I want a Bush volunteer to call me up

I have a few things that I would like to say to him or her. Unfortunately, it's not going to happen since I live in a state in which people embrace dumbassery. But a gal can dream.

Other thoughts: What's up with trick-or-treaters who knock on your door and then proceed to scoop great big handfuls of candy out of your bowl? What's more, what's up with husbands who don't smack their greedy little hands back, but who call out "Vote for Kerry!" ever time they close the door?

Also! BK and I bought a treadmill today. Dallas has not been kind to either of our waistlines, so we're putting our collective foot down. I figure if we both use it every day, it'll pay itself off in about ... oh ... 38 years. Spendy! However, the salesman was kind enough to less us know that if one of us gets a doctor to write us a prescription for a treadmill for being a lardass, he'll give us a check for the amount of tax we paid! Finally, all that eating out is paying off.

BK was also nice enough to stop by an Apple store with me today so that I could drool over the new iMac and the iPod Photo. Even BK, in all his peeceeness, admitted that the new iMac is empirically sweet. Then he proceeded to check the latest tracking polls on it.

Front yard full of hope

hope, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

(and leaves)

The spaghetti bandit

burgled!
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

This is what happens when you go to work and thoughtlessly leave a completely sealed bag of spaghetti at the back of the kitchen counter.

If you look closely at the lower left-hand corner of the picture, you'll all see a few pistachio shells. That's because we not only left the spaghetti on the counter, we also left a one-pound bag of pistachios. Let's just say we may still be finding shells when we move out of this house. Let's also say that the last two Buster walks have been VERY interesting, if you dog owners out there know what I'm saying, and I think you do.

Also! A big congrats to T. and G. on the birth of their lovely little daughter! Since they're not family, I'm going to contain myself and not splash her photos all over the Slav, but suffice it to say she's hella cute.

A word of advice

Some of you surfers of the World Wide Web may, at one point or another, get the urge to go back and read 5-year-old emails in which you and someone who is not your current spouse exchange views on topics such as politics, movies, and the weather.

As someone who has just satisfied that urge, allow me to be the first to tell you that if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, you should just put down the mouse and step. away. from. the. computer. The reason for this is that, invariably, these emails will discuss more than politics and weather. They will also discuss Feelings. And as I have recently discovered, 5-year-old Feelings are best left undisturbed, saved to the data storage medium of your choice and left waiting for the amusement of your grandchildren, who will no doubt be reading them wearing silver-colored, one-piece bodysuits.

Can I just say that I have such a case of the icks right now? And to those of you wise people who told me not to do it, you were right. There, I said it. I vow to always heed your advice on all matters relating to old boyfriend emails.

Since I have already established a tone of insufferable fussiness and since my husband is no doubt applying himself dilegently to some brief or another since he's not yet home and since I'm hungry and as all who know me can recite along with me, A HUNGRY POLE IS AN ANGRY POLE, allow me the pleasure of further bitching:

• This morning on the way to work the guy in the Suburban in front of me realized at the last minute that he was about to miss his exit, cut over two lanes at the last second and PLOWED THROUGH some of those orange construction barrels that were marking off the exit. WHAT IS WRONG WITH DALLAS DRIVERS?!?! This did not happen in DC!
• Those fuckers at Apple STILL have not shipped my new work iMac. I guess they've been too busy coming up with the prototype for the goddamn iPod sock. What the hell people? Do I really need a branded sock in which to transport my iPod???
• My husband wants to have a baby Real Bad and I'm not sure if I'm ready to devote my life to another human being yet.
• There's nothing to eat in the house (unless you count the calorie content in the copious amounts of hard liquor) and yet I am somehow unable to motivate myself to go to Albertson's. I mean, I know it's my store and all. But I don't really want it.
• It was raining when I got home so I just stood outside for a few minutes with Buster on the leash while he piddled in the front yard and kept pitifully straining in the direction of our usual walk. Worst dog owner EVER.

