it's not me, it's you, but only if your name is miss.chief

miss.chief had a brilliant idea to do a whole month of guest posts at other blogs. i took her up on her offer pretty much immediately thinking that i'd be able to bring a bit of much needed variety to my pearl hiding spot. and also because i'm lazy and i knew it'd buy me some time to create my next amazing post/vlog.

on that note, i'm pleased to present you with miss.chief:



Walking down the rain-flooded street, she thought about the story her mom once told her about when she was a small child.

She had been dressed like Paddington Bear- yellow rain boots, jacket and hat. In one hand she clutched her favorite toy dog ‘Raffi’.

With her free hand she picked up the dry dead worm corpses and placed them back into the puddles she thought they came from.

She was certain, in the idiot blind compassion of a child, that the water would re-hydrate the worms and they would come back to life. As if their only problem was dehydration and not … being mortal.

She cried when they didn’t come alive. Her mom bought her some candy and she moved on.

She later learned that worms drown in water. This is why they come out of their burrows when it rains: so they don’t drown. Not because they love the rainy weather, like she had imagined for so many years.

She probably saw that in a cartoon or something.

that's what he said

b said to me last night 'i wish i still blogged because i need to write about that shit.'

sensing something hilarious, and most likely offensive, brewing in his brain, i offered up my little slice of the internet for his use.

please enjoy, my husband brian:



Lana watches a show called "Hoarders" on (ugh) A&E. It's basically about a bunch of slobs who can't get their act together long enough to throw out the massive piles of garbage cluttering their filthy homes. The usual suspects are middle aged women with the ridiculous need to keep every single item and trinket that falls within the gravitational pull of their useless lives, and their pussy-whipped husbands who can't put their feet down and scream "enough!"

Is this all it takes to produce a TV show these days? Replete with darkly toned music and quack "doctors," A&E does a nice job trying to convince the viewer that these losers suffer from a disease, and that it's a "real problem." Please. All I see are a bunch of clowns who have decided that candy wrappers, old band-aids, and broken furniture are valuable objects to be cherished and protected.

I mean, is this like a joke or something? I could see if these people were hoarding actual treasure, then this would be something worth watching. If some dude had an obsession filling his home with gold and silver bars? Sure, I'd watch that. Or if it was at least something badass like a compelling drive to collect medieval death weapons. But some twit that hasn't figured out that rotten containers of milk and expired coupons hold zero value? No thanks.

I'm not sure who I hate more, the asshole junk collector or the buffoonish professional they always trot in to offer advice on how to diagnose the problem. Are they fucking serious? It's as plain as day! Throw that trash in the goddamn garbage and be done with it! No person on Earth has any possible reason to fill a 3,800 square foot house with used pistachio nut shells. What's even more insane is that some of these enabling spouses actually buy a second or third home to allow their bonehead partner to keep stuffing away more and more tons of rubbish.

Man, go find someone with a REAL problem, like a heroin addiction or something. These hoarders? They're seriously just homeless people with mortgages. Yea, exactly.

here and there (again)

y-y-y-y-y-y-yeah boooyyyyyy.

i knew a kid named jerrod in high school who used to rub his hand on his desk like he was mixing a record and say that over and over and over.

today i'm a featured guest blogger for a guy named jerrod. it would be hilarious if it was the same guy, but it's not. no, this jerrod, of the yellow factor, has asked me to be a part of a little pink series he's doing to showcase some of his favorite women writers.

and who am i to turn down a chance for ever-increasing internet glory, or to help out a pal. so go check out my post here or here (it's the same link, just in cases) and enjoy!

this is one badass ode to the laundromat

the final installment of my guest blogger extravaganza comes to you directly from one of the most talented writers out there in blogland. he calls himself the badass geek, and his witty and sophisticated style quickly made him one of my favorites. his words seem effortlessly complex as they create such imagery that refuses to be ignored. i rarely use my blog as a platform to tell other people what to do/read/like, etc., but today i have to just stop the gushing and ga-ga-ing over badass and say trust me, you'll be happy you went to check out his spot. do it. now. i mean, after you read this guest post.

thanks again to all of my wonderful guest bloggers and i'll be back monday! happy weekend!





