Just write a number. Any number, and you win.

It happened AGAIN. I'm sitting there, playing Scattergories with the folks, and the following happened.

Category: Things in the Ocean
Letter: "C"

Mom: "Crustaceans"
Dad: "Crabs"
Me: "Cornbread"

I thought it said "Things in the OVEN." This time I was laughing so hard I couldn't even say it, my mom had to read it off my slip of paper and then she just about died too. My God, what is wrong with me...besides the obvious fact that I am playing Scattergories deep in the heart of the boonies with my parents and going to bed at 10pm on New Year's Eve. And also blogging about what a loser I am. It just gets worse and worse. At least I have a filthy romance novel with no redeeming social or literary value whatsoever to keep me company. Which, I guess, technically, just makes me an even bigger loser than I was two sentences ago. On that high note, I'm off to bed. Happy New Years!!!

Don't feed the bears.

You know what makes Mama Spatula's eyes bug out real far and the veins in her temples get all huffy puffy? If you touch up your dark red hair dye over her fabulously expensive carpet and then wash it out in her marble shower. You should try it. Kinda funny.

Not to worry, I didn't spill any and I squeegeed (how the eff is that spelled?) the shower. All is well.

I got some new super fabulous hot pink yarn today so if I finish another scarf before I have to go back to the TVPNM on Sunday I'll post a pic. Which makes me also remember that I'm considering getting a digital camera. Nothing fancy...just something that's small enough to fit in an air vent my purse with moderate memory and no super fancy stuff. A starter camera. Suggestions from my technologically able readers?

Screws just fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place.

Due to my newfound meditational crocheting and my natural zen-arific nature, I'm able to let the stress of yesterday go, and start anew today. Unfortunately, it's only 9am PST so I don't have much to report, but you know, I'm trying to get my relaxation on.

There are some little odds and end that I've been thinking about though.

First, I want to give the world's hugest shout-out to my friend Joe, who has quit smoking after A LONG TIME of being a heavy smoker. I don't know how long, but I would guess at least 15 years. He hasn't had a cigarette in 7 weeks. Joe, you rock! Way to be ahead of the curve come New Years Resolution time!

Second, when I got up this morning my dad's clothes were all laid out just like he was sitting on the couch, complete with slippers, only he wasn't in them. I was worried he had been abducted by aliens, but he came back, so I guess it's OK. I still don't know why his clothes were like that. Weird.

Third, my friend LQ and I have been thinking about starting a bakery/law office called The Queen of Torts. She makes the.best.cupcakes.ever, and I (as already stated below) make a mean snickerdoodle. And we both have a cursory knowledge of the law. What could be wrong about this? My mom suggested I sell my scarves there and then we could call it Scarfing Torts, and that seems pretty good too. I heart my mom.

Fourth, if you haven't played Bejeweled 2 yet, you don't know what you're missing. Holy crap, it's the best thing ever invented. We'll just see if I can ever make it through classes again without it (just kidding if any of my prof's read this, and also, if you are one of my profs and you read this, I *swear* I am generally much more mature in real life than this blog would tend to indicate). It's over at MSN under Free Games. Go. Now.

Fifth, I have a busy, busy day ahead of me...Mama Spatula and I are headed to a couple of stores to look for some good unique yarn for our crocheting, and then the whole fam (all 3 of us, plus probably Molly the Satanic Dog since she's a princess and goes everywhere with us) is going to the one decent local Mexican joint for New Year's dinner.

Sixth, I *may* try to write some resolutions or something, and I may either do serious ones or funny ones, or I may not do them at all since Rufus made me feel all shamefaced and embarassed for even considering doing it. It remains to be seen if I'm going to, first of all, make the time, and second of all, actually USE the time for anything productive. Seems doubtful.

On NO you didn't!!!

I think this speaks for itself. A witty rejoinder by f/k/a to my comments in the post below this one. I'm so hurt...wait, no...I'm :( .

update [7 PM]: Special (Legal) Ed? In addition to emoticons, Energy Spatula seems

to need captions explaining the topic being covered. Apparently, I should have said

(slowly, with tiny words): "I am not talking about whether AL is funny or likeable

or good at what he's doing. The topic of this blurb is whether a satirist agrees with the conduct described."

I guess I can console myself with the thought that, even though I didn't get into Harvard, at least I can crochet. And also, one time I got to go to explosives training in the Air Force and blow some shit up...that was pretty cool. And I make a mean snickerdoodle. Take that!

If anyone cares, here's the exact text of David's comment at Notes from the (Legal) Underground:

This morning, I am not willintg to think very hard about the definitional nuances of "satire". It seems to me that AL falls in that category, which to me includes using hyperbole and focusing on the faults rather than virtues of the subject institution. That said, I am always amazed at otherwise intelligent people who believe that the writer of satire condones the conduct described. I guess we live in a world where authors need to use lots of emoticons to keep the readers in tune.

I'm also tired hearing from lawyers [who for a living often select facts to make their client look good and the opponent look bad, in the service of advocacy] complain when the faults of the profession are depicted. Admitting the faults is a lot more likely to gain public respect than covering them up or imposing Omerta.

The context of the comment is a post by Evan regarding different senses of humor and why some people think AL is very funny and some don't think it's so great. The comment itself is directed (I believe -- I have no empirical evidence for this belief, but I still have it anyway, I'm illogical like that, if that's even a word) at Larry's post regarding her thoughts on AL. And, once again, I *believe* that the comment seems to say that "otherwise intelligent people" can't understand a blog like AL as satire because we (the "otherwise intelligent" readers) are unable to understand the subtle satirical stylings of AL without some emoticons to help us out.

See, I get it. I still don't think it's funny. :( If I did think it was funny I would do this so my "otherwise intelligent" readers would know... :) And, if I wanted to flirt with my readers I would do this... ;) Sometimes it's not enough to wear a lowcut shirt and try to look satirical. You guys sometimes need help, and that's what I'm here for.

Why can't we all just get along?

I'm a big ole Texas dummy!

