So the Fish Said...

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear.

- Walt Whitman

Meet the Fish

I want to get a pet duck and keep it in the bathtub.
I am addicted to chap stick and altoids.
I am freakishly flexible.

World's Most Beautiful Child


World's Most Handsome Child


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Clive Owen

Clive Owen
Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend

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so the fish said...
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People! I am in crisis! Now, I know that I tend to exaggerate and make a big deal out of nothing, but this time? This time it is really serious. I just don't know what to do. I'm at a total loss and I am worried that I may never recover from this.

You see..

(My gawd, I can't believe I am even saying this! I never thought it would come to this!)

Ok. Here it is. Nobody. And I mean nobody. Not my mother. Not my husband. Not a single, solitary soul. Gave me a page-a-day cat calendar for 2005.



Someone ALWAYS gives me a page-a-day cat calendar, but not this year. This year I guess I was deemed not worthy of having the page-a-day cat calendar. This year, nobody loved me enough to do this small thing for me. I really don't know what to do about this. I mean, it's not like I can just go out and BUY one myself. I suppose my only choice is to hide under a rock for all of 2005.

This is awful, people. Just awful.


On a more serious note, there are lots of people with real problems, and this week there are lots more of them due to the terrible earthquake and tsumanis in South Asia. If you have it to spare, they could sure use some money.

Shut it

When you are behind me in the cafeteria line carrying a four course meal plus a piece of chocolate cake the size of my own very large and melonish head, you really should resist the urge to comment on the size of my salad with non-fat dressing.

By the way honey, your ass really doesn't need that cake.

Slobbery Slob. No, literally.

I am not a slob for wearing yoga pants all day yesterday. I worked from home yesterday and I actually went to yoga last night, so really I was just being prepared and also conserving water by having one less pair of pants to wash.

I may be a little bit of a slob for wearing the same shirt all day Sunday and then all day yesterday and then to the gym last night. However, it isn't like I got out of the shower after the gym and put the shirt back on, so at worst this is limited slobbery.

I am a great big hairy smelly slob for yawning in the middle of yoga last night while doing a forward fold and letting a great big wad of drool plop out of my mouth and down onto my mat. Also, onto my hand. And then wiping it up not with the shirt I had been wearing for two solid days, but instead with my relatively clean yoga pants which I then wore to the gym this morning and then folded neatly and left to be ready to wear again tomorrow.

Oh Internet, wouldn't your lives me sad and meaningless if you didn't have me to tell you these stories of my personal humiliations.

Does this count against my 15 minutes?

Well, it finally happened. Last night, I saw someone I know on reality TV. This was not someone I met once 15 years ago, this was someone who lived 5 houses away from me and went to school with me for 8 years. The show was What Not to Wear (ok, so it's a makeover show, same difference) and it was funny in that I was reminded of the reasons that this person and I stopped being friends after a couple of years. See, she's still pretty bossy and demanding and controlling, and that just doesn't fly with me because I like to be the bossy, demanding, controlling person in a relationship. Anyway, we haven't spoken in at least 12 years, but I am still kind of mad that she didn't invite me to the big "reveal" party so that I could have been on reality TV too.

Merry Merry

Merriness and happiness to all today (ok, and every day for that matter).

Now, does anybody want to come over for blueberry pancakes? I was going to make them for Chris, but he won't get his butt out of bed.


I just bought two new Wonderbras. My reasons for telling you this are threefold:

1. They were on sale, $10 off, and I had a 10% off coupon. There are very few things in life that make me happier than buying something on sale and having a coupon. Yes, clearly I need to get out more.
2. If any of you ladies out there ever have occasion to avail yourselves of the services of a Wonderbra, they are on sale at Hecht's. Just a little PSA from me to you.
3. Could someone please explain to me why I keep buying Wonderbras? The fact is, they aren't much use to me since I don't have much of anything to Wonder. There was a time in my life when this bothered me, but that time is long gone. Sure, I think it would be fun to be able to, I don't know, maybe borrow boobs for special occasions, but I don't think I would want to have to wear them around all the time. So why do I keep kidding myself with the Wonderbras? Oh, also. does anyone know where you can borrow boobs for special occasions?