My dresser drawers are empty and barren -
there are no clean pairs of underwear to be found.
A week’s worth (or more) of dirty laundry has collected
in a massive pile on the ground.

All I’ve got are some mismatched socks
(their mates lost long ago in the dryer),
and a ratty t-shirt with holes in the pits
that my wife threatens to destroy with fire.

To avoid being arrested for walking ‘round nude
(I don’t know if I’d live that one down),
I threw all my clothes into a plastic basket
and make my way to the Laundromat downtown.

It smells of lint and bleach and filth,
and it’s louder than a NASCAR racetrack.
I scout out a washer, put my clothes inside,
set it to wash, and find a seat in the back.

My neighbor to the right is friendly enough,
but he smells like he bathes in cheese.
My neighbor to the left looks like she’s running a short fuse,
balancing a screaming toddler on each of her knees.

There’s the obligatory senior-aged woman,
equipped with a crossword puzzle and a glare.
Her husband (presumably) sits slouched over, asleep,
and farts periodically, completely unaware.

I tried to focus on the book I brought,
and to ignore the noise and the smell.
I came here to quietly wash my laundry,
not knowing this was a portal to Hell.

I thought the worst was all behind me
as I fetched my clothes from the dryer,
but it wasn’t until I began to fold them
when the situation became suddenly dire.

I had a pair of my boxers in hand
when some motion caught my eye.
I looked up to see Geriatric Crossword Lady
smiling at me and looking sly.

She winked and waggled her eyebrows at me,
and my stomach fell to the floor.
This can’t be happening to me again,
not after what happened before!

No longer caring about wrinkles
(that’s what irons were invented for),
I gathered by the handful my clothes into the basket
and high-tailed it for the door.

I thought after I’d been propositioned the last time,
the odds of it happening again had to be small.
Turns out I was wrong, but how could that be?
It didn’t make any sense to me at all.

What is it with me and Laundromats?
How is it that I attract the freaks?
All I know is that I’m going to put off
washing my clothes for a couple of weeks.

the c is not the same as the one in pc

today i am so pleased to present you with mr. c's first ever guest post. he usually reserves his great point and laugh stories for his blog, advice and humor from mr. condescending. i once promised him i'd never let the truth slip out about his being such a nice guy. but then again, maybe i just want to believe that there's a little kitten underneath the scales and forked tongue. who knows. maybe you should just go to his blog and see for yourself.

oh, and mr. c, you have to ask a girl out before you can claim she stood you up! but we new yorkers have to stick together, so anytime you want to go for a hike and take more amazing foliage pics let me know.



Hello everyone my name is Mr C. It's short for "Condescending."

Lana asked me to do a guest post for her, but she shouldn't need to hire me because she's the condescending one. Her and Kristine from Wait in the Van refused to meet me at the Dutchess County Fair for prime loser spotting :(

Anyway, Lana was my 3rd follower so I forgave her and decided to do my first ever guest post here.

I just want to tell you some reasons I can sometimes live up to the name of Mr C, and at the end I'll tell you a terrible thing I said last week to someone, but it was funny too!

Recently I found myself in Target with my business partner looking for memory cards. Somehow I ended up tossing the most expensive one in the department's garbage can. It wasn't an open faced one, but he was upset I didn't say anything. Oh well.

I always come up with instantly mean things to say or do to someone, then my reasoning kicks in and I usually refrain from it. Similar to when you get cut off driving, and you instantly may wish they get in an accident, but then realize it was silly to think that. I recently thought of sneaking a photo of the nice girl that cashes my morning papers out and plopping it on my blog with connect the dots drawn all over her pimples, just because she has so many pimples.

She's always nice though, so I think I made the right decision not to. Now on the other hand, this slightly cocky guy sometimes is in the store to cash me out. He really doesn't seem like too bad a guy but he's about 4 feet tall or something and has a big head. I always referred to them as "midgets". I only learned recently on otin's blog that midget was actually a racist kind of word.