Gosh, I just hope that one day I can be smart enough to understand Anonymous Lawyer. According to this guy the reason I don't like it or think it's funny is because I'm too stupid to understand anything not written with emoticons. Wow. Glad I got that cleared up. Do you think I can get one of those special notetakers at school...someone who will attend all my classes with me and translate all my notes into emoticons so I don't flunk out of my not-Harvard-so-it-must-be-crappy law school?

I'm so glad I finally understand...the world has been a mystery for far too long.

PS: See the comments to this Legal Underground post for all the other reasons us mere mortals just don't get it.

I need help!

I can't stop the damn dirty crocheting. Pretty soon everything in my house will be covered with doilies and I'll have 9 cats, 4 parakeets, and a tank full of dead fish with cat food floating in it. I started a pink scarf last night and finished it this morning. Once again, your model is Molly the Satanic Dog. It's pretty funny too because now whenever she sees me coming with the digital camera she sits down and sort of leans in real close to me because she knows if she lets me take her picture she gets a Cheeto. She loves Cheetos. See how my life is stranger than fiction? Anyway, behold, the magic princess cotton candy-esque pink scarf...my fave so far...out of two. Larry, if you want one, just say the word! :)

E. Spat on Croissant Shaped Paperweights

Holy shit you guys, someone read something I wrote here and it actually made them think about...life and stuff...and whether to go to law school. I'm so proud...not because they would second guess law school, because if it's what they really want then I think that's fab-yoo-less, but just that something I wrote was actually semi-coherent enough to provoke thought in another living, breathing, sentient human being. Hooray!

I'm a one-woman scarf making machine!

I finally finished my very first scarf. It's definitely not the greatest scarf ever crocheted, but it's not that bad either. I made Molly the Satanic Dog model it for you since she's such a prissy diva and she loves to model (and eat scarves...and hummingbirds...hence the name). I'm also throwing in a pic of Molly with her new Christmas toy, we're calling it her "cavebaby" since it sort of looks like a caveman and she carries it with her everywhere (by its huge bulging eyes no less) and sleeps with it and just generally coddles it...except when she's trying to break its neck. Whenever my dad comes into the room Molly picks up the cavebaby and shakes it real hard till it's dead and then gives it to him. It's kind of sweet in a sick way. I think she's in love.

Beavers are funny.

You'll notice in the comments to this post that I suggested The Hot Librarian make us one of her special fine-art renderings of what happens when Beavers and The Irish collide. Behold...art.

He put the "Law" in Law & Order.

I am currently trying to get some work done, but saw that Jerry Orbach of Law and Order had died. That's kind of sad...I thought he was great on that show. It always made me laugh when he would try to relate to someone he met by talking about how awful his ex-wives were or he would ask people if they knew "Bill W.". It's like the end of an era!

Beware...long, boring, angst filled post ahead. Read at your own risk.

I am grouchy. And grumpy. I'm in a funk...a mood...a good old fashioned wallow. Do you ever wonder if any of your relationships are real? I was (finally) watching my back episodes of Boston Legal tonight, and I watched the one where my boyfriend James Spader almost gets killed and is surprised to find out that people love him and would miss him if he was gone. It just makes you think about whether or not you're making a difference in the world. For instance, there is a student organization that I am the president of, and it means a lot to me, and I work very, very hard trying to make good things happen. And no one returns my emails. Should I just quit? Do people actually just not care about the difference you try to make for them? And this whole blogging thing...I mean...why the hell do I spend a couple of hours a day pouring my heart out to virtual strangers on the internet, who, as it turns out, probably know me better than most of the people in my life...the answer is, because (in my own mind) you (presumably) take the time to read (most of) what I write. That's more than I can say for many of the people I see in school every day who can't even remember simple details about my life I've told them 87 times. This is totally not directed at the people who are my good friends, I *hope* that you know who you are...but sometimes it's so tiring to feel like you constantly have to try and reach out over and over again to people and try to form decent friendships when it seems like they could pretty much take you or leave you. In general, I feel conflicted...I hate always being the person to pursue friendships and always trying to keep in touch and make plans...but I hate not feeling like I have people I can count on when I need them, so in order to have that security (or false security) I have to pursue friendships which then leaves me feeling like I am putting forth a lot of effort for people who don't really care much for me or about me (once again, totally not directed at anyone in my immediate circle of friends).

I grew up all over the world, and way before email and blogs...and so I didn't keep up much with the people I knew over the years. I went to four high schools. I moved about 15 times before college, and another 7 or 8 times since. And I can honestly say the only long-term friend I have is M...I mean, I hear from a couple of others once in a while, but they are mostly all military brats too and they're spread out all over the place. Everyone from my past has just sort of disappeared. I feel sad when I come "home" to this city that I wasn't raised in, where I don't know anyone but my Mom and Dad, where I didn't go to school, or learn to drive, or get married...and there's no one here I know. But I feel sad when I go to my other "home" too...in a city I decided to move to in order to attend law school because it was close to my parents, where I don't know anyone except the few good friends I've made at school, where I have no past, no history, and probably no future since I have no ties and so don't feel compelled to stay there. In one sense, it's very freeing to feel like after law school I can go anywhere I want if I find the right job (if I can convince anyone to hire me without "ties" to their area), but in another sense it makes me wonder if anyone will even notice when I move away. Everyone will graduate, get married and/or have babies and/or get great wonderful jobs, and just ease into the next stage of their lives and I *know* that I will still feel compelled to keep up with them, and to write, and I'll truly want to hear about their lives and their husbands and wives and babies and jobs. But, somehow, I know that if I didn't make the effort to keep up with them, they wouldn't keep in touch with me.

I don't know where I was going with this post. It's very whiny and so I apologize. I've been feeling a real struggle lately with balancing who I want to be with who other people want me to be. It seems like the less I want to fit into a fixed category or mold, the more uncomfortable people are. And so they do the strangest thing. They put me into whatever category is comfortable for them, and then treat me that way regardless of what I'm actually like. I don't know what I'm trying to say...I wish I was a better writer and more articulate, because in my mind this is all rolling around and it at least *kind of* makes sense...not that you can tell from reading the last couple of paragraphs.

People don't get me. Maybe that's the whole crux of my angst. I am officially Holden from The Good Girl. I'm too intensified for everyone...that must be it. Damnit. I wanted to be deeper than that.

