no gun show today folks

i used to get embarrassed easily, now i just get annoyed and cry.

this morning i had a meltdown in my car. i sat there, annoyed at myself for getting all worked up again. i knew that if i bothered b at work i'd hear 'why can't you pretend you're linda hamilton and you're going to kick some machine ass?! you need to be a little tougher sometimes and not so high-strung.'


instead i called the toyota dealership and cried to the service manager. and now i've come full circle because i'm extremely embarrassed about it.

i don't know about where anyone else lives, but here in the good ol' hudson valley we've had about five straight days of rain. normally, i find the rain to be refreshing, even comforting, as the sound of water drumming the leaves outside my window will often lull me to sleep.

rain takes a turn for the meaner side of irony, however, when your overpriced, gas-guzzling suv has a busted sunroof.

for the past three days i have been battling mother nature to spare the interior of my spacious vehicle. at three am last night i was convinced that my plastic wrap + garbage bag + towel contraption was the most brilliant idea i'd ever had.

and then i saw things in the light (greyness) of day.

i used to love that sunroof. its wide expanse provided me with a fresh, invigorating breeze after spending twelve hours working in a hot kitchen with nothing more than a pair of ceiling vents circulating the recycled air. there was always the issue of the bitchin' rectangle of arm-tan i'd have to work hard to avoid, constantly remembering to wear tank tops for a drive longer than 15 minutes, but aside from that no major complaints.

so now karma is having her fun with me. not only did my ass get sopping wet (through a towel) on the drive to the dealership, but i've been given a death-trap to drive for a week while they exorcise the demons controlling the sunroof positioning. the flashy yaris sport is eerily similar to the smartshitcar that i have bemoaned in the past.

when i installed the infant car seat, i noticed it was wiggling to and fro as if it were on roller skates and the backseat were a slick, polished surface instead of pleathery upholstery. luckily, little miss didn't seem to mind in the least. babies can be so accommodating sometimes.

returning home to find no viable parking and having to lug a twenty pound infant and all of her crap up an enormous hill to my front door was the icing on my day. i gave in and called b, if only to have him keep me from crying again.

he promptly told me that if i wanted a handicapped parking spot right in front of our door he'd be happy to take the yaris and run over my legs, hopefully rendering me a parapalegic and so in need of special treatment. b's always been good at giving me a little perspective on things.

on the plus side, i plan on falling asleep to the sound of the rain tonight.

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.

name games, part two

so here's my secret (which isn't really a secret because i'll tell anyone who'll listen): i want to have another baby, like right now. little miss is seven months old, and i always knew i wanted to pop out the kiddies really closely together for several reasons. not the least of which being that i can finally get the boob job i've always wanted when my body is done incubating my offspring, and by boob job i mean reduction. i want those bad boys downsized, lifted, and tightened so that no matter what i'm doing they always stay in the same place, and also so that i can wear a regular shirt/bathing suit/dress without looking like a porn star/hooker on her way to work.

right, so b's all for this plan (and what husband wouldn't be) except for one thing, we still live in a one bedroom apartment. yes, me, b, little miss, and monster all in one little tiny apartment. adding a new fetus to the mix might make b's head explode. and since i'm not ready to be a single mother i have to just give it some time. although i make it a point to talk to b about babies at least once a day so he doesn't think it was all a phase and i got over it.

moving along, since i can't really talk about baby name stories with b unless i'm currently knocked up, i talk with my cousin who happens to be equally as babybrained as i am. since i'm so intrigued by the fine line between an unusual name and a ridiculous name, i thought i'd share some of the more, um, unique ones we've heard. not to be a hypocrite, because i know i've said before that it's really hard to judge parents for what they name their kids, but sometimes i think that pointing out some of these examples is really just a motivator to help keep myself in check. but i want to say, in all fairness, that i sincerely do feel bad for these kids, and some of the parents.

