who's more annoying, me or me?

i realized this morning that i have this whole weekend off from work. i've been working so many weekends lately that i almost don't even know what to do with three days to myself. sometimes i'm so indecisive that it makes my head hurt, or maybe that's just a natural response to my multiple personalities battling it out in my brain.

either way, it dawned on me that i should probably take advantage of my sybil-esque tendencies and see what fruitful results i can elicit from deep within my psyche. this morning i took a very thorough survey of my peeps to see what they had to say about this whole 'free weekend' situation.


me: hey practicality, what do you think about this weekend? got any good ideas?
p: uh, how about vacuuming up this dirthole you live in for starters? then there's always laundry, grocery shopping, dishes, making baby food, more dishes....
me: yeah, ok i get it. you're boring, who's next?


me: what's up free spirit? what would you do with three days to yourself?
fs: oh hi! well let's see, i might take monster out for a really long hike up in silver mine or maybe even minnewaska. oooh, and i'd have to make sure i brought a notebook to capture any reflections i might be stricken with as i'm surrounded by nature's beauty. i might also want to start planting that garden i've been talking about. i could have all organic vegetables and then have some flowers on the edges to bring some harmony.
me: uh, that all sounds like work to me. i'm trying to not do any work here, maybe next time... i think i see paranoia over there, maybe she has something to offer.


me: paranoia, what the hell are you doing with all this foam padding stuff?
p: oh, just a little babyproofing.
me: um, i don't think monster is going to be very happy with padding on his feet. have you thought this through?
p: oh yes. this is exactly what the book said to do, cover ALL sharp objects in the house, and if you haven't noticed he's got some claws there.
me: o..k... you don't think that's a little extreme? i mean, he still has to walk, and it's not like the baby can get up onto his sleeping chair to mess with them.
p: uh-oh. is it too much? am i over-protecting? is little miss never going to learn to have natural boundaries? are other parents going to think she's spoiled? is she going to be able to make friends in kindergarten? is she...
me: that's enough! i gotta go see something, uh, over there. bye.


me: potty-mouth! you ol' bitchass! it's been too long!! maybe you can help me think of something to do this weekend. whattya got for me?
pm: for fuck's sake, enough with this indecisive bullshit. just get your ass out and do something already. b will be here to watch little miss, so you can go get shitfaced in the middle of the day if you want.
me: oooh that sounds fun! you coming?
pm: fuck that! it's supposed to rain. i don't go anywhere in the rain.
me: well, i can't exactly go out drinking in the middle of the day all alone. it's not that fun to get shitty and talk to myself.
pm: and that's so different from this crap you're pulling right now?
me: right. whatever. fuck off. i'm going to talk to laziness.


me: lazy, you have to have something good for me. no one else has been any help. i just don't know what would be the best way to spend my weekend.
l: go to the beer store, get a sixer of something new, put b on baby duty, and park it on the couch alternating between horror movies and super mario galaxy. done.
me: i knew i saved the best for last for a reason! you are so good at understanding me. how do you always have the right thing to say?
l: i'm really just too lazy for this conversation. can i go nap now?


i think laziness is my new best friend. at the very least, i should definitely listen to her a little more often. oh wait, i think i just did. i was going to make up some fun pictures in paint to illustrate this post, but guess what, i'm too lazy! so my words are all you're going to have, i trust you all to create wonderfully funny and appropriate images in your heads for yourselves.

and now if you'll excuse me, i think i need a nice long nap to help me gear up for all the sitting around i plan on doing this weekend.

i'm the one who likes to hurt things

i can never remember if it's the sadist or the masochist who likes to be the one inflicting the pain. i thought about looking it up, but we all know how literal google can be. i'm sure even this post is going to be enough to make the little men who live inside my computer run and tell all their little computer dwelling friends that i like weird mean porn. which may or may not be true, but that isn't exactly what i'm talking about in this particular instance.

so if you will please picture me the james spader to maggie gyllenhaal in 'the secretary' i will continue with this warped train of thought i have somehow embarked on.

really though, i'm talking about how i like to dehydrate all my house plants and then bring them back to life at the very last minute.


behold my sad little christmas cactus.

this baby has been sitting on my kitchen windowsill for over a year now. i think the last time i watered it was sometime in early march, there was definitely still snow on the ground.

i wash dishes in that kitchen every day, for no less than two hours a day (not all at once). i look into the pink ceramic pot and know that the thick, fleshy leaves of the plant are yearning for me to be the one to save it from certain death. we're not talking about neglect here, i don't forget to water it. i choose not to water it. i say 'oh plantie, you're fine. you have the very word 'cactus' in your name, that's got to count for something. hang in there til tomorrow, maybe i'll feel differently about you then. by the way, nice flower.'

but i never do.

until this morning, when b said 'LANA! throw this gross dead plant out already!!'