It's late. I'm going to bed. Maybe not back tomorrow...back Thursday probably...tomorrow I'm going shopping with Mama Spatula...retail therapy.

Newsflash!

There's a headline on the front page of the Boonieville Gazette tonight that reads:

Beavers, Irish Clash Tonight.

For some reason I thought that was funny. Probably because it says Beavers. Not that I'm totally immature or anything.

The Boredom Dimension.

The weirdest thing about visiting my parents is the fact that, although there is nothing to do here in Boonieville, my days are just sucked up and so busy that I feel like I can't get anything done. It's bizarre. Like, I get up around 7:30 or 8, we go for a hike around 9 or 9:30 which takes about an hour or a little longer, and then by the time I get home, get cleaned up, go run some errands with my mom, check my email to see if anyone loves and misses me, and wander around the kitchen eating cookies for a few minutes, it's 1:30 or 2. So, I generally try to use the afternoons to get some work done, but then something always happens. Like today my uncle came over for a visit and that ate up over an hour of my afternoon and it's almost 3 and I have gotten nothing done all day. Grrrr.

Anyway, that entire paragraph was my way of saying that I am probably not going to get anything substantive up today...besides, nothing interesting has happened today anyway. Not even one good game of Tiger Woods Golf to report on. I did rent Garden State to watch later today or tomorrow, so maybe then I'll have something to say...I think I'm the last person in the 25-40 age demographic that hasn't seen it...what can I say, I've been busy!

Are you English or retarded?

Played Scattergories tonight with the family (for those who don't know, you have a list of things, you roll a die and get a letter, and you have to try to guess the things on your list that start with that letter...basically) and here's how it went:

Category: Things in a desert
Letter: "S"

Mom: "Snakes"
Dad: "Sand dunes"
E. Spat: "Streusel"

I thought it said "dessert." I am officially the world's biggest loser. My dad goes "Uhh...we changed our minds, we want to find another lawyer. One that can read." My mom and I laughed until we cried. Sheesh.

I'm a piece of work...

In Milbarge[sic]* style...here's E. Spat At Large:

What I am doing at work: Just trying to get my 80 hours for this month done so I won't feel guilty about spending the paycheck. My project is mostly research but there is some writing which I have yet to even start because I'm horribly intimidated by trying to "summarize" HUGE overarching federal regulations into one page or less. I am mostly doing a lot of pretty interesting reading, translating that into a spreadsheet for my employer that looks like Mrs. McGee's third grade class came up with it, and avoiding writing anything altogether. I'm sure right now they wish they'd hired someone else...someone with academic prowess and mad summarizing skillz.

What I am doing at home: Playing a damn lot 0f 2005 Tiger Woods Golf, consuming HUGE amounts of Diet Coke, playing with Molly the Satanic Dog, trying to get some work done, and trying to spend time with the family. I've taken SO many hikes and walks since I've been here, I keep forgetting to tick some miles off my Sin City counter, but I bet we walk about 4-5 miles a day between our morning hikes and our family walks with Molly every night. Not that it's near enough to combat the sheer number of cookies I've eaten. I am also waiting for my parents to leave the house for more than 2 minutes so I can watch the two episodes of Boston Legal I have TiVO'd.

What I'm listening to: "License To Chill" by Jimmy Buffett. I hadn't really given it a good listen before I got here, but it's been on rapid rotation for the past few days since my parents seem to enjoy it and usually the only thing they listen to in the car is Praise and Worship music...so you can imagine my delight at finding something else they'll listen to.

What I'm reading: As usual, dirty dirty romance novels, and I'm about to start the new Jimmy Buffett book, "A Salty Piece of Land" which M. gave me for Christmas. I also just finished (for work) Safeguarding Privacy in the Fight Against Terrorism: Report of the Technology and Privacy Advisory Committee, and a law review article by Orin Kerr on the USA Patriot Act.

What I'm thinking about: I've been thinking a lot about my upcoming 30th birthday. I am alternately worried, stressed out, happy to be out of my stupid 20's, and disappointed that I haven't done many of the things I thought I would do by now...or, as M. pointed out, I've done them...just poorly. I am also thinking about whether or not to have a real birthday party or just try to get my friends together for dinner or something. Aside from aging angst, I am thinking about all the stuff I still have to do before school starts a week from today. And, I had a dream last night that I bought this guy in my class at school sushi and chocolates, and so I've been thinking about what that might mean...I HATE sushi, but I LOVE chocolates and I generally don't must like the guy, so it's strange. Last, and certainly least, I've been thinking about New Year's Resolutions...generally, I have the same one every year. But I'm wondering if it's time to make some new ones...so I might have to come up with something between now and this weekend. I am also thinking about the fact that they have TiVO's at Costco for 269.99 (no tax here) with a $100 rebate...does anyone know the monthly service fee?

What I'm NOT thinking about: Those little ribbon magnets on cars, people who can't seem to ever get their flags up properly, the terrible side-effects of aspartame, whether or not I got a decent grade in Free Expression, the fact that I almost definitely need glasses, the hard water at my parents house (they use a well) which makes me kind of itchy, and why all combination fruit juices insist on putting bananas in...yuck.

* Milby, I am so sorry...I just can't help it, it's too funny to resist!

Soon the whole world will be covered in scarves!

I am one step closer to world scarf domination. There are still a lot of...uh...issues...with my crocheting, namely that I suck. But, you'll notice that it's all the right width now, and looks rather scarfy, except that I ran out of yarn because it was just scrap from one of my mom's projects. But still, I think I'm getting better.

The day after....

The Christmas Highlight Reel:

- My dad riding his bike in circles in the front yard with Molly chasing him because he didn't have time to take her for a long walk.

- Me opening the two sided knife sharpener my parents gave me, the picture on the box of which depicts on the one hand a man sharpening a knife, and on the other hand a man sharpening an AX, and going "Well, thank God! I've SO been meaning to sharpen my ax!"...and my dad responding "Severing heads will take the sharp edge off QUICK!"...and my mom laughing. Ahhhh...nothing like a happy Christmas morning story about severed heads.

