Ditto.

Well, there's probably no need for me to ever bother writing again, since the boys at The Beast have said nearly everything I ever wanted to.

While I wallow in my inferiority and mourn the fact that I'll never be both as witty and concise, have a look at their 50 Most Loathsome People in America, 2005.

Oh, and for those of you dying for an update: I still have yet to hear from the movers, who I hope (pray, wish, beg) will be here on Friday or everything turns to shit.

While the "Uproot Your Life in 10 Days" adventure is going relatively ok, Mr. Bitch and I are rattled and only marginally in touch with the mechanics of sane conversation.

Here's an exchange we had about ice cream (referred to as "Phish") just the other night:

Q: Do you want your ice cream now or later?

A: Yeah.

Q: That was an "or" question.

A: Phish.

Meanwhile, Baby Bitch says "bye bye" every 4 minutes or so.

We should be on a plane Saturday. If not, you can find me in a little room, rocking back & forth and wearing a little canvas number with really long arms.

Pic of the Day

Just something sweet in case your day hasn't been.

Personal Drivel, or "Where the Hell Has She Been?"

I figure it's high time I poke my head in here and at least pretend I have something to do with the goings on of this blog, eh?

Things at Casa Bitch have been moving at something of a fever pitch for the last couple of weeks thanks to some stellar news: Mr. Bitch has accepted an offer he (we) couldn't refuse in lovely Colorado and we have to effect our transplant in a mere two weeks (er, 10 days, now). Thankfully, Big Company is paying for the move and coordinating the beefy mover dudes, but all other logistics fall to moi, Domestic Engineer of the Bitch household.

I'm of two minds over this task allocation: my anal retentive half is perfectly content to have my fingers in nearly all the pies, since "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself". (Yes, I have trouble delegating in a corporate environment. You have a problem with that?!?) My lazy hippie half wants to whine about not having it all magically attended by the moving fairy and is steering my packing procrastination a bit starboard. No doubt this schizophrenic approach to such an upheaval is more interesting to actually watch than read about, but should any particularly comic results manifest while I crumble into a pile of panic and sloth, I'll be sure to pass them along to you, kind and loyal readers.

The end-of-the-rainbow element of this move means that after nearly 7 years, Mr. Bitch will finally stop traveling for a living and be home every night of the week. This is of increasing importance as Baby Bitch enters his 2nd year and is a heartbeat away from pleas of "Daddy, don't go". As my husband so delicately put it, however, the Elephant in the Living Room is "what happens if we don't actually LIKE seeing each other every day?" In my mind, this leaves us with a few interesting options.

A.) Banal hobbies. He might find some belching poker party to attend or I might try to explore some Cassarole-of-the-Month Club or something. Green beans and peanut butter, anyone?

B.) The night shift. I was a stellar bar tender. Charming, witty, flirtatious. I can seduce you into buying far more drinks than you intended to consume and then kick you out at closing in a way that makes you feel like I can hardly wait for your return. My tendency to linger after closing and get sloshed might be a downside at this point, however.

C.) Back yard burial. Mr. Bitch is insured. I know where he sleeps. And the silly man lets me feed him all the time. Hey, accidents happen. People disappear all the time.

Chances are good we'd opt for A in the event claustrophobia sets in, but in all seriousness, the good news is this: Mr. Bitch and our devil-spawn are pretty much the center of my universe and for good reason; their company is impossible to beat and most days, I love them so much it's hard to breathe.

I'll do my best to pop in here over the next couple-three weeks and regale you with amusing moving tales (assuming such animals exist), but if I don't, I trust you'll understand. I've only been half-watching the news/reading the blogs and all the State of the Nation garners is an eye-roll and a surge of bile. Commentary is plentiful on my blog roll. Please avail yourselves of it if you haven't yet. My continual thanks to Lily for keeping the cobwebs at bay...

I'll resume the regularly scheduled snark once we're settled in Colorado. It's a red state, you know. Thankfully, blue counties are plentiful and Boulder (Hippie Heaven) is less than an hour away from our would-be abode. <whew>

Cheers.

A Little-a-This, A Little-a-That

I swear, my two-year-old is running my ass ragged. By the time I get a breather at night, I have all the wit of a goldfish.

Many thanks to those that posted New Year's wishes -- greatly appreciated. And a special thanks to Disgusted in St. Louis for the photohop magic -- you ROCK!

If all, what, 4? of you show up tonight, treat this as an open thread.

Here's a few morsels for ya:

Does Digby ever have an off day? Somehow, I doubt it.

Fasten your seatbelts. The press is surely under tremendous pressure from the Republicans to report this as a bi-partisan scandal and they are already buckling under. But that doesn't change the fact that this is a GOP operation from the get --- and they know it.

[...]

This characterization of the scandal as being "bi-partisan" is typical bad mainstream journalism, particularly the emphasis they are placing on the very small handful of Democrats who've even been mentioned (much less included in any legal procedings.) Not only are they creating some equity and illegality where none exists, by doing it they are missing the real story, as usual.

This isn't a story about power corrupting or about a few bad apples. This is about a corrupt political machine --- a system of money laundering and public corruption on behalf of one political party. It's about a party that has used every tool at its disposal to legally and illegally enrich itself and enhance its power. It's right there. It's unravelling before our eyes.

Fucking brilliant: You don't have to a sociopath to be Republican, but it helps. (hat tip C&L)

I'm seriously thinking of ordering this as a bumper sticker.

In case you missed any mentions of it, turns out Mel Gibson is something of a dolt. Oh well. I'll probably still see The New World.

If any of you have had the displeasure of speaking to a wingnut that cites publications like World Net Daily as gospel, you'll like ConWebWatch. When I'm in such a revolting position, the amount of crap contained in such "references" is enough to make my hair hurt and I honestly can't be bothered to reply in detail about why virtually every sentence is wrong. Thanks to these nifty Internets, I (we) have a little help in that area. Enjoy.