I'm sitting here watching Las Vegas and it's kind of hot. One of the casino hosts is escorting around this high roller who likes to be bossed around by women (which she accidentally finds out when being nice to him gets her nowhere so she finally blows her stack and tells the guy off). She's yelling at the guy, making him split his 10s when he doesn't want to (blackjack), just generally riding his ass and aciting like a PMS bitch. It's kind of a turn on that he digs it, the girl sure seems to be enjoying herself.

Finished week 3 with the trainer. Have gained 3 pounds -- but my jeans are loser. Go figure. I guess muscle really does weigh more than fat (or so I keep telling myself).

I consider myself to be a fairly liberal person in most respects. I mean, if you want to smoke medical marijuana while having a medical abortion, then have someone assist you in suicide, I'm pretty much OK with that. That being said, am I the only one who thinks it's ridiculous that the local news is showing a bunch of gangbangers in juvenile jail with their faces blurred but gang hand signs and tattoos on full display? And then, even better, the captions include their gang monikers. When's the last time you watched CNN and saw the President captioned "George Bush aka Dubya"? Give me a fuckin' break. The anchor idiot is talking about this scourge, then lets them advertise their neighborhoods with that nonsense. That's exactly the shit they get off on. Nice job. BTW -- get some help with your Mexican gang name pronunciation. This is LA for gods sakes. It's Pecas (PEH-kahs) not Pecas (pay-kuss), it means freckles.

Clothes mullet, a fashion don't? Last night Kristy and I were talking about fashion stuff and what you can and can't wear together. For instance, in Kristy's book, long sleeves with shorts is a total don't. I asked what if it's a swetshirt (over a t-shirt) with shorts. That was acceptable. Pants suit with open toe shoes, no. I think her philosophy really boils down to no clothes mullets. You can't be summer on the bottom, winter on the top, or something like that.

So while this is going on, we're lookin on the Net for a frosting recipe to go with the lemon cake mix she discovered in my pantry. (Kristy came over for dinner and we were lamenting our lack of dessert.) Then I remembered that Marie Callendar's had pies on sale. I said we should go get a pie so that we could eat it while making the cake. My son's response, "No offense mom, but that's the fattest thing I've ever heard." I was only kidding. Honest. Not about the pie mind you -- we did make the MC run. Just didn't bake a cake while eating it.

Tonight is night 5 with the trainer. Time for arms again. Have actually gained a couple of pounds since I started working out again -- which totally sucks. Tom warned me that might happen, something about muscles absorbing lots of water when you first start working out. Not liking this.

My ex just dropped off our son and was lecturing him about springing friends on him. He started to say that when he picked up the boy, a friend was here too and the ex got suckered into taking both of them out to dinner. I was like, "hold, up. A what? Was where?" No, no, no. First it's PS2 with a buddy, then next thing you know I'm a grandma at 40. My son knows better (or so I thought) than to have someone in the house after school without permission. So, I asked my son who gave him permission. That boy had the nerve to say I did. Straight face and all. What? When the fuck did that happen? I don't think so. You might wonder what the miscommunication was. Well, apparently he left a message on my cell phone letting me know that his friend was coming over to hang out, which in his mind equaled permission. Hello? I don't fuckin' think so. "Nice try," I told him. Then I grounded him until after the weekend. Told him that excuse was retired and I don't ever want to hear it again, not when he's 16 -- "but mom, I left you a message letting you know I was going to TJ with the guys..." -- not ever. My ex left at that point, probably happy he doesn't have to hear it anymore! This feels like the weekend the bird cage will get cleaned. Little does my son know, but if he could ever get through the hard labor portion of the punishment gracefully (like bird cage cleaning), the jail time would be reduced. But no, every time it's with the eyes rolling, heavy sighing, lips dragging on the ground. He never gets paroled early.

Tom and I did arms today. 4 circuits. Then 20 minutes on the arm bike machine (whatever the hell it's called) to cool down. At least now the pain will be evenly distributed throughout my body. On the plus side, I didn't feel like throwing up the entire time tonight. Day 2 down.

One session of hell over, only 11 more to go. Met my trainer Tom last night. My legs are so weak & heavy this morning I could barely lift my feet off the ground to put my underwear on. In half an hour, I'm supposed to walk 5 blocks to a meeting, uphill. There are normally escalators for the worst part of it, but one of them was broken yesterday. I sure hope it's working now. Can't wait for arms on Wednesday! Funny thing, Tom's wife is a real estate agent in the area where I'm looking to buy. Maybe Karma is rewarding me for getting off my lazy ass by helping me find a house.

Didn't get a chance to post on Sunday after Kristy's birthday lunch -- couldn't get the keyboard to stop spinning long enough. 12 or so girls started out at noon for lunch and "shopping." Well, it turns out that "shopping" is code for "drinking." After lunch we started a pub crawl at the dive bar across the street from the restaurant. When 6 rolled around we were still in the same spot. Oh well, not much of a crawl but the drinking was extremely successful.

I wonder whose job it is at Google to come up with the fun themed logos on the search page. Is it an entire graphic arts department or just one creative guy with a really sweet gig? Yesterday's had a mermaid. Not sure what the significance was, but it looked cool.

Took a second look at the little Spanish style for sale on the coast -- as if there's a snowball's chance in hell of me tackling a $1 million mortgage solo. Oh well, no charge to look. I'm going to start seriously looking into buying a house this year. I know that with my budget I'll be lucky to find one in an "up and coming neighborhood" (aka ghetto) -- and will be happy to get it. But, at least I know this town. Some bad neighborhoods are worse than others and I'm really hoping for semi-ghetto or better. Nothing like getting in on the ground floor. No where to go but up.

I finally took the naked pictures of Anna Nicole Smith off of my garage wall today. The ex has been gone for almost 3 years, but for some reason Anna Nicole was still hanging around. The funny thing is, I couldn't quite bring myself to throw them away. It was the young & pretty Anna Nicole from the Guess and Playboy days. I always thought that if my man had to have naked pictures hanging in the garage, at least they were of a curvy kind of girl like Anna Nicole -- not some unrealistic stick figure. The pictures probably would have stayed there forever -- barely noticed anymore -- if my friend Kristy hadn't moved her air hockey table into my garage. My 12 year old son & his friends will be using it while it's here and I can't have them out there staring at Anna Nicole's tits the whole time. So, I guess I'll just stick her away with some of the other crap I can't quite bring myself to throw out and deal with her later. I wonder if there's a market for her on Ebay?

Signed up with a personal trainer today -- after going out to breakfast and having sourdough toast with strawberry jam, sausage, potatoes and eggs. Every condondemed (wo)man gets a last meal. 4 weeks, 12 sessions, starting Monday. What have I done?

Well, here it is, my very first post. I've been thinking lately that I should keep a journal, or maybe a dream log, or something. But, being 2006 and all, this seemed like the way to go.

I have some really amusing thoughts, snippets of funny scenarios that run through my mind. Sometimes I think I should write them down, do something with them. Try something new. Maybe try to write a short stand-up routine. Who knows? Maybe I'll just share some of them here now and then and see what happens.

Of course, now that I'm here, I can't think of a g** d*** one of them. In fact, I'm struggling to string 5 words together. Story of my life. Well, the first step is the hardest.