- M. calling me and telling me that she had an epiphany...she actually has...wait for it...annoying habits. She apparently is such a total princess that she had no idea until yesterday that she was anything less than perfect in any way...not that I think she's less than perfect. That would disturb our carefully balanced dual reciprocating co-dependent system of total permission and support no matter how bad, badly planned, or badly executed the behavior if one of us was...well, less than. It can't be true!

- FINALLY getting money from the relatives who usually just take the $20 and buy something dumb from the Avon catalog...I would MUCH rather have the $20...really!

- Last but not least, my dad and I got the new 2005 Tiger Woods Golf for the X-box. Not only did we watch the Long Drive Challenge AND the Special Skills Challenge, but we played an insane amount of X-box golf...INSANE! We had to build our characters again which took like four hours...no one in the family is willing to have a character who is less than ideal...and then we played two rounds of 18 holes as a family last night, and today all three of us have already played individual games. We're sick for the Tiger Woods Golf around here.

- Overall, I got nice presents, the whole family was in a good mood and got along, and my mom made some fantabulous food and we all stuffed ourselves silly...it was great.

Presents and stuff....

We went and saw Flight of the Phoenix tonight, personally, I loved it. Not sure it's everyone's cup of tea, but it had high drama, hot boys without their shirts on, and no stupid lovey-dovey storyline screwing it up. Hoorah.

Then we came home and indulged ourselves in the Spatula family tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. Traditionally I think this was an exercise invented by my parents to keep me from bugging the shit out of them all night, and now, it's just kind of sad. It's really just the three of us as far as presents go, so we open one present each, and then we each have like three left over for tomorrow -- and half of them are gift certificates. Yet another reason getting old sucks.

However, with all that being said, we are watching a traditional Christmas movie as well tonight, Coyote Ugly...it's on TV...perhaps in an effort to counteract the fact that 90 of the 200 or so stations my parents get via satellite are playing A Christmas Story with that little creep Peter Billingsley -- I HATE that movie!

I have to go now, I have crocheting to practice if I'm going to make everyone a nice scarf by next Christmas. I may or may not be back tomorrow, but I hope that everyone has a wonderful weekend with their family, regardless of your religious affiliation or lack thereof, and that you've all started to think about what to get me for my birthday -- only 18 shopping days left.

When booze and coke go terribly wrong.

You are probably wondering (I know I was) how someone ends up with a pair of cooking tongs up their ass. And, as it turns out, I have the answer for you (not from personal knowledge of course...I read it on the internets).

1. Get mobile home.
2. Do shitloads of cocaine and booze in said mobile home.
3. Invite in two strange women that are walking by to share your booze, coke, and mobile home.
4. Black out and wake up "in pain."
5. Have cousin take you to hospital.
6. Have doctors surgically remove an object identified as "one half of a pair of food tongs."

There you have it. I hope everyone's holiday wishes come true...just like this guy's.

Just Because: A Boy and his Dog

Tom Cruise

Ricky Martin

Olivier Martinez

No really, I'm just teaching my four year old cousin to crochet...this isn't something I did...oh hell no.

Here's my first foray into crocheting...I started out kinda OK...and ended up with a shape I like to call the rectangoval. Oh well. I am confident that I will soon be making scarf masterpieces.

Mr. Postman

Actual phone call from my mom, just now:

Mama Spatula: "Hey, can you do me a favor?"
Me: "Ummmm...sure, what?"
MS: "Go out to the mailbox, and if the mailman hasn't come yet, take out the card I left in there with his Christmas money in it because I addressed it to 'Mr. Mailman' and now I feel guilty that I don't know his name so I'm going to call the post office, find out his 'real' name, and then leave it out there tomorrow."

Did I go out to the end of the very long driveway, in the freezing cold, in my pajamas and retrieve the envelope? Yes I did. Am I wearing pajamas even though it is 11:15? Yes I am. Does our mailman apparently get a hefty cash bonus for, well, doing his job? Yes, it would appear so. Is my mom totally insane on many levels? Yes, absolutely.

PS: I have like nine million gmail invites if anyone wants one (OK, really it's about 12, but god...they multiply at night like gremlins or something.

PS pt. 2: Who wants to read this 75 page law review article on the USA Patriot Act and summarize it for me in 25 words or less?

We're going to the post office, and the bank, and then I'm going to get TUTORED!

The saddest thing in the whole world is when my mom leaves to go somewhere and Molly the Satanic Dog is SOOOOO excited and prancing all around behind her because they're gonna go in the car, and then my mom goes "No Molly, you have to stay behind with sister [she really does say that...no respect I tell ya -- ed.] and take a nap." And poor Molly, you can just see the happiness fade out of her big dumb dog eyes when she realizes that not only is my mom leaving, but she's going for a RIDE, in the CAR, without her. I'm telling you, if I didn't have a heart three sizes too small it would bring a tear to my eye.

Of course, that is only about 1/10 as sad as when my dad leaves, because then Molly not only sits by the door in total disbelief that he would leave without her, but after about five minutes she will heave this HUGE sigh, hunker down on the mat in front of the door, put her head on her paws, and just stare up at the doorknob with big baleful dog eyes, just hoping that any minute the doorknob will turn and it will be Daddy Spatula who all of the sudden remembered that he forgot his most important girl and came back to rescue her from an entire day of taking naps and patroling the entire interior perimeter of the house every half hour to ascertain whether there are any new crumbs that could be snarfed up. I swear, watching her do this walk around the house over and over is like watching a whale siphon plankton or something...none of us can actually see these microscopic crumbs, but Molly constantly has her nose glued to the floor and I'm convinced she is sucking up minute cookie crumbs (we eat a lot of cookies around here) and altogether, over the course of the day, she's actually eating like 15.3 pounds of cookies or something. It's bizarre.

When I grow up I don't WANNA be a lawyer...I wanna be a PRINCESS!