i obligingly answered 'sure honey, i'll do it today.'

but after he had left for work and i went into the kitchen to do the deed, i knew i was only fooling myself. i promptly drenched the dry soil with a hearty dose of tap water and put it back on my windowsill. i've seen it get way worse than this before. i give it a good 36 hours before it bounces back to its usual state of not-so-sadly-surviving.

now the planties in the living room are getting jealous. it's almost like they can smell the water that their fellow prisoner/companion was fortunate enough to receive this day. their leafy tendrils are pointing this way as i type, reaching out for me. the little bead bugs i once so delicately placed in their pots to spread some cheer have now mustered what strength they have left, uniting in a desperate attempt to force me to care for their plant-hosts.

i won't cave. not tonight, do your worst bead bugs.

(and then tomorrow b will read this post and then be all 'yeah! those ones in the living room are gross too! when are you gonna get rid of them! why do you even have plants in the first place?')

well b, i'll tell you why, because i'm a masochist (or a sadist, whatever).

if i knew how to make a fancy fireworks display, i would do so now

at this very moment i find myself succumbing to the inevitable boob sweat that will plague me for the rest of my days, and also to the fact that during my brief respite from everyday busy-ness i will end up sitting at my computer chugging coffee like it's going out of style.

on this cheery sunshiney morning i can only think about how amazingly awesome it's going to be to have b around for a long holiday weekend. and since i should be doing something else instead of blogging right now, i will offer up a small list of things to look forward to this weekend:

1. not working with dick chef (sexist asshole who won't let me get near a heat source because that's for menfolk)

2. any and all time spent with family so that i can pass off the baby and drink a shit ton of beer in the middle of the afternoon

3. getting out of the house and away from monster's incessant barking and therefore not have to hear myself yell 'shut the fuck up you stupid mongrel' every five minutes

4. eating more hot dogs than i want to count

5. allowing myself to pretend that someday i'll be able to own the boat i've always wanted and picture myself out on the river basking in the sun (as i watch every other assclown in the hudson valley out on their boats that they probably don't even appreciate as much as i would)

6. finally getting a pedicure so that when i wear my flip flops you're blinded by fluorescent orange nailpolish and don't notice how big my big toe really is (or how sad my little nubbin of a pinky toe is)

and i think that might be more than i can handle this weekend, but i'm damn sure going to try. i know this holiday is really about commemorating those that have given their lives in battle, but there are plenty of americans who may not have died but gave of their lives when needed. on that note, i want to thank my brother, a veteran of the iraqi war, and all others for doing what i know i never could. THANKS FOR BEING STRONG FOR ALL OF US!!!

this post shouldn't even exist

i wasn't even going to post anything today, yet here i am type, type, typing away. i have a trillion things to do before leaving for work today, not the least of which may or may not include letting monster loose to attack the man who insists on playing with his remote control car right outside my window.

before i do that, i can easily take a few minutes to tell you all about this little gadgety thing i saw on kristine's blog this morning. it's called wordle, and it takes your most commonly used words from your text and makes a cute little arrangement for you. since something new is better than nothing at all, i thought i'd try it. (and no, it's not stealing post ideas if she encouraged people to do it. which, by the way, you should do it too, it's fun.)

here's my compilation: *

(click here to see julius ceasar in full battle regalia, or maybe just a bigger version of my wordle)**

so, i'm not really surprised to see 'really' making such a loud statement in this collage, but i am wondering why 'so' isn't front and center, considering i have a really, really bad habit of starting off sentences with 'so...'.

who knows, maybe the little guys inside my computer who run around picking up words and throwing them back down randomly forgot all about 'so' because it's so little. at least they didn't forget 'assclowns'. that's one of my favorites.

or maybe the little computer guys are obsessed with any word that starts with the letter 'a'. it seems there's a disproportionate amount of a-words in this wordle. they even grabbed the abbreviation a's (for the oakland athletics-worst baseball team name ever). i guess i should take the hint and change up my writing a little bit. there's only so much i can write about appetite addiction or adventurous attention.

i always did have a problem with excessive alliteration.

now that i've sufficiently wasted another seventeen minutes reading up on mr. linky, i think i just need to stop where i am and leave nature to take its course. i wanted to see if i could pull off adding that piece here so that you could all link your wordles to me, but i guess i should have known it wasn't going to happen before i even started. i don't think i'll ever get all that html crap anyway. well, the thought was there, and that should count for something.



*i'm sorry this picture is so small. i have no idea how to make it bigger and now i really need to go get ready or i'll be late and unprepared for work and then i'll get fired and then i'll lose my home and then my kid will starve. fuck you wordle! no really, it is kind of fun, if you can manage to get the right size to show up. any helpful hints?