Last week I didn't see him working and I asked miss pimple face if "that guy" still worked there or did he get fired. The manager is right next to her and they both look confused and ask "what guy?" Now instantly I have to refer to his height in order to clarify who he was, but I didn't want to say midget so I'm thinking quickly of what the right word would be...dwarf? Nah that sounds bad, maybe elf? No! Crap, then I ran out of awkward time and blurted out "The Gnome?"

A lot of uncontrollable chuckles start coming from them, and me too, relieved.

And then I see the little guy in the back room on the computer, probably within earshot. Oh well!


Thanks for visiting Lana's blog!

serve it up or i'll serve you a fat lip

for a terrifically tasty tuesday, you've come to the right place. jerrod from the yellow factor was nice enough to compose a little anecdote for me. his tale of well exercised restaurant restraint is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the discussion of customer service becoming more of a theory than a practice. order up and enjoy!



Lana has asked (threatened) me to do a post for her as she is on a vacation (receiving her treatment). Of course I jumped at the chance to ruin everyone's day on someone else's blog. Nothing better than to go to someone else's house and tear stuff up, crap on the floor and just leave. Kind of love her for having that amount of trust in me. Awww. As you can tell, or should know.. I'm a big Lana fan. Not to a point where a piece of paper orders me to stay 500 ft from her, but a fan nonetheless. Anyway, guest post. Here it is.


Don't judge me...

Those that read me know of my troubles with the fast food industry. Recently I was at a certain McPlace and ordered a #12 with a Coke. She said "Was that a #12?" I said "Yes". This as followed by silence............ then I get this question full of attitude : "Um, with a Coke?!?!?" I sat there a good 5 whole seconds trying to gain enough composure to reply with "....Uh huh." You know the attitude of a 19 year old Latina chica with too much eyeliner and greasy hair, right? I pulled up to the window and she gave me my order without looking at me once or saying a word. Not a one word was said. I even said thank you as she shut her little window. I drove off and I swear I felt I had just died a little bit on the inside.


I'm afraid we as a society are digressing to a point that in the near future, the same scenario could happen although after I say thank you at the end, she opens her window back up and punches me in the face. Sign of the times I suppose. Gone are the days of smiling and saying thank you. Gone are the days of inquiring if I needed anything else to make my meal more enjoyable. Gone is the courtesy I should receive when I go back and exchange the Diet Coke I was rudely given with the Coke Classic that I ordered. That's fine. I wasn't acknowledge at all and to top it all off, the everlovin' fries were cold. For that, maybe I should have punched her in the face.

Any bad customer service stories you would like to share? Flood this post with them so not only will it look like Lana is really famous (she is in my eyes), I will look like I didn't just take a crap on her living room floor. See? Win/Win.

Goodnight and good luck.

i hope you're hungry, it's meaty time

hey kiddies! welcome to the first installment of the mother hides the pearls guest blogger experience. i'm thrilled to have a fellow who probably needs very little pimping from me seeing as he's so hilarious people tend to flock to his blog in astounding numbers. his words seem to come from that genuine funny place deep within and crack me up daily. i still have a good laugh at chin mistress once in a while when it will pop into my head for no apparent reason.

and now, here's meaty from "why?", "how?" and other abstract questions!!



Greetings all!

How in the hell are ya's? Those of you that have read my blogs before will know that Subway restaurants have been the subject of many of my ramblings, everything from the questionable "sandwich artists" to the baffling androgyny of their marshmallowy spokesperson Jared. Well, here's another one for the books: I go to the Subway by my house last Sunday to pick up sandwiches for my Wife and I. Big mistake, as I knew they usually had nothing but snotty and trashy teen-age girls working there who were merely using their Subway experience as a stepping stone to bigger and better careers…like…oh, Denny's or Frisch's Big Boy???