Today I am *trying* to get some work done...my parents are both gone doing their various activities, so it's just me and Molly the Satanic Dog having some alone-time and thinking about the Fourth Amendment. Last night I wrapped Christmas presents, and if possible, my present wrapping skills are even less fully developed than my knitting skills. I feel like God is trying to tell me that I wasn't meant to be artsy craftsy. It's weird, because my mom is SUPER artsy craftsy, and is, in fact, an artist. And I have no artistic skill whatsoever. My dad is SUPER math guy, even has a degree in math, and is a pilot, and a crazy Type-A spock-ish logical thinker. Needless to say, I am not really any of those things either. I guess I am probably pretty Type-A, but I think I sublimate it well most of the time. So, what I'm saying is that I totally lost in the genetic lottery -- I have all the useless skills from both parents. Tone deaf like my dad -- check! Never think I'm smart enough like my mom -- check! I will say this for myself, I make some pretty badass baked goods on occassion, and I think I have my mom to thank for that. I always joke with my mom that my real dad is a UPS guy or a milk man or something, but the more I think about how I don't have any of their amazing talents, the more I wonder if there is some beer-drinking, Jimmy Buffett-loving, joke-telling traveling salesman out there that remembers this one house he went to about 30 years ago where the lady of the house was *extra* nice. Not that my mom would ever do that of course. Because she's a saint. Obviously.

Anyway, I've rambled enough. It's time to get to real work. I added (I hope it works) a thumbnail under "News and Stuff" of my friend Nikolai's artwork, and hopefully if you click it then it will take you to his website. That's the whole thing that got me on this subject, thinking about people who are artistically talented and why I'm not.

I'm off to do my research.

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me figuring out how to do something old people do in their sleep.

Oh my god. My mom decided to start me out on crocheting, because she thinks it's easier than knitting. It basically IS knitting, only instead of two needles, there is one needle and a finger. If crocheting was a team sport my jersey would say "Corky" on the back, because I am totally retarded at this.* It's so hard. So far I have a tiny square of effed up stitches that look kind of like what happens to yarn after cats play with it. Also, at one point I crocheted my finger into the yarn ball thing and had about 1/192 of a mitten I guess. I always see my mom doing this stuff and it looks so easy, she just sits and watches TV and like three hours later there is a queen size afghan with beautiful stripes of color and patterns in it...I just sat for an hour and have a very lovely thimble coaster.

But, I am undeterred. If I can get the hang of this, then knitting is on the near horizon. There will be scarves for everyone. And world peace. And Diet Coke. And Cabana Boys. YAY!


*I mean that in the most non-offensive to mentally challenged people way possible.

E.Spat Designs Unlimited

My mom is teaching me to knit scarves, so presumably I will also soon know how to knit potholders (a small scarf) and afghans for the couch (a very large scarf). If I ever figure it out with any degree of non-retardedness I will post one of my efforts. Right now they look like something that you would buy at a charity auction of second grade art projects. But, I'm on it. I heart scarves. And knitting. And any activity that keeps me from going stark raving mad out here in the boonies.

My parents just went off to play golf for the first time since I've been home...sweet, sweet alone-ness. I love them so much, and I love hanging out with them, but I also love that feeling of being totally alone in the house and just knowing that I can do anything I want, including blog with the door open...which makes blogging sound much dirtier and more illicit than it really is. I feel like I'm hiding a terrible addiction or something!

Anyway, I still don't feel like Christmas is on Saturday even though my mom put a bunch of presents under the tree and made like thirty different kinds of cookies...I'm still hoping that in the next few minutes I will somehow just come down with the Christmas spirit, like a sudden onset flu-bug. I hope everyone else is feeling more merry and mirthful than I am.

Like a Bad Date...but with the potential for forever!

Well, I ran out of bad date stories (not really, but I decided to quit at 5), so I am starting a new feature...Stupid Things My Ex-Husbands Said or Did That Make Me Glad I'm Not Married To Them Anymore. First off, let me fill you in on Ex#1...I don't plan on using a name or anything too specific, mostly because he's not someone I ever want to hear from again (in addition to the fact that he's a TOTAL criminal now, just believe me on this one) and so it just makes me feel better to not go into specifics too much.

Ex#1: Ex#1 was a really good friend in my senior year of high school, who I had a HUGE crush on, who I always thought was too good for me (a thought that he worked very hard to foster). Looking back, I have no idea why I thought that (well, I kinda do...once again, he worked hard at it). He was a good-looking guy, probably too good-looking for his own good (and, he thought, far too good looking for me), but not really that smart, and just complete trash through and through. He came from a single-wide trailer that housed his dad, his dad's third wife, the wife's four daughters, the dad and third-wife's son, and the Ex's two other brothers. Plus there was a brother and sister out of the house already (and by "out of the house" I mean "in prison"). Yeah, that's right...10 kids. And one part-time job amongst the adults of the house...so the Ex provided quite a bit of family financial support, which I think is part of why I initially liked him...he seemed to have potential for being a good responsible person. As it turned out, he had neither the internal fortitude nor the strength of character, even with my total unwavering support and utter undying devotion, to escape his upbringing and roots.

So, in light of all that, here's some of the stupidest things he ever said to me while we were married.

In response to an argument, where, apparently I was speaking a little too fast for him to keep up with: "Quit talking so fast, I know you're just doing that to confuse me."

In response to me telling him to quit cussing while yelling at me: "Yeah right, as if 'Fuck' is a cuss word!"

In response to me finding letters from other women describing all the things they had done with him/would like to do him (including his apparent desire for a scratch and sniff nude picture from a girl with the stripperific name of Angelica): "Those letters are just joke letters from the guys at work...that's why I kept them, because they're jokes...they're funny...really. I mean, who would be stupid enough to keep letters from girls he's been having sex with who aren't his wife?" Who indeed?

In response to a $200 cable bill I received while he was deployed...$200 worth of porn movies: "I didn't watch those movies. Some of my friends must have come into the house while we were sleeping and watched those movies because they knew we would get stuck with the bill."

In response to me, while we were separated, walking into the bank to find his girlfriend (the girl he was having an affair with) sitting on his lap: "It's not how it looks, we're just friends! She's engaged to my friend Bill. Why would I cheat on you with her, and why would she cheat on him with me, right out in the open at the bank we all use?" Again, why indeed?

In response to his dad calling me the C-word...the four letter not nice one: "Well, I mean...you are kind of a snob." Oh yeah, you know me...with my high-falutin higher education and wanting more from my life than a single-wide full of creepy little kids I can't afford to support...I'm such a snob.