**if you really wanted to humor me, you can click on the link. i know, i probably wouldn't either, it's ok.

eat at your own risk

there's nothing wrong with being sexually adventurous, but there's definitely some lines that i won't cross. the biggest taboo for me is the mixing of food and sex.

these two acts, once merely for survival, have often become intertwined and co-mingled in a way that i will never feel comfortable with. i like to savor the taste of a well-prepared meal, or enjoy a delicious dessert, on a plate. i prefer any sexual encounter to be as far removed from the kitchen as possible.

but there are some folks out there who would call me prude, or at the very least, tell me that i can't knock it til i try it. all i can say to that is you can have your whipped cream bikinis and sushi served on a woman wearing nothing more than lotus leaves, i'm too much of a purist to taint one pleasure with another. and how do you really, really know what you're getting yourself into? humans can carry around some nasty little surprises that may only become visible when it's way too late for you to do anything about it. before any of you guys get too excited, ask yourself, is this thick, rich whipped cream just masking genital warts and maybe some crabs? or perhaps, think twice before using your chopsticks near the sushi woman's too-perky breasts, lest you cause her implant to rupture, spilling boob juices onto your spicy tuna maki.

thinking about eating, licking, or otherwise consuming food from another person's body, no matter how physically attractive they may be, is so repulsive to me that i can't help but shudder and make that 'bleeecchhh' sound.

body shots are right up there as well. you might argue that if the liquor is strong enough, say moonshine as opposed to peach schnapps, there might actually be some sanitizing going on there to make ingesting fluid off of someone's body seem not so bad. and you may be right, but i will not be the one to test that theory.

this whole topic may seem a bit out of the blue for me, but the truth is, it's been prompted by what i consider to be one of the most disturbing advertisements i've ever seen.



there's so many levels of wrong here, white castle. the weird shadowy, smokey lighting, the pig stripper taking pleasure in covering herself in the sauce, and the fact that she knows she's performing for a crowd who's captivated by her sexy dance. eeww. but the part that really gets to me, the part where i have to say 'that's enough of this food porn!' and quickly change the channel, is when the guy licks the sauce off the paper bag from his finger and then nods his head, acknowledging his pleasure.

it's too much for me. i need a hot, steamy shower to clean all the icky off.

my work is never done

this weekend i actually worked two shifts. that's a huge step for me, my usual being about one shift every two weeks. i have to say, it definitely is hard work, but sometimes a girl just needs to get out of the house and in front of a hot oven or deep fryer to really appreciate all that life has to offer.

the burning pain in my legs that i've been experiencing since yesterday morning leads me to believe that i've actually been using some muscles, to walk around and stuff, which can never be a bad thing. i've also begun to collect more of the horizontal burn lines on the middle of the inner forearm from hot sheet pans. these lines are almost like the rings of a tree trunk, the amount you have indicates the length of time you've been working. up until this weekend, i only had two.

working for an enormous catering company when i'm not pregnant also means that my appetite will return to that of a normal cook, i.e., nonexistent. spending ten-twelve hours a day handling food, even if it's the most gourmet shit i've ever seen, makes me want to ingest nothing more than an ice cold sam adams summer ale. which, of course, the bartenders are way too stingy with so i have to settle for a few gallons of coffee. so hopefully i'll shed the last 25 pounds of baby weight in no time with my new diet of caffeine and air.

another fun thing about working more is that i get to come home and see what random goings-on b has managed to capture on camera. i don't know about all of you, but this weekend we had another one of those obnoxiously loud thunderstorms that should have lasted only an hour but stuck around for about two days. oh and just a warning for future reference, flip flops plus flooding rains is not a safe combination. right, so i was trying to introduce this lovely photographic evidence of monster's new favorite hiding spot during a thunderstorm. it used to be here, but it seems that sometimes a dog just needs a little more security, and nothing says 'you're safe here buddy' like a bathtub.

(i don't know how to make that writing not blurry so you're just going to have to deal with it)

on that note, i before i go scrub the shit out of my tub, i really would like some input on a question i had not too long ago. i never really got a second opinion about this, and i'm still very curious. if a bathroom cleaner is so strong that it makes me headachy, and the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat burn for about five hours after using it, does that mean that i shouldn't give my baby a bath in a tub that i just cleaned with that cleaner, or does it just work really, really well?

i'm going to use it anyway, i guess i just wanted someone to tell me that it's ok and that little miss won't develop a skin condition from chemical exposure.

my baseball post

you may not know this about me, but i grew up in a family of baseball fanatics. there was no other sport that we even paid attention to. when i was about eight years old, and my brother about six, no one could top ol' donnie baseball in our minds. darryl strawberry on the mets and jose canseco on the a's were up there too. we don't need to tarnish that childhood memory with where they ended up, so i'm just going to move along here.

now, with b being a mets fan, we enjoy a mutual love for our ny baseball teams. we still have to make it out to visit the new stadiums sometime this summer, although i have to say that i'm a little superstitious because every single time i've been to the old yankee stadium the guys lose. i might be a hex.