Update: According the Apple web site, my computer has officially left Shanghai. Any iMac ire will now be directed towards those fuckers at FedEx (who LOST the first iBook shipped to me last year, let's not forget), or those fuckers at the university tagging place, who get to pee all over all new computers to mark them as Official State Property.

Please forward to any undecided voters

little leftist, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

I am hoping that my wee nephew will melt the hearts of undecided voters nationwide, and maybe even convert a few Rebulicans to the Kerry ticket.

Naaah, who am I kidding. We all know that Republicans fry up little babies and eat them for breakfast. With jam.

KIDDING!

Because the bath wasn't gay* enough

bath, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

We also felt the need to light a candle, pour a glass of wine, and peruse some choice comic books.

Check back next week for RuminatingSlav entry #52: BK bakes a cake.

* Not that there's anything wrong with that! Some of my best friends are gay!

My ex-boyfriend the author

Ladies and gentlemen of the internets, may I present to you a man we will call STEVE. I can only assume that this is a fairly recent photo of STEVE, as I got it off of his publisher's web site. That's right, STEVE has written a book.

Those of you who do not know me IRL ("in real life," for my non-big-huge-dork readership) may not be familiar with the man called STEVE. Actually, even those of you who do know me IRL probably aren't familiar with STEVE, as I dated him the year of my life during which I effectively went insane.

Many moons ago, a much-younger Karo went off to Baltimore to change the world (read: teach math in the inner city). I didn't know a soul in Baltimore, and being the aforementioned big huge dork, I embraced the world of online personals. After spending a week in London visiting my friend Suze, I came home to my craptastic apartment to find a Very Witty Email response to my ad. So began my quick decent into insanity, chaperoned by the man called STEVE. You see, the man called STEVE was a master of the Very Witty Email. He wooed me mercilessly until I was rendered helpless by his wordsmithery. I fell in love, but not so much with the man called STEVE as with his email, but I didn't realize the two were not the same for another year.

The man we're calling STEVE was not an ideal candidate for a boyfriend, one might say (and by "one" I mean all my friends, and by "might" I mean did). He was 14 years older than me, had three children, and was not quite yet divorced from his legally separated wife. When one is wookin pa nub, though, it's easy to overlook these things. You know why? Because his emails were SO FUCKING WITTY. I would have killed a kitten for one of those emails, let alone overlook three kids and a not-quite-ex-wife.

The thing is, though, that's not all the man called STEVE had going for him. He was also:

• a Conservative (collective gasp from the peanut gallery);
• a former Baptist minister;
• suffering from what, in retrospect, appears to be some sort of clinical depression; and
• an unbelievably huge, do-you-kiss-your-momma-with-that-mouth, scarily convincing LIAR

This is the part where the post switches over from being an amusing anecdote to a bonified Public Service Announcement. Women of the World, I am about to share with you what is undoubtedly the most humiliating moment in my life. I'm going to PUT IT OUT THERE for the all readers of the internets to see. I am doing this because I feel very strongly that the man called STEVE must be stopped, and I think that the most humiliating moment of my life will clearly illustrate why that is.

Early on in the wooing, the man called STEVE told me the he was writing a novel. Actually, here's exactly what he said:

I wrote this book, kind of a humorous novel. I shipped it off to a good New York agent who has 73 clients, 67 of whom are bestsellers. He tells me it's the funniest thing he's ever read, it's the only thing he's laughed out loud at in years. He says we're both going to make a lot of money from it, but he wants me to go through and add some "texture" (I had to resist asking him what kind...bumpy, smooth, rough?).

(Yes, readers, I am THAT pathetic. I fired up my rickty-krickety old PC this weekend, and using a KEYBOARD, since the fucker's too old to handle an optical mouse, I saved all of my old emails to disk.)

The things is, the man called STEVE never let me read his novel, even though I asked him repeatedly. Imagine my excitement then, a few weeks later, when I receive this email and an attached Word doc:

We had the discussion on "The Rules" at one time, and here's the story I made mention of at that time. Sometime when you're not hurried, give it your undivided perusal. Let me know what you think whenever you care finish.