In response to me finding a porn mag under the mattress in the spare bedroom the DAY my extremely puritanical parents were due to arrive for Christmas: "I bought it for the articles. Look, there's an article in here about those aliens they have in Roswell and Area 51. I had to read it for work!"

In response to me finding out he wasn't at work when he said he would be at work: "I had to go downtown, TO BUY YOU A PRESENT, and my car broke down and I couldn't get to work." The further response to the fact that I had actually called work and he wasn't even scheduled that day was "They are just jealous of me and they're trying to get me into trouble with you." Why? "Because I'm so good at my job everyone wants to bring me down."

Anyway, perhaps tomorrow or the next day we'll revisit some of the highlights of marriage #2...the one I think of as "Fun, but still a totally stupid idea."

You're gonna have to pry it from my cold dead hand!

At the Spatula House there is only one rule. No Diet Pepsi. We are SLAVES to the Diet Coke around here. Not only do we snatch up Diet Coke merchandise like total freaks, but we start out every day with gigantic cups of Diet Coke before most people are even out of bed. And seriously, do not try to bring Diet Pepsi into this house because my parents are shooters...they have guns and they shoot traitors on sight. So, the upshot of all this addiction in one house is that I not only get all of my Diet Coke needs met on a daily basis, but they are routinely *exceeded*. Every day, every single damn day, my dad and I go to the one 7-11 in town and we buy Diet Cokes (Super Big Gulp for me, regular Big Gulp for him). Every day. The old guy that works there is named Woody. He's surly. The manager is Ellen. She's nice (and has a bit of a crush on my dad I think).

So, today, we went for our family walk (every morning at 9:30 rain or shine), and then my dad and I headed up to 7-11. And the first thing that happened was that they were out of his brand of hot peanuts. My dad has to have hot peanuts with his Diet Coke. HAS TO HAVE THEM. He'll settle for Planters, but he likes some other brand (the name of which escapes me right now). His brand comes 2 little sleeve packs for $1, and he splits them with Molly the Satanic Dog. She loves hot peanuts. So, they were out of his brand, which made him cranky. But, we got up to the counter and the girl was new...she didn't know us *horrors*.

However, despite her newness, she caught on quick (probably because when we walked in everyone in the store went "NORM!"...just kidding), and offered us EACH a certificate for a free Big Gulp between now and New Years. YAY! And then...the following exchange.

Girl: "So, you guys come here every day?"
Me and Dad: "Yup, every day...we love the Diet Coke...gotta have the Diet Coke."
Girl: "Well, in addition to the free Big Gulp coupons I have these ones for a free burrito or hot dog."
Dad: *politely* "Oh no thank you, we usually just get our Cokes and some peanuts."
Me: "OH MY GOD, my Mom would KILL US if we ate food from 7-11."
Dad: *totally embarrassed by my outburst*
Girl: "Well....."
Me to Dad: "Well, Molly might like to have a hot dog!"
Girl: *perks up* "Oh well, would you like a certificate then for Molly?"
Me: *scornfully* "Molly is our dog."
Dad: "Thank you so much, that's very kind but no thank you...we HAVE TO GO NOW."

My poor dad, he was so embarrassed, and none of what I said was meant to be mean at all, I started out just trying to fill in conversational space and somehow became a bad guy. Oops.

Anyway, last night we went and looked at Christmas lights...my dad left the windows down so Molly could see the lights, despite the fact that it was about 20 degrees outside...he goes "Well, I guess you should have worn your coat." Uh huh...yeah, I always wear my coat when I'm going to be nowhere but in the car...the car that has a heater. Today I am hoping to get the rest of my Christmas shopping done since I have to drop my mom off at an appointment later and then I have the car for an hour and a half.

I can't believe Christmas is on Saturday...it is NOT beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. I still can't believe we're past Halloween!!!

Total Badass

My friend LQ, who Beefy is staying with, snapped this awesome picture of him...her husband held up a mirror so Beefy would get all up into his little fighting posture. Ladies and gentlemen, Beefy McManstick Badass Spatula, in Total Badass mode!

The neverending story of my life.

I came home for the break only to be confronted with the fact that (a) my job has paid me for this entire month, for which I am expected to perform 80 hours of work, and (b) it is Dec. 20th and I have performed approximately 10 hours of work so far due to exams and stuff. So, right now I have to do a minimum of about 6 or 7 hours of work every day that I'm home in order to justify the paycheck I'm about to cash and spend on presents and probably booze and glitter nailpolish. I worked diligently today and got a spreadsheet set up and started filling it in with the stuff I'm researching. Even though it's pretty crappy I sent it to my boss anyway so he'll know I'm doing *something* besides cashing my check and making excuses about exams for why I haven't done shit yet.

My mom is SO sad that I have to work over break. Usually we go do stuff together all day and run errands and shop and stuff and now I have to sit in the computer room all day and do work and she mopes around the house looking for reasons to interrupt me and talk to me. Today she just HAD to clean the ceiling fan, and bring me cookies, and ask me questions, and tell me something funny Molly the Satanic Dog had done. It's pathetic really. So, in light of all that, I am going to go right now and spend some quality mother/daughter time with her and finish another two or three hours of work tonight after they go to bed (which is easy when they go to bed at 9:30pm every night).

Also, in totally unrelated news, of the four presents I bought for my parents, they each already have one of the things I bought them. I am therefore hovering at about a 50% success rate so far in terms of Christmas presents...why is it so hard to pick something out that isn't dumb and that people haven't already bought for themselves? I have been stressing about what to give M., but I have a couple of ideas...albeit ideas that will not, in any way, shape or form, come to fruition in time for Christmas. Good thing she loves me enough to realize that for me, the actual day of the holiday is more like a suggestion in terms of present giving...sometimes you have to wait for inspiration or for just the right opportunity. It's true.

Finally, and lastly, the weather here is gorgeous! I got out for about an hour today to hike with my mom up in the mountains, and when we went to the bank earlier it was 50, sunny, and blue skies. YAY! Last year we had a blizzard that caused me to not be able to get home for a couple days...so the nice weather is welcome...not that I wouldn't be happy to stay here and not go back to school.

Bad Date #5: Don't ask, don't tell. Please.