my point with all this is that i was super annoyed to read this crap in my local paper this morning about how they're auctioning off the fucking clumps of dirt from the old stadium.

i mean, i always kind of looked the other way when ticket prices kept going up and up and up. it's entertainment, and if that's the price you have to pay to enjoy it, so be it. but selling clumps of grass and pieces of a busted wall that that douche kevin brown punched a hole in, just to make a buck?

i can't decided who's the biggest tool, the yanks for looking at $$, the assclowns who pay for this stuff, or me for getting annoyed about it all when i really should have seen it coming a mile away.

you asked for it

well it seems like only four people wanted to play this little game, which made it easier for me, less questions and all. the rules are simple: post the answers, describe how to pass along the meme in that post, and make your own questions (or borrow) for the people who want you to interview them.


i made up a lot of these questions myself, but i definitely did find some online that i either borrowed or adapted. and now, without further ado...



kristine:

1. why do you prefer glasses to contacts, despite the occasional lisa loeb comparison?

2. would you rather swim in a pool, the ocean, or the hudson river?

3. using your porn name (first pet + street you grew up on) as the main character, please give a brief summary of the movie about your life.

4. why does the drive through atm have braille on the keypad?

5. is it possible to have a relapse to your windex smell addiction?


jerrod:

1. have you ever played hot dog bush? if not, please go play it now and tell me what your high score is.

2. if you were in hell and got really mad at someone, where would you tell them to go?

3. if you could be anything in a grocery store, what would you be and why? (i got asked this once on a job interview and it freaked me out. like, has someone ever said 'pickles. i'd like to be a jar of pickles.'??)

4. which is better, being the youngest, middle, oldest, or only child? which were you?

5. what nickname have you been called that you hate the most?



erin:

1. did you ever find out who wrote you that really mean email? would you respond if you did?

2. can you convert your headband pattern to knit for me if i promise not to sell them?

3. what color would a smurf turn if it were choking?

4. do you sing more in the car or in the shower? what, if any, accompanying dance moves do you employ while singing?

5. what was the last item you re-gifted?



miss.chief:

1. what anagrams can you make with your name (real or pseudonym) and which is your favorite?

2. what's the difference between a crocodile and an alligator, and which do you prefer?

3. if you absolutely had to kill a spider, as opposed to putting it on a spoon and setting it free outside, would you give the spider a eulogy and a proper burial? how would you sum up that spider's life?

4. why does your kit kat clock's mustache bother me WAY more that his shifty eyes?

5. what was the last randomly gross/potentially lethal thing you saw while walking to the bus stop?


that's all i've got. i look forward to reading all of your answers, now if you'll excuse me i think i just saw monster lick his junk and is now heading towards the baby....

from me to you

alright, i'm going to get this out and then drop it: despite the weird tone of my last two posts, i am completely happy (as in not depressed) and not trying to change anything about myself. i've had 29 years to accept that i will always have the wrong thing to say at the wrong time, and that's that. i'm so awkward that even when i was trying to make fun of myself it sounded like i was sad. but thank you to those well-wishers and supporters, i'm here for you guys!

soooooooooo, on a lighter note, the mysteriously modest writer miss.chief has been ever so kind to me for most of my, albeit short, blogging venture. most recently she has supplied me with something to post about today and save all of you from reading another borderline 'does she need a psychological evaluation?' post. and for that miss.chief, i made you a special present. i don't know if i can call it an award because i made it just for you and usually the awards are ones that you pass on to others, but if you did pass it along that would be fun too. behold the magic of paint:

thanks for always getting it, and for never having writer's block.

so the rules of this mini-meme are that i have to answer the five questions that she has written for me. then to pass it on, anyone who wants to be interviewed can write 'interview me' in the comments section. the first five people to do this will get five individual questions from me to post about. so really, this meme is a two-fer. tomorrow i will post the questions and then i'm off the hook til monday.

i'm going to warn you now, i'm in a very chatty mood at the moment.

1. What in the hell does your blog name even mean? (the pearl one)

since i'm exceptionally bad at describing myself (hence the one-liner 'about me'), kristine suggested i use a line from a song i like as my blog title. i usually shy away from discussing what music/movies/tv/etc. i like because you can make a case for or against pretty much everything, and i hate futile arguments. but today i will tell you that the line is from a ryan adams song and goes '...with her father on amphetamines, her mother hides the pearls...' i fucking LOVE me some ryan adams, and that's all i'm going to say about that. (unless someone tells me that it's copyright infringement to use a fragment from a song and then i'll delete this post and deny any connection whatsoever).

2. Has the pancake shirt caused you to vomit yet? Please answer in the form of a question, jeopardy style.

what is, i don't think that's possible. upon receipt of said pancake shirt i promptly washed the cat hairs off so that monster could proceed to cover it with dog hairs and make the shirt feel welcome in my wardrobe. i eat pancakes for dinner sometimes when there's no food left and i'm too lazy to go grocery shopping. pancakes = night off from real cooking, so they make me happy.

