Socialite in Space

I blame the water supply for this one.

When I speak of the Cardassians, "a race of reptilian like humanoids from the planet Cardassia Prime located in the Alpha Quadrant" (http://www.fedtrek.com/wiki/Cardassians), I am often misinterpreted as alluding to the Kardashians, the group of famous television personalities and wealthy socialites. Unfortunately, I had no idea that this inversion was taking place, and now many of my aquaintances think that I am an admirer of these women when really I just like Star Trek. I can understand their miscontrual as I, too, am a wealthy socialite with a large family. Also, both species enjoy warm, dark, places.

For the record-
Cardassian:

Kardashians:

Cardassian home:

Kardashian home:

I don't like accepting. It gets in the way of my intolerance

At the gym today I watched some sort of ice skating capades where the little girls skate around in their costumes and the douchebags with their giant microphones talk over their performances and then proceed to review their triple luxes on slow-mo and macro-zoom. Leave those little girls alone, dammit. I feel this somehow relates to my dream about Survivorman, in which he decided that for his challenge he would swim out into the middle of the ocean. "I've never been much of a good swimmer, but I've read books." That was the extent of it, because he swam away from the camera.

Bootsy is still working on installation of the new dishwasher. He says there's "more to it than meets the eye"; something about wires and pipes and drywall and hot water. I don't believe those things even exist anymore, what with this wireless and digital world in which we now live. I don't know why I even care since I personally don't wash the dishes anyway. My hands get too dry.

My goal to replace the church organist still needs much developing. My original plan involved replacing her with any other person as long as the replacement had minimal organing talent. Further thought revealed that perhaps I could replace her myself, with myself. In this way I could physically remove her from her podium using some of my learned judo skills and then sit down and execute the most brilliant organ performance ever rendered. I have to first learn how to play. As we suffer through her raggidy playing tomorrow morning I will brainstorm with Dion for reasonable steps towards attaining my goal. This is a passion which stems from a pococurantism unparalleled in any artist I have ever met, much less hired to play (and ruin) my wedding. She must be defeated!

Road to Snowwhere

Simon turned half today.

In honor of this significance, Somebody made it snow. This snow, unlike other snows of winters past, was quite lovely and built upon on the tree branches and mailboxes and telephone poles. Simon's warmest snow suit naturally had ears perched atop it, turning him into a most adorable cuddle animal. I decided that he would make a perfect commercial baby, so we set off for the television station.

When we arrived, to our dismay, we found many other animal babies auditioning for commercials! Unfortunately the pressure was too much for Simon so we moved into the soap opera line, where we could audition jointly as a mother-son act. Simon's lines consisted of tiny beast sounds and calls as well as a few medium sized beast yelps. I was so impressed with his performance that I kept forgetting to read my prompts! I apologized to Simon for ruining our audition, as we were not selected for the part. I've got my lines down now, though: "Absolutely not, Peter! Stay away from my family and our prized orchid farm!" And then, "How dare you suggest that I had amnesia from May 2005 to January 2006!" And lastly, "If its the last thing I do, I'll get to the bottom of your heinous lies regarding five legged worms!"

Next time I won't let Simon down.

the nonsequitur

I once knew a boy who used that as his alias. I take it back-- I didn't really know him at all. He was a friend of a friend; a smart kid with clever taglines which I enjoyed reading. Unfortunately I would drunk-message him at 3am oftentimes after returning home from a bar. Being that he had no idea who I was, or how I knew who he was, or why I continually spied on him, he eventually blocked my account. I was thinking about him today. He often had excellent musical suggestions. I thought about him today not because of his excellent musical suggestions but because I amused myself when I asked Elyse about her shoe size after she asked me if I could force her to exercise.

Dion and I took Simon to the Gravity-free Zone today. This is similar to the Discovery-free Zone, except that there is zero gravity. He enjoys being able to float around in the ball pit, hover above the sliding board, and slam dunk himself into the basketball net. There aren't many other six month olds there. His zero-gravity motor skills are quite advanced; he has yet to master navigating at 9.8 m/s^2, an enigma similar to that of the direction of flushing toilet water in the southern hemisphere. Living here in Little Baltimore, the most empirical borough of Blazakisville, there are no shortages of fascinating inquiries!

temperamental express

It's hard to start a blog. However, rediculously wealthy housewives such as myself have too much time on their hands and thus the blog is created. But of course I have a ghost-typer. During the time that I would have writing this, I took Simon to the park in my cadillac to teach him the lesson called "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." He learned this lesson very quickly and said nothing the entire trip. I decided to try to teach him this lesson because I do not understand it's limitations. I figured when he gets older he can reteach me. Can I only not speak the opposite of nice things? I'd never talk, and no one could possibly benefit from that nonsense.

Bootsy the maid took down the Christmas tree tonight. He prefers to be referred to as my handyperson. He has no problem with lead exposures, which is a plus (as an aside he was able to hang thirty pounds of Christmas lights around the mansion with only a drop of two IQ points). I purchased a Christmas tree removal bag at the store for this occasion. The Christmas tree removal bag did not remove the tree at all and Bootsy had to work very hard. Bootsy now has pine holes all over his handyman, I mean handyperson, hands. I wonder if he's going to charge me extra for that- it's damaging to his title. I allowed him to turn in early tonight to his quarters in the east wing. I'd like him to build me two more closets on the lower level tomorrow for my gi's and skiing attire, respectively. He'll need his rest.