Bad Date #5 is a little story I like to call "Don't Ask the Question if you Don't Want to Know the Answer."

I don't even know if this technically qualifies as a date, but it was pretty bad (and it's a short story - yay!) so I'm gonna throw it in here.

Without even going into all the background (which would take weeks) I had been dating this guy, let's call him Lars (he had some crazy Scandinavian name) long distance for a couple of months. He finally came to visit me in Texas, and after I introduced him to all my friends at a great big dinner (they all hated him), we got a bottle of wine and went back to my place, where the plan was to sit in front of the fire and have a romantic evening.

We get home, get LARGE glasses of wine, and just sit there for a while, drinking and watching the fire. And then Lars says "E. Spat, can I tell you something?" And I, so happy that he's finally going to tell me he loves me, go "Of course" and just stare at him all lovey dovey and stupid.

And Lars goes, "One time, at a party, I made out with a man." Ummmm...oh. That's not what I was expecting. So, trying to figure out what to say, I just sort of mumble something like "Uh huh...oh...I see." And then, this is the worst part...he tells me the ENTIRE story..."See, I was at this party and there was this guy named Warren there and we are really drunk and somehow the next morning I ended up sleeping in the same bed as him...and I kind of liked it..." Oh. Uhhhhhh.... There were actually dates, etc...it was pretty awkward.

What can you say to a story like that? Let's just say the mood was pretty much killed.

Our relationship actually went on for awhile after this incident, but pretty much it was all downhill...and strangely, not because he had kissed a boy. Because, as it turned out, he was still kissing girls. A lot of them.

And, just for your edification, here are some interesting tidbits about Lars.

- I was making him a queen size quilt for Christmas and when we broke up (in the summer) I got so mad I sent him the unfinished quilt top that I had spent literally hundreds of hours on. Later on, when I decided I wanted it back, a friend of his asked him for it and he claimed I was lying and that I had never sent him anything like that.

- He broke up with me on my cell phone after I tracked him down because I hadn't heard from him in a week. He told me, and this is a direct quote "I just can't stop thinking about all the other girls I want to be effing." During the week I couldn't track him down it's because he was boning some girl he met on a trip for work.

- I had an opportunity once, on a trip that I took, to be with perhaps the most fantabulous man I have ever laid eyes on, and I turned it down because I don't cheat...ever. When I found out Lars had been cheating on ME, at least 50% of my anger was directed at the fact that I turned down perhaps the finest specimen of manflesh that is ever going to cross my path outside of my dreams.

Damnit...why do I always get the lump of coal.

I still don't have a car, and yet my parents have decided to pick up one of these as their THIRD car. Bah Humbug! Just kidding, they deserve it...and they're going to get rid of one of their other vehicles once they argue out who is going to lose their current ride. Although, they are also talking about getting one of these... but my mom REALLY wants the Mustang, so who knows. Technically she wants my dad to buy her a "muscle car" so she can "be cool and race people" and he told her if she wants one it has to be the Mustang since it has the new safety features and stuff. And yes, at one time in her life she actually used to drag race one of these. In the South. My mom effing rocks!

Also, I put links to all four Bad Date Stories so far here. I note there that I am happy to continue with Bad Date Stories, but am considering starting in on ex-husband stories...who wants to hear about the time Ex#1 told me to quit talking so fast because he knew I was doing it on purpose to confuse him?! God I have good taste in men.

My mom...just as crazy as she ever was.

I got here in one piece, no thanks to the airline or the evil people sitting all around me. But, my mom made biscuits this morning (State Fair Blue Ribbon Winners!), Molly is running all around in her antlers (scroll down a few days for a pic), and the house is all decorated for Christmas. YAY!

So, my mom has been growing her hair out for a few months now with only one goal in mind...the french braid. Every time I come home she makes me french braid it, she is looking for a new hairstylist because hers doesn't know how to french braid, and basically all she can talk about is french braiding, french braid technique, methods of securing the french braid...etc. This morning, after biscuits, my mom said that she's been practicing french braiding and she's "getting pretty good at it" and then proceeded to french braid her hair right in front of me (ooooohhhh...magic!!!) before they left for church. And at this point, one of the funniest things I've ever witnessed in my life happened.

Mom: "Your dad is going to learn to french braid so he can do my hair."
Dad: *looks sheepish*
Mom: "Go get your board honey and show E. Spat."
Dad: *runs into back room and comes back with his "board"*
Mom: "See, the ropes are like hair and that way he can practice while he watches TV. But you need to teach him because I can't do it except on my own hair. Do it right now. Papa Spat WATCH HER...quit playing with the dog and watch E. Spat do a french braid so you can learn."
Dad: *rolls eyes...keeps playing with dog*
Mom: "Don't you roll your eyes, you SAID you were going to learn to french braid and then YOU came up with the idea for the board so you could practice. Didn't you? Tell E. Spat the board was your idea."
Dad: "Uhhh...ummm...yes dear."
Mom: "Show her how you practice on the board."
Dad: "I have to go take a shower for church."
Mom: "He made that board, I don't know why he won't admit it now."

Yeah, who knows why he wouldn't admit it?! Anyway, I *had* to tell this story, with pics, for all of you who believe that I exaggerate Mama Spatula's strange ways. Behold...the homemade teach-your-husband-to-french-braid learning board.






PS: Beefy is staying with my friend, LQ, you can check him out right here...she will be posting updates on his status occassionally and she has a sweet digital camera....look at my little baby, he's so cute!

Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight.

Presents YAY!!

I am off to the airport for my crazy late night flight home. I think posting will be relatively normal over the break since I have A LOT of work to do and thus will be on the computer constantly. Or it won't. Either way, I'm sure my three loyal readers will still love me and the rest of you will just have to get your daily dose of idiocy in the archives or something.

My mom is a Christmas fiend...she's nuts. There is one tree that stays up and decorated all year. Yeah, I said ALL YEAR! Plus there will be a real one where the presents and stuff will be. And there will be cookies, and homemade goodies of all sorts, and macaroni and cheese, and walks on the golf course with Molly the Satanic Dog, and family hikes, and family bike rides, and rides to look at Christmas lights, and my mom's nutty collection of Christmas music (she loves those damn Muppets). I'm so excited. This is my favorite time of year. Finding the perfect present for everyone is my favorite challenge, and being able to finally spend holidays with my family after so many years away is just wonderful and fun and fabulous.