People, the attachment was the best short story I'd ever read. Not only did I heap praise upon the man we are today calling STEVE, but I also forwarded the story to a bunch of people. Imagine my surprise when, a few months later, I receive a phone call from my college roommate. (Pay attention, Women of the World. This is where it gets good.) The college roommate says the following: "Listen, I really hate to tell you this, but I was at the bookstore this weekend and I was thumbing through this book called The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing. Remember that story from STEVE that you forwarded to me? Well, it's in there."

Yes indeedy, the man called STEVE had sent me the last chapter of Melissa Bank's novel. How he had it as a Microsoft Word document will forever remain a mystery, but you can bet your sweet ass that as soon as I got off the phone with my former roommate I called him up to ask him why he'd sent it to me claiming he wrote it. You want to hear what he said? You want to hear his excuse for being an unmitigated, lying ASSWIPE? Then man called STEVE said, "Well, I never said that I wrote it."

What.

The.

Fuck.

You send me a Word doc, accept all the praise I lavish upon you, and then when I fucking nail your ass to the WALL, you worthless piece of shit, you hide behind a TECHNICALITY?!?!?!

I am not proud of the year I spent with STEVE. I am not proud of falling in love with a ghost, and then spending the following months making excuses for all the unbelievably shitty things that the real-life man did to me, such as refusing to drive an hour to come see me when I was freaking the fuck out because my mother had just had a grand-mal seizure in the middle of her kitchen because THE TRAFFIC WOULD BE BAD GOING TO WORK THE NEXT MORNING. Luckily, I met BK and he taught me that love isn't about making excuses for someone's bad behavior. But now it appears that STEVE-O has made good on his promise and written a real-life book, which I can only assume is not actually a plagarized chapter from another book since knowledgable people have read it. So I tell you my sad tale of WHOA to warn you, just in case you're in the DC area and are turned on by men who write non-fiction spewing conservative propaganda. If you see this man, run. Run as far as your little legs will take you. Because no email is witty enough to be worth it.

I cry uncle

uncle, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

BK is in Mississippi this weekend, visiting his new nephew. Here they are together, obviously photographed in a spontaneous moment as BK is not sporting his always-attractive, deer in the headlights, creepola picture smile. Please note the blue blanket -- THE BABY IS A BOY, DAMMIT.

Not only do I cry uncle, but I also just cry as I'm afraid that a certain dog who shall remain nameless but whose name rhymes with "Custer" might have fractured my hand. As I was closing the front door behind me to take him on tonight's walk, he saw a cat across the street and made a mad dash for it, slamming my hand against the very hard, very brick wall. It's been a long time since I've actually considered going to the ER. I can move it and touch it without screaming, so that's gotta be good right? I also put some frozen okra on it. That'll heal it right up.

I may be painfully behind the times, but ...

... I'm going to take a second here to tout the services of http://www.skype.com/ -- "free Internet telephony that just works." They finally got their act together and put together an OS X version of their software, so today I was able to chat with a friend in Australia. It's easy, free, and the connection was flawless.

And no, I don't work for them.

Fun with dowloadable ringtones!

God, there is nothing that I love more than a new gadget. I've been futzing with the new cell phone all day, and have been reduced to assigning people their own personalized ringtones. If my father should ever call my cell phone, it will now ring as Poland's national anthem, while BK will from here on out be identified as the Batman theme song. Yeah, laugh all you want, MIDI files are lame. But so's your mother.

If you think your phone number may be stored in my cell phone and have a request for a personalized ringtone, by all means, let's hear it!*

*Based on availability. Not all requests may be honored.

Finally, a use for spam!

Many thanks to Twink for pointing out this fantastic website!

"Poorly-drawn cartoons inspired by actual spam subject lines"

Here's the one for "why your computer is running slow"



And, because it almost killed me, "Make all your dreams come true."

Can you tell I was messing with my camera settings the other night?

snuggle, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Ok, I promise that this will be the last of the photoblogging. Starting tomorrow I return to the world of ... uhhh ... words. In the meantime, can I just say that it should not be cheaper to go to frikkin London than Toronto?!?! I mean, come on, $350?!?! I'm just sayin'.

