Q: Hey Laura! Where ya been?
A: Well, kiddo and I drove to Louisiana last Sunday and came back late Thursday night. Yesterday I slept late, drank a pot of coffee, talked to a couple of people online and then hung out with my mom. Today I'm cleaning house and cooking red beans.
Q: Louisiana, huh? How is everybody?
A: Well, dad's still sick, which he's gonna be for a while - until he dies. Everybody else is about the same.
Q: Wow. You sound kind of, uh, flip about the whole dad thing.
A: Bite me. Or is that too flip?
Q: Dude!
A: Oh, Ok. Look, here's the deal. Dad is dying. We all know it, and we're all sort of just waiting at this point. I have a few choices here, all of which fall into two categories - wail and moan and fret until it happens, or live my life and deal with it the best I can until it happens. I choose Plan B. Unfortunately, my way of dealing with things is an uncomfortable bluntness and a black sense of humor.
Q: Ok, fair enough. How's the kid?
A: Oh, she's OK I guess - let's ask. She says "good...?" She's doing OK, I suppose. As well as any 14-year old kid can do when she's lost a grandmother, had her parents get divorced, watched a big chunk of her childhood get washed away and watched her grandfather deteriorate all in the course of 3 years. She's doing pretty fuckin' peachy, all things considered.
Q: What about you?
A: Hey - look! Weather!!
Q: AHEM.
A: Oh, fine. I'm doing OK. I'm probably drinking more than I should, but then again, when aren't I? And I start crying at some strange times, but I'm generally OK. There's not a damn thing I can do about my dad's illness, and leaving his house on Thursday was painful, because both of us are pretty sure it's the last time we'll see each other, but, I'm doing OK in a generally-speaking, holistic sort of way.
Q: What?
A: Look, if you're just going to be obtuse about this, I'm going to quit.
Q: Are you out of wine or something?
A: As a matter of fact, I am, not that that has anything to do with anything. Hmph. Look, the deal is, I'm walking that line between anger and depression and it really sort of sucks. That's all.
Q: Oh. Got it. Wanna change subjects?
A: Yes please.
Q: OOOOh, what are you wearing???
A: Freak.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
This 3 Blind Moose stuff still sucks, but I had to finish it.
In my teeny little corner of the internet, I have the coolest readers in the whole world. Thank you very very very much for the sweet comments.
Miz S had some specific questions:
This is definitely not the time to give up booze. Your poor Dad. I hope they can get the pain under control. Is your step-mom checking into hospice care or is it not quite that time yet? What about your siblings? Are you guys close? Seems like a good time to stand together. I'm really sorry, Laura. How awful.
Yeah, the booze thing has been shot to hell. I haven't had any hamburgers though! Whoo! Go me!!
His pain seems to be under control - he has morphine patches and is taking liquid morphine right on schedule (about every three hours.) My stepmother said that they're keeping him on pain meds so that the pain doesn't get too bad, because like father like daughter, he tends to wait till the last minute before he takes anything, and then he has to wait for it to kick in and he's miserable for no reason. So, she has taken over the meds regimen as much as he'll let her and is making sure that he's not hurting too much. But it's still difficult and exhausting for him to move around, even something as simple as changing from laying in bed to sitting up. He also said that due to "[his] medical condition it feels like [he's] sitting on a grapefruit." Hence the wincing and the not sitting up too much.
He was set to start up with hospice over the weekend, but due to the Monday doctor's appointment and the possibility of being put in the hospital and the wrench that can throw in hospice care, they put off making any official hospice arrangements until Monday. I haven't heard anything from StepMom today (and no, I haven't called. I'm not sure what to say today - "anything changed?" "nope" I think - hell I don't know what I think. Eh - this ramble's getting to long for parentheses - moving on) so I'm assuming that he decided not to go with any other procedures and hospice has been called in.
The Bros and I are not super-close, but we're not really distant either. We get along fine when we're all together, but we tend to not get in touch with each other as much as we should. It seems to be genetic, this total inability to keep up any kind of correspondence. (My dad has (has! has! no past tense yet) it too.) Sport and McBrother are pretty torn up and at various points, I got to sit down with StepMom and each brother to talk about stuff. We couldn't quite manage all four of us at the same time, but it's OK. I think all of us are on the same page regarding funeral arrangements and such. I also told StepMom that when I say "do you need anything?" one of the things I specifically mean is "when/if you need me to get in somebody's face about arrangements, I'm there. Or if you need me to start shooing people out of the house? I'm there. Hell - if you need me to clean the kitchen because you just can't deal with it? I'm there."
The three of us (the bros and I) are all of the opinion that if dad wants to be cremated, we cremate him. If he wants to be buried upside-down in the backyard, we bury him upside-down in the backyard. Whatever. I'm of the belief that we get to control so little in this life, we should at least have control of our disposals, y'know? StepMom feels the same way, so the four of us can present sort of a united front. This is only an issue because dad has maintained for a long time that he wants to be cremated. Stepmom's not big on it, but she'll do what he wants. The Grand'rents (specifically Grandma) didn't seem to like that idea. Whatever. I have no problem getting up in my Grandmother's face. That sounds awful, like I'm going to throw down with a woman who just lost her only child. It's not like that, it's just that Grandma can be sort of, ooooh let's call it obstinate about things at time. She's a sweet, loving woman, but she tends to latch onto an idea and jeez. Anyway.
Another perc to being the oldest kid is that I think I'll get taken more seriously than the Bros will. I suppose RHIP after all. And no, I'm not looking for a fight. But I am prepared to deal with my Grandma's grousing. I think she's really only happy if she has something to bitch about, so I just have a sinking feeling that she'll bitch about the cremation around StepMom and...feh.
So here's where we sit - waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm not crying as I type this, like I was last night. I wouldn't say I'm doing better necessarily, I'm just doing differently. And I promise that I'll write something light again. Really, I will.
Thank you guys for your patience and support. Huge internet hugs.
Miz S had some specific questions:
This is definitely not the time to give up booze. Your poor Dad. I hope they can get the pain under control. Is your step-mom checking into hospice care or is it not quite that time yet? What about your siblings? Are you guys close? Seems like a good time to stand together. I'm really sorry, Laura. How awful.
Yeah, the booze thing has been shot to hell. I haven't had any hamburgers though! Whoo! Go me!!
His pain seems to be under control - he has morphine patches and is taking liquid morphine right on schedule (about every three hours.) My stepmother said that they're keeping him on pain meds so that the pain doesn't get too bad, because like father like daughter, he tends to wait till the last minute before he takes anything, and then he has to wait for it to kick in and he's miserable for no reason. So, she has taken over the meds regimen as much as he'll let her and is making sure that he's not hurting too much. But it's still difficult and exhausting for him to move around, even something as simple as changing from laying in bed to sitting up. He also said that due to "[his] medical condition it feels like [he's] sitting on a grapefruit." Hence the wincing and the not sitting up too much.
He was set to start up with hospice over the weekend, but due to the Monday doctor's appointment and the possibility of being put in the hospital and the wrench that can throw in hospice care, they put off making any official hospice arrangements until Monday. I haven't heard anything from StepMom today (and no, I haven't called. I'm not sure what to say today - "anything changed?" "nope" I think - hell I don't know what I think. Eh - this ramble's getting to long for parentheses - moving on) so I'm assuming that he decided not to go with any other procedures and hospice has been called in.
The Bros and I are not super-close, but we're not really distant either. We get along fine when we're all together, but we tend to not get in touch with each other as much as we should. It seems to be genetic, this total inability to keep up any kind of correspondence. (My dad has (has! has! no past tense yet) it too.) Sport and McBrother are pretty torn up and at various points, I got to sit down with StepMom and each brother to talk about stuff. We couldn't quite manage all four of us at the same time, but it's OK. I think all of us are on the same page regarding funeral arrangements and such. I also told StepMom that when I say "do you need anything?" one of the things I specifically mean is "when/if you need me to get in somebody's face about arrangements, I'm there. Or if you need me to start shooing people out of the house? I'm there. Hell - if you need me to clean the kitchen because you just can't deal with it? I'm there."
The three of us (the bros and I) are all of the opinion that if dad wants to be cremated, we cremate him. If he wants to be buried upside-down in the backyard, we bury him upside-down in the backyard. Whatever. I'm of the belief that we get to control so little in this life, we should at least have control of our disposals, y'know? StepMom feels the same way, so the four of us can present sort of a united front. This is only an issue because dad has maintained for a long time that he wants to be cremated. Stepmom's not big on it, but she'll do what he wants. The Grand'rents (specifically Grandma) didn't seem to like that idea. Whatever. I have no problem getting up in my Grandmother's face. That sounds awful, like I'm going to throw down with a woman who just lost her only child. It's not like that, it's just that Grandma can be sort of, ooooh let's call it obstinate about things at time. She's a sweet, loving woman, but she tends to latch onto an idea and jeez. Anyway.
Another perc to being the oldest kid is that I think I'll get taken more seriously than the Bros will. I suppose RHIP after all. And no, I'm not looking for a fight. But I am prepared to deal with my Grandma's grousing. I think she's really only happy if she has something to bitch about, so I just have a sinking feeling that she'll bitch about the cremation around StepMom and...feh.
So here's where we sit - waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm not crying as I type this, like I was last night. I wouldn't say I'm doing better necessarily, I'm just doing differently. And I promise that I'll write something light again. Really, I will.
Thank you guys for your patience and support. Huge internet hugs.
needless to say, that no booze for Lent thing has gone bye-by
Kiddo and I got back from Louisiana about 10:30 tonight. Kiddo is at a friend's house and I'm "enjoying" some fairly awful cab (3 Blind Moose, I don't care how cute your name is, your cab sucks) and an episode of Law & Order SVU. It's a weeknight and she's spending the night and I'm drinking because we both need a little decompression.
My dad was first diagnosed with colon cancer in November 1999. When they went in to check things out and do the re-section, they discovered that the cancer had spread to 3 of his lymph nodes. They removed a section of colon and the lymph nodes and he went through a round of chemo. He was clear for a long time.
In 2002, he went in for his 3-year checkup. I remember when we talked before that - he was flip about it, "Oh yeah, 3 years, it's just part of the deal." I also remember the tone of his voice when he called me after that appointment, when he called to tell me that the cancer was back. There was a mass in his lungs and in his stomach.
He went through chemo-therapy again. Because of the location, surgery and radiation weren't options, so he went through chemo again and again and again. He lost his hair, and he threw up. When his white blood-cell count was too low to go through chemo, he got $6000 shots that made him hurt almost as much as the chemo. The one treatment that actually seemed to have any effect on the cancer was the stuff that made him so sick he said, no...never again. Everything else just seemed to keep things in check.
A few weeks ago, he went into the hospital because he was having problems with his kidneys. I wrote about this - in the end, he wound up having stints put in so that things would work right. But the doctor said then, that with all the tumors, he wasn't sure how long the stints would work. That was when they told him he had a few months.
Last Friday, my step-mother called me. She said that his kidneys were giving him problems again, and the doctors told him there was nothing else they could do. They said "it's just a matter of time." They talked about checking for a blockage, but that got put off till today (Monday.)
My dad has spent 6 1/2 years with cancer. During this time, I've never seen him look or even sound sick. I've seen him bald and I've heard him tired and pissed off, but never ever sick.
The man I saw this weekend was not my dad. He was a man who needed help to get out of bed and had to walk with a cane. He was a man who lost track of what was going on with his checkbook and didn't joke his way through the uncomfortable stuff. He whistled when he breathed, and he winced when he sat down and the only thing he ate all day Sunday was an orange. This man was a sick man. This was a dying man.
He kept telling me that if I saw anything, or could think of, anything I wanted, to let him know, because he didn't know what to leave me. And I kept telling him, "Dad, I don't care" because I don't. I just want my daddy to get better, and if I can't have that, I don't know. I guess I want this over with. I don't want him to go through kidney failure - I don't care how "peaceful" it's supposed to be. It's a long, drawn-out death for a man that doesn't deserve it.
I suppose I should be grateful for the chance to give him one more hug, and tell him I love him one more time, and hear him talk like he used to during his all-too-infrequent moments of lucidity. I should be grateful. I suppose I am. But I think right now, I'm too angry to be truly grateful.
They went to the doctor today, and there's really nothing they can do. Well, they can put in tubes so that he drains the way you're supposed to drain, but they can't guarantee him how long that will work. He's supposed to let them know tomorrow if he wants to do it, but both my step-mom and I are pretty sure that he won't. Which is fine. I don't think I'd like to live with drains in my body either, so I can't blame him. If they could tell him definitely it would make things better for 6 months, he'd probably do it (these are his words via Stepmom) and again? I understand. But he's tired of living this way, and he's tired of no guarantees and, he's tired.
So they say that he'll get to a point where he just eats less and less and sleeps more and more until he just doesn't wake up. And it's so hard to think about a man who hunted and could fix just about anything and coached T-ball and took me fishing and fathered three children and knew everything about everything just fading away like that.
I'm just pissed right now. I'm pissed that I wasted time thinking my dad didn't care and I'm pissed that I waited so long between phone calls and I'm pissed off that this is how he has to go. I've spent a long time very serenely saying that there must be some higher power, there has to be something up there running the show, because if it's all just random, if good people die horrible deaths for no reason, then I'm just giving up now.
Higher power, if you have a reason for this, I'd like to see it right about now.
My dad was first diagnosed with colon cancer in November 1999. When they went in to check things out and do the re-section, they discovered that the cancer had spread to 3 of his lymph nodes. They removed a section of colon and the lymph nodes and he went through a round of chemo. He was clear for a long time.
In 2002, he went in for his 3-year checkup. I remember when we talked before that - he was flip about it, "Oh yeah, 3 years, it's just part of the deal." I also remember the tone of his voice when he called me after that appointment, when he called to tell me that the cancer was back. There was a mass in his lungs and in his stomach.
He went through chemo-therapy again. Because of the location, surgery and radiation weren't options, so he went through chemo again and again and again. He lost his hair, and he threw up. When his white blood-cell count was too low to go through chemo, he got $6000 shots that made him hurt almost as much as the chemo. The one treatment that actually seemed to have any effect on the cancer was the stuff that made him so sick he said, no...never again. Everything else just seemed to keep things in check.
A few weeks ago, he went into the hospital because he was having problems with his kidneys. I wrote about this - in the end, he wound up having stints put in so that things would work right. But the doctor said then, that with all the tumors, he wasn't sure how long the stints would work. That was when they told him he had a few months.
Last Friday, my step-mother called me. She said that his kidneys were giving him problems again, and the doctors told him there was nothing else they could do. They said "it's just a matter of time." They talked about checking for a blockage, but that got put off till today (Monday.)
My dad has spent 6 1/2 years with cancer. During this time, I've never seen him look or even sound sick. I've seen him bald and I've heard him tired and pissed off, but never ever sick.
The man I saw this weekend was not my dad. He was a man who needed help to get out of bed and had to walk with a cane. He was a man who lost track of what was going on with his checkbook and didn't joke his way through the uncomfortable stuff. He whistled when he breathed, and he winced when he sat down and the only thing he ate all day Sunday was an orange. This man was a sick man. This was a dying man.
He kept telling me that if I saw anything, or could think of, anything I wanted, to let him know, because he didn't know what to leave me. And I kept telling him, "Dad, I don't care" because I don't. I just want my daddy to get better, and if I can't have that, I don't know. I guess I want this over with. I don't want him to go through kidney failure - I don't care how "peaceful" it's supposed to be. It's a long, drawn-out death for a man that doesn't deserve it.
I suppose I should be grateful for the chance to give him one more hug, and tell him I love him one more time, and hear him talk like he used to during his all-too-infrequent moments of lucidity. I should be grateful. I suppose I am. But I think right now, I'm too angry to be truly grateful.
They went to the doctor today, and there's really nothing they can do. Well, they can put in tubes so that he drains the way you're supposed to drain, but they can't guarantee him how long that will work. He's supposed to let them know tomorrow if he wants to do it, but both my step-mom and I are pretty sure that he won't. Which is fine. I don't think I'd like to live with drains in my body either, so I can't blame him. If they could tell him definitely it would make things better for 6 months, he'd probably do it (these are his words via Stepmom) and again? I understand. But he's tired of living this way, and he's tired of no guarantees and, he's tired.
So they say that he'll get to a point where he just eats less and less and sleeps more and more until he just doesn't wake up. And it's so hard to think about a man who hunted and could fix just about anything and coached T-ball and took me fishing and fathered three children and knew everything about everything just fading away like that.
I'm just pissed right now. I'm pissed that I wasted time thinking my dad didn't care and I'm pissed that I waited so long between phone calls and I'm pissed off that this is how he has to go. I've spent a long time very serenely saying that there must be some higher power, there has to be something up there running the show, because if it's all just random, if good people die horrible deaths for no reason, then I'm just giving up now.
Higher power, if you have a reason for this, I'd like to see it right about now.
Friday, March 03, 2006
hittin' the road
I had a lovely time with Ms. Laura last night. We talked about kids and jobs and ex-husbands and everything except our uteruses. She even bought dinner. Hmm - sure hope she doesn't expect me to put out now.
Then I got up this morning to find the screen knocked out of my kitchen window and Charlie, the escape artist cat, missing.
And just now I got a phone call from my stepmother that they've changed my dad's status from "a few months" to "nothing we can do" and "it's a matter of time." The hospice folks are going to visit them later today to give them more info and do the, er, hospice thing.
I'm packing my crap in over here and heading home for the day. I'm going to pack some crap, hope my cat came back home (I locked Louie in my room and left the escape hatch open - that strategy worked last time Houdini, er, Charlie escaped) do some quick cleaning so my mom doesn't despair too badly that she raised a pig and then tomorrow morning I'm heading to Louisiana.
I'd already planned on going over Spring Break (3/11 - 3/18) but when I asked my stepmom if I needed to come down now, or if I could wait, she sounded pretty hesitant before she answered. And y'know what? Even if some miracle happens (Hi! Denial stage!) will I regret one extra visit with my dad? No.
Then I got up this morning to find the screen knocked out of my kitchen window and Charlie, the escape artist cat, missing.
And just now I got a phone call from my stepmother that they've changed my dad's status from "a few months" to "nothing we can do" and "it's a matter of time." The hospice folks are going to visit them later today to give them more info and do the, er, hospice thing.
I'm packing my crap in over here and heading home for the day. I'm going to pack some crap, hope my cat came back home (I locked Louie in my room and left the escape hatch open - that strategy worked last time Houdini, er, Charlie escaped) do some quick cleaning so my mom doesn't despair too badly that she raised a pig and then tomorrow morning I'm heading to Louisiana.
I'd already planned on going over Spring Break (3/11 - 3/18) but when I asked my stepmom if I needed to come down now, or if I could wait, she sounded pretty hesitant before she answered. And y'know what? Even if some miracle happens (Hi! Denial stage!) will I regret one extra visit with my dad? No.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
last drunken post for 40 days
So.
I've decided to give up alcohol and hamburgers for Lent. Seeing as these are my two biggest tangible vices, I figure they're good candidates. My other vices - cursing, spewing invective at other drivers and glaring at fashion don'ts while walking around in stained capris and a baggy sweatshirt - I think I'll need even more if I can't fall comfortably into a Shiner and a patty melt at the end of the day.
And no, I don't intend to get around the whole hamburger thing by saying "It's a cheeeeeeseburger", or "It's a melt! Not a burger! NYEH!!" I will entertain the idea of cheating with chicken and turkey burgers, however, as they are lower in fat and healthier and less likely to be accompanied by fries and I have a really good recipe I want to try.
Look, I've given up my booze folks - I am NOT MADE OF STONE.