3. Have you ever seen the CSI episode where the guys dies from allergies, getting shot with an arrow, drowning, a snake bite, and getting hit in the head with a crowbar but then they have to say he died from a heart attack or something? it's my favorite.

what the...?? i request a new question, that's a rip-off. it's just a yes or no, and therefore leaves me much less opportunity to talk about myself. but anyways, i DID see that ep and it was actually a whole season edited into 43 minutes.

4. Why can humans move their eyes in opposite directions toward their nose but not away from their nose?

actually, some humans can do this. my physics professor in college could do this every day, but i don't think it was intentional. he was big and round and had this cloud-like greyish-whitish beard that connected with his hair and he looked just like santa. we called him professor santa and he really liked it, he would always smile and have this deep, jovial laugh that made you just want to hug him.

5. Don't look this up: what does ROFL mean again?

omg, lol!! i TOTALLY know this one now. it means really old (and) fucking lame. at least that's what i'll say to anyone who uses that crap with me.

i know you want to play now.

and now before i go, it's time for one last teeny weeny present. this one is dedicated to my bestest pal of, holy shit i can't believe it's been that long, 18 years. we go all the way back to mr. stern's math class in seventh grade. thanks kristine, for always being there to help and for always understanding me. this one's for you:

try, try again

i'm going to try really hard here to not look like i'm trying really hard to not sound like a mommy blogger. the point is this, yes i have a kid and yes i spend most days with her as opposed to adult company, but as much as i am immersed in kiddie culture at home i do like to think that i have other things to talk about.

right, so that's when i re-read some of the things i've written and upon realizing that they're about my kid's toys or poop or cute faces, or about my dog's toys or poop because he may as well be a mentally challenged toddler (is that pc?), i got annoyed with myself.

but then the other day i was reading sally's blog and she had some pictures of these fabulous 'alternative lifestyle' barbies. i don't know why but transgender barbie really struck a chord with me (NOT sarcasm, i swear!), heshe looked so pure and happy expressing hisher true self. i was torn between thinking that i must procure one immediately for little miss, and also that i must keep it for myself and let her play with something a little more baby speed and less adult humor-ish. ah well, she's a smart gal, i'm sure she'll let me know which type of barbie (or any other doll, not necessarily that doll) she prefers.

i, one the other hand, have never owned a barbie. not one. ever. i was way more into my little ponies. their flowing manes and tails were so fun to comb, and they all had cute pictures of stuff on their butts. my brother had an endless stash of he-man figurines that he let me play with to ride the ponies, as long as i lent him my ponies to be the cavalry in a massive battle sequence taking place on the stairwell.

so now as i'm sitting here remembering that i never had a barbie, i also remember the smell of the my little pony. each was the same. it was that powdery, rubbery, faintly floral smell that was unique to plastic horse hair and bodies. do they even still make those things? because if they do and someone were to open a brand new one within about 20 feet of my nose, i'd be a little kid again, giving my cousin a funny look when she pulled out a big box of nudie barbies suggesting we dress them for a party.

i definately did work with a guy once who had a really, really long ponytail that actually smelled JUST like my little pony. if he weren't such an asshole i would have asked about his shampoo and explained my dear affection for the plastic horse hair smell. but alas, it wasn't meant to be.

maybe i'll buy some for the fuss just so i can sniff them first before she proceeds to chew them and get them all slimey and gross. she won't mind, cheery little thing, she's always happy to let me play with her toys.

i need to get out more. help...

who, me?

i'm really awkward in person. if you met me, spent half a day with me, and then had a minute to reflect, you'd think i was in need of some chemically induced stability.

i often make jokes when others are serious, and become intensely focused when others are lighthearted. sometimes it takes days for me to even realize the emotional discrepancy, but i do eventually see it. i've never been good at reading people, so i'm usually left playing catch-up.

i've come to accept this, but that doesn't mean that it never bothers me occasionally.

recently, at work, i had an experience where someone said to another co-worker 'i'm scared of her, she NEVER smiles' referring to me, in that jokey-i'm-kinda-serious way. the other co-worker replied 'who, HER? she's always laughing, what are you talking about?'

since both of these people are people that i would consider friendly acquaintances, i was a little surprised at the opposite opinions. now, i've been known to say that i could care less what people think of me and that i just 'do my own thing.' but we all know that everybody cares. even if it's just a little bit, only once every few weeks or so, there comes a time when you do actually care.

today is that day for me. so instead of talking about how nice and sunny it is outside, or how cute monster looks curled up into a ball with his tail around his nose, i'll just leave you with one last tidbit from my sometimes irrational logic:

sometimes i feel the more friends i have the more lonely i am. i'll take my three or four good ones, hold them close, and feel comfortable knowing that i don't have to pretend to make sense to them.