So anyway, I go in there and was followed in by two more guys, and we were treated to listening to one girl working the counter loudly complaining and yelling at her co-worker, whom was sitting off to the side making personal phone calls. My favorite comment she made was "I ain't doing shit the rest of the night!!! I ain't doing SHIT! You hurrrrr (hear)???" Mind you she was making this comment in front of me and about 4 other customers by this point. Incidentally, this same girl literally stormed out after she was done making the sandwich for the guy behind me, leaving her phone-crazy co-worker puzzled. "Whurrr you going??? Hey! Whurrr you going??" Hopefully they will both take important life lessons away from this job with them, mainly, uhhhh… pimps are always looking for new hos.

OK, now that wasn't even the main complaint, as crazy as that was! My main complaint is that by the register, they had a tip jar and an index card taped to the register that was hand-written and read "Please tip your waiter or waitresses". ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????!!!!! Now granted, it could be something that these two girls wrote and stuck on there without their manager's knowledge to see if it would really work, but the sad thing is, I don't think it was a joke. I think that this was legit!

First of all, it's not like they are some little Mom & Pop sandwich shop that is struggling to keep their heads above water in the face of direct competition from a massive Mega-Corporate Conglomerate like oh…say… Subway???! Second of all, they aren't waitresses or waiters. They cut up fucking sandwiches with all of the gusto of a diseased, three legged sloth and you usually wouldn't be able to force them to crack a smile even if you had a gun to their heads.

To borrow from Steve Buscemi's Mr. Pink character in Reservoir Dogs, you don't tip the people at the counter at McDonalds, so why would I tip them? Should I have tipped them for their wonderful professionalism or for even making me a decent sandwich (they couldn't even get that right)? I should have TAKEN money from the jar…yeah, that's right, there was actually some money in the jar! Some schmucks actually fell for it! Not me. I should have taken a massive horse piss in that jar…just fill it to the rim.

That's the frothy message that I should have sent to Subway and their cherubic, pasty, bloated he-she spokesperson Jared. Jared should spend a little less time playing with the balls of famous male athletes in their commercials, and more time trying to convince us that he is actually biologically a human male. I bet that he has butt plugs sewn directly into the seat of his massive canvas fat-man pants so that he gets a little surprise every time he sits down. Hey Jared, why don't you try easing up a bit on the mascara and lip-liner, you mysterious and frightening parasite!

I mean, am I wrong here?????

Whew… so…what's for lunch?

the time has come and its name is giveaway

the results are in! i had an adorable assistant help me draw the names for my giveaway winners today.


and kristine helped too by baking these amazing cupcakes for my impending birthday this saturday.


maybe that didn't have much to do with drawing names but yes it does say 'happy 30th dirt!'. she can work wonders with some icing and pink cake.

little miss managed to pull three names out of the bowl before she started to eat the small pieces of paper, which i consider a huge success. paper can be so irresistible for a nearly one year old who's perpetually teething.

and now, the winners!!!!

the lovely sally sal of you. me. no adult supervision... is the winner of the handmade scarf!!


sally, i know you'll use it to accessorize your good looks and great charm like only you can.

next, the winner of the mystery gift is none other than vic at what were you thinking? !!


i'm sorry to disappoint, but i still can't show you what the mystery is yet. i think you might just have to wait until vic gets it and posts about how much she loves it or how lame it is. although i can give you a hint. the idea came to me after i wrote this post.

and finally, the winner for the last item, the pet treats, is cal of cal's canadian cave of coolness! now, i must say that i was surprised that the homemade goodies for our four-legged friends weren't a bigger hit. perhaps that was for the better. you see, when i checked the jar of cat treats i saw this:


oh yes, moldy, fuzzy, rotten cat treats. yum.

since i had set aside some treats for kristine and her obnoxious cats anyway, and because she also requested a poisonous flavor, i gave her the extras instead of throwing them out. and today when her cat fluffy shit almost scratched little miss, i threatened to force feed them to the vicious feline.

but not to stiff cal on his prize, i have arranged to wash out the treat jar and send it to him with some nice, store-bought kittie snacks.

that's probably going to be the last time i bake for a while.

as it turned out, not one person wanted the doggie treats. so i'm going to keep them to give to monster. and also so i don't risk peta hitting me with attempted pet murder charges.