Speaking of food, I'm currently working on what I'll call Derivative Chicken. I got the fabulous recipe* for Clams a la Zilker from Twisty's site and I made it. Sort of - I made Clams a la Round Rock by making some substitutions and changes and yum. ANYWAY. Right now I'm making a chicken dish that follows the same general framework as the clams thing - tasso, fennel, garlic, onions, broth instead of wine, chicken breast, serve over pasta, eat greedily. I'm also being stared at by an orange cat - he's laying** on top of the monitor, doing the Snoopy gargoyle thing at me. Bastard cat.
My three readers already know that I'm meeting up with the fabulous Ms. Laura-Flea, that sexy, slutty piece of work, on Thursday for dinner. I, uh, have made an exception to the no booze thing for that night because a)it's barely into Lent! and b)internet stalker meetings require alcohol. Anybody who's ever read a JournalCon entry knows that. I'm looking forward to it. Heh - duh. NO, Laura - I'm really dreading it. HEE.
Anyway - I'm a little nervous, because part of me would like to swap about 30 pounds for IQ points before Thursday. But y'know, I can't.
On CSI, Grisham just let us know that jumpers will take their glasses off before they jump, therefore the dead guy on the ground was pushed, because his glasses were next to him. Of course, I can tell you that he was pushed because in the intro he won a bunch of money and then dumped the chick with him, saying "I'm a millionaire now, why would I want to waste anymore time with YOU?"
I love CSI. It's a sickness.
Back to the meeting folks in person thing - I think I'm pretty much the same in person as I am here. I speak in weird non-sequiturs, find bizarre things funny and sort of....wander..hey! Something shiny!!
The one thing you can't tell from here is that I blink a lot. It's a sensitive/dry eye thing. Jane says I'm fidgety. I dunno, I guess so. I promise not to sneeze/throw up/cough on you and I'll pick up my half of the check AND I'll wash my hands in the bathroom, OK? OK.
OH MY GOD, A NORMAN FELL JOKE. AUGH.
Dude - how old is this episode of CSI??
Ok, I just added spinach to this recipe and it is no longer Derivative Chicken. No - it is, shit, I don't know what to call it now, but I just spilled it on my keyboard. Actually, I spilled it on the kid's keyboard, heh. Keyboard Chicken, it is!! Regardless, it is delicious.
*Twisty doesn't really post recipes so much as she posts guidelines, which actually works really well with my style of cooking.
**I've seen the lying/laying thing explained over and over and OVER again, and I figure like Algebra II and subnet masking, one of these days I'll look at it and it will just click. Until then? Grammar Nazis can suck it.
I've decided to give up alcohol and hamburgers for Lent. Seeing as these are my two biggest tangible vices, I figure they're good candidates. My other vices - cursing, spewing invective at other drivers and glaring at fashion don'ts while walking around in stained capris and a baggy sweatshirt - I think I'll need even more if I can't fall comfortably into a Shiner and a patty melt at the end of the day.
And no, I don't intend to get around the whole hamburger thing by saying "It's a cheeeeeeseburger", or "It's a melt! Not a burger! NYEH!!" I will entertain the idea of cheating with chicken and turkey burgers, however, as they are lower in fat and healthier and less likely to be accompanied by fries and I have a really good recipe I want to try.
Look, I've given up my booze folks - I am NOT MADE OF STONE.
Speaking of food, I'm currently working on what I'll call Derivative Chicken. I got the fabulous recipe* for Clams a la Zilker from Twisty's site and I made it. Sort of - I made Clams a la Round Rock by making some substitutions and changes and yum. ANYWAY. Right now I'm making a chicken dish that follows the same general framework as the clams thing - tasso, fennel, garlic, onions, broth instead of wine, chicken breast, serve over pasta, eat greedily. I'm also being stared at by an orange cat - he's laying** on top of the monitor, doing the Snoopy gargoyle thing at me. Bastard cat.
My three readers already know that I'm meeting up with the fabulous Ms. Laura-Flea, that sexy, slutty piece of work, on Thursday for dinner. I, uh, have made an exception to the no booze thing for that night because a)it's barely into Lent! and b)internet stalker meetings require alcohol. Anybody who's ever read a JournalCon entry knows that. I'm looking forward to it. Heh - duh. NO, Laura - I'm really dreading it. HEE.
Anyway - I'm a little nervous, because part of me would like to swap about 30 pounds for IQ points before Thursday. But y'know, I can't.
On CSI, Grisham just let us know that jumpers will take their glasses off before they jump, therefore the dead guy on the ground was pushed, because his glasses were next to him. Of course, I can tell you that he was pushed because in the intro he won a bunch of money and then dumped the chick with him, saying "I'm a millionaire now, why would I want to waste anymore time with YOU?"
I love CSI. It's a sickness.
Back to the meeting folks in person thing - I think I'm pretty much the same in person as I am here. I speak in weird non-sequiturs, find bizarre things funny and sort of....wander..hey! Something shiny!!
The one thing you can't tell from here is that I blink a lot. It's a sensitive/dry eye thing. Jane says I'm fidgety. I dunno, I guess so. I promise not to sneeze/throw up/cough on you and I'll pick up my half of the check AND I'll wash my hands in the bathroom, OK? OK.
OH MY GOD, A NORMAN FELL JOKE. AUGH.
Dude - how old is this episode of CSI??
Ok, I just added spinach to this recipe and it is no longer Derivative Chicken. No - it is, shit, I don't know what to call it now, but I just spilled it on my keyboard. Actually, I spilled it on the kid's keyboard, heh. Keyboard Chicken, it is!! Regardless, it is delicious.
*Twisty doesn't really post recipes so much as she posts guidelines, which actually works really well with my style of cooking.
**I've seen the lying/laying thing explained over and over and OVER again, and I figure like Algebra II and subnet masking, one of these days I'll look at it and it will just click. Until then? Grammar Nazis can suck it.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
suckage
So, I'm drunk...again?? Still? Man, I wish. Is it maybe a problem? When you wish you could be hip-deep in a bottle of wine/ book/ nap all the time??
See, here's the deal. I broke up with Max. He is an absolutely fabulous guy - sweet, considerate and, despite the stereotype, totally OK with commitment.*
The problem? Well.....me. Not entirely, if we're going to be honest - there are always things about the other person that, when magnified under the lens of discomfort and pressure, seem huge and insurmountable. But the fact is Max and I talked about a lot of Future and Forever and this and that and...I tried. I tried to jump, but the fact is, I am just not ready to take that kind of leap. I'm sorry.
What sucks about this is that in the process of not being ready, I have to hurt someone as incredbly sweet as Max.
Relationships, bah!!
I'm currently dipping into the wine that I bought for $6.99 yesterday at 7-11 ($6.99!!! 7-11!!), because I've already polished off the bottle of good stuff that I bought earlier - minus about 1/4 cup for the kid's tomato sauce.
So yeah - I'm typin' one-eyed and I'm, I dunno...upset? I dunno.
I think I just might be like Jennie Smash, and declare a booty ban.
Actually...that sounds really good right now. Men beware!! Bitter divorcee on board!!!
*Despite his stereotype-fighting, this is actaually The Thing that led to the end. He's ready to go and I'm just...not.
I take no responsibility for any typos. Don't like it? Bite me.
See, here's the deal. I broke up with Max. He is an absolutely fabulous guy - sweet, considerate and, despite the stereotype, totally OK with commitment.*
The problem? Well.....me. Not entirely, if we're going to be honest - there are always things about the other person that, when magnified under the lens of discomfort and pressure, seem huge and insurmountable. But the fact is Max and I talked about a lot of Future and Forever and this and that and...I tried. I tried to jump, but the fact is, I am just not ready to take that kind of leap. I'm sorry.
What sucks about this is that in the process of not being ready, I have to hurt someone as incredbly sweet as Max.
Relationships, bah!!
I'm currently dipping into the wine that I bought for $6.99 yesterday at 7-11 ($6.99!!! 7-11!!), because I've already polished off the bottle of good stuff that I bought earlier - minus about 1/4 cup for the kid's tomato sauce.
So yeah - I'm typin' one-eyed and I'm, I dunno...upset? I dunno.
I think I just might be like Jennie Smash, and declare a booty ban.
Actually...that sounds really good right now. Men beware!! Bitter divorcee on board!!!
*Despite his stereotype-fighting, this is actaually The Thing that led to the end. He's ready to go and I'm just...not.
I take no responsibility for any typos. Don't like it? Bite me.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Dear Flea
In which I thank flea for her wonderful literary sense and general badassery and use an assload of footnotes. Also? Rambly and run-on?? Blame the red wine and David Foster Wallace.
Dear Flea -
Ok, so....I was wandering through your archives - but definitely not during work hours, oh NO! - and you mentioned Infinite Jest a couple of times. So I checked out the link and it looked interesting, and I put it on my mental wishlist. Later that night, I gave my 14YO her first driving lesson, and she did such a good job, I told her I'd take her anywhere she wanted for dinner. She chose Chuy's - a Mexican place - and since I NEVER get to eat Mexican food, I jumped on it. After cheese enchiladas and beer (Dr. Pepper for her, much to her chagrin), we went wandering around a couple of stores and then ended up at Barnes & Noble, where I asked the little book guy, "Hey - do you have Infinite Jest?"* He spouted off the author's name and told me to follow him, so I did and whoa! I BOUGHT THE DAMN BOOK.**
Anyway, later that nigt, I'm reading the book and kiddo's reading her book, (Virgin Suicides, which HOORAH, she found something to read, but YIKES, because of her problems with depression lately) and I'm thinking about my own book, "wow...this sure reads a lot like Broom of the System."*** A few minutes later, I get up to close the back door and turn off the living room light and make sure the front door is locked and all that jazz, and I flip the book over to check out the back (yes, I carry my book with me on breaks, what??) and I see that hey! this is the same guy who wrote Broom of the System. And now, I feel like I owe you a thank you note, for mentioning this book way back when, and inspiring me to check it out and reuniting me with someone who has turned out to be one of my favorite authors. I think of his writing like I think of going tubing - just relax, let it take you where it wants you to go.*****
Anyway - thanks for all the cool stuff you write.
Laura
*This actually sparked a whole conversation about books - good ones, bad ones, good writers (we both highly approve of Didion), writers we're not so sure about (Atwood's battin' about .500 with me - he hasn't read any Atwood, but has decided he must now), and books you shouldn't read right after a break-up (Play it as it Lays and anything that was your ex's favorite****)
**Crap...I had something funny here, but I will be fucked if I can remember it.
***I got this book when my mom was working at BookStop (which is now dead...sigh) and lovedlovedloved it. Loved the flow, loved the absurdity, loved it. So why in the hell did I give it away a couple of years ago?? I don't know. Am idiot.
****Fortunately, my ex hated reading fiction (14 YEARS, PEOPLE!!) so this was easy for me to avoid, as I have no interest in reading tech manuals or The Ultimate Sniper
*****My footnotes are all dicked up, aren't they? Anyway - this tubing analogy is sort of inaccurate for me, because tubing makes me anxious. Yes, The International Sport of Stoners makes me anxious and I end up with stone bruises and a rash on my upper arms from trying to control where the water takes me, convinced that I'll get left behind or something. However, when it comes to books, I have NO problem just letting the prose wash over me. Unless it's Hannibal, because dude?? that book sucked the root.
Dear Flea -
Ok, so....I was wandering through your archives - but definitely not during work hours, oh NO! - and you mentioned Infinite Jest a couple of times. So I checked out the link and it looked interesting, and I put it on my mental wishlist. Later that night, I gave my 14YO her first driving lesson, and she did such a good job, I told her I'd take her anywhere she wanted for dinner. She chose Chuy's - a Mexican place - and since I NEVER get to eat Mexican food, I jumped on it. After cheese enchiladas and beer (Dr. Pepper for her, much to her chagrin), we went wandering around a couple of stores and then ended up at Barnes & Noble, where I asked the little book guy, "Hey - do you have Infinite Jest?"* He spouted off the author's name and told me to follow him, so I did and whoa! I BOUGHT THE DAMN BOOK.**
Anyway, later that nigt, I'm reading the book and kiddo's reading her book, (Virgin Suicides, which HOORAH, she found something to read, but YIKES, because of her problems with depression lately) and I'm thinking about my own book, "wow...this sure reads a lot like Broom of the System."*** A few minutes later, I get up to close the back door and turn off the living room light and make sure the front door is locked and all that jazz, and I flip the book over to check out the back (yes, I carry my book with me on breaks, what??) and I see that hey! this is the same guy who wrote Broom of the System. And now, I feel like I owe you a thank you note, for mentioning this book way back when, and inspiring me to check it out and reuniting me with someone who has turned out to be one of my favorite authors. I think of his writing like I think of going tubing - just relax, let it take you where it wants you to go.*****
Anyway - thanks for all the cool stuff you write.
Laura
*This actually sparked a whole conversation about books - good ones, bad ones, good writers (we both highly approve of Didion), writers we're not so sure about (Atwood's battin' about .500 with me - he hasn't read any Atwood, but has decided he must now), and books you shouldn't read right after a break-up (Play it as it Lays and anything that was your ex's favorite****)
**Crap...I had something funny here, but I will be fucked if I can remember it.
***I got this book when my mom was working at BookStop (which is now dead...sigh) and lovedlovedloved it. Loved the flow, loved the absurdity, loved it. So why in the hell did I give it away a couple of years ago?? I don't know. Am idiot.
****Fortunately, my ex hated reading fiction (14 YEARS, PEOPLE!!) so this was easy for me to avoid, as I have no interest in reading tech manuals or The Ultimate Sniper
*****My footnotes are all dicked up, aren't they? Anyway - this tubing analogy is sort of inaccurate for me, because tubing makes me anxious. Yes, The International Sport of Stoners makes me anxious and I end up with stone bruises and a rash on my upper arms from trying to control where the water takes me, convinced that I'll get left behind or something. However, when it comes to books, I have NO problem just letting the prose wash over me. Unless it's Hannibal, because dude?? that book sucked the root.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Profiles in Slobbery
On the wall in my shower is a single hair. I could wipe it off. I could hit it with the spray and wash it down my (rapidly clogging because good lord we are hairy beasts) drain. But I don't. See, the hair looks like a person's profile - one of those single line jobbies, almost like a Hirschfeld. And every day, the profile changes just a little bit. The first day I noticed it, it was a cute little button-nosed imp. The next day, a more sober, older woman. Today, the nose had shifted drastically down and straightened out - a Roman nose - an emperor in my shower.
All of this is to say, dude...I really need to clean my damn bathroom.
All of this is to say, dude...I really need to clean my damn bathroom.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
*twitch*
Oh my God y'all. You guys are the sweetest. I hesitated putting that stuff about my dad out there because a)it's painful and the way I typically deal with pain is to stuffstuffstuff it down and ignore it until my eye starts to twitch and the walls start to talk, and b) I didn't want it to look like I was trolling for sympathy. Which I'm not - but Laura mentioned free alcohol in her comment, and I am always trolling for that.
Heh
Anyway. For Christmas, my mom paid for belly dancing classes for me, kiddo and herself. Saturday was the second class, and my mom didn't feel well, so didn't show. Kiddo didn't feel well, but had to come with me because of some other stuff we had going on, so she ended up napping on a couch while I took my lesson. The instructor had brought hip scarves for us to dance in - scarves that (duh) go around your hips and have coins all over them so you make that nifty "shk shk shk shk" noise while you dance. So we're dancing, kid's snoozing and later she tells me that she had dreams about pepper grinders. Hee.
She had a therapist appointment later (yep, kid's in therapy - another thing I don't want to talk about until I get to the point of eye-twitching, but thanks) and then I dropped her off with her dad at a Chinese restaurant. I always feel weird dropping her off. Usually she sees him during the week, and he picks her up at the apartment and I'm not there. When I have to actually drop her off or pick her up, I'm unsure how to end a conversation with him. Like...I just say "Ok, bye" and tell the kid I love her and get in the car, but that feels weird - incomplete somehow. Feh. I guess a 14 year habit of ending every conversation with "I love you", even when you didn't necessarily feel it, is a little hard to break.
Saturday night, I...what the hell did I do? hm. OH! I took kiddo and a friend to Target and managed to spend a gazillion dollars and not buy a single GODDAMN thing on my list. I am the owner of a really cute shirt now, and the kid has some (much-needed) new clothes, but it doesn't matter because I can't see what I look like until I leave my house anyway, because I forgot to buy light bulbs.
On Sunday, we met up with Max and saw "King Kong" and I have to ask - was the protracted giant bug scene REALLY necessary? WAS IT?? Did I need to watch Adrian Brody fight off giant crickets? And the guy, with the toothy worm things and the ACK!! On his head? AUG!!! NOT NECESSARY. Mr. Jackson, please go back to shooting homoerotic hobbit movies and leave the guys in the creature shop alone. GAH!
Oh, and a little note here. If you have some sort of injury that requires you to erect a footrest out of booster seats and get all settled and stow your crutches and this routine takes you about 10 minutes and is NOT silent?? Do you think maybe you could make it to the movie AHEAD OF TIME, rather than come in ten minutes late and start all those shenanigans? Thanks ever so much. (Asshole)
Between that guy (conveniently located right behind us) and the family of four who came in EVEN LATER - who also started talking, and not in their movie voices, the very moment their asses made contact with the seat - I'm surprised I made it through the movie without hurting anybody.
Seriously - things happen, traffic gets weird, cars don't start, watches stop, whatever. So you made it to the movie late - come in, quietly, and shut.the.fuck.up. It's not difficult - see, there's a whole theater full of people already doing it. OH, and don't send the teenager with the mohawk and the clinkety-clanking baby punk pants on to get your popcorn. Good Christ.
Where was I? Oh yes - giant bugs [shudder]. When the lights came up, I told Max, "Jesus - between the bugs and the heights, I'm never gonna fuckin' sleep again." This has not been entirely true as I can still fall asleep just about anywhere, anytime, and waking up is quite an effort, but I can't even fathom watching that movie more than once and it's all the fault of those goddamn bugs.
I have been confused about what day it is all week - yesterday I kept thinking it was Wednesday, and even though today I had an appointment to drop off my car and should, theoretically, know what day it is, I keep trying to make it Thursday. This is fine, except when I get to the point where I'm thinking Thursday is Friday and then around 4:30 I realize I've been wrong all day I want to cry, because it feels like somebody cruelly slipped in an extra day. Being nutz is no fun.
Oh - last thing - Max made tuxedo chocolate-dipped strawberries for Valentine's Day. AW. I'd put a picture here, but I haven't figured out how to do that w/o using Hello and I don't like Hello, so...visualize. Let your mind run free. There's a Strawberry Fields joke in here somewhere, but I love you guys too much to do that to you.
Laura - San Marcos, baby - sounds great. Either that or we road trip up to Oklahoma City and meet up with Jane. Jesus, talk about feeling like a giant - going drinking with the two of you teeny people.
As I was posting this, an ant came crawling out of my laptop. AUG!
Heh
Anyway. For Christmas, my mom paid for belly dancing classes for me, kiddo and herself. Saturday was the second class, and my mom didn't feel well, so didn't show. Kiddo didn't feel well, but had to come with me because of some other stuff we had going on, so she ended up napping on a couch while I took my lesson. The instructor had brought hip scarves for us to dance in - scarves that (duh) go around your hips and have coins all over them so you make that nifty "shk shk shk shk" noise while you dance. So we're dancing, kid's snoozing and later she tells me that she had dreams about pepper grinders. Hee.
She had a therapist appointment later (yep, kid's in therapy - another thing I don't want to talk about until I get to the point of eye-twitching, but thanks) and then I dropped her off with her dad at a Chinese restaurant. I always feel weird dropping her off. Usually she sees him during the week, and he picks her up at the apartment and I'm not there. When I have to actually drop her off or pick her up, I'm unsure how to end a conversation with him. Like...I just say "Ok, bye" and tell the kid I love her and get in the car, but that feels weird - incomplete somehow. Feh. I guess a 14 year habit of ending every conversation with "I love you", even when you didn't necessarily feel it, is a little hard to break.