i guess that's not all that irrational, maybe i'm too morose for witticisms today.



ps. i can't stop laughing at the fact that i haven't changed the batteries on one of fuss's singy toys and every five minutes or so i now hear 'if you're happy and you know it clap your hands' in that drawn out, demonic, warble voice.

speech therapy

this morning, as i sent my congratulatory 'YAY!' to kristine, via our perpetual scrabble game, for finally being able to present her 50-page MASTERpiece, i began to reminisce about all the many times i've had to present some work of mine in front of a class. now, nothing i have done can even come close to her intense MASTER research, but is more along the lines of trying not to get beat up or thrown in detention in high school.

the scariest assignment was when i had to work with the girl who was goth ahead of her time, back when everyone else was still rocking the lumberjack flannels and kurt cobain was alive. not only did she wear a plastic barbie doll leg with red sharpie on it to look like blood around her neck as a decorative accessory, but she also hated me. i was too scared of her to talk shit about her then, she just hated me because she could, i guess.

after two awkward afternoons at the local library where i spent the time reading the collected works and countless biographies of william blake, while she spent the time drawing pictures of me hanging from a noose (i'm assuming it was me, she got the bangs just right), i pretty much wrote my presentation and figured she could say whatever she wanted to after i talked. well, as it turned out, what she ended up saying was that i stole her speech and that she had nothing left to say. consequently she failed, and spent the rest of our time in high school giving me death looks and kicking my shins from under her desk.

there was also the time that and i got drunk on my free period from the convenient stash of my mom's foster's keg cans and then 40 minutes later was swinging my legs from my history teacher's desk babbling something about jacksonian democracy. kristine sat there burning me up and laughing the whole time because she knew how wasted i was. she got yelled at and i got an A+.

considering that my oratory skills seem to have been somewhat successful in the past, i find myself now wondering if there's a way that i can exploit my natural talent to work for me.

well, maybe there's no need for me to go that far, but at the very least i can spend ten years making this fabulous picture in paint instead of showering like i should be doing.

ps. i had to look up how to spell 'speech' in my scrabble game, just to make sure.

that's it, i can't take anymore!

little miss pulled out her cuteness reserves for this pic as my mother's day present.

sneaky little thing. i thought i had seen all of her tricks and she comes up with this. where does she keep all that cuteness in that tiny body? i don't think i'll ever know.

a message to the kid walking alone who thought it was cool to verbally assault me

ok kid, enough with this bullshit. i know you're only about eight years old and all, but that doesn't give you free reign to be a punk-ass.

i'm not even going to waste my breath talking to you about respecting your elders, nay respecting people in general, but i will say that you're damn lucky you're not my kid.

and when did you learn that that oh-so-irritating teeth sucking sound is an appropriate response to hearing something you don't want to hear? that's almost worse than when you called me a 'lying bitch.'

i think it's high time you took your little tush home and begged for your mother's forgiveness and professed your undying love and support for her and all the things she does for you. maybe give listening to her a chance, there could be some valuable information there.

then again maybe not, i did find you wandering dubois st. at nearly ten pm on a thursday night.

anywhoooooo, at the very least, if you're going to ask a stranger for money, try using the 'my family has no money for food so they send me out to the streets to beg' routine. it will get you worlds farther than the 'hey lady, you got fitty cent i can hold?' bit. even though i know you're only going to use that fifty cents to buy a *gasp* sugary soda at the corner store.

that is all.


ps. tell your mother i said happy mother's day for me.

karma IS a bitch

alright, here it is. this is my 'i need some balance post'. talking shit about my creepy neighbors, no matter how much they might deserve it, has left a nasty taste in my mouth. so i'm back to send a little positive energy out and feel a little more at ease.

fuss and i had a nice afternoon out visiting friends and i'd like to share some randoms that made me smile:

1. i have officially renewed my crush on the shuffle feature on my ipod.

2. little miss is the best kid ever for not letting my blasting the shit out of whatever song shuffle picked for me stop her from having a little car nap.

3. i love that the trees have actual leaves on them again.

4. i want to write a cookbook on how to incorporate herbs into everyday cooking because i love herbs and i think they make everything taste better (NOT referring to that other herb, but i do have an amazing rosemary hot nuts recipe if anyone's interested).