1. this one came to me courtesy of my mother, a first grade teacher. it's the story of a young, immigrant couple who had a baby girl. the hospital promptly labeled the plastic crib with a pink card that said 'female.' the naive parents thought that in america, the hospitals name your baby for you. so female (pronounced fe-Mal-ay) became the child's legal name.

2. then there's the poor kid who's mom has an awful sense of humor. his real name is something like benjamin mark but she's only taught him that his name is 'beema.' yes, beema, as in short for beemer, as in BMW. so apparently the kid is five years old and doesn't know his real name, and mom insists on using beema. in my opinion, she should have just named him that from the jump and it might not be so bad if there weren't an ordinary name to fall back on.

3. oh yes, my list would not be complete without little 'trezir', as in 'mom doesn't know how/doesn't care how to spell treasure correctly.' trezir seems to be the only one in his (yes, HIS) family who lost the name game, he has two older sisters, nicole and annette.

with all that fresh in my mind, i asked my cousin what she thought about the name barnaby, not barny, just barnaby, for a boy. sure it's not the most common, but it's not like a total joke either, right? i guess i have plenty of time before i really have to go there. my point is that i hope my attraction to different sounding names isn't going to be scarring my kids forever and ever. or at least that they end up in a school where only the adults talk about their weird names and that the other kids don't beat them up because they all have weird names too.

a message to the creepy maintenance man wearing a blue wool sweater in 85 degree weather who has treats in his pants

dear lone english speaking tor view village maintenance man, please stop using your whisper voice to try to lure my dog over to you for treats.

sir, not only does my dog has severe sensitive stomach issues that you cannot possibly be aware of, producing mass amounts of doggie vomit and diarrhea from one single milkbone, but your approach is unsettlingly similar to a child molester hunting for prey.

if you were normal and not in any way scary, i might be nice and bring one of monster's special dietary treats outside and give it to you to give to him. but you'd have to really, really convince me that you're not having sick and unnatural fantasies about my dog, which you are clearly not capable of.

oh sir, i see the gleam in you eye, and the corner of your mouth turn in a sly smile when you see my furry friend walking by. even when we're over a hundred yards away, across the street, you follow him with your eyes, one hand shading them from the sun to get a better view, and slowly start walking in our direction. your false attempts to be disarming 'can i give the doggie a trrreeeeaaaaattt?' send chills up my spine. what's worse is that monster knows you as the 'treat guy' and so gets excited, irregardless of his imminent bowel discomfort. poor little guy has no notion of what you'd really do to him if you could get your hands on him, bribing him with dry, crumbly cookies.

no, my monster is way too innocent to be corrupted by your unbridled desire for doggie rape, and i'd like to keep it that way. so from now on, sir, please keep your treats in your pants for another victim and allow us to enjoy our morning walk without your sinister motives clouding the air.

help, i could use somebody...(a real person, that is)

this afternoon, i realized that there a few questions i have that, if answered, i would be able to rest much easier. so i call to you, blogland, to hopefully supply me with some piece of mind:

1. if a bathroom/tub cleaner makes my eyes water and the back of my throat burn, is it unsafe to give my baby a bath in a tub that was just cleaned with said cleaner, or does it just mean that it works really, really well?

2. is it possible that the non-english-speaking maintenance workers at my apartment complex have some kind of special caller id that flashes 'angry psycho' in their native tongue when i call (six times) to get my air conditioner fixed and that's the real reason why they never pick up?

3. is it possible for a computer tard like me to find help on blogger about that stupid word verification that's fucking with comments being posted on my blog? i've gotten several (exactly four) reports of it preventing comments from being accepted, so naturally i spent a solid eight minutes browsing the blogger help links only to become convinced that blogger is totally self-aware and has no real live people involved in any of it's decision making processes. which prompts me to ask, what can i bribe an electronic entity with to allow me to collect comments like the comment whore that i am?

if anyone out there can help with any of the above and at the same time share how you made it past the demon blogger regulator on the comments link, please, please spread your knowledge.

disclaimer: i can only offer payment of one randomly selected, slightly chewed baby/dog toy for any useful information.