Saturday night, I...what the hell did I do? hm. OH! I took kiddo and a friend to Target and managed to spend a gazillion dollars and not buy a single GODDAMN thing on my list. I am the owner of a really cute shirt now, and the kid has some (much-needed) new clothes, but it doesn't matter because I can't see what I look like until I leave my house anyway, because I forgot to buy light bulbs.
On Sunday, we met up with Max and saw "King Kong" and I have to ask - was the protracted giant bug scene REALLY necessary? WAS IT?? Did I need to watch Adrian Brody fight off giant crickets? And the guy, with the toothy worm things and the ACK!! On his head? AUG!!! NOT NECESSARY. Mr. Jackson, please go back to shooting homoerotic hobbit movies and leave the guys in the creature shop alone. GAH!
Oh, and a little note here. If you have some sort of injury that requires you to erect a footrest out of booster seats and get all settled and stow your crutches and this routine takes you about 10 minutes and is NOT silent?? Do you think maybe you could make it to the movie AHEAD OF TIME, rather than come in ten minutes late and start all those shenanigans? Thanks ever so much. (Asshole)
Between that guy (conveniently located right behind us) and the family of four who came in EVEN LATER - who also started talking, and not in their movie voices, the very moment their asses made contact with the seat - I'm surprised I made it through the movie without hurting anybody.
Seriously - things happen, traffic gets weird, cars don't start, watches stop, whatever. So you made it to the movie late - come in, quietly, and shut.the.fuck.up. It's not difficult - see, there's a whole theater full of people already doing it. OH, and don't send the teenager with the mohawk and the clinkety-clanking baby punk pants on to get your popcorn. Good Christ.
Where was I? Oh yes - giant bugs [shudder]. When the lights came up, I told Max, "Jesus - between the bugs and the heights, I'm never gonna fuckin' sleep again." This has not been entirely true as I can still fall asleep just about anywhere, anytime, and waking up is quite an effort, but I can't even fathom watching that movie more than once and it's all the fault of those goddamn bugs.
I have been confused about what day it is all week - yesterday I kept thinking it was Wednesday, and even though today I had an appointment to drop off my car and should, theoretically, know what day it is, I keep trying to make it Thursday. This is fine, except when I get to the point where I'm thinking Thursday is Friday and then around 4:30 I realize I've been wrong all day I want to cry, because it feels like somebody cruelly slipped in an extra day. Being nutz is no fun.
Oh - last thing - Max made tuxedo chocolate-dipped strawberries for Valentine's Day. AW. I'd put a picture here, but I haven't figured out how to do that w/o using Hello and I don't like Hello, so...visualize. Let your mind run free. There's a Strawberry Fields joke in here somewhere, but I love you guys too much to do that to you.
Laura - San Marcos, baby - sounds great. Either that or we road trip up to Oklahoma City and meet up with Jane. Jesus, talk about feeling like a giant - going drinking with the two of you teeny people.
As I was posting this, an ant came crawling out of my laptop. AUG!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
motherfucker
Fuck it.
My dad was in the hospital over the weekend. He'd been having a lot of problems with his kidneys, and I guess it got bad enough that he went in on Friday afternoon. For my dad to actually seek medical assistance, even now that he has cancer, is a fairly big deal. This is the man who poured an entire Fry Daddy of hot grease over his hand and said "hm....hon - could you get me a beer?" In the dictionary, next to the phrase "Typical Man" is a picture of my dad, smiling, splinting his own leg.
Anyway
He went in and after hours, literally, of waiting and starving the man and screwing up whether he needed and x-ray or a CT-scan, they took him into surgery and put stints in and let him go on Monday. (Yes, there was more, but that's the gist, wait wait wait, misinform, starve, wait wait, procedure, go home.)
He called me on Friday to let me know he was in the hospital and such. He sounded tired, but OK. We joked around a bit, and then we hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, my stepmother called me and told me that my dad had asked the doctor, point blank, how much time he has left and the doctor told him "a few more months."
So - there's that. And I've cried about it, and I'm starting to cry now that I see the words on the screen, and I'll cry again.
And I'd love to be a better writer, the type who could maybe find some sort of sense or nobility or peace or whatever in this. I'd love to be a poet. But I'm not. I'm just an annoying woman with a pain-in-the-ass kid and a talkative boyfriend and an obnoxious ex and two cats who shed all over her black clothing and a tenuous grasp on her job and a dad who's going to die, painfully, in a few months.
The Pollyanna in me tells me to find a bright side - at least this, and better off that. Fuck you, Pollyanna. Fuck you right in your stupid positive ass. I don't want to find a bright side. I want to cry and yell and stomp and pout and wail and gnash. I want to stand in the middle of Congress Avenue and scream at the top of my lungs, "FUCK YOU, GOD!" I want to drink until I'm numb. I want to run until my legs give out and my lungs burn and I pass out from exhaustion. I want to crawl under my bed and hide for 10 years. I want to wallow.
Bright side my ass.
Things suck right now. Period. Pass the wine.
My dad was in the hospital over the weekend. He'd been having a lot of problems with his kidneys, and I guess it got bad enough that he went in on Friday afternoon. For my dad to actually seek medical assistance, even now that he has cancer, is a fairly big deal. This is the man who poured an entire Fry Daddy of hot grease over his hand and said "hm....hon - could you get me a beer?" In the dictionary, next to the phrase "Typical Man" is a picture of my dad, smiling, splinting his own leg.
Anyway
He went in and after hours, literally, of waiting and starving the man and screwing up whether he needed and x-ray or a CT-scan, they took him into surgery and put stints in and let him go on Monday. (Yes, there was more, but that's the gist, wait wait wait, misinform, starve, wait wait, procedure, go home.)
He called me on Friday to let me know he was in the hospital and such. He sounded tired, but OK. We joked around a bit, and then we hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, my stepmother called me and told me that my dad had asked the doctor, point blank, how much time he has left and the doctor told him "a few more months."
So - there's that. And I've cried about it, and I'm starting to cry now that I see the words on the screen, and I'll cry again.
And I'd love to be a better writer, the type who could maybe find some sort of sense or nobility or peace or whatever in this. I'd love to be a poet. But I'm not. I'm just an annoying woman with a pain-in-the-ass kid and a talkative boyfriend and an obnoxious ex and two cats who shed all over her black clothing and a tenuous grasp on her job and a dad who's going to die, painfully, in a few months.
The Pollyanna in me tells me to find a bright side - at least this, and better off that. Fuck you, Pollyanna. Fuck you right in your stupid positive ass. I don't want to find a bright side. I want to cry and yell and stomp and pout and wail and gnash. I want to stand in the middle of Congress Avenue and scream at the top of my lungs, "FUCK YOU, GOD!" I want to drink until I'm numb. I want to run until my legs give out and my lungs burn and I pass out from exhaustion. I want to crawl under my bed and hide for 10 years. I want to wallow.
Bright side my ass.
Things suck right now. Period. Pass the wine.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Thanks. Not.
Dear Barton Creek Mall Coach counter lady -
Thanks for not telling me my fly was open. No, really, I mean it. The little blast of cold air on my crotch when I walked outside, as well as the little jolt of embarrassment and panic I felt when I realized I had not only fondled $350 handbags, but had also walked all the way through the mall and through Dillard's with my barn door open were really refreshing. I feel all alive and tingly now. So yeah - thanks.
Bitch.
Laura
Thanks for not telling me my fly was open. No, really, I mean it. The little blast of cold air on my crotch when I walked outside, as well as the little jolt of embarrassment and panic I felt when I realized I had not only fondled $350 handbags, but had also walked all the way through the mall and through Dillard's with my barn door open were really refreshing. I feel all alive and tingly now. So yeah - thanks.
Bitch.
Laura
Thursday, February 02, 2006
So, um..HI!! I have this weird combination of all kinds of stuff to write about and yet nothing to write about at the moment. It's painful, really. Anyway - here's a list, in no particular order:
1 - BFF had her baby!!
2 - Some creepy old man felt the need to talk to me in Tuesday Morning, and can I ever go back to that one again, since it seems he's a regular?
3 - My grandmother's dog died, unexpectedly and in a pretty messy fashion in my mom's bathroom.
4 - I finally tried that Natural Glow crap that everybody else raved about and has since moved on from. I like it.
5 - I'm going to see "40 Year-Old Virgin" tonight. See #4 in re: me and my lack of timeliness.
6 - I got this wheat berry stuff in my salad today and while it tasted good, wheat berries are chewy little fucks and my face STILL hurts from all the chewing. When you pull muscles in your FACE while EATING???? You are out of shape, my friend.
7 - After a five-month hiatus, my period made a brief, painful return. (No, I was/am not pregnant - I changed birth control methods and no longer have to worry about a period. I do stil get cramps, PMS and fried food cravings, so um - Yeah?)
That's the gist of my life at the moment. And now, through a thoroughly scientific process, I'll pick one of these topics to write about. Drumroll please (I'm waiting for Jane to pick a number ) And! She came back with 5 - the movie. hm. 'Twould seem Jane wants me to be lame, which is actually kind of OK because a)that means I can blame it on her and b)I don't have to write about the dog, 'cause doing that right now will make me cry.
So, The Union shows movies on Thursday for free, and while they don't tend to do first-run stuff, it's usually decently popular, what-you-haven't-seen-that-oh-my-God-let's-go type stuff. Neither Max nor I have seen 40YOV yet, so hey! Free! And I think you can bring in food, which is good. I have a totebag that will totally fit a couple of tallboys and a can of Pringles. Heh. I'll let y'all know how that goes.
mmmmmmm, Pringles
Want to hear about something else? Comment - let me know that I haven't lost both of my readers due to never updating. Sigh.
mwah!
1 - BFF had her baby!!
2 - Some creepy old man felt the need to talk to me in Tuesday Morning, and can I ever go back to that one again, since it seems he's a regular?
3 - My grandmother's dog died, unexpectedly and in a pretty messy fashion in my mom's bathroom.
4 - I finally tried that Natural Glow crap that everybody else raved about and has since moved on from. I like it.
5 - I'm going to see "40 Year-Old Virgin" tonight. See #4 in re: me and my lack of timeliness.
6 - I got this wheat berry stuff in my salad today and while it tasted good, wheat berries are chewy little fucks and my face STILL hurts from all the chewing. When you pull muscles in your FACE while EATING???? You are out of shape, my friend.
7 - After a five-month hiatus, my period made a brief, painful return. (No, I was/am not pregnant - I changed birth control methods and no longer have to worry about a period. I do stil get cramps, PMS and fried food cravings, so um - Yeah?)
That's the gist of my life at the moment. And now, through a thoroughly scientific process, I'll pick one of these topics to write about. Drumroll please (I'm waiting for Jane to pick a number ) And! She came back with 5 - the movie. hm. 'Twould seem Jane wants me to be lame, which is actually kind of OK because a)that means I can blame it on her and b)I don't have to write about the dog, 'cause doing that right now will make me cry.
So, The Union shows movies on Thursday for free, and while they don't tend to do first-run stuff, it's usually decently popular, what-you-haven't-seen-that-oh-my-God-let's-go type stuff. Neither Max nor I have seen 40YOV yet, so hey! Free! And I think you can bring in food, which is good. I have a totebag that will totally fit a couple of tallboys and a can of Pringles. Heh. I'll let y'all know how that goes.
mmmmmmm, Pringles
Want to hear about something else? Comment - let me know that I haven't lost both of my readers due to never updating. Sigh.
mwah!
Sunday, January 22, 2006
**snoorrrt**
I have a cold. Good LORD, do I have a cold. This is my second cold this year, and I'm getting a little tired of this bullshit. So far, 2006 is the Year of the Mucus.
**snerf**
If somebody could see it in their heart to send me Kleenex and a gallon of chicken soup, I'd be forever grateful.
**blaat**
I'm going back to bed. Ugh.
**snerf**
If somebody could see it in their heart to send me Kleenex and a gallon of chicken soup, I'd be forever grateful.
**blaat**
I'm going back to bed. Ugh.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
More crappy drunken recapping
So - I'm at home alone, with a bottle of wine and the remnants of a chest cold. What does this mean?? It means I'm watching the Miss America pageant.
Don't question it, just nod and smile.
So, we've just finished up the opening ceremonies, during which I misted up a little at all the shots of winners past and then cheered for Ms. Louisiana and Ms. Texas. Oh, I'll be happy for whatever girl wins and blah blah blah, but seriosly, I get a stupid little rush of pride when I find out that the lady from one of my home states has won. DON'T YOU JUDGE ME.
And before anybody gets started on me, I don't give a flying fuck about pageants for people of consenting age. Kid's pageants?? eeeeeh...well... ick. Eighteen and up?? YOu want to spend your spare time gluing your bathing suit to your ass?? Well, then - you go girl. Pageants take a huge amount of work, the kind of work that I have absolutely no interest in or aptitude for. If that's how these chickies wanna roll, then that's fine with me. I could use an ounce of the composure that these chicks have, because watching me speak in public is a lot like watching a chimp on crack. Complete with poo-flinging. Anyway.
The 10 finalists are: Miss District of Columbia, Miss South Carolina, Miss Oklahoma (looks kind of like Denise Fisher and talks about how she and her sister used to play Miss America and she'd make her sister be M.C. Heh), Miss Virginia (I don't quite understand what her platform is, but it involves visiting maximum security prisons), Miss Georgia (kid called me on the phone during this one, so I didn't catch it), Miss Texas, Miss Arkansas (something about "that's the essence - being yourself" ??) Miss Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania has had 5 Miss Americas. Did you know that?? I do. Now.) Miss Alabama, Miss Florida (she has a bunch of pets, including a pet pig named Daisy, who she trained to nod when she asks, "I'm I gonna be Miss America?" Ok, I think that's cute - I may like Miss Florida the best.)
MC dude seems all shocked that the majority of the contestants are from the south. Um...dude - is this your FIRST pageant?? Southern girls are taught how to accessorize and walk in heels somewhere around birth, so it shocks me not at all that the majority of finalists are from below the Mason-Dixon.
Ooooh - the former Miss Americas. I always think it's pretty cool to see the former winners, even if they did just show a crowd shot and then move on.
Swimsuit, ugh. All in matching bikinis and one of them (Miss Arkansas, I believe) has her top hiked up high enough,I think she got lipstick on her tits. Anyway - little nod to the controversy around swimsuits, little retrospective and little spin on how the swimsuit competition is all about physical fitness, a healthy lifestyle and the competitor's composure. Uh-huh.
OH GOOD GOD, A DANCE ROUTINE, SHOOT ME.
And it will surprise absolutely noone that Miss Texas is blonde. Oh, and it wasn't Miss Arkansas with the hiked up top, but damn, Miss Arkansas is BUILT. Wow. Hmmm, I guess the hiked up boobie chick was just one of the other contestants that had to put on the damn suit for that wretched dance number. Poor girl. Despite this whole "dedication to a healthy lifestyle" crap they're trying to feed us, I really hope there's alcohol backstage for everybody.
Man, how cool would it be if one of the categories was "Best at Holding Liquor"??? Seriously - these are college chicks!! That's an important skill!!
I may or may not have dumped over a plate of poached salmon and cous cous onto my keyboard. ahem
They're covering some Miss America party, which looks like an excuse for women to wear their old bridesmaids gowns and tiaras and sit around drinking wine, which is so totally...kickASS. Dude!! Where's my invitation?? Bitches.
Yes, yes,it's a scholarship program, whatever. Bring on the talent and evening wear.
OH MY GOD, could they pad the presentation anymore?? Now we have a plug for the Aladdin. If this is how the evening's going to go, I do NOT have enough wine to survive.
Evening wear - one of the points of judgment is "how they wear the gown", which totally made me think of some chick walking out naked with the gown wrapped around her head. HA! Ok, they're being escorted out by men? Why? Ok, OK, it's a big deal for the girls and so far the first two girls are escorted by their dad, which is pretty cool. But, despite my whole "y'know, it's their choce todo this, blah blah" feeling, when they're escorted out by a guy, it gives a very Here's A-Pretty-Girl-Being-Presented-By-A-Man vibe, rather than the I-Work-My-Ass-Off-At-College-And-The-Pageant-Thing-So-Hell-Yeah-I'm-Tough kind of vibe that I'd much rather see. Take a drink, tie some string to something behind you and jump back into that sentence, and it'll make sense. Wear a helmet.
Oh, the dresses? Heh - they're very pretty so far - almost blandly so. One girl had this white lace bare midriff thing that was a little Frederick's, but other than that, the silhouettes have all been exactly the same and the only real difference has been if the slit is in the front or on the side. Miss Texas's gown was all silver...duh.
Miss Arkansa has this flesh tone w/ sparkle thing,that just ...wow. Again - this girl is pretty hot. It's like they made a classy version of that Britney outfit. Again, take a drink, close your eyes and work with me here. Heh - Miss Pennsylvania is with her brother and dude, her gown is slit WAAAY the hell up to there - like, top of the thigh vs. mid-thigh. Yowza.
OK, MC guy is the sex repairman/plumber/Terri Hatcher's hookup from Desperate Housewives. I never watch that show, so I don't know his name, but y'know - the hot guy. Anyway, he looks cute in a tux, but he's got all the charisma of a rubber duck. And he looks less than thrilled to be there. Again - a reason for booze backstage - I'm just sayin'.
They brought back the Miss Congeniality competition. "These ladies really get along and have a lot of fun together...just like the ones on my show." OK, that was kind of funny. Anyhoo - lots of blah blah, comments from the other contestants, bleedy blah - and the winner is -
Miss Hawaii. Cool. She's not in the Ten Finalists, but it's still cool and I like that they're at least trying to hint that maybe a girl can be pretty and nice to OTHER WOMEN at the same time. Miss Hawaii has a very nice dress on, basic black with a shiny band at the top of the bodice, but wow - that's another awfully high slit. They're talking and she's very touched and, "I think this means the reunion's in Hawaii" That's cute. AW.
We're back in Maine with the crazy drunken tiara wearers who DIDN'T INVITE ME. I've got to say, I don't own any taffeta. Although, the idea of raiding Goodwill for old prom dresses and...hm...I have a party idea for next year - or wait!! When is the Miss USA contest??
Top 5 (in random order!) are: Miss Virgina, Miss Oklahoma, Miss District of Columbia, Miss Georgia, and Miss Alabama
Well, shoot. None of my favorites, Arkansas, Florida or Texas made it in. Damn - it's like this year's Superbowl - I don't care about any of the damn teams that are gonna make it, but I need to pick SOMEBODY to drunkenly cheer for.
There was some random chatter here that just...bleh.
OOh OOH - The Talent Competition! Whoo! BRING ON THE FLAMING BATONS!!!
Miss Virginia is singing something from a Broadway musical. She has a pretty alto voice. Ok, well duh. But she's not trying to be operatic with it - she's singing it, well, like a Broadway song, not an opera.
Miss Oklahoma is dancing en pointe. Um..yeah.
Oooh - Miss D.C. is tapping. Hoow stupid do you think these girls feel? And do you think any of them laughed as hard as we did at "Drop Dead Gorgeous??" I sure hope so - I hope that movie has become a cult favorite among pageant folks. Anyway - Miss D.C.'s music is so loud that you can't hear her tapping. Again, one of my weirdnesses, but isn't the whole point of tapping to hear the TAPS?? Whatever. Also - doesn't she realize that character shoes would have been way more flattering than flat tap shoes? Feh.
Now we have Miss Georgia on the piano. Yawn. Oh, she's good and her outfit is...interesting, but seriously - so far we've seen the typical stuff - a singer, two dancers and a piano player. Will anybody ever do anything original? Like - a body-piercing talent?? Or a drinking competition, a la "Raiders of the Lost Ark"?? Hm?? 'Cause that, I could totally get behind.