i hope you all enjoyed my blogoversary/birthday/100th post celebration! it was, after all, inspired by you, dear readers. the fun shall continue next week with my star studded line-up of guest bloggers. i'll be back monday the 28th, don't miss me too much!!

no, no, thank YOU

today is going to be a very busy day for me, which is fine because sitting around with nothing to do can sometimes make me want to kill myself, or the unemployed assclown who drives his ridiculously loud remote control car right under my window for hours at a time.

first on my to-do list today is send a very huge THANK YOU out to my guest bloggers who will be sharing their funny here at my pearl hiding spot next week. i'm technically not going away, that was last week, but i will be so busy with family birthday week that i don't want to leave my blog all neglected. plus guest bloggers are fun.

without further adieu, your guests are as follows:

monday 9/21- meaty from "why?", "how?" and other abstract questions

tuesday 9/22- jerrod from the yellow factor

thursday 9/24- mr. c from advice and humor from mr. condescending

friday 9/25- mike from badass geek


sensing a pattern maybe? why yes, i have asked all guys to guest post for me! not only do i enjoy all of their writing and abilities to entertain, but i also thought it would be a little funny to have a bunch of dudes say they were guest posting for a blog called mother hides the pearls. but i guess that's only funny if you don't know me, because sometimes i think i can relate to men better than mommies. b always says he loves how i drink beer like a man.

so if you haven't already checked out all of their blogs, you should. they were kind enough to write for me and they each have a wonderfully unique style that truly makes them all stand out.

moving right along, today is actually going to be a two post day for me. this one here marks number 99. this afternoon i will be over at kristine's house (from wait in the van) while we ignore our kids, drink gallons of coffee, and draw names for the winners of my giveaway! don't get any silly ideas about me rigging anything here either, i don't play that way. besides, all the stuff i'm giving away i've already given her at some point already.

tonight i will post my 100th post and it will reveal the winners. i hope no one is too disappointed about not winning, or about winning.

and lastly, i have to give a warm hug and a shout to stacie from stacie's madness for making my day by giving me such a sexy bedroom-eyes blog award!


that's right folks, she adores me, and i adore her. her writing is witty, poignant, honest, and hilarious. if that's not reason enough for excessive adoration, that i don't know what is. thank you stacie!

and to pass this award along, i'd like to give it to lora at fever. not only do i adore her blog, but i have the biggest girl crush on her and i love our little email convos in which we repeatedly tell each other how great we are. you do wonders for my ego lora, and your writing touches me so profoundly that i carry it around in my head long after i've turned my computer off. so thank you for sharing that carefully selected 2% of yourself in your special way.

that's all i've got for now. tune in later tonight for the winners!!

thank you and goodnight.

sharing is caring, and i care about you (in that non-threatening, semi-anonymous internet way)

it has arrived, today marks the beginning of a celebration.

as we now find ourselves in the month of september, nine months after the holidays, there are many glorious events about to take place worthy of at least an obligatory nod on these here pages. it's not only my birthday season, but this month will also mark my six month blogoversary as well as my 100th post.

now, i usually don't make a big deal about my own birthday, but this year i'm turning thirty, and i think that's reason enough to party. oh, yeah, and this will also be the first year for family birthday week. that's right, myself, the fuss, and b all have our birthdays in the same week at the end of september. and there's also the big get-together for my nana's eightieth birthday. yes, the same nana responsible for my header pic.

while us yankee/mets loving folk will descend upon the land of the green monster to visit the fam in the cape cod area, there may be some things going on here at my pearl hiding spot.

i still can't believe i haven't quit blogging yet. there have been so many times that i questioned my ability to tell an entertaining story, or doubted that i would ever reach an audience that understood my point of view, yet i still kept going. and mostly to show my appreciation for that momentum from you dear readers, i want to do a little something special.

and also because i never win any bloggy contests so it feels a lot better to give things away than to be sad about being a loser.