5. i love how my gay guy friends always say how much they can't stand kids and then shower the fuss with the sweetest affection every time they see her.


ok, i feel a little better now. not to be all spiritual or whatever, but i've always felt that you get what you give, and that applies to your mindset as well as your actions. hope you all enjoy the rest of your day as much as i will mine.

first an award and then a game

now i really have to brush up on my paint skills, look what miss.chief did!!!


thanks for the great award miss! how did you know that i've always envied stevie's big beautiful teeth? i can feel him singing his happiness directly to me every time i see his open mouth. wait, that wasn't supposed to sound like that... whatever, YAY for awards!!

and now, because it's thursday, or because it's not raining this very second, i would like to pose a little game of 'would you rather: laundry edition' for some much needed guidance in this matter.

this issue is this, my laundry room, being a good half a mile down a hill, around a corner, in the back of a building, and in that building's basement, doesn't really make me want to do laundry all the time. so what i try to do is pick the day that i see the least offensive of my neighbors out and about, possibly doing their laundry as well.

today i spy with my brown eye(s) two of the more exceptionally loathsome laundry folks.

first there's walking wonder*:


walking wonder can be seen on any given day throughout the year wearing sweatpants, no shirt, and an ankle length leather trench, which i don't think is supposed to be ankle length but it is on him because he's only five foot four. his name is derived from the very technical observation that he walks up and down our (dead-end) street ceaselessly and tirelessly, on his way to no where.

this all might sound harmless enough, but wait, now let me tell you about his rotten attitude. he chain smokes outside of the laundry room waiting for some unattended machine to stop its cycle of spinning, just so he can reach in with his tar hands and take your clothes out in a flurry of curses, throw them in a moist pile on the not-so-clean folding table, and shove his clothes in even though there may in fact be no less than three other machines available.

also out and about, enjoying the split second of sunshine that just peeked through the clouds today, is mr. toothless wonder. his approach is vastly different from my other good neighbor. this guy likes to sit in the laundry room the whole entire time (which, considering what goes on there, i can't fault him too much for) and tell each person who enters exactly how long each machine has been running for, because he's taking notes. oh, and i can't leave out the part where he will eye-fuck me (with his slightly crossed eyes) and grin and lick his lips while i try to put my clothes in any motherfuckingmachine i can find and get the hell out of there as fast as i can.

so, dear reader, i could use a little advice here. would you rather deal with walking wonder touching your undies and leaving them for all the world to see, or mr. toothless making you feel that no matter how many times you shower you're still going to be very dirty for at least two consecutive days?


*this picture is not really my neighbor, but the closest i could find without actually having to get near him to take my own picture.

i need to clean my bathtub again anyway

today i was *thisclose* to posting about monster's many stank orifices, complete with a drawing from none other than paint. thank GOD i read kristine's blog before i sat down to spend five hours making a fish skeleton coming out of my dog's butthole.

just take a look at what she gave me!

isn't it the most AMAZING thing you've ever seen?! finally, the truth shall be known, me and susan boyle are going to enjoy a wondrous, lifelong love affair, in which we tell each other how pretty we are (on the inside).

i know, i know, i have to share this masterpiece with some other folks. but hey, we're all friends here, and who am i to deprive someone of the warm embrace that is kristine's love. so thanks k, for brightening my day!! and also for giving me the day off from having to write something that's only borderline witty using my dog as a prompt.

i'll translate if i have to

i'm not sure if it's a matter of my age or my lack of proper training, but i am completely illiterate when it comes to chat/text speak. sure i can send texts and chats, but it will take me about five years for one message because i type the whole entire thing out.

some of the basics are easy and i've picked up on their proper usage; omg, wtf, got it. others however, make me annoyed because i took fucking six years of latin and i was so proficient i could converse with cicero if i wanted to, and yet i still don't know what the fuck 'rofl' means.

the frustrating part about this was that when i received a chat from someone who used this term, my first impulse was to google it. i stopped because i realized that i have no idea what rofl could possibly mean, and the last thing i need is to google some weird porno term and have dirty things pop up on my computer and never ever leave (cause that's what i heard happens when you look up online porn).

so my next move was to email the human dictionary that is kristine for a quick answer:

me: don't burn me up, but i really don't know what 'rofl' means

k: ok, first, tell whoever used it that he/she is a tool. second, it means 'rolling on the floor, laughing'.

that's the dumbest shit i've ever heard. shouldn't all laughter at something written be covered by the all-encompassing 'lol'?

ok, i'm already over it. now i can talk about how much i love microsoft paint.

the amazingly awesome sour sent me this fabulous shirt as a trade for my wack bird shirt.

right away, you can see the sweet sunshine lines i made coming off the shirt, which could be perceived to be stink lines, except that i'm telling you they're not. i can't decide what my favorite part of the shirt is. it could be that the pat of butter melting onto pancake stack's right eye totally looks like a black eye, making him that much more badass. or it could be this:

who's trapped under stack? how did he get stuck there? what was he looking for? so many questions, it's brilliant. so a HUGE THANKS to sour, for spreading her canadian love my way!

i could take pictures and paint things on them all day, but in truth, i'd never become as talented as this. you're welcome for the link. and now, feel free to da mihi multi baccii please.