Ok, MC Guy is saying something about unpredicatable, blah blah - he's running through a list of unusual talents from the past (trampoline, clog dancing, packing a...suitcase??), only to tell us that we're getting more ballet. "Contemporary Ballet", but ballet nonetheless. Miss Alabama gives us more lame ballet.
Look, I fully admit that I can stand in point shoes for about a minute and then I'm off to cry and rub my feet for a while. I am in complete awe of ballet dancers. However. I grew up with a mom who took classes at, worked at and hung around with the principals of The Cleveland Ballet. The woman who taught the Trocadero guys to actually dance like women, rather than men in drag? She was one of my mom's teachers. I grew up in a household where the names Baryshnikov, Nuryev, and Fonteyn were all followed by a little reverential hush. I did a 6th grade report on Maria Tallchief. I can't dance en pointe to save my life (I might be able to bourre'e across the floor, but that's it) but I know good ballet and I know mediocre ballet. Miss USA is mediocre ballet. I know, I know - they're busy with the whole pageant part of things, if they took the time to be GOOD ballet dancers, they wouldn't have time to be in the pageant. I got that. But - I just wish that if they couldn't do it right, they'd find some other talent - or just not dance en pointe - what's wrong with jazz hands????
Now we're whittling the five down to three, and something about somebody getting additional scholarship money...missed it while I was typing my rant.
So, the final three are Miss Alabama, Miss oklahoma, and Miss Georgia.
Now they're doing the question asking thing, and I totally missed the first girl because I realized I'd referred to this pageant as both Miss USA and Miss America, so I had to go back and fix it. And Miss Oklahoma just rambled something about having glasses and accepting herself and...what? Now Miss Georgia is talking about her role models and overcoming the stigma of growing up Asian-American.
Poor Miss Oklahoma - she just wants to hold somebody's hand.
2nd runner-up is Miss Alabama - she gets an Extra $15,000 in scholarship money.
The zoomed in on the girls holding hands and totally got a side shot of Miss Oklahoma's boob.
And the winner is - MISS OKLAHOMA!!! WHOO!!
Aw - she's cute, and there's confetti going everywhere and the song is playing and there's crying and she's completely fogotten how to walk in heels, she's so excited. Heh. Her mom and dad came up to hug her, and then she went right back over to talk to all the other girls in the competition - which is pretty damn cool, if you think about it. There aren't any vocals, just a cheesy tape of that God-awful song, but you can read her lips ans she's aying, "Oh my GOD! I KNoW!! I can't believe it!!!" Again, aw.
Roll credits. Oh cool - the end of "The Replacements." Pass the wine.
Don't question it, just nod and smile.
So, we've just finished up the opening ceremonies, during which I misted up a little at all the shots of winners past and then cheered for Ms. Louisiana and Ms. Texas. Oh, I'll be happy for whatever girl wins and blah blah blah, but seriosly, I get a stupid little rush of pride when I find out that the lady from one of my home states has won. DON'T YOU JUDGE ME.
And before anybody gets started on me, I don't give a flying fuck about pageants for people of consenting age. Kid's pageants?? eeeeeh...well... ick. Eighteen and up?? YOu want to spend your spare time gluing your bathing suit to your ass?? Well, then - you go girl. Pageants take a huge amount of work, the kind of work that I have absolutely no interest in or aptitude for. If that's how these chickies wanna roll, then that's fine with me. I could use an ounce of the composure that these chicks have, because watching me speak in public is a lot like watching a chimp on crack. Complete with poo-flinging. Anyway.
The 10 finalists are: Miss District of Columbia, Miss South Carolina, Miss Oklahoma (looks kind of like Denise Fisher and talks about how she and her sister used to play Miss America and she'd make her sister be M.C. Heh), Miss Virginia (I don't quite understand what her platform is, but it involves visiting maximum security prisons), Miss Georgia (kid called me on the phone during this one, so I didn't catch it), Miss Texas, Miss Arkansas (something about "that's the essence - being yourself" ??) Miss Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania has had 5 Miss Americas. Did you know that?? I do. Now.) Miss Alabama, Miss Florida (she has a bunch of pets, including a pet pig named Daisy, who she trained to nod when she asks, "I'm I gonna be Miss America?" Ok, I think that's cute - I may like Miss Florida the best.)
MC dude seems all shocked that the majority of the contestants are from the south. Um...dude - is this your FIRST pageant?? Southern girls are taught how to accessorize and walk in heels somewhere around birth, so it shocks me not at all that the majority of finalists are from below the Mason-Dixon.
Ooooh - the former Miss Americas. I always think it's pretty cool to see the former winners, even if they did just show a crowd shot and then move on.
Swimsuit, ugh. All in matching bikinis and one of them (Miss Arkansas, I believe) has her top hiked up high enough,I think she got lipstick on her tits. Anyway - little nod to the controversy around swimsuits, little retrospective and little spin on how the swimsuit competition is all about physical fitness, a healthy lifestyle and the competitor's composure. Uh-huh.
OH GOOD GOD, A DANCE ROUTINE, SHOOT ME.
And it will surprise absolutely noone that Miss Texas is blonde. Oh, and it wasn't Miss Arkansas with the hiked up top, but damn, Miss Arkansas is BUILT. Wow. Hmmm, I guess the hiked up boobie chick was just one of the other contestants that had to put on the damn suit for that wretched dance number. Poor girl. Despite this whole "dedication to a healthy lifestyle" crap they're trying to feed us, I really hope there's alcohol backstage for everybody.
Man, how cool would it be if one of the categories was "Best at Holding Liquor"??? Seriously - these are college chicks!! That's an important skill!!
I may or may not have dumped over a plate of poached salmon and cous cous onto my keyboard. ahem
They're covering some Miss America party, which looks like an excuse for women to wear their old bridesmaids gowns and tiaras and sit around drinking wine, which is so totally...kickASS. Dude!! Where's my invitation?? Bitches.
Yes, yes,it's a scholarship program, whatever. Bring on the talent and evening wear.
OH MY GOD, could they pad the presentation anymore?? Now we have a plug for the Aladdin. If this is how the evening's going to go, I do NOT have enough wine to survive.
Evening wear - one of the points of judgment is "how they wear the gown", which totally made me think of some chick walking out naked with the gown wrapped around her head. HA! Ok, they're being escorted out by men? Why? Ok, OK, it's a big deal for the girls and so far the first two girls are escorted by their dad, which is pretty cool. But, despite my whole "y'know, it's their choce todo this, blah blah" feeling, when they're escorted out by a guy, it gives a very Here's A-Pretty-Girl-Being-Presented-By-A-Man vibe, rather than the I-Work-My-Ass-Off-At-College-And-The-Pageant-Thing-So-Hell-Yeah-I'm-Tough kind of vibe that I'd much rather see. Take a drink, tie some string to something behind you and jump back into that sentence, and it'll make sense. Wear a helmet.
Oh, the dresses? Heh - they're very pretty so far - almost blandly so. One girl had this white lace bare midriff thing that was a little Frederick's, but other than that, the silhouettes have all been exactly the same and the only real difference has been if the slit is in the front or on the side. Miss Texas's gown was all silver...duh.
Miss Arkansa has this flesh tone w/ sparkle thing,that just ...wow. Again - this girl is pretty hot. It's like they made a classy version of that Britney outfit. Again, take a drink, close your eyes and work with me here. Heh - Miss Pennsylvania is with her brother and dude, her gown is slit WAAAY the hell up to there - like, top of the thigh vs. mid-thigh. Yowza.
OK, MC guy is the sex repairman/plumber/Terri Hatcher's hookup from Desperate Housewives. I never watch that show, so I don't know his name, but y'know - the hot guy. Anyway, he looks cute in a tux, but he's got all the charisma of a rubber duck. And he looks less than thrilled to be there. Again - a reason for booze backstage - I'm just sayin'.
They brought back the Miss Congeniality competition. "These ladies really get along and have a lot of fun together...just like the ones on my show." OK, that was kind of funny. Anyhoo - lots of blah blah, comments from the other contestants, bleedy blah - and the winner is -
Miss Hawaii. Cool. She's not in the Ten Finalists, but it's still cool and I like that they're at least trying to hint that maybe a girl can be pretty and nice to OTHER WOMEN at the same time. Miss Hawaii has a very nice dress on, basic black with a shiny band at the top of the bodice, but wow - that's another awfully high slit. They're talking and she's very touched and, "I think this means the reunion's in Hawaii" That's cute. AW.
We're back in Maine with the crazy drunken tiara wearers who DIDN'T INVITE ME. I've got to say, I don't own any taffeta. Although, the idea of raiding Goodwill for old prom dresses and...hm...I have a party idea for next year - or wait!! When is the Miss USA contest??
Top 5 (in random order!) are: Miss Virgina, Miss Oklahoma, Miss District of Columbia, Miss Georgia, and Miss Alabama
Well, shoot. None of my favorites, Arkansas, Florida or Texas made it in. Damn - it's like this year's Superbowl - I don't care about any of the damn teams that are gonna make it, but I need to pick SOMEBODY to drunkenly cheer for.
There was some random chatter here that just...bleh.
OOh OOH - The Talent Competition! Whoo! BRING ON THE FLAMING BATONS!!!
Miss Virginia is singing something from a Broadway musical. She has a pretty alto voice. Ok, well duh. But she's not trying to be operatic with it - she's singing it, well, like a Broadway song, not an opera.
Miss Oklahoma is dancing en pointe. Um..yeah.
Oooh - Miss D.C. is tapping. Hoow stupid do you think these girls feel? And do you think any of them laughed as hard as we did at "Drop Dead Gorgeous??" I sure hope so - I hope that movie has become a cult favorite among pageant folks. Anyway - Miss D.C.'s music is so loud that you can't hear her tapping. Again, one of my weirdnesses, but isn't the whole point of tapping to hear the TAPS?? Whatever. Also - doesn't she realize that character shoes would have been way more flattering than flat tap shoes? Feh.
Now we have Miss Georgia on the piano. Yawn. Oh, she's good and her outfit is...interesting, but seriously - so far we've seen the typical stuff - a singer, two dancers and a piano player. Will anybody ever do anything original? Like - a body-piercing talent?? Or a drinking competition, a la "Raiders of the Lost Ark"?? Hm?? 'Cause that, I could totally get behind.
Ok, MC Guy is saying something about unpredicatable, blah blah - he's running through a list of unusual talents from the past (trampoline, clog dancing, packing a...suitcase??), only to tell us that we're getting more ballet. "Contemporary Ballet", but ballet nonetheless. Miss Alabama gives us more lame ballet.
Look, I fully admit that I can stand in point shoes for about a minute and then I'm off to cry and rub my feet for a while. I am in complete awe of ballet dancers. However. I grew up with a mom who took classes at, worked at and hung around with the principals of The Cleveland Ballet. The woman who taught the Trocadero guys to actually dance like women, rather than men in drag? She was one of my mom's teachers. I grew up in a household where the names Baryshnikov, Nuryev, and Fonteyn were all followed by a little reverential hush. I did a 6th grade report on Maria Tallchief. I can't dance en pointe to save my life (I might be able to bourre'e across the floor, but that's it) but I know good ballet and I know mediocre ballet. Miss USA is mediocre ballet. I know, I know - they're busy with the whole pageant part of things, if they took the time to be GOOD ballet dancers, they wouldn't have time to be in the pageant. I got that. But - I just wish that if they couldn't do it right, they'd find some other talent - or just not dance en pointe - what's wrong with jazz hands????
Now we're whittling the five down to three, and something about somebody getting additional scholarship money...missed it while I was typing my rant.
So, the final three are Miss Alabama, Miss oklahoma, and Miss Georgia.
Now they're doing the question asking thing, and I totally missed the first girl because I realized I'd referred to this pageant as both Miss USA and Miss America, so I had to go back and fix it. And Miss Oklahoma just rambled something about having glasses and accepting herself and...what? Now Miss Georgia is talking about her role models and overcoming the stigma of growing up Asian-American.
Poor Miss Oklahoma - she just wants to hold somebody's hand.
2nd runner-up is Miss Alabama - she gets an Extra $15,000 in scholarship money.
The zoomed in on the girls holding hands and totally got a side shot of Miss Oklahoma's boob.
And the winner is - MISS OKLAHOMA!!! WHOO!!
Aw - she's cute, and there's confetti going everywhere and the song is playing and there's crying and she's completely fogotten how to walk in heels, she's so excited. Heh. Her mom and dad came up to hug her, and then she went right back over to talk to all the other girls in the competition - which is pretty damn cool, if you think about it. There aren't any vocals, just a cheesy tape of that God-awful song, but you can read her lips ans she's aying, "Oh my GOD! I KNoW!! I can't believe it!!!" Again, aw.
Roll credits. Oh cool - the end of "The Replacements." Pass the wine.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
The Dam Damn
I'm sort of drowning over here - every time I start to write something, it starts coming out awfully dark and dour and not just a little boring. So, in the name of assuring my two readers that I'm not dead, and maybe punching a tiny hole in The Writing Wall, so that all the goodness can flow forth after this, I present you with a horrifyingly labryinthine sentence and a meme. Enjoy.
Four jobs you have had:
1) Systems Administrator - Yep, I'm the IT Goddess. Whoo.
2) Waitress at Chuck E. Cheese. This mostly involved carrying large mediocre pizzas through a minefield of running toddlers and dressing up as a giant rat mafioso. Yep - I got to wear the rat costume. Actually, at the time this was a Showbiz pizza that had just been bought out/converted to a Chuck E. Cheese, so we had the animatronic redneck bear musical, a giant bear costume (yep, wore that too) as well as all the trappings of the rat place. Fun fun fun
3)Receptionist for a book company. The best part of this job was watching the folks come in with their wallets or purses all ready to go. They'd come in, get this really confused look on their faces when they'd spy me at the reception desk and then ask, "Ummm hi. Where are the books??" I'd helpfully point them out to one of our conveniently located stores. That chain (much) later got bought out by Barnes & Noble.
4)A non-waitress at a "gentlemen's club." That was an interesting year.
Four movies you would watch over and over:
1)The Ref
2)Gone with the Wind (oh shut up)
3)The Usual Suspects
4)The Replacements (again, shut up - I have a weakness for sports movies)
Four places you have lived:
1)New Orleans, Louisiana
2)Baton Rouge, Louisiana
3)Austin, Texas
4)Cleveland, Ohio (yep - right after my parents got divorced, so I was 4ish? 5? I remember going to school there, so I had to have hit 5 at some point. We only lived there for about a year - until my grandfather died, then we came back to New Orleans. I've also lived in Waco, Texas but ACK - who would admit that??)
Four TV shows you love to watch:
1)CSI (watching a re-run right now, as a matter of fact)
2)Good Eats
3)Project Runway (I admit it, I'm hooked. Santino sucks and Guadalupe wuz robbed!!)
4)Family Guy
Four places you have been on vacation:
1)Isla Mujeres, Mexico (I sooooo need to get my passport changed. ugh)
2)Key West, Florida (Actually, I've been all over Florida, but Key West was a grown-up vacation and didn't involve any hats with ears.)
3)Houston, Texas (I was a kid and we went to Astro-World, shut up. Also, when I was 8 months pregnant with kiddo, we went to Astro-World for the day and I lasted longer than anybody else. HA!)
4)Georgia (kid vacation, grandmother was on a cave kick, so we wandered all over Georgia, checking out caves. It was actually pretty damn cool.)
Four websites you visit daily:
1)IMDB I don't know why, but I seem to need to look something up on this every damn day.
2)My bank website - I love watching the bill monsters eat my money.
3)Go Fug Yourself, because God-DAMN
4)Amazon. I like to window shop, what can I say?
Four of your favorite foods:
1)Cheeseburger and fries
2)This weird variation on a carbonara that I make when I'm at home alone and feeling depressed
3)Shake 'n bake porkchops with white beans and rice. Just trust me - this is a meal my grandma made and it still makes me happy
4)My grandma's red beans and rice. Nobody makes 'em like this woman.
Four places you would rather be right now:
Well, I'm at home, in the comfiest pants I can still wear out in public, a big sweatshirt that hides the whole braless thing, and these wonderful socks that I got for Christmas. My only real problem is that I'm currently out of wine. Anyway - how about 4 places that I love to be?
1)On my back porch, with a bottle of red and a new (to me) book
2)On a warm beach
3)At my dad's house, hanging out with my family
4)Wandering through a bookstore with lots of money and time
Four jobs you have had:
1) Systems Administrator - Yep, I'm the IT Goddess. Whoo.
2) Waitress at Chuck E. Cheese. This mostly involved carrying large mediocre pizzas through a minefield of running toddlers and dressing up as a giant rat mafioso. Yep - I got to wear the rat costume. Actually, at the time this was a Showbiz pizza that had just been bought out/converted to a Chuck E. Cheese, so we had the animatronic redneck bear musical, a giant bear costume (yep, wore that too) as well as all the trappings of the rat place. Fun fun fun
3)Receptionist for a book company. The best part of this job was watching the folks come in with their wallets or purses all ready to go. They'd come in, get this really confused look on their faces when they'd spy me at the reception desk and then ask, "Ummm hi. Where are the books??" I'd helpfully point them out to one of our conveniently located stores. That chain (much) later got bought out by Barnes & Noble.
4)A non-waitress at a "gentlemen's club." That was an interesting year.
Four movies you would watch over and over:
1)The Ref
2)Gone with the Wind (oh shut up)
3)The Usual Suspects
4)The Replacements (again, shut up - I have a weakness for sports movies)
Four places you have lived:
1)New Orleans, Louisiana
2)Baton Rouge, Louisiana
3)Austin, Texas
4)Cleveland, Ohio (yep - right after my parents got divorced, so I was 4ish? 5? I remember going to school there, so I had to have hit 5 at some point. We only lived there for about a year - until my grandfather died, then we came back to New Orleans. I've also lived in Waco, Texas but ACK - who would admit that??)
Four TV shows you love to watch:
1)CSI (watching a re-run right now, as a matter of fact)
2)Good Eats
3)Project Runway (I admit it, I'm hooked. Santino sucks and Guadalupe wuz robbed!!)
4)Family Guy
Four places you have been on vacation:
1)Isla Mujeres, Mexico (I sooooo need to get my passport changed. ugh)
2)Key West, Florida (Actually, I've been all over Florida, but Key West was a grown-up vacation and didn't involve any hats with ears.)
3)Houston, Texas (I was a kid and we went to Astro-World, shut up. Also, when I was 8 months pregnant with kiddo, we went to Astro-World for the day and I lasted longer than anybody else. HA!)
4)Georgia (kid vacation, grandmother was on a cave kick, so we wandered all over Georgia, checking out caves. It was actually pretty damn cool.)
Four websites you visit daily:
1)IMDB I don't know why, but I seem to need to look something up on this every damn day.
2)My bank website - I love watching the bill monsters eat my money.
3)Go Fug Yourself, because God-DAMN
4)Amazon. I like to window shop, what can I say?
Four of your favorite foods:
1)Cheeseburger and fries
2)This weird variation on a carbonara that I make when I'm at home alone and feeling depressed
3)Shake 'n bake porkchops with white beans and rice. Just trust me - this is a meal my grandma made and it still makes me happy
4)My grandma's red beans and rice. Nobody makes 'em like this woman.
Four places you would rather be right now:
Well, I'm at home, in the comfiest pants I can still wear out in public, a big sweatshirt that hides the whole braless thing, and these wonderful socks that I got for Christmas. My only real problem is that I'm currently out of wine. Anyway - how about 4 places that I love to be?