#38 on the 'why i hate tor view village' list

i won't get into the previous 37 reasons i have listed in my head of why my apartment complex, with the worst name ever (reason #4 because it references weird mountain), sucks hard. i will instead share with you a little ditty i recently heard from my bedroom window. but first, let me set you up with a little background info:

-mrs. toothless wonder (has most of her teeth, not sure where the name came from) has some kind of disability that made her legs as thin as pretzel rods. but despite the fact that her condition might elicit some profound sympathy for the lady, she is continually the most annoying busybody ever imaginable.

-mr. toothless works at the deli counter of the local grocery store and is fond of yelling into other people's apartments with his megaphone, that also somehow has a radio tuner on it forever set to the easy-listening station.

-then there's their son ryan, whoo boy, this kid has some serious issues. picture that 14 year old who's in the 'special' classes and can't get along with kids his own age so he steals toys from the neighborhood preschoolers who haven't yet learned to run when they see him coming. oh, and he also likes to get in his mother's car (beats the hell out of me how she can exert enough force on the gas pedal to drive with her twigs but whatever), blast the radio, and rev the gas for no reason.

so, now that you have an accurate mental picture of the characters, here's the dialogue:

mrs. toothless: 'RYYYAAAAAAAAAANNN!! where's my cane?!?'

ryan: 'i got a new phone, it's 6:01, exactly. ugh, right THERE!!'

mrs. toothless: 'no, not that one, the SILVER one!'

ryan: 'whatever, you're slowing me down. i got a new phone.'

mrs. toothless: 'ryan, get in the car NOOOWWW!'

ryan: 'WHYWHYWHYWHY'

mrs. toothless: 'get in the car or i'm gonna leave you here!'

ryan: 'GOOD! i don't wanna go anyways!'

mrs. toothless: 'RYAANNnnn....' (voice fading as she gets in the car and slams the door)

ryan: 'what's the big deal anyway?'

oh yeah, and did i mention that this is a regular occurrence on sunday mornings? yes, sunday mornings, right outside my window (which, unfortunately, happens to overlook her parking spot) when all the rest of the world is still trying to sleep.

these folks are so crazy that even my 50-pound, man eater of a dog can't be bothered to bark at them, knowing full well it's a waste of his time.

i console myself with thoughts of a nice, quiet neighborhood, where even if wackos like these exist, i'll be able to ignore them from inside my huge, sprawling home. maybe that scenario isn't going to come about for a long time, but believe me, when it does, i will cherish every second away from the insanity that is tor view-suck my ass-village.

i'm sorry if this offends you, but i'm going to say it anyway

why am i being bombarded with questions about my 6-month-old watching baby einstein? and more importantly, why do i get that stifled expression when i say that i don't think she needs to watch tv at her age, no matter what the program is?

if i'm going to be subjected to the outlandish behavior of other parents A) telling me what to do with my child and B) telling me that tv is the answer, then shouldn't i be allowed to respond as i really want to? no, it's more pc for me to smile and say something like 'oh yeah, i've heard about that, we haven't tried it yet.'

i'm all for general politeness, and believe me, i love the diversity that each family can impart upon their own children. but please people, why do you assume to know what's best for ALL children?

for example, my laundry room buddy. she's a mother to a four-year-old girl and lives in the next building over from me. we generally stick to safe topics, such as commiserating about how much we hate where we live and listing the many faults of our complex and management. but yesterday, she took it too far.

laundry lady: 'how's the baby? getting big huh?'

me: 'yeah, sitting up on her own now! it's great because she enjoys her toys in a whole new way.'

laundry lady: 'does she like baby einstein? my daughter started at 3 months, she loved it.'
(mimicking a baby watching tv, face still, eyes wide open, in a trance.)

me: 'oh yeah, i haven't really tried that. she likes her toys a lot.'

laundry lady: 'oh my gosh!! you HAVE to try it! get her started early so she'll be able to sit and watch on her own. you should do all those educational types of videos, give her a head start.'