Oh, and one more thing: C.! Will you stop with the goddamn babymaking thing already? To quote Team America, Jesus tittyfucking Christ!

Oh! And one more one more thing! The Z600 is miiiineeesss! I don't know who you are, brandydarly and shkupjan25, but if we ever meet, I am SO going to put the hurt on both you motherfuckers. I hope you learned during our little last-minute eBay bidding war that you gotta wake up pretty early in the morning to outbid ol' Karo. I mean, sure, I am now a proud owner of a $1,208 cell phone, but Y'ALL CAN SUCK IT.

(Kidding, people! It was only $221.50!)

Happy first anniversary to BK and Karo

anniversary, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Poser

poser, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Sadly, I do not have a delightfully geeked-out husband -- there is no stack of Macworlds in the bathroom of our house. He just likes to steal my iBook to play some online poker in the living room.

Under pressure

pressure, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Good dog!

sit, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

I want to snatch up his moist little doggie nez and keep it in a locket. Is that so wrong?!?!

True love on a Sunday

truelove, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

As if we needed more proof!

Yesterday at the dog park a photographer asked if he could take pictures of Buster. Yes, he is that cute. Professional photographers want him for their portfolios.



We finally made it to the State Fair! Woo-hoo! Fried okra! Corny dogs! And: FUNNEL CAKE! BK didn't even know what funnel cake WAS, so imagine my doughy joy at being able to introduce him to the fried goodness. We opted to pass on the fried Oreos and fried Snickers, though.

Last night BK and I saw Team America. We're both huge fans of South Park so we were really excited about it. Satire! Puppets! Could it get any better? Well, the answer is apparently, "Yes." We thought the movie was half-assed and kind of dull in parts.

Zesty rine!

My heart hurts a little. Dear, sweet Zach Braff, have you really spent the last 29 years on this earth thinking that it's called lemon rine???

You'll get a full-sized photo when someone vacuums YOUR head

Eli, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Here he is, in all his blue-fisted glory. Too bad they put a hat on him, cause I hear Eli has quite the spectacular conehead happening. Not surprising considering he was vacuumed out of the womb. Yikes!

"Incoherent cheerleaders for anti-government zealotry"

Hey, my first post composed on a peecee, and I gotta say, it's fancy! Look at all these buttons and shortcuts 'n shit. I never realized that as a Mac user, I was having to work it out.

Now I can throw away my bus pass and shit, oh my god ...

Anyhoo! The title quote is from this Salon War Room entry. Check it out, and subscribe if you haven't done so already. Salon! It's in there!

In other news, I have decided that I might die if I do not get one of these phones. Whaddya think -- is it worth $250 to buy essentially the same phone I have now (T610), just in a clamshell design with, omigod, REALLY CUTE INTERCHANGABLE FACEPLATES!?!?!

I think the answer is, clearly, YES.

Happy Birthday, Eli!

My nephew has joined the world, and I couldn't be more excited. I can't wait to squeeze him and hopefully not drop him.

Important Note: This is not Eli. Eli was born less than two hours ago and I do not have photographic evidence of his existence yet. Please accept this admittedly poor substitution of a Generic Cute Baby in the meantime.

The Great Outdoors

BK
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

This here would be BK, looking particularly squeezable on an overlook in Great Falls, Virginia. It was a bee-yoo-tee-ful day and so we partook of nature with our friends the Englones, who are seasoned Outdoorspeople who laugh in the face of unclassified parasitic diseases one picks up in the jungles of Central America. Not to be outdone, I jumped at the opportunity to embrace the great outdoors, where even my Inappropriate Footwear could not stop me from enjoying the trees and water and shit.

smack down
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

While the aforementioned trees and water were being enjoyed, a park ranger and policeman came running up the path, jumped the railing, and began what can only be described as clamboring up the cliff. You can see from this photo that the policeman is very uncomfortable with having to enforce the law while precariously perched on a boulder. We never did figure out what the ranger was pointing at -- rogue campers? fornicating teens? The possibilities are truly endless.

