That Was The Week That Was

The Beast:
I've spent this week working very hard on The Beast, the official Betland nickname for my spare bedroom/storage space/catchall for everything I don't have a spot for. For three years now I've been throwing stuff in that room and closing the door behind me. And since I have to be in that room every day because it's where my make-up table is, I've hated it and myself for letting it get that way. So this week I set out to tackle The Beast.

I bought shelves for videos and CDs, which freed up a chest of drawers they used to be housed in. Extra clothes which were in plastic bins went to the chest. Furniture was removed. And it's been trash, trash, trash, organize, organize, organize. Only tonight when I left the room for dinner did I start to believe I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, if I keep working tonight, I might possibly finish in the wee hours of the morning. That would make me happy. Then I could concentrate on getting my taxes done, and another household task at hand.... (pronounced, "dot-dot-dot-dot")

The Cabinets
Next weekend I'm undertaking probably the biggest job since I've moved into the Poderosa - I'm painting my kitchen cabinets. I've disliked those cabinets since I moved in, and I've toyed with the idea of painting them many times. But it's a damn daunting thought.

Finally, I decided, what the hell, let 'er rip.

So I've been researching painting cabinets on the internet. I've gotten all my information about paints, primers, materials needed (who knew about tri-sodium phosphate? not bloody me), and tomorrow I'm going to do the shopping. Tuesday the cleaning, Thursday the masking, and Friday and Saturday the painting. Mr M has bravely volunteered to help.

It could be interesting, someone reading about what to do. Real life seldom works out like the directions on a website. But there's always the reassuring thought that if I get flighty and out of sorts, Mr M will surely bong me on the head with a cabinet door.

Go Enlarge Yourself, PeeWee
I've been invaded by penis enlargement people. As you may have noticed, their bombardment showed in the comments of acro. But they also horned in on three other of my comments, and showed up in my guestbook.

I've considered moving to Blogger for my comments, but I'm hedging. I'm not fond of their commenting system. It's temperamental and very slow.

But to these penis assholes I say, "Thanks but no. My penis is plenty large and keeps the girls begging for more. Go bother someone else."

A Gay Knee Replacement
Remember that commercial I was on about the other day? The "we almost had to leave the city we love" woman who was too dumb to get an apartment at the bottom of the hill? Well, you know, the city she loves is San Francisco, and for a great deal of the commercial she's walking arm and arm with a woman, admiring flowers. Is this something we should know about? Is the "we" not she and her husband but she and her young lover?

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

However, one thing I'll say for the commercial. I like the fact that the bad-kneed woman is wearing big old black orthopedic shoes.

Don't You Go Accusing Me
Speaking of commercials, here's one that really gets up my nose. No pun intended. It's the one for Secret deodorant where they show all these women doing various and sundry things in the public eye, and they all not-so-discreetly lean down to sniff their underarms. Then the voiceover comes on and says, "We all do it."

Well, fuck you, false advertisers. I don't do it, I've never done it, and if you're going to accuse me of doing it, you can go straight to hell. And I can lay odds that I'm not the only person who doesn't feel this undying need to stick my nose in my armpit in the library, the park bench, and while serving people at a restaurant.

I'm well-deodoranted, and not with your product, either. So there.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Very excited about tomorrow night. Going to see the Stetsons in concert! What, you don't know the Stetsons? Well, of course you don't, silly, they're the nephew's band. They're playing at a local restaurant in town, and this will be the first time I've seen them. I'll be taking pictures, so look out, Picture Sunday.