And, for an extra-special bonus, when I get back it will be the week before my birthday and I can be wracked with angst and you guys can leave me nice comments to help me get through it. It's gonna be fun for everyone!

PS: GOD, I hate those Pepto Bismol commercials with the people doing the All-Manners-Of-Intestinal-Discomfort Dance. ICKY! Now there's ones with elves doing it. GROSS!!!!

Bad Date #4...The Master of Surprise

UPDATE: By request in the comments, here are Bad Dates One, Two, and Three. You can expect Bad Date #5 tomorrow, and more stories are available if people are interested...just let me know. I could churn these out all day...as I said in some of the comments, I'm nearly 30, twice divorced, and have dated pretty much all the losers in the Northern Hemisphere. OR, I could start in on ex-husband stories, which are even better. Either way, I'm happy to be here and proud to serve (a little Air Force joke for those of you out of the loop).

I was going to wait until Monday for the next bad date story, but I'm bored and my plane doesn't leave until tonight, so here is #4 of my Top 5 Bad Dates Ever (also, just so we're all clear, I have an INFINITE number of bad date stories, I could do this for the next three months...these five dates were arbitrarily chosen for being generally bad and being safe for work...I've got a couple bad date stories that are funny, but I'm not sharing with you pervs).

Bad date #4 was named David. David was an electrician working on the construction crew that was building a new atrium cafe place in the building I worked at. I met David shortly after I lost a bunch of weight because I had really amped up my running (10+ miles a day) and I was taking boxing lessons at a real boxing place...not tae bo...actual boxing. I was about to go into the Air Force and I wanted to be in great shape, and I was. Anyway, since I was then the thinnest I had ever been (and thinner than I will ever be again), I was pretty much at the top of my game in terms of being able to get a hot guy. Instead, I decided to go out with David.

David actually was pretty hot...he just looked like a hot construction worker guy, complete with toolbelt and hardhat. And he was tall, so hooray for that. On the other hand, David had the IQ of a dead gerbil. After we broke up I would come to find out that David was pretty much a total drug addict. However, I just thought he was really stupid and that's why he was always late, drove a super-old Ford Bronco with flames painted on the side and the word "MONSTER" on the windshield, and basically couldn't hold a conversation about anything but himself.

David was late. Always late. Sometimes an hour or two. This drove me nuts because I am completely anal about timeliness, but I figured we weren't serious so why bother nagging? Well, we had gone on maybe three real dates (all bowling or a movie) and he had come over a couple times to "hang out" (use your imagination), and so, on the particular night of the Bad Date I wasn't surprised when he was about forty minutes late. And just when I was about to call his cell phone and tell him not to even bother, the doorbell rings.

As I mentioned when I told you about Gene the Psycho, my studio apartment at this time didn't have a fisheye thing to look through, so basically I just had to open the door and see who was there. So, knowing that it was probably David, I opened the door.

And it was David. And a baby. A tiny infant child. I must have looked completely stunned because David goes "Oh, this is Cody." Cody? I go "Are you babysitting?" And David says "No, this is my son, didn't I tell you?" "UH NO! You must have forgotten to mention the fact that you have an INFANT." So, trying to stay calm, I say "Well, uh...no...you didn't. Um...I don't know what to say." David assures me that he just couldn't find a sitter, and so Cody, the INFANT, is going to dinner with us.

I think more out of sheer shock than anything else, I actually went to dinner with David and Cody. It was only across the street, so I figured I could escape if I needed to. As soon as we sit down, David goes "Yeah, I've got little Cody here, and my other son Dallas." WHAT??!!! Oh yeah, there's two kids I don't know about. I tentatively ask who the mother of these children is. And this is the best part, David goes "She's a total bitch. I left her when she was 8 months pregnant with Cody because she was cheating on me with some guy from her work." And I go "Oh, so you're divorced?" David, ever the master of surprise, goes "Well, not exactly. We got back together after Cody was born, and then we broke up when I met you."

OH MY GOD, I couldn't believe I a homewrecker! Further, David informs me that his WIFE is VERY pissed and I should probably be careful about parking my car at his house from now on, because she says if she sees it there she's going to key it. GREAT! AND, to top all of this off, just as I start to tell David that there is no way IN HELL that I am looking to get involved, at 23 years old, with a father of two who's STILL MARRIED to someone else, and also is as dumb as a rock, he has to go to the bathroom. So, he goes to the bathroom and leaves me with the kid. Who promptly starts screaming his head off because he's like TWO MONTHS OLD.

Every other person in the restaurant is staring at me like I'm the worst mother on the planet and I can't just get up and leave, I mean, there's an infant at the table...someone has to be there. I didn't know what to do, so I'm patting the kid and trying to give him toys and stuff. Finally David comes back from the bathroom and I just tell him I have to go, and walk right out of the restaurant and back to my house. The next workday he came to my desk and wanted to have a big dramatic blowout (Yeah, I'm the secretary for the CEO and the construction guy is causing a scene...classy), and he actually has he nerve to tell me that he wants me to NOT go into the Air Force and to stay in Albuquerque with him and his two little kids, and presumably his psycho (albeit with a good reason) wife. I told him to walk away and never talk to me again, and actually, the next day a couple of the other guys who worked with him who I had gotten to know came up and told me he was a total drug addict and I should be glad I was smart enough to get away when I did.

Another fabulous date brought to you by E. Spat.

I have friends. I do! SHUT UP!

I don't know what's more pathetic, that someone was searching for "home alone on a Friday night", or that I am not only the 8th result, but that I am, right now, AGAIN, home alone on a Friday night. Pa. Thet. Ic.

Who doesn't need more knives?

Hooray for the internet. I just bought this electric knife for my mom. It's swanky and has a bread AND a carving blade. And a little wood block thing that's pretty snazzy as well. Go me! My dad SO better appreciate this because he's going to reap the benefits since it's technically from both of us and my mom is gonna be so stoked. I am the best kid ever!