Sitting in my home office this morning, going over some proofs for ads for our festival when I hear this really odd noise... coming from the closet. where I store my winter clothes. sounds kinda like a grasshopper. a REALLY REALLY REALLY big grasshopper. I think I'll christen it "Gus" for the time being. As I'm not exactly going to be digging around in there to find out what the hell it is. Either the cats can do some exterminating or it can die in there or it can get out of its incubus stage, transform into a woman-eating monster and eat me. Hopefully, "Gus" can type and will update you guys accordingly.

 As a side note, apparently this event I'm working on is getting to me. I had a dream last night that the Festival Director told me to hit the local strip clubs to see if they'd participate. I was in one of the clubs, trying to talk business with this really lecherous guy. His comments were throwing me off and I couldn't even remember the name of the event, etc. I overheard that the 'silent partner' of the strip club was actually the owner of one of the restaurants I've been dealing with.

I'll leave my blog up so in case "Gus" wants to post something while I'm gone today...

I'm afraid someone's going to turn me into the ASPCA. I've been a baaaaad cat owner.

Sassy, my long-haired cat, undergoes a transformation every spring. I cut her long hair back so that she's a short-hair because it is cooler, cuts down on knots, and makes for smaller furballs.

Usually, she's quite cool about me giving her a trim. However, this time, she ended up looking like a cross between a bad case of mange and a fight with a weed whacker (and the weed whacker won).

It's bad. I mean really. I have to keep from laughing. I think I need to cover some of the mirrors so she doesn't see it. Her self-esteem would go in the crapper.

I told Lulu that if Sassy asks how her new 'hairdo' is, to lie to her and tell her it's very slenderizing. (Despite the mange-y look, she does look much thinner)

I wonder if they make Rogaine for cats? Or maybe a fur toupee? Do they make extensions for cats?

Hot Stud and I chatted on Friday. He really wanted to see me this weekend, but between our schedules and the distance between us, it makes it quite difficult. But he's soo sweet and totally drool-worthy. He's even offered to help out with yard work. Mmmm. (Thoughts of him sweaty with the shirt off. I bet I could sell tickets!)

I've finally made up my mind on the guy I couldn't make up my mind on. Any guesses on the outcome? LOL

I hit the gym every day. If I have time after my date with the evil elliptical machine, I hit the sauna with a book, a bottle of water and a plastic sweat suit. Usually do about 45 mins in there.

Yesterday, I'm sitting in there, reading. The sauna's benches are two levels, shaped like an "L". I'm sitting on the lower level of the bottom part of the "L". Someone walks in. They keep the door open for quite a long time. The temperature drops a lot.

She's buck nekkid. (There's a sign that requests you wear at least a swimsuit.)She decides to climb up to the second level of bench. And she's not exactly doing it in the most graceful way. The view of her extremely large posterior encased in cellulite in my face was distracting.  And she didn't bring a towel to sit on. (I'm thinking "EWWWWW!")

Remember, I'm READING. She keeps talking and talking. Complaining about how hot it is. I reply, "Well, it IS a sauna, it is supposed to be hot."

So she crawls back down the benches and leaves - again, taking forever.

Then comes back a minute later with some water. Opening the door and letting all the heat escape again. Crawls BACK up the benches. Sits down. Gets in another position. And another over about 30 seconds. Then crawls back down and leaves.

Public Service Announcement: If you don't like heat or to sweat, I would recommend staying away from sauanas. And for goodness sakes, please bring a towel.

I *STILL* haven't heard from my adopted children. Dinner's been on the table since Sunday. Should I file a missing child report? I'm imagining the conversation now...

"DeKalb County 911"
"Um, hello. I need to report missing children."
"Your children are missing?"
"Apparently."
"How long have they been missing?"
"I'm not sure. TurboTax says I adopted them in 2005, so sometime last year."
"Can you provide a description?"
"Uh. Well, it's either 2 boys or 2 girls or a boy and a girl. I don't know their ages, their names, nothing..."
"Ma'am, are you sane?"
"Well, TurboTax said I adopted 2 children from foreign countries last year. I figured that since I'm getting the deduction, I should file a report to let the IRS know that I'm trying to find them."

I was awakened last night by late-night caller and couldn't get back to sleep... With a busy day ahead of me, I decided to get some java for additional fuel. A gallon-sized cup of coffee was less than a normal 16oz cup. Some sort of special promotion - I guess it was for bored IT dudes that spend all night looking at porn online and need to stay awake.

Anyhoo, I situate my mongo-cup on my passenger seat with my binder chock full of all my super-important event stuff, my income taxes ready to mail, and my purse. Off I go. When a squirrel is sitting in the middle of a VERY busy street.

(You do see what's going to happen, don't you?)

That gallon-sized mug of coffee goes flying onto the floorboard, along with my binder and my purse.

The binder and its contents are soaked. My purse and taxes somehow miraculously avoid the deluge.

Of course, did I even get a sip of the coffee before this happened?
Of course not!

However, I would like to add that I was wearing off-white jeans that also managed to evade coffee-drenching.

I hope that squirrel appreciated it.

I started my taxes using Turbo Tax on 1/21/06. I was waiting for a couple of forms, so I couldn't complete it then. The forms came in and have been sitting here, on my desk, staring at me for two months...

So today, by gosh, I was going to finish it. It isn't rocket science entering in the numbers. But TurboTax kept asking me if I adopted a child in 2005. I clicked "NO" and it asked for me to enter my child's name and social security number. I clicked back and kept going back and forth. To my knowledge, I don't recall doing an Angelina - wouldn't I have blogged about it??? I looked around the house a bit, called out to ask if there was any recently-adopted minors in the home. Lulu and Sassy just looked at me like I was whack.

So I skipped the section. (Hope I didn't miss anything important!) So off I'm going to send in my returns. I hate getting all those portions of miscellaneous forms attached to it. I might procrastinate even more because I loathe that so much.

And if anyone comes upon my adopted child, would you please ask them to be home by dinner?