1)On my back porch, with a bottle of red and a new (to me) book
2)On a warm beach
3)At my dad's house, hanging out with my family
4)Wandering through a bookstore with lots of money and time
Saturday, December 31, 2005
2005
2005 was not great. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't what I'd call a good year either. I have a strange division in my memory - pre-Katrina and post-Katrina. The whole section of 2005 before feels like a different year entirely. Let's see what we have here:
January - I had to have oral surgery because I had an eensy-teensy bit of bone left over from having my wisdom teeth pulled (years ago, but whatever) that caused an infection and my whole face to puff up. Fun. I also went to Houston by myself for a friend's birthday party and opened a Nordstrom account that I still haven't paid off. whoo.
February - Valentine's Day...uh. I have no recollection of February 2005. Seriously - I don't remember a damn thing about this month.
March - I had a happy hour on what would have been my wedding anniversary. This day was made even more, er....interesting?? when my ex decided to send me a dozen roses - in honor of the non-event. For the record, he was not a big flower sender when we WERE married - something that always annoyed me, because HI!!! I'm a girl!! SEND ME SOME FUCKING FLOWERS, NIMROD. And if you finally do?? Try to make it while we're still married instead of using it as an opportunity to make me aware of your regrets, OK??
April - I raided my IRA to pay a gigantic tax bill, threw a shower for my best friend, watched same best friend get married in one of the most perfect wedding ceremonies EVER and went off my meds - which means I sobbed through all of the above. Oh - and I fell for Max when he showed up at the rehearsal dinner all clean-shaven and yummy looking.
May - 34th birthday, first date with Max and one last visit to Louisiana before it sank. Of course, I didn't KNOW that, so I didn't grab all the pictures that I laughingly showed kiddo, or any of the keepsakes that I've secretly lusted over or take any Goddamned pictures. I need to stop thinking about May.
June - I, uh, I was here for June. I think the kiddo went to Mexico in June? I spent a LOT of time at Max's house. Heh.
July - I went to Kansas (Hi Jane!!) and Nebraska. I came home, and there was a whole other 3 weeks left and I don't remember what happened. Sigh.
August - It was hot. Katrina began the process of sinking my hometown.
September - My hometown sank. I got to consume all KINDS of live music. On the 14th, we saw Weezer and The Foo Fighters, and then on the 28th, 29th and 30th we went to the Austin City Limits Music Festival and OH MY GOD it was so fuckin' hot. And dusty. And hot. Did I mention hot?? We looked up at those hot dusty skies and wished for rain, not just because it was so damn hot, but also because it would have meant that Rita had turned West and spared New Orleans from yet more fucking water.
October - kiddo turned 14 and I officially became older than dirt. I also went to Louisiana to pick up my grandmother's cat (who managed to survive on the top floor of my grandmother's flooded house with no food for 5 weeks) and to pick up a variety of trinkets that had been rescued from my grandparent's house in New Orleans. Kiddo got herself into some major trouble at the beginning of this month.
November - Max's birthday and another trip to Louisiana for Thanksgiving. A visit to the first new place my grandparents have lived in over 40 years.
December - The first anniversary of the divorce. Christmas. I got to meet Max's family (this weekend!)
And here we are - I'm sitting here, at 10:00PM CST, with my boyfriend and my daughter and my cats. We're working on a table full of snacks (cheetos, ruffles, corn chips, dips, a cheese ball, some crackers, pizza rolls and bacon-wrapped scallops), we have a six-pack, a bottle of syrah, Diet Coke and a bottle of cheap champagne chilling in the fridge. My black-eyed peas are soaking.
Max is putting together his copy of Simpson's Operation (he got it for Christmas), so I guess we'll be playing that later.
I'm lucky - I'm spending my New Year's Eve with a couple of my favorite people and a bunch of junk food and some board games. Portions of this year have sucked. I cried a lot. All through January, I was in physical pain. I cried through the entire month of April. I started crying at the end of August and didn't stop until the end of September. Then kiddo got in trouble and the tears started again. I've uh, I've been OK for the past few weeks.
I've also laughed a lot this year. I laughed and danced at BFF's wedding. I laughed on my first date with Max, and I've laughed - a real laugh - at least once, every day that I've spent with him. I laugh to the point of tears and pain with kiddo on a regular basis. Hell, I've almost gotten into wrecks because I've laughed so hard with that child. I have a great boyfriend, a smartfunnyprettycool kid and two snuggly cats. I have a job and lots of pretty clothes and my health. I'm a lucky person.
Point? No point. Just that a year is not a way to measure a life. I think I've been more happy than sad this year. I don't have any more money than I did, I'm heavier and I've probably managed to piss off just as many people as any other year. But I've also made some discoveries about myself and I think I can build on them. It's all good.
The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord lift his face to shine upon you
And give you peace
The Lord make his countenance to smile on you
And be gracious unto you
Good luck to you in 2006.
January - I had to have oral surgery because I had an eensy-teensy bit of bone left over from having my wisdom teeth pulled (years ago, but whatever) that caused an infection and my whole face to puff up. Fun. I also went to Houston by myself for a friend's birthday party and opened a Nordstrom account that I still haven't paid off. whoo.
February - Valentine's Day...uh. I have no recollection of February 2005. Seriously - I don't remember a damn thing about this month.
March - I had a happy hour on what would have been my wedding anniversary. This day was made even more, er....interesting?? when my ex decided to send me a dozen roses - in honor of the non-event. For the record, he was not a big flower sender when we WERE married - something that always annoyed me, because HI!!! I'm a girl!! SEND ME SOME FUCKING FLOWERS, NIMROD. And if you finally do?? Try to make it while we're still married instead of using it as an opportunity to make me aware of your regrets, OK??
April - I raided my IRA to pay a gigantic tax bill, threw a shower for my best friend, watched same best friend get married in one of the most perfect wedding ceremonies EVER and went off my meds - which means I sobbed through all of the above. Oh - and I fell for Max when he showed up at the rehearsal dinner all clean-shaven and yummy looking.
May - 34th birthday, first date with Max and one last visit to Louisiana before it sank. Of course, I didn't KNOW that, so I didn't grab all the pictures that I laughingly showed kiddo, or any of the keepsakes that I've secretly lusted over or take any Goddamned pictures. I need to stop thinking about May.
June - I, uh, I was here for June. I think the kiddo went to Mexico in June? I spent a LOT of time at Max's house. Heh.
July - I went to Kansas (Hi Jane!!) and Nebraska. I came home, and there was a whole other 3 weeks left and I don't remember what happened. Sigh.
August - It was hot. Katrina began the process of sinking my hometown.
September - My hometown sank. I got to consume all KINDS of live music. On the 14th, we saw Weezer and The Foo Fighters, and then on the 28th, 29th and 30th we went to the Austin City Limits Music Festival and OH MY GOD it was so fuckin' hot. And dusty. And hot. Did I mention hot?? We looked up at those hot dusty skies and wished for rain, not just because it was so damn hot, but also because it would have meant that Rita had turned West and spared New Orleans from yet more fucking water.
October - kiddo turned 14 and I officially became older than dirt. I also went to Louisiana to pick up my grandmother's cat (who managed to survive on the top floor of my grandmother's flooded house with no food for 5 weeks) and to pick up a variety of trinkets that had been rescued from my grandparent's house in New Orleans. Kiddo got herself into some major trouble at the beginning of this month.
November - Max's birthday and another trip to Louisiana for Thanksgiving. A visit to the first new place my grandparents have lived in over 40 years.
December - The first anniversary of the divorce. Christmas. I got to meet Max's family (this weekend!)
And here we are - I'm sitting here, at 10:00PM CST, with my boyfriend and my daughter and my cats. We're working on a table full of snacks (cheetos, ruffles, corn chips, dips, a cheese ball, some crackers, pizza rolls and bacon-wrapped scallops), we have a six-pack, a bottle of syrah, Diet Coke and a bottle of cheap champagne chilling in the fridge. My black-eyed peas are soaking.
Max is putting together his copy of Simpson's Operation (he got it for Christmas), so I guess we'll be playing that later.
I'm lucky - I'm spending my New Year's Eve with a couple of my favorite people and a bunch of junk food and some board games. Portions of this year have sucked. I cried a lot. All through January, I was in physical pain. I cried through the entire month of April. I started crying at the end of August and didn't stop until the end of September. Then kiddo got in trouble and the tears started again. I've uh, I've been OK for the past few weeks.
I've also laughed a lot this year. I laughed and danced at BFF's wedding. I laughed on my first date with Max, and I've laughed - a real laugh - at least once, every day that I've spent with him. I laugh to the point of tears and pain with kiddo on a regular basis. Hell, I've almost gotten into wrecks because I've laughed so hard with that child. I have a great boyfriend, a smartfunnyprettycool kid and two snuggly cats. I have a job and lots of pretty clothes and my health. I'm a lucky person.
Point? No point. Just that a year is not a way to measure a life. I think I've been more happy than sad this year. I don't have any more money than I did, I'm heavier and I've probably managed to piss off just as many people as any other year. But I've also made some discoveries about myself and I think I can build on them. It's all good.
The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord lift his face to shine upon you
And give you peace
The Lord make his countenance to smile on you
And be gracious unto you
Good luck to you in 2006.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Parenthood
Dear Kiddo -
I love you, kiddo. I love you more than you will probably ever realize. And I know that I make the typical parent mistakes - I criticize easily, but don't praise enough, I project my fears and issues on to you, I'm inconsistent with my discipline.
I know, I know, I know, OK?? Believe it or not, these are things I work on every single day. I'm doing my best over here. I had a sort of odd relationship with my mother, and it was flawed and strange, but it's the only mother/daughter relationship I know and for better or worse, it's what we're re-creating (without some of the awkward boundary issues, I hope, because ACK.)
But look - could you cut me some slack over here? Could you stop with some of the more ridiculously stupid behavior? Could you maybe shock the shit out of me and clean up things when I ask you to? Could you recognize that you have life pretty damn easy with me and maybe appreciate that once in a while?
Tell you what - I'll try to appreciate what an amazing kid I have more often if you appreciate that I'm really trying over here and could use a break. OK??
Love you sweet potato,
Mom
I love you, kiddo. I love you more than you will probably ever realize. And I know that I make the typical parent mistakes - I criticize easily, but don't praise enough, I project my fears and issues on to you, I'm inconsistent with my discipline.
I know, I know, I know, OK?? Believe it or not, these are things I work on every single day. I'm doing my best over here. I had a sort of odd relationship with my mother, and it was flawed and strange, but it's the only mother/daughter relationship I know and for better or worse, it's what we're re-creating (without some of the awkward boundary issues, I hope, because ACK.)
But look - could you cut me some slack over here? Could you stop with some of the more ridiculously stupid behavior? Could you maybe shock the shit out of me and clean up things when I ask you to? Could you recognize that you have life pretty damn easy with me and maybe appreciate that once in a while?
Tell you what - I'll try to appreciate what an amazing kid I have more often if you appreciate that I'm really trying over here and could use a break. OK??
Love you sweet potato,
Mom
Sunday, December 11, 2005
What? Wine has no therapeutic uses?? Well, SHIT.
I may need to start being a bit more honest with myself about my medication needs. Over the past 3 days, I have:
Been on the verge of tears for a variety of reasons, including watching the Gingerbread Challenge on The Food Network, talking to my best friend and those GODDAMN KAY JEWELER COMMERCIALS.
Snapped at my boyfriend for using the wrong bathroom. (Just...don't ask)
Sat on my couch, completely befuddled by the vast array of housecleaning choices available to me - clean the catbox? or the kitchen? or take a shower? OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Gotten up, taken the shower and then in a burst of mania heretofore unrivaled (by myself, that is - I don't know about you crazy fuckers) convinced myself that in the space of an hour I could totally cleanthekitchenbathroomcatboxmyroomkiddo'sbathroomlivingroom (breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeath in) andthencooksomesoupandtheredbeansandfreezetheredbeansandthen
balancemycheckbookandmaybefinishmyonlineshopping (breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeath in) andthenohyeahIneedtodoallthelaundryokIcandothatandthenIwanttoknit ablanketforBFFandmaybegotothegymbecauseI'mgettingsofat
(thump)
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Yeah, I just MIGHT need to be a little more realistic about my medication needs and maybe OOOOOOH, START TAKING THE FUCKING THINGS AGAIN.
BAH.
Been on the verge of tears for a variety of reasons, including watching the Gingerbread Challenge on The Food Network, talking to my best friend and those GODDAMN KAY JEWELER COMMERCIALS.
Snapped at my boyfriend for using the wrong bathroom. (Just...don't ask)
Sat on my couch, completely befuddled by the vast array of housecleaning choices available to me - clean the catbox? or the kitchen? or take a shower? OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Gotten up, taken the shower and then in a burst of mania heretofore unrivaled (by myself, that is - I don't know about you crazy fuckers) convinced myself that in the space of an hour I could totally cleanthekitchenbathroomcatboxmyroomkiddo'sbathroomlivingroom (breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeath in) andthencooksomesoupandtheredbeansandfreezetheredbeansandthen
balancemycheckbookandmaybefinishmyonlineshopping (breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeath in) andthenohyeahIneedtodoallthelaundryokIcandothatandthenIwanttoknit ablanketforBFFandmaybegotothegymbecauseI'mgettingsofat
(thump)
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Yeah, I just MIGHT need to be a little more realistic about my medication needs and maybe OOOOOOH, START TAKING THE FUCKING THINGS AGAIN.
BAH.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
D-U-R-N-K
Max is sick. Heh - no,I mean in the cold virus, running a fever, snotty, needs chicken soup and Thera-Flu STAT! type of sick.
I am durnk....the type of durnk that tries to type "durnk" to make it funny and then types "drunk" and has to fix it for comic effect. HEH.
I am watching Nip/Tuck (bolt cutters!!! skin grafts in the field!! tragically mistaken identities!!) and talking to my mom over IM (not so much w/ the gore, but still pretty interesting!!!!)
I balanced my checkbook and I think that I'll have $60 till my next paycheck (which is on the 15th, so...but still!) I have no food in my house, half a tank of gas and still have Christmas presents to buy!! Hey! News flash! BEING AN ADULT SUCKS!!!
I wrote what was intended to be a supportive email to a journaller I really really like and am afraid all I managed to do was piss her off!!
I need yarn!! No, really!!! I need it for my mom's Christmas present!!!
And?? The Ex has a new girlfriend.
OK, so..now...before you jump to any conclusions here - I don't really care if The Ex has a girlfriend, per se. If the man is happy, I'm well..I don't care, I don't wish ill on anybody blah, bad karma blee.
So, that being said, he does seem to be running through the women awfully quickly. I can't figure out how I feel about this. And before anybody starts talking?? Jealous? NOT ON THE MENU. OK? I'm...I'm pretty honest with myself here. I'm...amysed? Confused? Worried that he's running so fast that he's hitting any port he can? I. It.. I....bah.
The anniversary of our divorce was on Friday (December 2nd) and I started to write about it, started to make a big deal about it, but...eh. It was wordy and annoying and really easy to boil down.
I don't miss him, and I don't miss *our marriage*, but I do miss being married sometimes. I miss the security and comfort of having somebody there, here, with me. I miss the ease of a long-term relationship.
And I...worry? wonder? about him, because he seems to be running so hard, so fast to find somebody. It's just not healthy. But y'know - it's also not my life. He can fun as fast and as hard and as long as he wants and really, it sholdn't matter to me.....so why the fuck am I talking about it?
HM.
I was going to write some bullshit thing about how I can't ignore it, it's in my face because we're tied together by a child - BLLLEELELELELEEEECCHCHCH.
The truth??
See - for 14 years, I was made responsible for this man's emotional well-being and happiness. And not in the fun "make my baby happy" married way. I mean in the uncomfortable "this is your fault!" kind of way. So - y'know - a piddling year later, I feel the same sort of thing about Ex Gossip as I do about celebrity gossip. I KNOW I shouldn't care - really, I DO!!!! But I just can't help it. I don't go looking for it, but when a link comes on MSN about Brit and K-Fed?? I click it. When the kiddo comes home and announces that she and her dad had dinner with his new girlfriend and her son? I ask "new girlfriend?? Is she...nice??", hoping for more information. I would think that purely feeling curiosity, instead of a need to fix everything? Is a big fucking improvement.
I also think I need another beer.
I am durnk....the type of durnk that tries to type "durnk" to make it funny and then types "drunk" and has to fix it for comic effect. HEH.
I am watching Nip/Tuck (bolt cutters!!! skin grafts in the field!! tragically mistaken identities!!) and talking to my mom over IM (not so much w/ the gore, but still pretty interesting!!!!)
I balanced my checkbook and I think that I'll have $60 till my next paycheck (which is on the 15th, so...but still!) I have no food in my house, half a tank of gas and still have Christmas presents to buy!! Hey! News flash! BEING AN ADULT SUCKS!!!
I wrote what was intended to be a supportive email to a journaller I really really like and am afraid all I managed to do was piss her off!!
I need yarn!! No, really!!! I need it for my mom's Christmas present!!!
And?? The Ex has a new girlfriend.
OK, so..now...before you jump to any conclusions here - I don't really care if The Ex has a girlfriend, per se. If the man is happy, I'm well..I don't care, I don't wish ill on anybody blah, bad karma blee.
So, that being said, he does seem to be running through the women awfully quickly. I can't figure out how I feel about this. And before anybody starts talking?? Jealous? NOT ON THE MENU. OK? I'm...I'm pretty honest with myself here. I'm...amysed? Confused? Worried that he's running so fast that he's hitting any port he can? I. It.. I....bah.
The anniversary of our divorce was on Friday (December 2nd) and I started to write about it, started to make a big deal about it, but...eh. It was wordy and annoying and really easy to boil down.
I don't miss him, and I don't miss *our marriage*, but I do miss being married sometimes. I miss the security and comfort of having somebody there, here, with me. I miss the ease of a long-term relationship.
And I...worry? wonder? about him, because he seems to be running so hard, so fast to find somebody. It's just not healthy. But y'know - it's also not my life. He can fun as fast and as hard and as long as he wants and really, it sholdn't matter to me.....so why the fuck am I talking about it?
HM.
I was going to write some bullshit thing about how I can't ignore it, it's in my face because we're tied together by a child - BLLLEELELELELEEEECCHCHCH.
The truth??
See - for 14 years, I was made responsible for this man's emotional well-being and happiness. And not in the fun "make my baby happy" married way. I mean in the uncomfortable "this is your fault!" kind of way. So - y'know - a piddling year later, I feel the same sort of thing about Ex Gossip as I do about celebrity gossip. I KNOW I shouldn't care - really, I DO!!!! But I just can't help it. I don't go looking for it, but when a link comes on MSN about Brit and K-Fed?? I click it. When the kiddo comes home and announces that she and her dad had dinner with his new girlfriend and her son? I ask "new girlfriend?? Is she...nice??", hoping for more information. I would think that purely feeling curiosity, instead of a need to fix everything? Is a big fucking improvement.
I also think I need another beer.
Monday, December 05, 2005
lazy ass bitch
-3 names I go by:
Laura
Lolly
Mama
-3 screen names I have:
lollylb
momolade
beerandcarnations
-3 physical things I like about myself:
My legs
My boobs
My eyes
-3 physical things I dislike about myself:
My stretchmarks
My ass
My high-waistedness
-3 parts of my heritage:
Cajun
French (yes, there is a difference)
German
-3 of my everyday essentials:
Coffee
Chapstick
talking to my kiddo
-3 of my favorite musicians:
Red Hot Chili Peppers (I know - it's a group - shaddup)
Joni Mitchell
Dave Grohl (Ok, that's mostly because he's smokin' hot - but I do like The Foo Fighters and his style, so again? shaddup)
-3 of my favorite songs:
The "Family Guy" theme song
"Twisted" by Joni Mitchell
"Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" the Marilyn Monroe version
-3 things that scare me:
giant bugs (roaches obviously, but moths?? freak me right the fuck out)
my dad dying before I get to visit him "one last time"
losing my kiddo
-3 things I want in a relationship:
the ability to argue about stuff without it turning into argument
individuality on both parts without resentment
hot smokin' sex wouldn't suck
-3 lies I tell:
"Oh, I'm fine"
"I'll get up early and do that in the morning."