me: 'uh, yeah, maybe.'
(turning my back to remove clothes from the dryer, setting the stage for my quick exit from this odious dialogue)

laundry lady: (another face, this time clearly biting her tongue about how my kid's going to grow up a dummy because she didn't learn to count by 9 months old) ' well, i guess you don't have to if you're not ready...'

um, i don't know if i'll ever be ready for that.

i understand that tv is real and it's a part of every household, and that sometimes you need a half hour to make dinner, or something for a sick kid to veg out to, or even just for some time to yourself. you can't be your child's sole source of entertainment. and i can absolutely understand why videos would be better than regular tv programs, but the sense of urgency that i MUST train my baby to regularly watch videos is astonishing to me.

i'm sure the old argument 'einstein himself didn't watch baby einstein' has been applied here many times before i entered the picture, but i still think it's valid. if i play with my child, teach her to play independently, take her out to experience things outside of our home, read to her, talk to her, love her, how is that deficient?

am i committing a fatal flaw in my child's development? is there something to baby einstein that i don't know about? (real question, not sarcasm)

i can only hope that as i navigate the many crossroads of parenthood, that i can become accustomed to constantly evolving. i know my daughter won't be that cute babbling baby forever, and i'll have to grow with her.



ps. i always welcome other parent's advice about what worked for them, but when it's phrased as 'DO this' that's when i get upset.

when b and i get bored...

...we act out murderous fantasies on inanimate objects, often using ketchup as a visual aid.

most recently, we've been talking about destroying our possessed computer, describing over and over to each other the many ways that we could make it suffer for all those viruses, white-outs, and restarts it put us through.

today we got to have our fun, at least half of it anyway. we replaced our monitor. nothing fancy, an old hand-me-down from b's office, but it was a gift from the heavens because it allowed us to throw out the old one. gone are the days of mysteriously going to 'sleep' and not waking back up, no more will it flash beams of light from a black screen at me, moving as if someone was shining a flashlight beam from the inside.

the computer's still kicking around, for now. maybe when it sees the pics of what we did to it's buddy mr. monitor it'll have second thoughts about that.

so we started with your average, ordinary-looking monitor. you can't see the evil from the outside, but it's soul is as black as a desert night. then we did this to it:

then this:

before finally letting it writhe in misery amongst trash that it's not even worthy to keep company with:


it felt so good. a natural release of all of our frustrations, culminating in that moment of being able to walk away knowing that wretched monitor was in the dumpster, and there it would stay.

at least we didn't burn it.

we thought about it, but not owning a fire extinguisher was the deciding factor.

todd wasn't so lucky.

of course, there was no fire extinguisher that night either, but he really had it coming, with his big hair and sideways smile.

before you write us off as a couple of psychopaths, consider this, how many other people can channel their frustrations in a way that's (relatively) harmless and will bring years of laughter and embarrassment for future generations?

did i just see that?

i should preface this post by saying that as a new mother, i have learned quickly to refrain from giving unsolicited parenting advice. i don't like hearing it, and i'm sure no one else likes hearing it.

but i think i just saw the most atrocious display of exactly what NOT to do with your child.

the back story is brief, but somewhat relevant. i live in an apartment complex of some 400 or so apartments in several different buildings along a dead-end street. my particular building is at the bottom of the road, right off the cul-de-sac. my neighbor, a friendly spanish woman, mother to three children, watches other neighborhood kids during the day. we are not talking about licensed day care here, more of an informal, yet paid, babysitter.

one of her regulars is a small boy, about two years old. the parents seem nice enough, routinely dropping the boy off around 8:30 am and picking him up around 5:15 pm. what first made me take note of them was when i observed both parents, individually and on multiple occasions, put the boy in the front seat of their car, with no car seat, and often no seat belt.

i do know that they live in the building across the street, their parking lot directly opposite from mine. from door to door, it's maybe a 75-ft drive.

