Lately this has become "Wendy's Blog" because I've been to busy and selfish to blog. :)

SELFISH, adj. Devoid of consideration for the selfishness of others. —The Devil's Dictionary

We saw Pirates of the Caribbean. I really liked it. We saw the latest showing, so Brandon slept through half of it. When it was over, Brandon said, " I dunno, I just think that Jack Sparrow was really effeminate. I always pictured pirates as really manly." Okay, first of all, let's think about the feminine aspects of pirates. Puffy shirts, usually long hair, ear rings and generally richly adorned. The masculine? Well, they make off with the women, they're dirty, they sometimes have peg legs and hook hands, but most of all, they're pretty ruthless. I think the ruthless part is what Brandon was missing. Also, the appearance of eye make up that didn't really wash away with water probably didn't help Sparrow out. So anyway, I liked his character (even if, as Seth pointed out, it is pretty darned similar to the way Depp acted in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas). But, I also don't have a problem with guys in eye liner. :-)

After sitting at redlight after redlight on the way home from work, some how I feel justified in speeding through the parking lot near my apartments to get to my garage. The old lady walking her ancient dog glances back at me, a little alarmed. The manager seems a bit disapproving, even though he waves at me. His wife is fussing with a kid and doesn't notice anyway. Speed bumps? If I go in the middle only two wheels hit them. Other cars? They should be prepared for this sort of thing. It's the longest stretch of road I've driven during the day without a needless halt. Why not floor it?

I suffer from an over-active conscience. I feel guilty over everything. As Huck Finn notes, "It don't make no difference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain't got no sense, and just goes for him anyway. If I had a yaller dog that didn't know no more than a person's conscience does I would pison him." Sometimes I torment myself over the way I ordered a little more food than the group I'm with, or how my voice sounded like I was slightly annoyed when I was on the phone with some one I'll never talk to again. Why do I do this? I have no idea. Perhaps too much time to think or some sort of childhood scar. Who knows.

Kobe. Kobe. Kobe. I wasn't planning on blogging about this but I guess I changed my mind. Tonight, Wendy, Seth and I went to the putting greens for a little bit of nite-time golf, and as we were driving Seth home we drove past a plethora of news vans in Newport Coast--just outside Kobe's home. Now I must admit that I have mixed feelings about the situation. I like the basketball player and would like for him to continue helping the Lakers win games. Yet even more, I like justice. Hopefully the truth will be revealed and if that means we lose a darn-good baller then so be it.

I talked to a fellow who is going to change the world, one business at a time. He called my work and I answered.

Me: Thank you for calling-
Revolutionist: Yeah, I want to talk to *Fritz.
Me: Sure, may I tell him who is calling?
Revolutionist: No.
Me: No?
Revolutionist: No. I am sick and tired of calling businesses where they only have time for you if you're a certain person. I know this isn't your problem, but I'm going to tell you anyway...Just tell him I want to talk to him and tell him it is important. That should be enough.
Me: (Greatly regretting my sarcasm must be muzzled during work hours) One moment.

Me: Fritz?
Fritz: Yeah?
Me: You have a call on line one. Whoever it is believes that he shouldn't have to give his name because he's sick and tired of businesses only having time for certain people. Oh, and he says it's important.
Fritz: Put him to voicemail.

*Real name changed to amuse me.

Tonight marked a milestone. For the first time in history I had sushi and liked it. Now, I've had sushi a few times prior, yet I didn't like it. Once I thought it was okay. Another time I almost gagged. Then I thought it was tolarable. But tonight I had sushi and enjoyed it. Every piece. I was surprised. Usually I would be quite content with California rolls and wasabi, but what I had tonight was great. I didn't think it was possible, but it had a good taste. That's it. Sushi can taste good. So Seth, even though every cell in your body would consider the idea repulsive, you should give sushi a second chance.

Today we went to the Getty Center, the Griffith Observatory, and Beverly Hills. The Getty Center was really cool, and Brandon is actually going to post pictures from that. No, really. The architecture there was impressive (and lemme tell ya, I know a thing or two about architecture). I was surprised at the collection there, and I was able to see work from most of my favorite artists. There was plenty of French furniture, too, and it smelled pretty accurate because some of the people around us were undoubtedly... Ripe. Then we went to the observatory, which is closed for renovations until 2005. But that didn't stop us from eating frozen fruit bars and gazing down at the smoggy city of LA. Next we braved the drive through Beverly Hills and ate at the Hard Rock Cafe. The food wasn't that great, but I got to eat near Madonna's dress and Elton John's bell bottoms. I guess that would matter if I actually liked either artist. But for the record, I did see a Pearl Jam guitar and Goo Goo Dolls' drumsticks, and Brandon saw some Beatles stuff. Well there you have it. Our day in a paragraph.

