-refundable fee of $35. Well, I called up and complained today and guess what? They credited me $35 since it doesn't work. NO bill next month, thank god.



Now for everything else. Reading the fine print on all my utilities makes me sick because the MTA gets a nice fee tacked onto my other bills. $2 per train trip isn't enough, I guess, which is also eating me THE FUCK ALIVE.



Oh, have I mentioned that I haven't had a decent vacation since 1999? I couldn't even get a three day weekend when I quit that SHITHOLE acting school because on of the administrators told me that day after a pay day (which every person who left usually took off without a problem) wasn't really a day off. I left on a Friday, and started immediately on a Monday where I am now. My father dying for which I took a whole week in 2001 off DOES NOT QUALIFY, since I ran around like a banshee begging these people to release the funds that paid for his funeral. That week, I also ran into my so-called best friend's husband/lover/boyfriend/whatever and was told that I should call THEM, never mind the fact that I was in MOURNING. But, I forgot: it's still all about her, which is why I banished the bitch from my life and have not regretted it AT ALL.



My yearly review will happen soon, let's see what bucket of tripe they hand me then. I want to know what the fuck it is I have to do to make more money so I can at least see the light of day with $200 more in my pocket than piecing for scraps like I have been since July. This really and truly sucks.



And speaking of "it's all about her", there is a person in here right now who thinks they're getting the day after Christmas off. No, I've been here a long time, I'm taking that day off. TOO FUCKING BAD.



I'm in a shit mood, kiddies, better be nice to me today!!!

Ok, enough sadness....

Let's move forward. RD needs serious help in choosing a cute gift for his little red haired girl (actually a blonde hee hee), a member of the band "Purple Soul." She recalled to him her horror at losing her entire Pierrot doll collection to a flood, a fate to which my collection succumbed, as well. I had tiny jester teddy bears and a huge Pagliacci doll that I won in a school raffle in 1981, that met a sad fate in my closet when my ceiling collapsed in a rain storm. I feel her pain. Now he is on the hunt for a new doll to simply "drop" as a gift, which means all that careless-looking stuff is really searching, hunting, and rehearsing honed to a fine razor's edge. The candle worked, let's see how this goes.



The Christmas listing has begun! Let me shamefully put here how little money I had last year after Olive's cancer diagnosis and subsequent surgery, which hit me in the pocket for a whopping $1100. I don't mind having spent it, but I would rather have had a tumor-free kitty and been able to share my bucks with friends and family during the holidays. I tried, I planned, but still got whomped on by bills, rent, food, and not knowing if Olive would make it. She hung on until this past May, but I still feel sidetracked. I planned and planned and it went into the crapper. So, it's out with the long-ass legal pad, and off I go. I'm starting now so I don't get in a slump.



I put up an Amazon.com wishlist that went nowhere for myself, so here's this year's rule for all of you: send me large, nasty hints about what you want. I don't read minds, I can't scry into a crystal ball, there is no Harry Potter-esque unicorn university where the secrets and wisdom of the Gift Certificate Gods will send me to get you the right thing. SPELL IT OUT, I AIN'T SANTA. And, if I should still screw up? No snivelling, no moaning/bitching/tantrums, and anyone who posts my gifts up on eBay will feel my full wrath. I'm a seller and a buyer, people! Better hide your email addresses if you don't want me to know you're "re-gifting", which is really a cheap ghetto word for "recycling a gift because I'm an ungrateful coward who's too lazy to stand on the exchange line." I'll bid on your stuff, win it back, and FLING IT at your head. And, no, YOU WILL NEVER LIVE IT DOWN. You won't get as much as pigeon poop from me when your birthday comes around, let alone Christmas.



As for me? Simple: silly bedroom slippers, candles (scented please, but no vanilla), cat-related items (mugs, calendars, Garfield), ballet stuff from the 70's, anything from Ice Capades in the 70's or 80's, winter-related thingies, new collectible Barbies, Snow Queen books (I have a small collection), Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, Gelsey Kirkland anything, Toller Cranston items, or gift certificates to Old Navy, Strawberry, or Origins. There. Now you can't say you don't know.

I have no words...

Music Legend Johnny Cash Dies at 71

NASHVILLE, Tenn. (AP) _ Johnny Cash, a towering figure in American music

spanning country, rock and folk and known worldwide as ``The Man in Black,''

died Friday, his manager said. He was 71. ``Johnny died due to complications

from diabetes, which resulted in respiratory failure,'' said Cash's manager,

Lou Robin, in a press release issued by Baptist Hospital in Nashville.