but is there any excuse for taking such liberties with your child's safety? the last time i checked, there were car seat laws, for a reason.

the ultimate in careless behavior was exhibited today, when the boy's father placed his son on his lap, and then drove away. no seat belt, and a toddler sitting in his lap, tiny fingers clutching the steering wheel. who does this guy think he is, britney spears? there are no paparazzi here on kensington circle.

i'm not ready to interfere and tell these parents what i think about their dangerous practice of driving their son. it seems obvious to me that any parent who thinks that such behavior is acceptable would clearly be defensive when approached about the subject. the last thing i need is the frustration of picking a fight about child safety only to have the parents continue with their actions.

instead, i'll just write about it and hope everyone who reads this agrees with me.

true story

i've never actually seen a ghost, phantom, spirit, or likewise. i do, however, think that i have been to haunted places. my dog accompanied me once, and was a very convincing witness.

now, most people can say they thought they heard a strange voice somewhere that was nothing more that a creaky vent shaft. so i won't go into detail about hearing babies cry every time i go into my bathroom. i will, instead, share my experience at high tor state park, which happens to be directly across the street from my home.

as my lovely mutt is one of those high-energy (walk me lots or i'll destroy your house) types, i often take him hiking for exercise. we gravitate towards the more desolate areas, less likely to draw crowds, simply because of my dear pet's tendency to, oh, you know, bite.

i prefer to walk with him off his leash, mostly because he loves being able to stretch his legs a bit more than our 700-square-foot apartment will allow. our usual routine is him running 10 feet ahead, then turning, panting, waiting for me to catch up before hurtling forward again at full sprint.

one crisp autumn afternoon, we found ourselves entering a trail that began on a bluff, overlooking our neighborhood. the orange and red leaves marked the sides of the path, drawing us further into the woods. there were absolutely no indications of any other hikers nearby. we were alone.

as we walked, a feeling of claustrophobia mounted. unusual for me, one who is prone to almost being hypnotized by the beauty of forests, cherishing nature's display. as utterly alone as we were, i put my companion's leash back on after only a few minutes. it wasn't hard, he was huddled next to my legs.

about 15 minutes deep, we noticed a side trail that appeared to go up to a look-out point. we headed up the steep, rocky slope. it was even more solitary than the trail below. at the summit, i was desperately trying to take a picture that encompassed the magnificent view. it wasn't working. the longer i stood, rotating my vantage point, the more my dog whimpered and whined. when he finally distracted me enough for me to notice his anxiety, we started back down the slope.

we reached the original trail, and i froze. where we had left the main trail and turned to go up the cliff, we had left no footprints. it hadn't rained in days, the ground was not nearly soft enough to take impressions unless they were forcibly made. yet upon our return to this divergence of path, there were, clear as day, a set of man's footprints leading away from the very spot where we were standing that were not there before.

i can hear your protest now, 'isn't it possible that the footprints were there all along and you didn't notice them?' the simple truth here is that as i was navigating the change in trail from wide, level dirt walkway to uneven climb, i was intently watching the ground. and if there were a person approaching or even nearby, my faithful friend's supersonic hearing would have prompted unmistakable barking.

so as my brain comprehended the footprints, i ran (i mean, jogged, umm, walked really fast) back through the now dense woods for the open air at the exit. i listened for any suspicious noise and only heard suspicious silence. all the while my dog stayed within inches of my side, and repeatedly looked back over his shoulder, behind himself. i had never seen him do anything of the sort, and have not again since that day.

i firmly believe that animals are very perceptive, much more so than humans could ever be. and for my four-legged friend to behave entirely out of sorts is compelling enough evidence for me. but for those of you who aren't quite convinced, i have more.

when i shared my experience with my husband, his replay was "oh YEAH! you're talking about that place across the street right? well, i forgot to tell you at the time, but i hiked up there a few months ago and it was so creepy i had to turn around and leave." he even added that our fearless canine acted very much the same way as he just had for me.

and that was the last time any of us has set foot on what we now call 'weird mountain'.