"I don't get *that* many headaches"
-3 physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to me:
shoulders
fuzzy chests
Uh, well - cocks. HELLO
-3 of my hobbies:
knitting
I want to say reading, because I love it, but I haven't read anything other than a BLOG in so long that it feels dishonest, but fuck it - reading
Food
-3 things I really want to do right now with a special someone:
take a wandering road trip
snuggle up and watch movies all day (again)
go meandering down South Congress and Guadalupe and poke around in all the shops
-3 careers I've considered:
nurse
teacher
self-employed artisan-type
-3 places I'd like to go on vacation:
Italy
New York City
some wonderfully deserted (yet still staffed with cheap alcohol and thoughtful bartenders) beach
-3 kids names I like:
Tallulah
Maisey
Sophie
(I like odd names for girls and traditonal names (Mark, Paul, William) for boys. hm)
-3 things I'd like to do before I die:
Have another baby (I'm sick, I know)
Go to Europe
make a will - heh
-3 ways I'm a stereotypical guy:
I girl-watch
I love sports, especially football
I can make dinner out of a six pack, a block of cheese and some corn chips
-3 ways I'm a stereotypical girl:
I have a purse addiction
I like arts and crafts and all the supply shopping that it entails
See above in re:baby fever
Laura
Lolly
Mama
-3 screen names I have:
lollylb
momolade
beerandcarnations
-3 physical things I like about myself:
My legs
My boobs
My eyes
-3 physical things I dislike about myself:
My stretchmarks
My ass
My high-waistedness
-3 parts of my heritage:
Cajun
French (yes, there is a difference)
German
-3 of my everyday essentials:
Coffee
Chapstick
talking to my kiddo
-3 of my favorite musicians:
Red Hot Chili Peppers (I know - it's a group - shaddup)
Joni Mitchell
Dave Grohl (Ok, that's mostly because he's smokin' hot - but I do like The Foo Fighters and his style, so again? shaddup)
-3 of my favorite songs:
The "Family Guy" theme song
"Twisted" by Joni Mitchell
"Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" the Marilyn Monroe version
-3 things that scare me:
giant bugs (roaches obviously, but moths?? freak me right the fuck out)
my dad dying before I get to visit him "one last time"
losing my kiddo
-3 things I want in a relationship:
the ability to argue about stuff without it turning into argument
individuality on both parts without resentment
hot smokin' sex wouldn't suck
-3 lies I tell:
"Oh, I'm fine"
"I'll get up early and do that in the morning."
"I don't get *that* many headaches"
-3 physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to me:
shoulders
fuzzy chests
Uh, well - cocks. HELLO
-3 of my hobbies:
knitting
I want to say reading, because I love it, but I haven't read anything other than a BLOG in so long that it feels dishonest, but fuck it - reading
Food
-3 things I really want to do right now with a special someone:
take a wandering road trip
snuggle up and watch movies all day (again)
go meandering down South Congress and Guadalupe and poke around in all the shops
-3 careers I've considered:
nurse
teacher
self-employed artisan-type
-3 places I'd like to go on vacation:
Italy
New York City
some wonderfully deserted (yet still staffed with cheap alcohol and thoughtful bartenders) beach
-3 kids names I like:
Tallulah
Maisey
Sophie
(I like odd names for girls and traditonal names (Mark, Paul, William) for boys. hm)
-3 things I'd like to do before I die:
Have another baby (I'm sick, I know)
Go to Europe
make a will - heh
-3 ways I'm a stereotypical guy:
I girl-watch
I love sports, especially football
I can make dinner out of a six pack, a block of cheese and some corn chips
-3 ways I'm a stereotypical girl:
I have a purse addiction
I like arts and crafts and all the supply shopping that it entails
See above in re:baby fever
Friday, December 02, 2005
OOOh, you better watch out!
Because I'm 12 and a complete brat, I have a really long Christmas list. I mean, there's obvious stuff like this and this, stuff from here or here and ooh! that in an XXL and these that I'd love to find under the tree. Do I really expect anybody to spring $150 for some DVD's and/or $70 for a sweater for me? Uh, NO. But that's what internet window shopping is for, right? Anyway - there are also all the totally unattainable things like world peace, a cure for cancer*, better time management skills and more self-confidence that are on list, but we all know how that works.
Santa: Sorry kiddo - the elves still haven't figured out how to make self-esteem out of pine. Maybe next year.
Then there's all the in-between stuff. I'd love it, but it's not the normal sort of thing one expects to find wrapped up under the tree. Or that one expects to be asked for. In fact, some of it's also intangible, so that would be awfully difficult to wrap. heh. Here goes.
1)New bras. Actually, I'm perfectly capable of getting my own damn bras, thank you - so what I'd really like is for someone to show up at my front door with a handful of comfy,cute, perfectly fitted bras without me having to so much as shift in position on my couch. I LOATHE bra shopping. I will wear bras until they disintegrate off of my body. Right now, all of my bras have the pokey exposed underwire thing going on (all on the right side. Is my right breast more powerful? Is it going to secede? What's up with that?) and they all provide the same support that a set of Band-Aids over the nipples would. So yeah - a Bra Fairy would just rock.
2)Car maintenance. I'm OK with the oil changes and I just got a brand new set of tires (forgot to tell you that part of the Louisiana trip, didn't I? Don't worry - nothing traumatic, just every male relative in my family looking at the state of my tires and tsk'ing at me. Heh.) and I don't run out of gas or any of that. But - I need somebody to install the new wiper blades I bought, and my car IS at 60,000 miles, which means it probably needs fluids filled or changed or drained or the gerbils in the engine need fresh cedar shavings, fuck I don't know. Plus, I sort of backed into a car a few months ago (SHUT.UP.) AND some little fuckwit decided to draw a chinese symbol or something on my car, so it could use some buffing. And we won't EEEVUN talk about the inside. So - I don't know - somebody to take my car in and say "60,000 mile checkup, wash it wax it, buff that crap out of the rear bumper and dude - run a vacuum over the inside, wouldja?" Oh...and it would be nice if he/she picked up the tab too. heh.
3)Kitty litter. No, seriously - I'm always out of this stuff, and let's just say that "hiding" the catbox in the little hallway hamper is a great idea - until it gets to a Certain Point. Ugh.
4)Laundry baskets. Good lord. What am I, 18 and living in a dorm that I have to ask for laundry baskets for Christmas? Oy.
5)On the same note - a Swiffer. I have approximately 20 square feet of tile in my apartment, but it's all in the kitchen, bathrooms and right by the front door. I have 2 cats, I have a kid and I? drop things. Lots of things. My hard-surface floors need help. I look at the Swiffers, then go "nnaaaaah" because of the price. But do I turn around and buy a regular (read: cheap) mop. No. No I do not, because I am a lazy git. Sue me. But first, buy me a Swiffer.
6)A work mommy. See - I'm perfecly capable of stocking my pantry at home, but when it comes to work? I'm the one who has to go beg for a Kleenex or hand lotion and always eats out because she never remembers to bring lunch or snacks. So - could someone just come to my office with a bag of food and some basic supplies once a month and set me up? Hell - I'd even pay for that service. Hm....business idea??
7)A reprieve from stupid drivers. I...it..GAH!! It gets worse around the holidays, I know, but lately the driving antics have been making me crazy. OK, now - I'm not the world's greatest driver (see above in re: backing into a parked car) BUT!!! If I'm driving through a parking lot, I do NOT vulture for spots. I drive until I find an empty one - not a close one, an empty one. I put my car in the empty spot and I carry on. I do not follow people to their spots. I do not sit and wait for folks to put groceries in the trunk, get in, start the car and go so I can get a spot 6 feet closer to the door. I do, however, sit behind these people and fume while they do this. I do stop for someone who is already in their car and in the process of backing up, because THAT'S POLITE. I also try to stop for pedestrians in grocery store crosswalks and not block intersections and let folks out of driveways when traffic is backed up and just generally try to be a nice person**. I know how to enter a highway and put on my turn signal and not follow too closely (sometimes I mess up on that..heh) and just try not to be an asshole. It would be nice if others would do the same thing.
8)A haircut. Again - I'll pay for this, I just want somebody else to take the time to schedule it, then come pick me up and take me to it, and to maybe help me figure out what I need to get done. This is why my hair always looks like shit. Not because I'm too lazy to do anything with it (well, I am actually) but more because the whole booking an appointment thing is just overwhelming. Good lord - I'm crazy as hell, aren't I??
9)A Band-aid, because I just cut my thumb. Ow. Sad thing is? I own 42 quafrillion travel first-aid kits. I know exactly where they all are too! Under my bathroom sink. *cough*
10)My damn hair to grow already. I know - #8 is a haircut - that's purely so that my hair doesn't look like complete ASS while I grow it out. But part of the reason why it looks like ass?? Because it's decided to stop growing at this awful, just-hits-the-shoulders frump length. Bah. While I'm sure this length looks lovely on YOU, on me?? Assety Ass McAss Ass. Bah.
So - there it is. Upon review, I find that I'm not terribly selfish - I mean - I said I didn't really expect (or want, c'mon) anybody to shell out $150 so I can watch Carrie and her friends drink Cosmos for hours on end. But, I do think that maybe? I'm just a little crazy.
Max, Jane, and the entire internet: "Well, DU-UH!!"
*Actually - I'm still wishing for this one.
**Except when I drive on campus, because if you're a Nice Person on campus, you will never, ever get anywhere. UT students are apparently told that the cars on campus are made of granola or Peeps or something, because they just blithely walk in front of cars without even looking. The trick on campus is to wait for a little tiny break and then start edging into it - if you go too fast, you WILL take somebody out, but if you start slow, they'll look up from their reverie and stop for you. Usually with this surprised look on their face, like "dude..did you see that? That giant Peep almost hit me!!"
Santa: Sorry kiddo - the elves still haven't figured out how to make self-esteem out of pine. Maybe next year.
Then there's all the in-between stuff. I'd love it, but it's not the normal sort of thing one expects to find wrapped up under the tree. Or that one expects to be asked for. In fact, some of it's also intangible, so that would be awfully difficult to wrap. heh. Here goes.
1)New bras. Actually, I'm perfectly capable of getting my own damn bras, thank you - so what I'd really like is for someone to show up at my front door with a handful of comfy,cute, perfectly fitted bras without me having to so much as shift in position on my couch. I LOATHE bra shopping. I will wear bras until they disintegrate off of my body. Right now, all of my bras have the pokey exposed underwire thing going on (all on the right side. Is my right breast more powerful? Is it going to secede? What's up with that?) and they all provide the same support that a set of Band-Aids over the nipples would. So yeah - a Bra Fairy would just rock.
2)Car maintenance. I'm OK with the oil changes and I just got a brand new set of tires (forgot to tell you that part of the Louisiana trip, didn't I? Don't worry - nothing traumatic, just every male relative in my family looking at the state of my tires and tsk'ing at me. Heh.) and I don't run out of gas or any of that. But - I need somebody to install the new wiper blades I bought, and my car IS at 60,000 miles, which means it probably needs fluids filled or changed or drained or the gerbils in the engine need fresh cedar shavings, fuck I don't know. Plus, I sort of backed into a car a few months ago (SHUT.UP.) AND some little fuckwit decided to draw a chinese symbol or something on my car, so it could use some buffing. And we won't EEEVUN talk about the inside. So - I don't know - somebody to take my car in and say "60,000 mile checkup, wash it wax it, buff that crap out of the rear bumper and dude - run a vacuum over the inside, wouldja?" Oh...and it would be nice if he/she picked up the tab too. heh.
3)Kitty litter. No, seriously - I'm always out of this stuff, and let's just say that "hiding" the catbox in the little hallway hamper is a great idea - until it gets to a Certain Point. Ugh.
4)Laundry baskets. Good lord. What am I, 18 and living in a dorm that I have to ask for laundry baskets for Christmas? Oy.
5)On the same note - a Swiffer. I have approximately 20 square feet of tile in my apartment, but it's all in the kitchen, bathrooms and right by the front door. I have 2 cats, I have a kid and I? drop things. Lots of things. My hard-surface floors need help. I look at the Swiffers, then go "nnaaaaah" because of the price. But do I turn around and buy a regular (read: cheap) mop. No. No I do not, because I am a lazy git. Sue me. But first, buy me a Swiffer.
6)A work mommy. See - I'm perfecly capable of stocking my pantry at home, but when it comes to work? I'm the one who has to go beg for a Kleenex or hand lotion and always eats out because she never remembers to bring lunch or snacks. So - could someone just come to my office with a bag of food and some basic supplies once a month and set me up? Hell - I'd even pay for that service. Hm....business idea??
7)A reprieve from stupid drivers. I...it..GAH!! It gets worse around the holidays, I know, but lately the driving antics have been making me crazy. OK, now - I'm not the world's greatest driver (see above in re: backing into a parked car) BUT!!! If I'm driving through a parking lot, I do NOT vulture for spots. I drive until I find an empty one - not a close one, an empty one. I put my car in the empty spot and I carry on. I do not follow people to their spots. I do not sit and wait for folks to put groceries in the trunk, get in, start the car and go so I can get a spot 6 feet closer to the door. I do, however, sit behind these people and fume while they do this. I do stop for someone who is already in their car and in the process of backing up, because THAT'S POLITE. I also try to stop for pedestrians in grocery store crosswalks and not block intersections and let folks out of driveways when traffic is backed up and just generally try to be a nice person**. I know how to enter a highway and put on my turn signal and not follow too closely (sometimes I mess up on that..heh) and just try not to be an asshole. It would be nice if others would do the same thing.
8)A haircut. Again - I'll pay for this, I just want somebody else to take the time to schedule it, then come pick me up and take me to it, and to maybe help me figure out what I need to get done. This is why my hair always looks like shit. Not because I'm too lazy to do anything with it (well, I am actually) but more because the whole booking an appointment thing is just overwhelming. Good lord - I'm crazy as hell, aren't I??
9)A Band-aid, because I just cut my thumb. Ow. Sad thing is? I own 42 quafrillion travel first-aid kits. I know exactly where they all are too! Under my bathroom sink. *cough*
10)My damn hair to grow already. I know - #8 is a haircut - that's purely so that my hair doesn't look like complete ASS while I grow it out. But part of the reason why it looks like ass?? Because it's decided to stop growing at this awful, just-hits-the-shoulders frump length. Bah. While I'm sure this length looks lovely on YOU, on me?? Assety Ass McAss Ass. Bah.
So - there it is. Upon review, I find that I'm not terribly selfish - I mean - I said I didn't really expect (or want, c'mon) anybody to shell out $150 so I can watch Carrie and her friends drink Cosmos for hours on end. But, I do think that maybe? I'm just a little crazy.
Max, Jane, and the entire internet: "Well, DU-UH!!"
*Actually - I'm still wishing for this one.
**Except when I drive on campus, because if you're a Nice Person on campus, you will never, ever get anywhere. UT students are apparently told that the cars on campus are made of granola or Peeps or something, because they just blithely walk in front of cars without even looking. The trick on campus is to wait for a little tiny break and then start edging into it - if you go too fast, you WILL take somebody out, but if you start slow, they'll look up from their reverie and stop for you. Usually with this surprised look on their face, like "dude..did you see that? That giant Peep almost hit me!!"
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Hot air doubloons
I said I'd finish the travelogue of my adventures in Louisiana, but I lied! Bwahahhahhahhaa!!!
I will tell you this much - as of Sunday 11/27/05 I am inheriting 18 binders full of doubloons when my dad dies. See, now, somehow my father ended up with The Doubloon Collection*. It's Fuck-only-knows how many years and parades worth of doubloons, all catalogued and organized into coin-collection type binders. Eighteen binders. Did I mention there are 18 (eighteen) of the things? Yeah - there are. Anyway, the current joke is that whichever (it's a word, fuck you) child annoys my dad the most gets The Doubloons when he dies.**
"Laura! You bitch! You live 500 miles way and yet managed to annoy your ailing father enough to inherit The Doubloons?? Jeezus!!"
Don't blame me - blame my mom. See, according to my dad, while he and my mom were married (30 damn years ago) she would assert that the HerLastNames came over on the Mayflower, thus she was of pure pilgrim stock or some such shit.
Now, as we all know, Thanksgiving is a celebration of the pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock, dying off in droves during that first winter and then planning a large dinner between the survivors and the Indians, from whom they had managed to swindle a bunch of food, thus creating a meal that bears pretty much NO resemblance to what we eat now. But, I, as usual, digress in fabulous run-on, over comma'ed fashion.
My dad, for the past (at least) 5 years has said, "next year, I'm going to a damn restaurant." This is all due to my dad not really wanting a house full of people, the fact that my grandmother insists on baking a turkey,*** despite the fact that none of us really like it, and the fact that as he's gotten older my dad has turned into a cranky old man. A cranky old man with one wicked sense of humor who wil totally kick your ass at Scrabble,**** but a cranky old man nonetheless.
Ok, now - work with me here. Dad is annoyed by Thanksgiving, but we celebrate it anyway because of those stupid pilgrims, my mom's family came over on the Mayflower, thus Thanksgiving is my fault and TADA!! I get The Doubloons*5&6.
I tried to convince him to send them directly to my mom and just leave me the hell out of it, but he was not to be swayed. Fucker*7.
On re-reading this, I'm not sure the writing of the Doubloon Incident is as funny as it was while we were kidding around about it. Very few private jokes are. But that's OK. I got to spend almost 4 full days with my dad, a lot of it just hanging out and watching the tube. It was fucking great, man. He's got a rather dark sense of humor and makes a lot of jokes about his death and his illness and if you didn't know him better, you'd think he was taking the whole Cancer Thing awfully lightly. He's not - that's just how he (and I) deal with the difficult - through thoroughly inappropriate jokes. I didn't get to spend a lot of time with my dad as a kid, so now I cherish*8 the time I do get to spend with him. I'm jealous of the relationship my little brothers have with him, but I'll take what I have now - an interesting sort of friendship. I know that he has regrets about things that happened during my childhood and so do I and well...y'know - water under the bridge, etc etc. I'll take what I have now and savor it.
*Yes, these fucking things get the capital treatment.
**Lest you think my family thrives on the macabre - first off, we kind of do and we all have sort of twisted senses of humor. Second, a few months ago (it was when I called him for Father's Day, to be exact) my dad let me know that he was writing up his will and hey - did I want anything in particular?? So the subject of his death is something that we've all sort of learned to deal with and view as inevitable in our own way. My dad's way is to threaten his children with the looming inheritance of albatross-like possessions. Hey man - whatever keeps him laughing, right??
***My dad has been frying his Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys (and other miscellaneous objects) for about 20 years now - waaaay before it got trendy and they sold special kits for it and all that hooha. So HA! Cajuns are trendsetters!! Kiss my (coon) ass!!!! But yeah, due to the presence of the fried turkey and my grandmother's stubbornness in all matters poultry, we end up with 2 turkeys for,like, 6 people. It's madness. And?? She makes stewed corn, which, I...just..I ..aug!!
****I only have the reports of other people who've played him and my own knowledge that my dad is one of the absolute smartest people I've ever met. I have never actually played Scrabble with my dad and I live with the fear that I will never get the chance. Dammit - next trip down there, we're playing Scrabble instead of cards. Y'all remind me please.
*5 I actually have no idea who wil end up with The Doubloons. There's a really good chance that when my dad dies, Stepmom will gesture to the bookcase where they sit and say "so, uh - y'all want those??" But to tell the truth? If I end up with them? I will laugh and laugh and laugh at the reading of his will, and then take them home and put them on a recently cleared shelf.
*6 I totally stole the multiple footnote format and the *5, etc thing from flea, who rocks.