Mood Swings

I'm working from home today. Happy.

I have absolutely nothing to do. Sad.

I'm wearing yoga pants, my husband's sweatshirt, and a crooked ponytail. Happy.

I think I have to go into the office tomorrow. Sad.

I am doing laundry while pretending to work. I like doing laundry. Happy.

I am considering raking the leaves in the front yard. Sad.

I got to sleep 30 minutes late this morning since I didn't have to drive to work or look presentable. Happy.

I went to the gym anyway. It was 4 degrees when I left. Sad.

I killed ten minutes by cleaning the crap out of the desk drawer. Happy.

The desk only has one drawer. Sad.

It is almost noon, which means I can stop pretending to work for an hour and call it "lunch." Happy.

There are no french fries or chocolate in the house. Sad.

More proof you can't take me anywhere

So, did anyone else come to work today with a black strapless bra in their purse? And did anyone else accidentally pull their black strapless bra out of their purse in front of five people while searching for their ID badge this morning? Or is it just me?

On a happier note, it is so freaking cold in here today that the extra bra has come in handy for wrapping around my neck for extra insulation. Good thing I have an office with a door.

Call me Donna

I have an amazing talent for holding grudges. Here are just a few of the things I am still mad about:

When I was 7 or 8, a friend and I planned a show for my mom and one of our neighbors. There was singing and dancing. It was highly entertaining and the production values were terribly impressive for two 7 year old girls. My mom and the neighbor spent the whole show talking, with my mom contributing fascinating tidbits such as what a disaster it was when I tried to play the violin. Twenty some years later, I have yet to forgive her.

When I was in junior high, I spent a couple of weeks one summer taking a class called Shake Hands with Shakespeare. We met for several hours every day for two or three weeks and in the end put on an edited version of "The Taming of the Shrew" to the delight and adulation of our parents. For the auditions, we all sat around and read through the script and everyone got to read different parts at different times. Except me. I read one line during auditions, "I have my books, father" and then was not allowed to read again. Clearly this is the reason I got a crappy made-up part as a street urchin. Still feel cheated.

In high school, my best friend and I were both in a school play, and my best friend bought our Drama teacher (who had directed the play) a ring as a thank-you gift. She made me give her money for the ring, but she only signed her own name on the card. Nope, still haven't let it go.

I just realized there are all about performing in some way. You can call me Donna. As in prima.

By the numbers

Hey, if you want something original go talk to someone who isn't so grumpy.

Number of days since I have been to work: 4
Number of times today I have wished I still was not at work: 86
Number of times I have wanted to go home and crawl back into bed: 109
Number of times I woke up at 1:30 last night: 1
Number of times I was able to fall back asleep: 0
Number of times I kicked my husband because he was snoring: 3
Number of times I kicked my husband because I was cranky: 3
Number of Christmas presents purchased on days off: 3
Number of suggestions for Christmas presents received from my husband: 0
Number of gifts purchased for my husband: 2
Number of times I will punch him if he does not display appropriate enthusiasm for said presents: 16
Number of Christmas presents currently under my Christmas tree: 10
Number of those presents that are for me: 0
Number of hours until my boss rolls into town: 6
Number of boxes of chocolate purchased for my boss in a shameless display of brown-nosing: 1
Number of times my boss hugged me the first time I met her: 2
Number of times my boss hugged me the last time she was in town: 1
Number of boss hugs anticipated over the next two days: 3
Number of conference calls to host this afternoon: 1
Number of times I tried to think of a reason to postpone conference call: 12
Number of times I moved my huge heavy monitor only to return it to the exact same place it started: 1
Number of Christmas cards purchased: 60
Number of Christmas cards completed, addressed, stamped and mailed: 0
Number of boxes of Christmas cards that have been opened in preparation for completing cards: 0
Number of episodes of The Swan watched last night instead of doing Christmas cards: 2
Number of times I have realized that I am far too cranky to come up with a decent post: 5
Number of stupid posts I decided to put up anyway: 1

What's wrong with people?