TV Star John Ritter Dies of Heart Problem

LOS ANGELES (AP) _ John Ritter, whose portrayal of the bumbling but

lovable Jack Tripper helped make the madcap comedy series ``Three's Company''

a smash hit in the 1970s, has died of a heart problem, his publicist said

Friday. He was 54. Ritter fell ill Thursday on the set of his ABC sitcom ``8

Simple Rules ... For Dating My Teenage Daughter,'' said Susan Wilcox, his

assistant of 22 years.



Two of my absolute FAVORITE people. And I'm feeling like shit today myself, and might go home early. What the hell did I eat last night? Who am I to complain I'm still alive. I take it back...

Yuck, bleah, and boo hoo

Ok, so it's that day again. For the second year in a row, I will avoid the TV, the radio, and any media that is not filled with cartoons, crossword puzzles, soap opera idiots and back issues of anything kitschy from my childhood.



I'm presently winning a bid on an old Superman magazine from 1978 and I'm very excited---it doesn't look like anyone wants this thing besides me. Additional joy comes from the fact that Lynn Holly Johnson, that cutesy blonde bugger from the deliciously horrendous piece of skating tripe known as "Ice Castles", is on the cover as well. I will now feather my hair, spin my Andy Gibb records, and curl up inside my Holly Hobbie sleeping bag (yes, it's in tatters, and I still love it.)



Anything, and I mean anything, is better than this horrible sense of dread that permeates me when I even think of that plane slamming into the second tower. It's just too much. Not that I want to forget, I don't think I could. But I'd like to give my brain a break. After two years of processing such horrible images in my head, I still need to not think about it. Denial? No. Acceptance with a painful headache--that's still the worst.



On a lighter note, one year ago today I brought home Kashi, the mad kitten. She was a great distraction on such a solemn day and still is. I remember picking her up from the family that found her and her litter, and I walked to the vet for her shots. People smiled left and right that I had this squiggling little splotchy black and orange "thing" crawling up my neck. She got a clean bill of health after the usual exam, and we went home to sit on the floor for 2 hours until she got the hang of eating Iams food off a baby spoon. No radio, no paper, no TV. I think I'll do the same this year.

I want it all, and I want in NOW! And someone agrees with me...



"You have done without it long enough, Pisces. This state of deprivation can't go on. Up till now there's been a certain value in you not having the stuff you've been aching for, but as of now its continued absence would begin to have a soul-shriveling effect. Therefore, on behalf of cosmic forces, I hereby authorize you to take all necessary steps, as long as they're ethical, to get the goodies. You may even resort to the desperate pleading that kids use on their parents to get a beloved treat at the grocery store, including: "I promise to be good," "I'll never ask for anything again," and "I NEED IT!!!!"



Rob Breszney does it again! www.freewillastrology.com

First Racism, now this



Air Travelers May Be Assigned Color Codes

WASHINGTON (AP) _ The government and the airlines reportedly will phase in

a computer system next year to measure the risk of every passenger who boards

a flight in the United States by using color codes. According to the

Washington Post, passengers will be assigned one of three codes, based in

part on their travel plans, traveling companions and the date the ticket was

purchased. Sources say those coded ``green'' will easily pass through

security checkpoints. Others will be coded ``yellow'' and face additional

screening. An estimated 1 percent to 2 percent who get ``red'' coding will be

barred from boarding and face police questioning. They may be arrested.



The government has lost its mind. It's official. Green, yellow, and red. Gee, those aren't suggestive, are they? Why not mauve, peuse, and periwinkle? Color fascists abound. Fascists, too, it seems, in general!

Blocked pop-ups, ridiculous news, and mouse problems



Well, my new google tool bar is working wonderfully. I installed it Friday and 66 pop-up ads have been blocked. That's more useless advertising I don't need.



In the news today, a 12 year old is being sued for downloading music files illegally. Um, is her mom going to pay this fine? Her dad? The dog? The next door neighbor? I love the way the music industry is now trying to cover their ass since they haven't kept up with technology. And this whole $10 CD thing is going to kick the other competitors right in the ass. Thanks, Vivendi! Let's see these suit loving Tommy Mottola wannabes have to deal with making only $1.5 million a year instead of 6 million a year, while the artists make 10 cents on every CD they sell. That's nice. Their bling is borrowed! I hate record companies.