*7 Yes, I just called my dad a fucker. I probably wouldn't call him a fucker to his face, because while my family curses like truck drivers in training, the F-bomb happens really, REALLY rarely. I still remember the first time my dad told me a (pretty lame) joke involving the F-word. It was then that I knew I was officially an adult. But - I would (and have) call him a jerk, an asshole and "0h, you big dork!!" Heh.
*8 I typed "cher" and stopped myself, wondering if that word was too precious, too cloying. But then I realized that I'd been sort of just typing for a while by then, not really thinking about what was coming out on the screen and "cherish" had just jumped out there with the rest of the text. So - it stayed.
I will tell you this much - as of Sunday 11/27/05 I am inheriting 18 binders full of doubloons when my dad dies. See, now, somehow my father ended up with The Doubloon Collection*. It's Fuck-only-knows how many years and parades worth of doubloons, all catalogued and organized into coin-collection type binders. Eighteen binders. Did I mention there are 18 (eighteen) of the things? Yeah - there are. Anyway, the current joke is that whichever (it's a word, fuck you) child annoys my dad the most gets The Doubloons when he dies.**
"Laura! You bitch! You live 500 miles way and yet managed to annoy your ailing father enough to inherit The Doubloons?? Jeezus!!"
Don't blame me - blame my mom. See, according to my dad, while he and my mom were married (30 damn years ago) she would assert that the HerLastNames came over on the Mayflower, thus she was of pure pilgrim stock or some such shit.
Now, as we all know, Thanksgiving is a celebration of the pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock, dying off in droves during that first winter and then planning a large dinner between the survivors and the Indians, from whom they had managed to swindle a bunch of food, thus creating a meal that bears pretty much NO resemblance to what we eat now. But, I, as usual, digress in fabulous run-on, over comma'ed fashion.
My dad, for the past (at least) 5 years has said, "next year, I'm going to a damn restaurant." This is all due to my dad not really wanting a house full of people, the fact that my grandmother insists on baking a turkey,*** despite the fact that none of us really like it, and the fact that as he's gotten older my dad has turned into a cranky old man. A cranky old man with one wicked sense of humor who wil totally kick your ass at Scrabble,**** but a cranky old man nonetheless.
Ok, now - work with me here. Dad is annoyed by Thanksgiving, but we celebrate it anyway because of those stupid pilgrims, my mom's family came over on the Mayflower, thus Thanksgiving is my fault and TADA!! I get The Doubloons*5&6.
I tried to convince him to send them directly to my mom and just leave me the hell out of it, but he was not to be swayed. Fucker*7.
On re-reading this, I'm not sure the writing of the Doubloon Incident is as funny as it was while we were kidding around about it. Very few private jokes are. But that's OK. I got to spend almost 4 full days with my dad, a lot of it just hanging out and watching the tube. It was fucking great, man. He's got a rather dark sense of humor and makes a lot of jokes about his death and his illness and if you didn't know him better, you'd think he was taking the whole Cancer Thing awfully lightly. He's not - that's just how he (and I) deal with the difficult - through thoroughly inappropriate jokes. I didn't get to spend a lot of time with my dad as a kid, so now I cherish*8 the time I do get to spend with him. I'm jealous of the relationship my little brothers have with him, but I'll take what I have now - an interesting sort of friendship. I know that he has regrets about things that happened during my childhood and so do I and well...y'know - water under the bridge, etc etc. I'll take what I have now and savor it.
*Yes, these fucking things get the capital treatment.
**Lest you think my family thrives on the macabre - first off, we kind of do and we all have sort of twisted senses of humor. Second, a few months ago (it was when I called him for Father's Day, to be exact) my dad let me know that he was writing up his will and hey - did I want anything in particular?? So the subject of his death is something that we've all sort of learned to deal with and view as inevitable in our own way. My dad's way is to threaten his children with the looming inheritance of albatross-like possessions. Hey man - whatever keeps him laughing, right??
***My dad has been frying his Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys (and other miscellaneous objects) for about 20 years now - waaaay before it got trendy and they sold special kits for it and all that hooha. So HA! Cajuns are trendsetters!! Kiss my (coon) ass!!!! But yeah, due to the presence of the fried turkey and my grandmother's stubbornness in all matters poultry, we end up with 2 turkeys for,like, 6 people. It's madness. And?? She makes stewed corn, which, I...just..I ..aug!!
****I only have the reports of other people who've played him and my own knowledge that my dad is one of the absolute smartest people I've ever met. I have never actually played Scrabble with my dad and I live with the fear that I will never get the chance. Dammit - next trip down there, we're playing Scrabble instead of cards. Y'all remind me please.
*5 I actually have no idea who wil end up with The Doubloons. There's a really good chance that when my dad dies, Stepmom will gesture to the bookcase where they sit and say "so, uh - y'all want those??" But to tell the truth? If I end up with them? I will laugh and laugh and laugh at the reading of his will, and then take them home and put them on a recently cleared shelf.
*6 I totally stole the multiple footnote format and the *5, etc thing from flea, who rocks.
*7 Yes, I just called my dad a fucker. I probably wouldn't call him a fucker to his face, because while my family curses like truck drivers in training, the F-bomb happens really, REALLY rarely. I still remember the first time my dad told me a (pretty lame) joke involving the F-word. It was then that I knew I was officially an adult. But - I would (and have) call him a jerk, an asshole and "0h, you big dork!!" Heh.
*8 I typed "cher" and stopped myself, wondering if that word was too precious, too cloying. But then I realized that I'd been sort of just typing for a while by then, not really thinking about what was coming out on the screen and "cherish" had just jumped out there with the rest of the text. So - it stayed.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Travelogue, part one
Ok, before I write anything else, I have to give you this. It is the funniest birth story ever. Seriously. Funny funny funny. Go read it, laugh your ass off, then come back here and read my (by comparison) obituary column of a blog.
Ok, so...Louisiana - wheee. Kiddo, Max, Uncle and I headed out Wednesday A.M. about an hour behind schedule*. The trip was fairly uneventful - we dropped Max off in Houston, went to Bennigan's for lunch (without Max - now I owe him a Monte Cristo), and then Uncle took the wheel. gah.
See, Uncle used to be an excellent driver. Uncle has driven everything from Corvairs to Semis. Uncle is a great guy. However. Uncle has a habit of surging - y'know - hitting the accelarator really hard, then letting go of it suddenly, then hitting it hard, then letting it go. Ad nauseum - literally. As if the roads of East Texas and Louisiana (yes, the whole state) aren't bad enough, we got seasick on top of it.
We dropped Uncle off at his girlfriend's house on the western edge of New Orleans - and here is where I tell you that I'm so so so glad that it was night, and I could only see the big damage. Like, the high-rise Motel 6 (yes, there is such a beast) on the side of I-10 that had plastic covering a huge section of missing wall all the way from top floor to ground. Or like the buildings on the sides of I-10 that had been completely demolished. Or like the fact that there was not one single intact sign anywhere to be seen. I could only see the big stuff. I was spared from seeing the brown water line on every building, and seeing how here it was at the 3 foot mark, and here the 8, but it was still here, there, everywhere. I was happy for the dark.
Kiddo and I headed back to my dad's - which means we had to backtrack some, but this time I was driving, so I didn't have time to look again.
I did have time to discover why you should not re-use a Starbuck's cup. See - Uncle brewed me a pot of coffee and packaged some up for me in a venti cup he found in my car. Other than the hygeine concerns (how long have the holiday red cups been out?? Yeah - this was a white cup - aug) there's also the fact that the glue? It does not like such treatment. In fact, it resents it deeply and will just fucking dissolve about a block away from your kind coffee-brewer's house.
"I have a leak here, hand me a nap - OH SHIT, IT'S A BIG LEAK, WINDOW! WINDOW! ROLL DOWN YOUR WINDOW! AAAAUGH"
Newly christened with Community In-Between, we continued our journey.
We got to my dad's about 45 minutes later.**
Sport, my dad's youngest (yet my middle brother - I'll draw a chart later) was there. I hate to admit it, but Sport is my favorite brother. He's six foot two of Cajun good ol' boy and just cute as a fuckin' bug. He claims that 30 and 40 year old women hit on him all the time, and I believe it. I warned him to be careful with that shit, because a 35 year old woman with a 19 year old baseball player?? She will HURT him. I fully expect to hear a story about him getting chased by a jealous husband one day -- "She didn't tell me she was married!!!!"
Anyhoo - I just click with Sport in a fun sister-brother way that I just don't seem to have with McBrother (the oldest) or Spud (my mom's son). So does kiddo. They're 5 years apart, and due to the kind of strange dynamics in my family, they function more like sister and brother than uncle and niece. Good LORD, they pick on each other and give each other a ration of shit. But last time she and I went down there, kiddo's "boyfriend"*** called and Sport got on the phone and apparently intimidated the crap out of the kid. I know that if anybody messed with kiddo?? Sport would rip 'em a new orifice. And what's cool is that it goes the other way too - you do NOT mess with Uncle Sport, lest you face the wrath of kiddo.
So yeah, I got to hang with him and my stepmom and my dad for a bit before Thanksgiving actually started.
OK, I'm gonna have to divide this shit up, because I am so fuckin' wordy. I'm also hungry and the tamales**** are heated up and the chili's about done. So after I finish the footnotes (goddamn wordy bitch) I'll post this and ..blah blah BOOM!!! my head exploded.
Let's see
*OK, if we ever travel together, I'll tell you that I plan on leaving a X o'clock, fully knowing that I'm a lameass who never leaves on time and that I won't really leave until Y o'clock. Well, on Wednesday we left at Z o'clock. To the untrained eye, that looks like 2 hours behind, but nonono!! With Laura Math, it's only an hour! Whoo!
**Dad lives on the east side of Baton Rouge, Uncle's on the west side of New Orleans, and I drive like a bat out of hell.
***A 13 year-old's boyfriend?? Consists of programming each other's names in their phones and talking until a parent opens the door and says "For the love of God, GO TO BED."
****Aug. I checked my bank account this A.M., and the Ex popped up in AIM, thinking I was the kid. After I clarified that, he said he had some homemade tamales for us. OK, dude....I am NOT going to turn down homemade tamales. It's entirely possible I'd have lunch with Hitler for homemade tamales. Ok, maybe not, but really - tamales = love.
Ok, so...Louisiana - wheee. Kiddo, Max, Uncle and I headed out Wednesday A.M. about an hour behind schedule*. The trip was fairly uneventful - we dropped Max off in Houston, went to Bennigan's for lunch (without Max - now I owe him a Monte Cristo), and then Uncle took the wheel. gah.
See, Uncle used to be an excellent driver. Uncle has driven everything from Corvairs to Semis. Uncle is a great guy. However. Uncle has a habit of surging - y'know - hitting the accelarator really hard, then letting go of it suddenly, then hitting it hard, then letting it go. Ad nauseum - literally. As if the roads of East Texas and Louisiana (yes, the whole state) aren't bad enough, we got seasick on top of it.
We dropped Uncle off at his girlfriend's house on the western edge of New Orleans - and here is where I tell you that I'm so so so glad that it was night, and I could only see the big damage. Like, the high-rise Motel 6 (yes, there is such a beast) on the side of I-10 that had plastic covering a huge section of missing wall all the way from top floor to ground. Or like the buildings on the sides of I-10 that had been completely demolished. Or like the fact that there was not one single intact sign anywhere to be seen. I could only see the big stuff. I was spared from seeing the brown water line on every building, and seeing how here it was at the 3 foot mark, and here the 8, but it was still here, there, everywhere. I was happy for the dark.
Kiddo and I headed back to my dad's - which means we had to backtrack some, but this time I was driving, so I didn't have time to look again.
I did have time to discover why you should not re-use a Starbuck's cup. See - Uncle brewed me a pot of coffee and packaged some up for me in a venti cup he found in my car. Other than the hygeine concerns (how long have the holiday red cups been out?? Yeah - this was a white cup - aug) there's also the fact that the glue? It does not like such treatment. In fact, it resents it deeply and will just fucking dissolve about a block away from your kind coffee-brewer's house.
"I have a leak here, hand me a nap - OH SHIT, IT'S A BIG LEAK, WINDOW! WINDOW! ROLL DOWN YOUR WINDOW! AAAAUGH"
Newly christened with Community In-Between, we continued our journey.
We got to my dad's about 45 minutes later.**
Sport, my dad's youngest (yet my middle brother - I'll draw a chart later) was there. I hate to admit it, but Sport is my favorite brother. He's six foot two of Cajun good ol' boy and just cute as a fuckin' bug. He claims that 30 and 40 year old women hit on him all the time, and I believe it. I warned him to be careful with that shit, because a 35 year old woman with a 19 year old baseball player?? She will HURT him. I fully expect to hear a story about him getting chased by a jealous husband one day -- "She didn't tell me she was married!!!!"
Anyhoo - I just click with Sport in a fun sister-brother way that I just don't seem to have with McBrother (the oldest) or Spud (my mom's son). So does kiddo. They're 5 years apart, and due to the kind of strange dynamics in my family, they function more like sister and brother than uncle and niece. Good LORD, they pick on each other and give each other a ration of shit. But last time she and I went down there, kiddo's "boyfriend"*** called and Sport got on the phone and apparently intimidated the crap out of the kid. I know that if anybody messed with kiddo?? Sport would rip 'em a new orifice. And what's cool is that it goes the other way too - you do NOT mess with Uncle Sport, lest you face the wrath of kiddo.
So yeah, I got to hang with him and my stepmom and my dad for a bit before Thanksgiving actually started.
OK, I'm gonna have to divide this shit up, because I am so fuckin' wordy. I'm also hungry and the tamales**** are heated up and the chili's about done. So after I finish the footnotes (goddamn wordy bitch) I'll post this and ..blah blah BOOM!!! my head exploded.
Let's see
*OK, if we ever travel together, I'll tell you that I plan on leaving a X o'clock, fully knowing that I'm a lameass who never leaves on time and that I won't really leave until Y o'clock. Well, on Wednesday we left at Z o'clock. To the untrained eye, that looks like 2 hours behind, but nonono!! With Laura Math, it's only an hour! Whoo!
**Dad lives on the east side of Baton Rouge, Uncle's on the west side of New Orleans, and I drive like a bat out of hell.
***A 13 year-old's boyfriend?? Consists of programming each other's names in their phones and talking until a parent opens the door and says "For the love of God, GO TO BED."
****Aug. I checked my bank account this A.M., and the Ex popped up in AIM, thinking I was the kid. After I clarified that, he said he had some homemade tamales for us. OK, dude....I am NOT going to turn down homemade tamales. It's entirely possible I'd have lunch with Hitler for homemade tamales. Ok, maybe not, but really - tamales = love.
Monday, November 21, 2005
no coherency aqui
Hey - I have a journal, perhaps I should update it!
My kiddo is currently watching one of her favorite movies - "Some Like It Hot".
Q: How, much do I love my kid, and how cool is she? A:Lots and very.
Max's birthday went well. Wednesday night he came up to the house and we ordered a pizza and split a six-pack of Shiner and watched "The Blues Brothers." ("It's my birthday, and we'll watch what I want to watch - step AWAY FROM THE REMOTE.") Saturday night, we had a little party at a friend's house and then on Sunday, we went to see the latest Harry Potter.
I liked Goblet of Fire. There, I said it. Hmph.
I also brought my knitting and sat there working on a scarf the whole time, but I've gotten to the point where I can do a straight knit stitch w/o looking, so all it really did is satisfy the fidget urge. I have problems just...sitting there. I'm the reason they sell munchies at theaters. I mean - we saw the movie at The Drafthouse and ordered hamburgers and I STILL had to break out the scarf. Sad, just sad.
(Jane: "See, I told you you're twitchy.")
Speaking of scarves. That's what the Super Secret Knitting Project was - a scarf. I made a green, purple and blue diagonally striped scarf. It's about 7 feet long and was actually pretty fun to make. Max said all kinds of nice things about it and two of his friends complimented it, thus my ego is appeased. Heh.
I also got him that controversial Bob Dylan CD that's only available at Starbuck's and a book (He's reading the whole series, that's the next one.) And, like I said, there was a party at a friend's house and the friend mad some BAD ASS chili and there was beer (oh my GOD, the beer) and other presents (lots of music, as I remember - did I mention all the beer??) and cupcakes. He says he had a good time, so again? My ego, she is appeased. Because you know - The birthday is all about me. Heh.
(Max: "I knew it!!")
Did you know that if you have a horrifying headache and someone offers you a Vicodin, because they have it from - - somewhere?? And you take it with a couple of heavy duty German beers,not only will knitting get really REALLY difficult, you will also pass the fuck out, and then you will also have some very very strange dreams during your passed-outness???
NO? Well, um, yeah - you will. So I've heard.
I'm not going to bore you with the dreams, because I know the Blog Rules On Dreams and Periods, HOWEVER!! There was Max's ex-girlfriend, (about whom I seem to have some issues, despite never meeting her and only seeing ONE picture of her and SWEET JESUS, I'm crazy) an in/outdoor bathroom that happened to HAVE NO WALLS, a creepy guy with a boat (who actually exists - remind me to tell you) and lots of other strange Parade of Sub-Consciousness type hoo-ha.
I just can't decide if I liked it or not. Hmm
Any-hooooo
On Wednesday, we leave for Louisiana. (Stalkers beware - my mom is checking on my place and even when she's not around, it's guarded by some FIERCE tabbies, who shed. A lot. So - yeah. Take that.) Usually, We = Me + Kiddo. This time, things are different. My uncle (mom's big bro) has been doing all the heavy lifting in New Orleans for the past couple of months. He's been in charge of cleaning out Spotty's (my maternal grandmother) house, his own house*, trying to get his business back up and running and dealing with insurance and FEMA and such. Fun, huh?
He's bringing Spotty's van up to Austin, along with a load of stuff, and will need a ride back to New Orleans. Tada.
Max is going to Houston for Thanksgiving and carpooling is good for the environment. Plus, it's an extra 3 hours with mememe!!! Plus, I get to listen to him and the kid argue about who plays DJ. (Just kidding baby - DJ Duties fall to whoever rides shotgun unless a)the driver vetoes or b)everybody's asleep. Except the driver, that is.)
So - for the first 3 hours, I have 3 passengers. Then for the next 6 - 7 hours, I have two passengers, then for an hour I just have ONE passenger. (Anybody else flashing back to Algebra I? Just me?) Then I get to spend 3 days eating and watching football and being very sad because I'm visiting my grandparents in an apartment in Baton Rouge, instead of in the house they worked for for 40 years. Then I go home.
Oh - yeah - we'll be picking Max up in Houston. Heh.
(Max: "Note to self - call crazy-ass girlfriend Sunday morning and make sure she remembers to pick me up")
All right gang, I'm tired, my glass is empty and I'm running out of material. When you work with a margin this thin?? It happens quickly.
(Internet: Material?? Did you see any material??)
AHEM, my POINT would BE, I'm sitting on the edge of the couch over here, and since I still can't seem to sleep in my own bed right now, I'm gonna post thispiece of shit thing, turn off the light and lay on the couch until I pass out in front of the TV.
Whoo!! I love adulthood!! (grumblegrumblerassenfrassensunufabitch)
*Ack!! I put a footnote in here and now I don't remeber what - OH yeah. Uncle lived right next door to Spotty, in the Lakeview area of New Orleans. If you were following any of the Katrina coverage, you know that Lakeview got hit really hard. In fact, their houses are (were?) about a mile away from one of the levee breaches. They had nine feet of water in their houses. Spotty's house was a two-story, so everything on the second floor (including the cat - have I told y'all that part??) survived. Uncle, on the other hand, lived in a very cute litte one-story. Nine feet of water in a one story house, sitting for almost two weeks? He lost everything. I (only partially) jokingly called him our war correspondent one day. I think it's way more truthful than any of us really want to admit. I also think I may need to buy that man a drink.