so you guessed it, there's a giveaway coming up here soon! unfortunately i don't have the pics ready yet to get you really, officially amped up for it. so this is more of a teaser post about a giveaway than the real thing. but trust me, it will not be crap from my closet or chewed up dog toys, despite the fact that monster's headless blue dino cracks me the fuck up and i can't see how anyone else wouldn't laugh at it:


oh, and i'm not done yet kiddies. i'm working on arranging my all-star lineup of guest bloggers to thrill you with amazingly hilarious and well crafted masterpieces while i'm off getting drunk. i have no idea what they intend to write about, but i do know that they are probably going to be at the very least slightly more fun than me talking to inanimate objects or inventing different personas to talk shit to.

if that isn't enough to entertain you, then you're shit out of luck, because that's the best i could come up with for my fantastic birthday/blogoversary/100th post extravaganza. and if you are intrigued, or even shivering with anticipation about what exactly my fabulous 'thank you for reading my words' gifty gifts are going to be, then i can tell you to relax. take a deep breath. details will be coming soon, with pics to prove i'm not entirely full of it.

i'm here (and there) to help

today is a paradox. i'm here, but i'm also here. i don't quite understand the physics of it all, but for one day only i've managed to be in two places at once.

today my very first ever guest post is up at becky's place, i'll go eat worms. in case you missed that link, it's here. while she's away on vacation, she asked a whole slew of great writers to help keep her readers entertained. i only hope they don't shake their heads and go 'what the...???' when they read my contribution.

i've been told my sense of humor works best with an acquired taste.

anywhoooooo, you can read my post here. happy friday!!

there's no segue good enough for this mess

i'm back blog, did you miss me?! whatever, not like i have anything earth shattering to talk about, just a few random stories of weirdness. but before i get started, i have to send a huge thanks to kristine for hooking me up with a funny and nostalgic post and reminding me that my shoulders used to be real bony. and also a hello and thanks for stopping by(!) to the new readers that she may have lured over here with promises of who knows what.

after my much needed mini vaca to cape cod, i returned home to jump right back into my routine of work and more work. saturday night i was catering a wedding for about 300 people. the decor looked strikingly similar to the wedding scene in beetleguese, but the blood red calla lilies and black lamps on the tables wasn't the weird part. what struck me as being a little over the top, not to mention an unnecessary mixing of genres, was the troupe of midgets dressed up as oompa loompas.

those little guys were lingering in the kitchen, watching us plate up 300 pain-in-the-ass tiny little plates of a dessert sampler, in full costume. when i first saw them i almost giggled and clapped, but then i realized just how out of place they were. they didn't talk much. in fact, they all looked extremely bored and put out. maybe that was their defense against the question we were all dying to ask, 'what exactly are you guys going to be doing here?'

i never found out. by the time my boss said 'aqui, chula, take some chickens for your husband' their act had yet to start.

maybe that's for the better anyway, those fuckers always scared the shit out of me in the movie.



as i related the story of my night to b, he reminded me about another uncomfortable food-related situation. it must have been last summer, because i was in that 'i'm so pregnant my baby might come out if i fart too loudly' condition, and also because we were at the hospital for the baby classes. being unable to waddle too far, we ate lunch at the hospital cafeteria. b ordered two hot dogs, thinking that that was a reasonable request.

what he got looked like this:



i know that's a piss poor job of photoshopping two hot dogs into one bun, but it really was the best i could find. no, what b got was actually worse. it was two sorry looking naked dogs nestled into one bun, but they gave him two. so on his plate were two buns and four dogs. the chick behind the counter looked at him like he had three heads when he asked for two more buns.

the real humor was the fact that he ate the weird dogs out of desperate hunger.

he felt so dirty afterwards, like as if someone had made him watch a bad porn or something else comparably naughty.

he made me promise not to tell anyone that he really ate the weird dogs.

sorry b.

even more bizarre than the double dog incident was the first time i met bill murray.



bill is a good friend of the restaurateur i used to work for. he was in and out of the different kitchens of the restaurants my former boss owned, and he even showed up to our summer picnic one year and played on our softball team.