I don't want to be the locker room police, really I don't, but clearly somebody has to do it. I had hoped that my last set of instructions on the matter would have covered it, but apparently some of you need additional guidance. Here goes.

If you must lie naked on a locker room bench, you must lie as still as possible. You must not under any circumstances perform a series of single leg lifts. Nobody wants to see that honey, really.

We are so ready to be parents

Last night, Chris picked up the cat to put her on the bed and slammed her flat little head into the footboard. I laughed. Clearly, it is time we had a baby because the cats really need a break from us.

P.S. The cat is fine. Please don't call PETA.

My love/hate relationship with me

When my alarm went off at 5:00 today, I rolled over, yelled "shut the fuck up, you ignorant whore," turned off the alarm and went right back to sleep. I loved myself for that. It was 5 AM after all when all rational people are asleep and warm and asleep and not getting up to feed the whining cats and brave the cold and go to the gym to run on the treadmill for an hour. However, because I am psychotic and also crazy and cannot possibly skip the gym without risking immediate death or maybe bad breath and boils, now I have to go to the gym after work. The only thing that is worse than going to the gym at 5:00 in the morning is going to the gym after work. I hate myself for this, hence my dilemma. Is it better to love myself at 5 AM and hate myself all day, or hate myself at 5 AM and mildly resent myself but also feel self-righteous and thin all day? I think I need to have a peanut butter cookie while I ponder this universal question. We will not even start on the love/hate fiasco brought on by peanut butter cookies.

Easy to Please

I went down to the good old corporate cafeteria for lunch today, and as I was standing in line waiting to pay I smelled someone's lunch that smelled so yummy it took amazing amounts of self-restraint to not sniff it out and steal it. When I got back to my desk, I realized that the yummy wonderful smell was coming from my very own lunch. Made my whole day.

In which I talk to myself for no particular reason

Beth: You know what I hate?

Internet: Little dogs.

Beth: Well yes, I do hate little dogs.

Internet: Pointless meetings.

Beth: Who doesn't hate pointless meetings?

Internet: Snotty bitches.

Beth: Ok, that's sort of a pot/kettle thing, but yes, that's true.

Internet: Parsnips.

Beth: Did I tell you about the parsnips? I don't remember telling you about the parsnips. My god, I hate parsnips.

Internet: Your ovaries.

Beth: But I hate them for a very good reason, in that they are lazy slack-ass bitches.

Internet: People who stretch in the gym locker room. Naked.

Beth: Well that's just disgusting.

Internet: When someone.

Beth: Now wait a minute, let's try to focus here people. I get the point, there are lots of things that I complain about hating, but I have a new one! Don't you want to hear about the new one?

Internet: Yes, Beth. Please, tell us about the new thing you hate. (Yawn.)

Beth: There's no need to be so rude. Now let's see, where was I? Oh yes, I hate teenage girls. No offense if you are a teenage girl, but I find that teenage girls tend to be snotty and rude and speak in high pitched squealy giggles and be thinner than me. I've decided that if I ever have a daughter, when she is 12 I will give her a choice: she can either join a convent or the circus. I would personally prefer the circus, but I accept that this hypothetical daughter will be to some degree a person in her own right and therefore I am willing to give her options.

On a totally unrelated subject, I am listening to muzak waiting for a conference call to start and a prominent feature of the current ditty is someone breathing heavily. I just thought you should know that.

Worst meeting ever

I just got out of the worst meeting ever. How bad was it? The only thing that prevented me from disemboweling myself with my ballpoint pen was that I didn't want to bleed on my pretty cashmere sweater.