My kiddo is currently watching one of her favorite movies - "Some Like It Hot".
Q: How, much do I love my kid, and how cool is she? A:Lots and very.
Max's birthday went well. Wednesday night he came up to the house and we ordered a pizza and split a six-pack of Shiner and watched "The Blues Brothers." ("It's my birthday, and we'll watch what I want to watch - step AWAY FROM THE REMOTE.") Saturday night, we had a little party at a friend's house and then on Sunday, we went to see the latest Harry Potter.
I liked Goblet of Fire. There, I said it. Hmph.
I also brought my knitting and sat there working on a scarf the whole time, but I've gotten to the point where I can do a straight knit stitch w/o looking, so all it really did is satisfy the fidget urge. I have problems just...sitting there. I'm the reason they sell munchies at theaters. I mean - we saw the movie at The Drafthouse and ordered hamburgers and I STILL had to break out the scarf. Sad, just sad.
(Jane: "See, I told you you're twitchy.")
Speaking of scarves. That's what the Super Secret Knitting Project was - a scarf. I made a green, purple and blue diagonally striped scarf. It's about 7 feet long and was actually pretty fun to make. Max said all kinds of nice things about it and two of his friends complimented it, thus my ego is appeased. Heh.
I also got him that controversial Bob Dylan CD that's only available at Starbuck's and a book (He's reading the whole series, that's the next one.) And, like I said, there was a party at a friend's house and the friend mad some BAD ASS chili and there was beer (oh my GOD, the beer) and other presents (lots of music, as I remember - did I mention all the beer??) and cupcakes. He says he had a good time, so again? My ego, she is appeased. Because you know - The birthday is all about me. Heh.
(Max: "I knew it!!")
Did you know that if you have a horrifying headache and someone offers you a Vicodin, because they have it from - - somewhere?? And you take it with a couple of heavy duty German beers,not only will knitting get really REALLY difficult, you will also pass the fuck out, and then you will also have some very very strange dreams during your passed-outness???
NO? Well, um, yeah - you will. So I've heard.
I'm not going to bore you with the dreams, because I know the Blog Rules On Dreams and Periods, HOWEVER!! There was Max's ex-girlfriend, (about whom I seem to have some issues, despite never meeting her and only seeing ONE picture of her and SWEET JESUS, I'm crazy) an in/outdoor bathroom that happened to HAVE NO WALLS, a creepy guy with a boat (who actually exists - remind me to tell you) and lots of other strange Parade of Sub-Consciousness type hoo-ha.
I just can't decide if I liked it or not. Hmm
Any-hooooo
On Wednesday, we leave for Louisiana. (Stalkers beware - my mom is checking on my place and even when she's not around, it's guarded by some FIERCE tabbies, who shed. A lot. So - yeah. Take that.) Usually, We = Me + Kiddo. This time, things are different. My uncle (mom's big bro) has been doing all the heavy lifting in New Orleans for the past couple of months. He's been in charge of cleaning out Spotty's (my maternal grandmother) house, his own house*, trying to get his business back up and running and dealing with insurance and FEMA and such. Fun, huh?
He's bringing Spotty's van up to Austin, along with a load of stuff, and will need a ride back to New Orleans. Tada.
Max is going to Houston for Thanksgiving and carpooling is good for the environment. Plus, it's an extra 3 hours with mememe!!! Plus, I get to listen to him and the kid argue about who plays DJ. (Just kidding baby - DJ Duties fall to whoever rides shotgun unless a)the driver vetoes or b)everybody's asleep. Except the driver, that is.)
So - for the first 3 hours, I have 3 passengers. Then for the next 6 - 7 hours, I have two passengers, then for an hour I just have ONE passenger. (Anybody else flashing back to Algebra I? Just me?) Then I get to spend 3 days eating and watching football and being very sad because I'm visiting my grandparents in an apartment in Baton Rouge, instead of in the house they worked for for 40 years. Then I go home.
Oh - yeah - we'll be picking Max up in Houston. Heh.
(Max: "Note to self - call crazy-ass girlfriend Sunday morning and make sure she remembers to pick me up")
All right gang, I'm tired, my glass is empty and I'm running out of material. When you work with a margin this thin?? It happens quickly.
(Internet: Material?? Did you see any material??)
AHEM, my POINT would BE, I'm sitting on the edge of the couch over here, and since I still can't seem to sleep in my own bed right now, I'm gonna post this
Whoo!! I love adulthood!! (grumblegrumblerassenfrassensunufabitch)
*Ack!! I put a footnote in here and now I don't remeber what - OH yeah. Uncle lived right next door to Spotty, in the Lakeview area of New Orleans. If you were following any of the Katrina coverage, you know that Lakeview got hit really hard. In fact, their houses are (were?) about a mile away from one of the levee breaches. They had nine feet of water in their houses. Spotty's house was a two-story, so everything on the second floor (including the cat - have I told y'all that part??) survived. Uncle, on the other hand, lived in a very cute litte one-story. Nine feet of water in a one story house, sitting for almost two weeks? He lost everything. I (only partially) jokingly called him our war correspondent one day. I think it's way more truthful than any of us really want to admit. I also think I may need to buy that man a drink.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Happy Birthday Max!!
I promise, there will be an entry of substance - or what passes for substance around here - later. But first! This bulletin!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAX!!!!!
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Fuckin' Wife Swap
I will take a moment to apologize for any spelling/syntax/grammar errors. Oh, and timeline errors in the show. Red, red wii-iiine!!!
OK, it's not actually "Wife Swap", it's "Trading Spuses". Which I guess could explain why it's on a different channel. Heh.
So, for some reason I started recapping this show and I was trying to weave it into my entry, but I realized that it sucked for so so so so many reasons, the most important one being that I started watching 10 minutes in and?? The recap was poorly written. HEH. But seriously, it's hard to watch and write at the same time. Remind me to get TiVo or start taping stuff before I try to get a job with TWOP. (BWA!!) The point is, we have Heathen Hippie Mom (HHM), who has switched with Crazy Christian Mom (CCM). (Heathen Hippie Dad was wearing a thumb ring and there was a wall full of mandalas and they believed in astrology, so - Heathen Hippies, right?? Right.) Recap below - I've polished off a bottle of red, so...caveat emptorum (readorum? blogorum?? whateverum.)
Ok, now we're seeing Heathen Hippie Mom (HHM), and she's driving one of the swap daughters to the dance studio just so she can see her dance, and that's pretty damn cool. Wow - this little girl is good. Of course, they're doing the thing that drives me C-R-A-Z-Y in shooting, which is to not really SHOW the dancing, but rather cut back and forth and make it impossible to see what's going on.
Oh goody - Crazy Christian Mom. She has gone to each child to "talk...nothing heavy..so - what do you think about God??" The kids all return the Teenage Stare of Blankness and Indignation (TM), which just makes her even crazier, so Heathen Hippie Family (HHF) takes her to a church to appease her. So now, let's recount. CCM is preaching to the kids about Jesus and God and they take her to a church so she can chill out. HHM goes to the other kid's dance lessons.
Again - I hope they pay these folks to act like jackholes, because CCM?? Acting like a total crazy bitch. Seriously.
OOOOh - CCM thinks that Astrology is "the dark side" LOVE! LOVELOVELOVELOVE!!!!
Hee - Heathen Hippie Dad (HHD) has declared that Jesus invented everything (which, y'know - Jesus is Lord, the Lord created the world, blah blah blah, ergo he invented Astrology), so why does CCM have a problem with Astrology?? Way to poke the rattlesnake, HHD.
ooH - commercial for that "Walk the Line" movie. Who do I have the KILL so I can look like Reese Witherspoon? HUH? HUH? WhO? Because I'm a good shot - I can make it quick.
I feel I should tell you that this entry has been brought to you by the 2003 Parducci Petite Sirah. Good sub $10 bottle. It tastes a little weird tonight, but my nose has been running all day (SHUT UP) and I taste-tested the kid's Zicam and so I think that's it. The other two bottles I had of this (at different times!!) were tasty.
AW, HHM is leaving the CC Household (they called her Ma Jeanne!!) and everybody's all sad. But now they're showing CCM leaving Hippie House, and the kids are all "what the fuck ever, get out bitch." LOVE!
CCM: "It got to a point where I couldn't get out of there fast enough." Um..well - maybe if you weren't such a proselytizing TWAT, it wouldn't be so difficult.
HHM is complimenting CCM on her wonderful family and how fabulous things are and how much fun they had. AAAAAnd, CCM is asking about Astrology. "I'm really concerned that if you aren't a Christian that you were in my household", "Put God in your heart", and she's all wiggy.
And on the cab ride home, she refers to herself as "fun-loving" and easy going". Um..OK.
"Spiritual warfare". Oh boy. I guess HHD was just way too pushy, but...y'know? I'm thinking some woman comes in and starts talking to *MY* kids about religion?? Um...I'm gonna be pushy too - pushing yo ass out da do', beeyotch. (There will be a personal anecdote about this shit tomorrow..or next week..um..later.)
So now, HHM is on the way home, talking about how she needs to talk to her husband and find out what happened and the general tone is very much "dude...I know my husband's a pain, what did he do to that woman??" MMMMMMK? Just bear that in mind.
Oooh - the letter opening and reunion at Casa de Hippie, hang on. I would love to totally recap this scene, but I?? am drunk. So deal. But - I will say that it sounds like HHM was all ready to take CCM's side, defending her against her family, until she found out how rigid CCM was. I can't believe how involved in this crap I am....FEH!! WHY AM I WATCHING THIS SHIT???? Oh yeah - the upcoming crazy.
Ok, CCM is bitching and crying that she was sooo uneasy and how she can't trust anyone (OH BOY) and how "you have to watch who you bring into your house" and "I brought an unGodly person into my house."
GODDAMN COMMERCIAL BREAK,I WANT TO SEE THE CRAZY LADY SCREAM, I'VE BEEN WAITING A WEEK, AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
(Laura takes a deep sip of her wine and breeeeathes.)
OK, Chez CC, kids are playing, waiting for mom to get home, all is good - hapy to see mom, aaand mom comes in, all, "Worst time of my life" this and "It was so dark=sided" that.
This woman is insane. "THEY'RE NOT CHRISTIANS!!" "She's tampered in dark-sided stuff!!" "She is dark-sided too!!"
Oldest Daughter - "wait , are you mad at us too???" Good question, kid.
Ok, now she has ripped up the money letter, declaring it tainted and has ordered the camera crew out "in Jesus's name." And, the dancing girl is totally confused, because of course HHM was really nice and accepting and cool, and now Mom has come home and is wigging out because?? Astrology, Hypnotism* and Tarot readings. Yep. And the oldest has taken responsibility because she didn't pray enough - ooh, she just grabbed a pillow and put it between her and her mom, HELLO body language.
"I am a spiritual warrior" Oh good lord.
The oldest girl is seriously freaked out.
"I am the warrior." Anybody else hearing Patty Smythe??
"If you believe in Jesus, you can stay here."
Wow...real tolerant woman here. Ok why is the oldest daughter taking care of this?? Why isn't the husband saying anything?? What a ball-less motherfucker.
"I'm always the one that asks, why don't you ask??" Um maybe because you're a complete nutjob who needs to get a grip??
So the swappees (swappers?) get some money to donate to the other family as they see fit. CCM ripped up the letter and screamed that she didn't need somebody unGodly to decide how to spend the money (I should have gotten the quote, DAMMIT.) Anyway - here's how HHM allocated the dough: numbers may be wrong, see above in re:WINE
$5000 for the dancer for some certification
$1000 to help ashley and abigail to move into their own place (must have missed that one)
$15000 to the dad for general family stuff
$20,000 for gastric bypass for CCM, that CCM wanted
CCM later accepted the money on "further consideration."
Sooooo, yeah. I, uh...yeah....I'd like to defend this by saying that it's all some Anti-Christian, Left-Wing, Homosexual-Agenda, Pot-Smoking, Feminazi plot, but dude?? CCM SCREECHED at her family and the camera crew. Um...hard to edit that shit, OK??
Tomorrow, when I'm sober, I'll write about how I don't really hate Christian, I just hate intolerant hypocrites. K? So save the shitty comments for later.
I'm gonna go lay down now, because all this back-tracking over typos is making me crazy.
IIIIII loooooove yeeew guuuuuuuyz!!!!
*shit, I just noticed a footnote. Hang on - what? OOOh- the hypnotism. OK, so - I'm not a CCM, but I might get a bit upset if I came home and found out that somebody hypnotized my kid, 'cause control, vulnerable state, blah blah blee. So - this is not a religious thing, it's more of a "Hey, you did something weird to my kid" thing. Footnotes bite the bag when you're drunk.
'night
OK, it's not actually "Wife Swap", it's "Trading Spuses". Which I guess could explain why it's on a different channel. Heh.
So, for some reason I started recapping this show and I was trying to weave it into my entry, but I realized that it sucked for so so so so many reasons, the most important one being that I started watching 10 minutes in and?? The recap was poorly written. HEH. But seriously, it's hard to watch and write at the same time. Remind me to get TiVo or start taping stuff before I try to get a job with TWOP. (BWA!!) The point is, we have Heathen Hippie Mom (HHM), who has switched with Crazy Christian Mom (CCM). (Heathen Hippie Dad was wearing a thumb ring and there was a wall full of mandalas and they believed in astrology, so - Heathen Hippies, right?? Right.) Recap below - I've polished off a bottle of red, so...caveat emptorum (readorum? blogorum?? whateverum.)
Ok, now we're seeing Heathen Hippie Mom (HHM), and she's driving one of the swap daughters to the dance studio just so she can see her dance, and that's pretty damn cool. Wow - this little girl is good. Of course, they're doing the thing that drives me C-R-A-Z-Y in shooting, which is to not really SHOW the dancing, but rather cut back and forth and make it impossible to see what's going on.
Oh goody - Crazy Christian Mom. She has gone to each child to "talk...nothing heavy..so - what do you think about God??" The kids all return the Teenage Stare of Blankness and Indignation (TM), which just makes her even crazier, so Heathen Hippie Family (HHF) takes her to a church to appease her. So now, let's recount. CCM is preaching to the kids about Jesus and God and they take her to a church so she can chill out. HHM goes to the other kid's dance lessons.
Again - I hope they pay these folks to act like jackholes, because CCM?? Acting like a total crazy bitch. Seriously.
OOOOh - CCM thinks that Astrology is "the dark side" LOVE! LOVELOVELOVELOVE!!!!
Hee - Heathen Hippie Dad (HHD) has declared that Jesus invented everything (which, y'know - Jesus is Lord, the Lord created the world, blah blah blah, ergo he invented Astrology), so why does CCM have a problem with Astrology?? Way to poke the rattlesnake, HHD.
ooH - commercial for that "Walk the Line" movie. Who do I have the KILL so I can look like Reese Witherspoon? HUH? HUH? WhO? Because I'm a good shot - I can make it quick.
I feel I should tell you that this entry has been brought to you by the 2003 Parducci Petite Sirah. Good sub $10 bottle. It tastes a little weird tonight, but my nose has been running all day (SHUT UP) and I taste-tested the kid's Zicam and so I think that's it. The other two bottles I had of this (at different times!!) were tasty.
AW, HHM is leaving the CC Household (they called her Ma Jeanne!!) and everybody's all sad. But now they're showing CCM leaving Hippie House, and the kids are all "what the fuck ever, get out bitch." LOVE!
CCM: "It got to a point where I couldn't get out of there fast enough." Um..well - maybe if you weren't such a proselytizing TWAT, it wouldn't be so difficult.
HHM is complimenting CCM on her wonderful family and how fabulous things are and how much fun they had. AAAAAnd, CCM is asking about Astrology. "I'm really concerned that if you aren't a Christian that you were in my household", "Put God in your heart", and she's all wiggy.
And on the cab ride home, she refers to herself as "fun-loving" and easy going". Um..OK.
"Spiritual warfare". Oh boy. I guess HHD was just way too pushy, but...y'know? I'm thinking some woman comes in and starts talking to *MY* kids about religion?? Um...I'm gonna be pushy too - pushing yo ass out da do', beeyotch. (There will be a personal anecdote about this shit tomorrow..or next week..um..later.)
So now, HHM is on the way home, talking about how she needs to talk to her husband and find out what happened and the general tone is very much "dude...I know my husband's a pain, what did he do to that woman??" MMMMMMK? Just bear that in mind.
Oooh - the letter opening and reunion at Casa de Hippie, hang on. I would love to totally recap this scene, but I?? am drunk. So deal. But - I will say that it sounds like HHM was all ready to take CCM's side, defending her against her family, until she found out how rigid CCM was. I can't believe how involved in this crap I am....FEH!! WHY AM I WATCHING THIS SHIT???? Oh yeah - the upcoming crazy.
Ok, CCM is bitching and crying that she was sooo uneasy and how she can't trust anyone (OH BOY) and how "you have to watch who you bring into your house" and "I brought an unGodly person into my house."
GODDAMN COMMERCIAL BREAK,I WANT TO SEE THE CRAZY LADY SCREAM, I'VE BEEN WAITING A WEEK, AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
(Laura takes a deep sip of her wine and breeeeathes.)
OK, Chez CC, kids are playing, waiting for mom to get home, all is good - hapy to see mom, aaand mom comes in, all, "Worst time of my life" this and "It was so dark=sided" that.
This woman is insane. "THEY'RE NOT CHRISTIANS!!" "She's tampered in dark-sided stuff!!" "She is dark-sided too!!"
Oldest Daughter - "wait , are you mad at us too???" Good question, kid.
Ok, now she has ripped up the money letter, declaring it tainted and has ordered the camera crew out "in Jesus's name." And, the dancing girl is totally confused, because of course HHM was really nice and accepting and cool, and now Mom has come home and is wigging out because?? Astrology, Hypnotism* and Tarot readings. Yep. And the oldest has taken responsibility because she didn't pray enough - ooh, she just grabbed a pillow and put it between her and her mom, HELLO body language.
"I am a spiritual warrior" Oh good lord.
The oldest girl is seriously freaked out.
"I am the warrior." Anybody else hearing Patty Smythe??
"If you believe in Jesus, you can stay here."
Wow...real tolerant woman here. Ok why is the oldest daughter taking care of this?? Why isn't the husband saying anything?? What a ball-less motherfucker.
"I'm always the one that asks, why don't you ask??" Um maybe because you're a complete nutjob who needs to get a grip??
So the swappees (swappers?) get some money to donate to the other family as they see fit. CCM ripped up the letter and screamed that she didn't need somebody unGodly to decide how to spend the money (I should have gotten the quote, DAMMIT.) Anyway - here's how HHM allocated the dough: numbers may be wrong, see above in re:WINE
$5000 for the dancer for some certification
$1000 to help ashley and abigail to move into their own place (must have missed that one)
$15000 to the dad for general family stuff
$20,000 for gastric bypass for CCM, that CCM wanted
CCM later accepted the money on "further consideration."
Sooooo, yeah. I, uh...yeah....I'd like to defend this by saying that it's all some Anti-Christian, Left-Wing, Homosexual-Agenda, Pot-Smoking, Feminazi plot, but dude?? CCM SCREECHED at her family and the camera crew. Um...hard to edit that shit, OK??
Tomorrow, when I'm sober, I'll write about how I don't really hate Christian, I just hate intolerant hypocrites. K? So save the shitty comments for later.
I'm gonna go lay down now, because all this back-tracking over typos is making me crazy.
IIIIII loooooove yeeew guuuuuuuyz!!!!
*shit, I just noticed a footnote. Hang on - what? OOOh- the hypnotism. OK, so - I'm not a CCM, but I might get a bit upset if I came home and found out that somebody hypnotized my kid, 'cause control, vulnerable state, blah blah blee. So - this is not a religious thing, it's more of a "Hey, you did something weird to my kid" thing. Footnotes bite the bag when you're drunk.
'night
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