What I did over my Summer Vacation, I mean, my December Day Off.

It's DISH Network, they want to know if we want to upgrade our service?

I decided to take yesterday off of work to read the new Oakhurst Leaflet, wait for Christmas cards to arrive and get my energy up to watch Glee.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that our neighborhood newsletter had increased its font size and not so surprised that the first holiday greeting card delivered to our black metal mailbox was from our favorite gay-boys. And of course Glee did not disappoint - Doc. B. even liked it (but don't say I told you).

In between waiting for the leaflet and mail carriers to arrive, I figured I’d also take care of some other binn-ness.

My first e-mail, at 6:00 am, was to the local computer repair guy.  I asked him if he could please come apply the automated external defibrillator to my lil’ old Sony Vaio in an effort to revive it from its frozen state.  Given the fact that temps were in the 20’s with a wind chill in the teens, I wasn’t all that hopeful that he could revive the poor thing.  After all, it is a 4 year old baby and laptop PC’s of that age don’t usually enjoy life that long.

Then off to my favorite gym – Core Body .  I did a secret alone time 45 minute spin class*, of my own creation, including the below iPhone play list that I hooked into the overhead speaker system and dared anyone to make me turn it off:

Blue on Black – Kenny Wayne Shepherd

Low Rider – Barry White

Sun Rising – The Beloved/Chilled Spirit

I Gotta Feeling- The Black Eye Peas

Everywhere I go- The Call

She Sells Sanctuary – The Cult

Are We Ourselves – The Fixx

Jump – Madonna

Shut Your Eyes – Snow Patrol

Closer – Ne-Yo

*Bonus Points - Weight Watchers now counts a 45 minute spin class as 8, count 'em 8, activity points!  Not that I know anything about Weight Watchers or anything.

As I’m leaving the gym, Computer Repair Guy calls to tell me he’ll be over at 11:30.  So I decided to go home, get cleaned up and add s’more items to my to do list.  

Next, I directed my Ford Ranger (‘cause it’s too dang cold to ride my bike) to the Decatur USPS with mom’s L’Oreal lipstick that she left while visiting a few weeks ago – I’m splurging to mail it back to her…because she’s worth it.

Then on to the CVS to use up my medical spending account money on over-the-counter standards (Aleve, Tylenol, Zyrtec, Neosporin, Epsom salts, Percocet and Oxycontin – well, not those last two unfortunately).  Can you believe that next year’s medical spending account, to which I contribute my own fairly hard-earned money, will only reimburse me for OTC items if I have a prescription?  That’s so STUPID!  Like I'm going to ask my gynecologist to write me a script for Nyquil?  Guess I’ll drop my annual deduction in half and hope that I don’t need a root canal or bifocals – thank goodness for the large print in the Oakhurst Leaflet to help the latter!

The CVS clerk checked me out (well, she didn't really check ME out, just my items). She was in awe of my CardStar iPhone application on which she was able to scan my rewards card bar code, AND she was also in awe of my $80.00 worth of drugs.  Okay, I added some red licorice to the bill – maybe it's reimbursable?  After all, it is medically necessary to combat depression and prevent any possibility of some resulting suicidal ideation.

Computer repair guy shows up right on queue and resolves the problem for a measly 50 bucks – LOVE HIM!  He tells me I can put off replacing my laptop until I’m ready to give in and buy a Mac – and in the meantime, he’ll keep coming by and fixing the PC (‘cause when I buy the Mac, he says I won’t need him anymore).

Last on the list was my quarterly call to Dish Network to find out what they’re billing me for that they shouldn’t be.  And when I say me I mean Doc. B. because of course I had to lie to DISH about my identity again.  Can I just tell you that it was the most pleasant customer service call Doc. B. has had in quite some time?  Brittany, clearly not sitting in an Indian call center, clearly sitting in a Georgia, USA call center, handled all of Doc. B.'s concerns and even acknowledged Doc. B. for being a long-time customer.

Question:  What is it called if you are talking about yourself, but not really you, in the third person?  Third person once removed?  Remind me to e-mail Grammar Girl to find out.

Off to Glee I went, rear end fitting perfectly in the love pit sofa butt print.  And since I was in the music mood after Glee, I HAD to watch some of Celtic Woman: The Greatest Journey on Georgia Public Broadcasting.

Memories...like the coroners of my mind

As I wrap things up on the computer before meeting Doc. B. in the love pit for an episode of Grey's Anatomy, I'm realizing how much I still miss the HBO winner, "Six Feet Under." No t.v. show since has been able to replace the 6'U addiction I had. The photos alone speak for themselves. Don't tell me you can't physically feel the anguish and despair by simply glancing at that photo of Claire? And if you were going to live a life of social alienation, wouldn't you want to spend it driving around in a lime green hearse? It's just not the same with Meredith Grey and her ditzy Seattle Grace cohorts (Okay, it has a diffent appeal; I usually cry at the end of each episode, but it's still not the same).

So as is typical with this blog thing, it's just a big old stream of consciousness. Missing 6'U made me think of death. And death made me think of coroners. And since my mind won't stop with the plays on words, I went directly to "Memories, like the 'coroners' of my mind."

It's all because of that damn Facebook. Thanks a million ex-boyfriend for wanting to show me pictures of your new wife and making me sign up for Facebook just to see them. And thanks a lot baby sis for pushing me further into social networking darkness.