as you can imagine, he's a total wacko in person. not only does he look about thirty years older than he really is, but he dresses in those old polyester blazers and shirts that look like the stereotypical garb an old, bumbling geezer would wear. i don't know if it's a deliberate effort or not, but it only adds to his oddball persona that he's developed over the years.

so the first time i met him i was working at my station, getting ready for dinner service. i was so intent on chopping scallions or whatever the fuck it was that i didn't even see him until he was about four inches from my face on the other side of the pass line (the shelf where you put plates for pick up). my boss introduced me to him and he mumbled something indiscernible and stuck two fingers at me through the pass, at about chin height.

two fingers for me to shake in some weird alternate version of a handshake.

i didn't even want to touch him, i almost yelled out loud 'what the fuck?!'

but i saw my boss nod subtly at the fingers and i just took a deep breath and did it. i shook his fingers and said some 'nice to meet you' crap, all the while wondering if this was something he did with everyone, or did he think that i couldn't handle exposure to all five digits on his right hand.

not that i dislike the man, but come on. two fingers?!

i still feel like scowling and shifting my weight uncomfortably when i think about it.

and now, some cuteness for a little balance:



little miss was way too annoyed about not being able to crawl after the dead jellyfish washed up on the beach to co-operate for a nice photo shoot. but these two in their tankinis was worth me stepping on a little dirty jelly and slimey seaweed.


of course, getting trapped by a rapidly rising tide with a stroller laden like a packing mule might have been a little too much. thanks miss, for at least not protesting to being carted over an acre of beach rocks while mommy scrambled for saftey.

I Love Kristine the Best*

HEY EVERYBODY!

It's me, Kristine! From Wait in the Van?

Sigh. Moving along.

I had a really great idea about what to write for Lana's blog today, but I had the idea at night right before I fell asleep. And I am SO not one of those people who keeps a pen a paper on her nightstand. Hell, I don't even really have a nightstand; it's more like a cardboard box. So, instead I tell myself, "Oh, hell yes, that's hilarious Kristine! You're so amazing and funny and gorgeous and skinny...and....SNORE." Then I forget.

So I went through some of my crap. You know, that I keep in my cardboard-box-nightstand, and I found THIS:


And I figured, since Lana's out of town and all, we could totally talk about her behind her back! HA! And by that, I mean, she'll totally be in the loop and reading it and listening and shit because this is HER blog. So it'll be pretty much just pretend. And full of love. Because we love Lana. And that part's NOT pretend. YAY! Rainbows!

This picture was probably taken in like 1996 or something. We were apparently sitting on the floor in my bedroom in the house my family rented during my middle-high school years. It was the only free-standing house I lived in until I graduated from college. Don't you feel sorry for me?

Well don't, because we're here for LANA. I like this picture so much because it captures quite a bit of what defined us as angsty teen punk shitheads. I mean, do you SEE my room? And those clothes? Including the shirt I'm actually wearing? Sal's Boutique, baby**. We were all class.

Also, I'm not wearing my glasses. Neither is Lana. Big deal, right? Probably contact lenses! Um, no. More like, probably we thought we were cool enough to walk around blind because SEEING ISN'T REALLY A BIG DEAL. And if we were in fact wearing contacts, Lana's were probably covered in fungus (changing them is optional) and mine had probably fallen off my eyeball. Hey, dry eyes also happen without herbal supplement, smart alecs.

This was also the house where I considered myself cool enough to throw a party while my parents were away. And by "throw a party" I mean, invite a full band to set up in my living room and let the place get totally out of control while I get tipsy on 2.5 beers. When my mother came home the next afternoon, she found an empty in the oven, the heat cranked to 80, and a missing block of mozarella cheese. We really knew how to party.

So, let's cheers to Lana, the cheese-loving-contact-abusing-formerly-man-clothes-wearing blogger who is totally vacationing WITHOUT ME right now.

Love her.

__________

*You can tell this is not written by Lana because it's properly capitalized and stuff. So I don't feel all that badly for making her pretend to declare her love for me.

**Um, or you could also call it The Salvation Army Thriftstore.