a post in which i will not use the word 'green' to mean environmentally conscious

i may not be the most active environmentalist out there, or active at all, but i do care about rational and real ways that people can bring about change. although sometimes i can't help myself from seeing the stupid in someone's attempt at being smart.

my most recent pet peeve is this:



this vehicle, known as the 'smart for two' car, has already begun infiltrating our streets. this little fella here, while he tries to look all cute and small, is actually going to bring about the demise of our roadways as we know them today.

i do agree that fuel efficient models and less wasteful factories are a good thing for our society, but this car can guarantee only one thing: getting hit hard = certain death. just look at what happened to this one when a stray butterfly accidentally flew into the driver's side door:



this rolling harbinger of death is a clear example of when you can really say 'what the fuck are reinforced steel beams going to do for me here?' don't even get me started on the assclowns who need to ask about putting a car seat in this piece. and to make matters worse, it's still kind of expensive. the base model starts at over $11,000. a car with wheels smaller than my baby's radio flyer shouldn't cost more than 2-3k, in my opinion.

how about i take my $11,000, buy a pre-owned vehicle of a slightly more solid build, and keep one less manufacturing plant from opening up. at least my 4-runner will protect tax payers from all the civil suits associated with the smartshitcar. i can see it now, the endless pile-ups blocking traffic, increasing road rage, and then riots and fires will take over. all those trees they say they're going to plant for the purchase of a new vehicle will be burned to cinders and we'll be left with nothing but tanks and ashes and devastation.

so if you want to help destroy our planet, feel free to roll in one of these bad boys. i promise i won't make faces at you and get distracted by your retardedness while driving.


note: if you try to tell me good things about this car i will stick my fingers in my ears singing 'lalalalala-i can't hear you!'

this is for you, punk!

in our house, punk is a term of endearment. just like the phrase 'do you need a beating?' which translates to 'stop being so cute or i'll have to beat you up'. angry fist shaking is never, EVER angry, it's always about 'how can you be SO CUTE?! i don't understand!!'

with that setting the tone, today is the two year anniversary of b and i getting married (even though it wasn't 100% legal the first time, we like to use this date because it's nicer) so i thought i'd share some of the highlights of our years together. i know i've alluded to that awesome pick-up line that started it all, and i think it's only fitting to begin there.

i'm 24, bartending at a local sports bar, annoyed that i have to make small talk to earn money, although flaunting my enormous tatas helped to reduce the amount of necessary small talk with certain customers. i've heard every line you could ever imagine, and was pretty proficient at the old 'fake smile, that's so funny! i'm rolling my eyes on the inside' move. and then b came in one night, gave me a few smiles for about an hour, and by the time he was sufficiently wasted, he blew my mind with 'hey, so, um, what do think about the property taxes over in sullivan county?'

this was pretty earth shattering because he was absolutely serious. he actually wanted to have a conversation. it was an instant connection, i answered him and then asked how long it took him to come up with a gem like that (which i already knew the answer to because it was on the front cover of the local paper sitting on the bar right next to him). we talked the whole rest of the night, and before he left he drew two stick figures on a scrap of paper, one with a word bubble that had his phone number in it, and gave it to me saying 'we should talk some more.'

i think it was maybe about ten days later, after spending every spare minute with him, that i knew i wanted to talk to him for the rest of my life. without getting all sappy, as i can easily do, i will say that we both feel lucky to have found someone we each love a little bit more every day.

we enjoyed ourselves, we went out partying a lot, and we made some wonderful friends.

we dressed up in costumes.



(b just looked over my shoulder and proclaimed, 'you're lucky it's our anniversary because there's no other way i would let you put that mess online.')

it wasn't long before we got an apartment together and i convinced b that we needed a dog. at first he wasn't so sure. but we went anyway and picked up our little monster at a shelter, putting him in a cardboard box in the back of my car. when he took a massive dump in the box, stepped all in the dump, and then put his shit paws all over b's shoulder, we knew we made the right choice.



then not long after monster showed up, we looked at each other one morning and decided to get married. a few months later we were in antigua, just us. no friends or family, it was perfect. we've never been the most romantic people, and this just felt so right to both of us.



i think it may have been the second that our plane landed back in new york that i became obsessed with having a baby. b was too, he was much more easily persuaded than with the whole 'let's get a dog' issue, as if he only had to fake putting up a fight this time because he thought that's how it was supposed to happen.



i'm so hardcore that i walked myself into the operating room for my c-section. no wheelchairs or gurneys here, thank you very much.



allow me to introduce little miss, also known as 'the fuss'.



she's been known to smile sometimes.

and here we are today, just two people being secretly mushy and in love on the inside, bitter and sarcastic on the outside just so that people don't think we're freaks because who could ever really be that happy, right?

happy anniversary babysnakes!!

*note: for those of you who may not already know, this is my b. that means don't get any ideas ladies, i once punched a chick in the throat... but do feel free to check it out and comment on how hilarious he is.