If you had asked me a couple of months ago to name 80 people that I know, I might have been able to come up with 35. But now, I have 80 friends ranging from Dolly Parton to two people I'd never heard of before they asked me to be their friend. It's a little unsettling.

But what's even more unsettling are the memories that get churned up each time I see the name of an old buddy or high school classmate pop up in a friend request. Some of the memories are pleasant and good, while others are not so palatable or totally gone. But either way the memories are there. There's a history with each and every facebook friend I have, well except for the two people I've never met. And yes, if you're wondering, I even have a history with Dolly Parton. She and I go way back and Pigeon Forge is on my "must visit" list. Who didn't love her in "9 to 5" and in the last season of "American Idol?" And who could forget that famous quote from Steel Magnolias: "Smile! It increases your face(book) value!"

If I were (subjunctively) worried about what people think, I guess I would have quickly undergone plastic surgery on my face(book) to remove the unwanted excess; or at least have had a little micro-derm abrasion. But since I'm not savvy enough to know how to limit what people can and can't read in my profile, I guess it's all out there. I'm figuring if someone wants to be my friend, they can handle my truths.

But that being said, its one thing to write "25 random things" about yourself for your true pals to read but it's another to have 80 of your "closest" friends read that stuff. Not that Dolly Parton cares about my 25 things, or that anyone does for that matter. But do I really want the high school boyfriend who dumped me over 20 years ago to read them? Or the friend who put me in my place when I called her "Carolyn" vs. "Carol" to read them (name changed to protect the innocent)? Or the high school classmate who I cheated off of in the 10th grade to read them? Or the high school classmate who I don't even remember and had to look up in the yearbook to read them?

It took me to age 44 to get here, but it has finally sunk in. It really doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I can just be me and if others don't like it, I guess they can block me on facebook or give me the cold shoulder in real life...if I ever even see them again (perhaps at the Stagecoach in Marshall).

NOTE: If you are reading this by invite - it's all good. You are not the boyfriend that dumped me, you are not "carol," I did not cheat off of you and I remember you :)

So what'd you have for dinner?

Only two days left until the election and what was I doing last night? I was at home alone trying to decide what to watch on television. Doc. B. is cat sitting at our friends’ "OTP" house (FYI, OTP stands for "outside the perimeter" and is also now known as Palin-Ville). So I was home all by myself, responsible only for me. Here’s how the evening went...

I said to myself, "what will it be?" CNN? A Fox election special with Brit Hume (to keep up with the other side)? Larry King? Hardball with Chris Matthews? 60 Minutes? No, somehow those shows just weren’t up my alley last night. It’s not like I was trying to impress anyone; it was just me and the cats… so who would have known what I watched on TV let alone that I had popcorn and red licorice for dinner?

So as I scrolled through the Dish menu, here’s what really caught my eye: Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, Harold and Kumar go to White Castle, the E! True Hollywood Story of Star Jones, Sex Change Soldier on BBCA, Fun with Dick and Jane, and last but by no means least I didn’t know I was pregnant on TLC. As I was in the midst of this major decision-making process, up pops a commercial for stuffed crust Pizza Hut pizza. Normally, this wouldn’t even faze me, but after my carb-fest of a dinner, that bread stuffed with cheese was sounding really tasty for dessert. But you’ll be glad (and so am I) to know that I resisted and did not go into the light of Pizzahut.com to place an order.

Instead, I decided to hit the DVR to watch the most recent episode of Saturday Night Live. You have to give the old guy, I mean John McCain, credit with the whole QVC spoof thing he participated in. And then when he went on the "Weekend Edition" segment and explained his last ditch fallback efforts… well, that was just priceless. My personal favorites were the "Double Maverick" where he goes totally berserk and freaks everybody out and the "Sad Grandpa" where he reminds us that Obama is young, will have many chances to run for president and to take pity on McCain.

As I was L’ing OL at the TV, the robocalls continued to come in. Even at 9:15pm, the caller ID was displaying "Unavailable." I was thinking to myself, “Hmm… I’m really busy right now and also unavailable” but, having not had any human interaction in just over 4 hours, I decided to pick up the phone so that I could tell them I had already voted. But my speaking didn’t make a difference to that pre-recorded message – it just kept on playing. So I hung up, angry that those robots couldn't carry on a conversation and that they were calling so late (after all, with the time change, it was really 10:15 and it felt like it!).

I eventually finished watching TV and decided to check my e-mail one last time before hitting the sack. If the robocalls weren’t enough, I was surprised to see that I had about 10 new incoming messages. They included e-mails from Al Gore, Hillary Clinton, Bill Clinton, Michelle Obama, Joe Biden, Joe Solmonese (HRC President), and Barack himself. Like the robots, I guess they too wanted to make sure that I had already voted, but didn't really want to have a conversation with me. Can you believe that every single one of those e-mails said "do not reply to this message." Thank goodness for Facebook where you can hold real conversations with people you haven't talked to in 25 years.

Well, in about 24 hours, we should know who will take over the reins in 2009. I hope the person you want to win, wins (unless that person is John McCain, Ralph Nader, Bob Barr, Cynthia McKinney or any of the other write-in candidates…).