So I stayed home today. Being sick is no fun. I try to ask myself the old questions: "Is it 'starve a fever and feed a cold' or the other way around?" "Do I have a fever or a cold?" It feels like both (sometimes more the one than the other). "Do I sleep?" "Can I sleep?" I tried to do some work, but the headache was too much. Watching ESPN has been getting me through the day. My favorite basketball team has been in the news. It is already old news that Kobe Bryant has been arrested because of sexual assault. They won't leak any real information regarding this until next week. More interestingly, the Lakers picked up two old geasers that should help us out a bit. Gary Payton was an outstanding point guard, but what can he add to the game now? I think he'll do okay. I have mixed feelings about Karl Malone. I have never been a real big fan of him. But now that he's decided that he can't bring the Jazz to win the championship, I think that I don't have as much against him anymore. I just hope that he doesn't take away from Kobe and Shaq's game in pursuit of achieving a point record. I also liked watching the footage of the sausage mascott being hit (lightly) with a baseball bat by Pittsburgh Pirate Randall Simon. It isn't often that I speak about sports, so you should look at this post with much appreciation. (I'm talking to you, Wendy.)

I was picky about what I listened to before. I had the buttons on the radio in the car memorized so that I didn't even have to look when I turned the station, because my dad taught me that looking away from the road for even a moment can cause a wreck. After his friend's daughter got into a wreck from playing with the cd player while driving, (and this happening just before he gave me my car) I was fortunate he didn't take out the radio. I considered myself lucky to even have a tape player, and suffered patiently with mix tapes while my friends enjoyed the luxury of never converting cds into tapes or waiting for anything to rewind or fastforward. Ah, but now I finally have a cd player in my car. And the radio just isn't good enough anymore. It never was, with its incessant commercials, unchanging song mix and annoying morning shows.

Happy Fourth of July!

In order to get a fax machine, people should either be between the age of 14-25 or have taken a class on how to work one. You know why? Because you tell some one you're going to fax them something. They know it's coming. Yet, they answer the phone while you're faxing them. "Reeeh-Hello? Beep! Hello? Reeh-beep! Is anyone there?" And then they call you. And they say "I never did get that fax. I waited 30 minutes for it." I've seen it happen way too many times. The fax machine is a good idea, but in the wrong hands, it's down-right exasperating.

Praise God, from Whom all blessing flow
praise Him, all creatures here below
Praise Him, above ye heavenly hosts
praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost

I always love hearing good news and tonight I heard something truly wonderful. A good friend from Bible College called me. He had been struggling with certain theological issues and about two years ago he ended walking away from the faith completely. Well, tonight he told me that now he is back in the faith! Praise God! Praise him that he is faithful when we are faithless. Amen.

Those of you using DotComments with the new and "improved" blogger.com should note that you need to put single quotes around the <$BlogItemNumber$> where the href for the comments goes. This changes the BlogItemNumber into a string instead of a number and so with the new blogger format (as well as the old) it will count properly. Thus, it should look something like this:

<a href="javascript:viewComments('<$BlogItemNumber$>')"><? echo commentCount('<$BlogItemNumber$>'); ?></a>

So tomorrow is my first day at my new job, as my two week notice ended today at my old job. So now I'll be working in Costa Mesa. That's new for me.

Saturday we went to LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) and had a lovely time. I was able to see paintings by a few of my favorite artists and laugh ignorantly (but silent enough to be polite) at the less favored. Brandon took digital pictures (without the flash, mind you), so you all can see what we saw...Just without having to walk a lot or pay, or bother with being able to see the tiny details and whatnot. And you don't even have to smell the La Brea tar pits when you leave. That is, if my dear husband posts the pictures. Feel free to encourage him.

Sunday we spent most of the day at the church barbeque. I was social up until the last 30 minutes, and Brandon won the most valuable player in volleyball for the other team. And we got sunburnt. Hooray for summer.