Shock and awe

For the first time in my life, I am praying for a liberal conspiracy.

Read it and weep.

Sailing towards that big marble phallus

Tomorrow BK and I drop Buster off at the doggie kennel once again (don't give me that look, he loves it there) and hop a plane to Our Nation's Capital for a wedding and some quality friend time. We gotta soak it up while we're in D.C. since we, you know, don't have any friends in Dallas. WHERE ARE YOU, COOL DALLAS PEOPLE???

The job is going well and I've managed to shave the commute down to about 30 minutes when there isn't a catastrophic, gotta-tap-into-that-Accidental-Death-&-Dismemberment-policy wreck on LBJ, which is pretty much every other day. Perhaps my years driving in the standstill D.C. traffic have lowered my resistance towards People Who Drive Really, Really Fast. Or maybe it's just not a good idea to be driving 80 m.p.h. in the far left lane. When traffic in the two right lanes is backed up and crawling along at 35 m.p.h. since Dallasites Scorn the Merge. Let's not forget the drivers who are darting in and out of lanes without so much as a half-hearted swipe at the blinker. I don't know about you people, but to me that spells F-U-N.

The Poles shall overcome

As a Young Pole I feel that it is my doody to address the shocking display of Poland-bashing that has swept our country since the first presidential debate. The Chimp-in-Chief's big "Gotcha!" of the night spawned this web site, which quickly made the rounds on the Inane Shit that Bored People at Work Forward circuit. Then last night I'm watching The Daily Show and there's John, bashing the Poles some more. Just when it seems as though it couldn't get any worse, they decided to go with the old ha-ha-look-at-all-those-consonants-in-that-crazy-Polish-name route for a cheap laugh and put up a photo labeled "Aleksander Kwasniewski" (Poland's president, dumbasses), only it's SOME OTHER DUDE in the photo. Then they switch to another photo of some random dude, clearly labeled "President Kwasniewski." I call upon the Poles of the world to stand up and REPRESENT.

On a related topic, I'm proud to note that Poland has finally stopped tossing America's salad and has announced plans to withdraw from Iraq. Word.

Vacuuming the front yard

i just spent the past hour sucking up all the dead leaves that had fallen into the three ginormous flower/ivy beds in our front yard. My hands now feel all weird and tingly from the vibrations of the leaf blower thing, but I feel a very definite sense of accomplishment. I know that in a few days new leaves will have rendered my labors futile, but at least for now, the front yard looks sweet. Two kind gentlemen pulled over in front of our house and asked me if I needed any help, but judging from the large amount of gardening equipment in the back of their truck, I think they wanted paying. I like to imagine that they just wanted to give a gal a hand, though.

life is hard
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Taking advantage of the glorious day that it is in Dallas today, we took Buster to the White Rock Lake dog park for the first time today. OH. MY. GOD. There is nothing better in the whole world than watching your dog as he streaks across an empty field simply for the joy of being able to. Buster was a Very Good Dog and Played Nice with all the other doggies in the large dog area (Big B is right on the cusp with his 30 pound self, but I don't think the pomeranians and miniature schnauzers in the small dog area were ready for his jelly). I'm just thanking the good lord jebus that Buster is a puss and is scared of water, cause that was the only thing standing between him and the wading pool that some sadistic volunteer had placed in the dog park. The non-pussy dogs were absolutely filthy. One of the Dallas Plastics had brought her 4-month-old golden retriever puppy Madison (?!?!) with her, and I swear to god that dog was GRAY from the thick film of filth covering her coat. I'm not sure how she-of-the-fake-nails was planning on getting Madison home in what I'm sure must have been a beemer. Oh, and in case you've forgotten what His Royal Cuteness looks like, here's another pic. He's spent.

My first day at the new job was good stuff. I'm very excited to be working with a bunch of smart, nerdy liberals again. My only complaint is the commute, but in the grand scheme of things it could be a lot worse, so I'm not complaining.