Deck the Halls

I'm trying to catch up from my four day weekend today, however I have another four day weekend coming up. Therefore, we can think of my motivation as a calculus problem. It's like a limit, in that it approaches zero, requiring me to sit and stare mindlessly at my laptop, but never reaches zero which would require me to go home and go back to bad. At least, I think that's what it would be like if it were a limit. Calculus was a couple of years ago, but I did get an A. Yes, I am gloating, it was the only A I ever got in a math class in my entire life. I took Calculus for no reason in particular at the local community college. Um, wait. Did I have a point?

While I spend today catching up on boring work, I thought I would share a tender and heart-warming holiday moment from the Fish-Cactus household. We got our Christmas tree this weekend (bought the very first one we saw and it is perfect because we rock) but with the birthday and all did not get around to decorating said tree until last night. We probably would have waited anyway, because we have this holiday tradition. Every year, we get the tree and then get out all our ornaments - we still have the ornaments from our very first tree together and the ones we got the year we got married and some from my childhood and some from trips we have taken. So we pull out these ornaments that have so many memories and work together to hang them on our tree. While watching Fear Factor. Nothing to get you in the Christmas spirit like watching people get attacked by dogs. It's a tradition we plan to share with our children and hope that they will pass on to their children as well.

The Birthday Boy

Happy Birthday Chris!


I'm very glad that you were born.

All my love,

Who needs coherence?

Item One: Would someone on my notify list please let me know whether you get all of my notifications twice? I get them twice and I thought I had figured out why and how to only get them once but when I tried it I didn't get it at all. Also, if you are getting my notifications twice would some smart and lovely MT guru like to tell me what my problem is? Also also, I don't think there's any way to unsubscribe to my list other than asking me to take you off, so if you want to unsubscribe just let me know and I promise to keep my tears and depression to myself and not inflict my deep and enduring sadness on you.

Item Two: The group I work with is promoting some people and this week I got to do all the interviews. They told me I got to do all the interviews because I was so important and reliable and clever and brilliant and really, really sexy. The real reason is that nobody else wanted to do them so I got volunteered. I did 109 interviews in two and a half days. Ok, it was only 25 interviews, but it felt like 109. And really, since I was already so busy with other things this week it was 25 interviews in three half-days. I asked the same 16 questions all 25 times and took copious and illegible notes and tried very hard not to yawn or doze off during the interviews.

One of the women I interviewed told me I was a bitch during the interview. I recommended her for the job anyway because hey, she was only telling the truth.

Item Three: Earlier today, I happened to be near our old apartment and decided to go check out the old place. This is the apartment we had before we were married - over 5 years ago. It was not a nice place. Actually, it was a pretty crappy place but we were young and poor and it was what we could afford. I will give you an example of the crappiness. Up the hill from our apartment was another apartment complex. One night, someone at that other complex got shot. This is in Reston people. Rich, yuppie, outer suburban Reston. Anyway, our crappy old apartment complex where Chris got electrocuted by the oven hood and you got third degree burns in the shower if someone eight doors down and two floors up flushed the toilet and where directly below us there were 23 people living in a two bedroom apartment has built itself a huge, new, beautiful leasing center. The buildings are exactly the same, the non-existent landscaping is the same, there are still holes in the parking lot big enough for children to go swimming, but they have a leasing center. It looks like a much nicer apartment complex brought it's leasing center over to visit and then forgot to take it home.

Item Four: I finally got off my butt and got Chris a birthday present. If he doesn't like it I am going to punch him in the spleen. Does anybody know where your spleen is? I want to be sure my aim is accurate.

Alive, barely

I'm so busy this week I don't even have time to bitch about being busy, and I can always find the time to bitch. However, I am off work tomorrow and Monday so will dedicate the weekend to bitching and moaning and whining as per usual. At least, I will dedicate those portions of the weekend which are not dedicated to spoiling my husband on the occasion of his birthday on Sunday.

I love letting the cat out of the bag.