Pengo has mouse problems: two live ones are squeaking and squealing on a glue trap right now. My redhead's mouth is being examined right now as I write this. The active infection under his cracked tooth is growing, and that's where the root canal was. There are also other teeth that are barely hanging on. Say it with me boys and girls: I will brush and floss and rinse with Listerine EVERY DAY. And then, I will floss once more.



Oh, and it only Tuesday??? Yick.

We've lost another great one...



Singer, Songwriter Warren Zevon Dies

LOS ANGELES (AP) _ Warren Zevon, who wrote and sang the rock hit

``Werewolves of London'' and was among the wittiest and most original of a

broad circle of singer-songwriters to emerge from Los Angeles in the 1970s,

has died. He was 56. A lifelong smoker until quitting several years ago,

Zevon announced in September 2002 that he had been diagnosed with terminal

lung cancer and had only months to live. He spent much of that time visiting

with his two grown children and working on a final album.





2003 will go down as the year we lost everyone we really, really enjoyed. The talent agencies in heaven must be doing back flips right now. Kate, Gregory, Bob, Charles, and now Warren. I'd like to be an cherubic fly on those walls...

Today is simply not my day...



In addition to being accused of breaking the copier at work, I find myself battling a sinus headache, extreme fatigue and the feeling that something is just not right. My intuition's talking here, but I can't decipher the language yet. Hmmm...what now?



My teeth were polished and ground down to an even nub last night, so I am no longer a Hanson Brother. I did manage to fall asleep after much tossing and turning with a cup of tea and a Benadryl chaser. A documentary about September 11th was on, so I watched that before I went to bed. I think I'm sorting out my feelings about the whole thing, and it's kinda weird, 2 years later. I lost 4 people I knew, 2 of which were members of both my grammar and high school classes. We did not graduate together, but I watched these women grow up. Both were chefs. Windows on the World is now just air.



My back, neck, jaw and legs are killing me right now. Tension is not pretty on a Friday afternoon. I think I'll take a spin down to the East Village after work. That always made me feel better. Still, I feel like I'm visiting my past in relation to my present.



I'd like to conk out on my couch, but I have to battle cats and various other new members. How long will that last?



Ugh, I need some coffee...

Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, stuffy head allergy weather



Oh, joyous happy splendiferous wonder. I have allergies. Not your one-tissue-I'll-be-fine allergies. It's your Dear-God-my-eyes-and-nose-are-running-like-Flojo-why-is-everyone-asking-me-if-I'm-crying allergies. I attempted eye makeup this morning. WHAT FOLLY THAT WAS. After two minutes of non-stop tearing, I went to the sink and splashed it off. It was going to run off my face anyway, why not just get it over with? I look and feel very grandmothery today, clutching tissues, sniffling, and saying "Oh dearie" repeatedly. If my desk chair was a rocking chair? I could knit a shawl and call it a day.



My mother's been absent since Sunday night. I wonder where she's gallavanting to now. These suspiciously loaded questions about "Have you met anyone nice?" are sure to amuse RD, and horrify Pengy and myself. RD seems to feel that I should keep my mouth shut until really serious things are happening. He feels I should wait two years. Who the hell knows if I'll get two years? Al Qaida could kill us all next week! I think I'm going to compromise somewhat, and simply wait until the holidays. That's a nice nostalgic "cookie-baking-warm-fuzzy" time, so maybe I'll spring my redhead on her then. Hell, it'll be nice to have someone to bitch and moan with when the Christmas lights won't untangle and Kashi the Mad Kitty smacks the tree down like she did last year. I'm still finding sections of crushed ornaments under the radiator from her ungraceful pounce. She's longer and faster this year, a bionic cheetah if you will. (If her face should fall off like a fembot, I'm outta there.)



And now, for tooth happenings. Let's see if I get sealant, bonding, or simply have this bugger filed down. I like hockey--I just don't want to look like I'm playing it. The Hanson Brothers will hate me for saying that. Sigh....

Get me ribbons and scotch tape...



"In recent years, a tradition of guerrilla art has broken out in Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles. Seattle has become the latest beneficiary of the covert movement to beautify America with free sculptures. The Seattle Times reported that one night unknown creators swooped down on a café in a crime-ridden area, leaving behind a handcrafted table and chairs. On top of the table was a vase filled with flowers. One seat, a metal trunk that opened, contained vintage playing cards and a game. I hope this whets your appetite for benevolent pranks, Pisces. The best way to align yourself with cosmic law right now is to give unpredictable gifts to as many people as possible, even strangers." Week of Sept. 4, by Rob Brezsney, Free Will Astrology