Cleanin' out the dusty corners of my spring-addled brain.

2004-03-20 at 5:16 p.m.

• Don't send me to the store for a six dollar rake, because I'll come home with seventy dollars worth of plants, fertilizer, Miracle-Gro, and a hose. With one of those nozzly things. Only to find out we don't have a spigot anywhere near our bowling-alley of a yard.

• Don't get the sperm in the cheese.

• Don't send me to Target for a gift for a friend, because I'll come home with socks, candles, a new dormat, and some incense.

• Be glad that none of the clothes I tried on fit.

• Know that sending your husband to the grocery store means he'll come back with far more beer and far less vegetable than you are used to in your week. It's Karma, I suppose, for the plants and the socks and the incense.

• Finding out you have a massive family vacation in August after which they'll all come by and visit and see where you live for the first time means your planning goes something like this: "I have four months to lose twenty pounds, plant good stuff in my yard, reorganize my study, and finish off those curtains I made a year ago but never hemmed. No problem!" and then you remember you are going to be going to school and working during all that time.

• I was in the Ed building at PSU and had to use the bathroom really quickly. So I stepped in, and was hit with the Eau d'Urine, and thought, DAYUM, but someone had issues in here early today. But I mouth-breathed (mouth-brothe?) my way through a quick tinkle and a wee bit o' primping and walked out--only to see the women's room door across the hall. I quickly let the door close and looked back at it--oh yes. I had used the men's room. Ladies and gentlemen, Karma owns my ass, has it in a sno-globe up on a dusty shelf, and decided to give that shit a good shakin'.

• And can I discuss some ads I reeeeeeeeally don't like? One is for Bud Lite or one of those types of beers. Two svelte young women carefully carrying their bottles label-side-out have asked over a cute-ish neighbor to help them hang a picture, and while he's being manly and all, he falls through the wall, and such are the lengths to which he'll go to for a Bud Lite. I have been a woman, admittedly never very svelte, but I have been a woman for some time now. And I have even been a woman with an attractive roommate. We have never ever ever even contemplated asking someone over to hang a picture for us. So what the hell is the point of this ad? They used that as an excuse to get him in the apartment? Is that not the lamest excuse you've ever heard? Who wouldn't see right through that? I mean, "We need help hanging a picture." "Uh... because the hammer's too heavy for your widdle arms??" Blegh.

• And there's another ad, for some sort of herbal libido supplement. So, there's this woman talking about how she can't get in the mood, and she's all, "I'm like, with two kids, a job, and the groceries and making dinner, you wouldn't be able to get in the mood either! But then I found this pill!" All I want to say is this: so it's back to being our fault again, for not being in the mood. No, it's not that we're* shouldering the majority of the burden, even with a "real" job, of cooking, cleaning, and making sure there's something in the fridge besides mouldy cheese and the three beers left of the six pack and could maybe use some help and then maybe we'd feel like, you know, fooling around? It's that we haven't found the right pill! Because then we can shoulder that entire burden and still be a whore in the bedroom for you! Gah. *I am saying "we" as an expression of sisterhood, not as a personal admission of any sort.