lana-uncut, because i heart sally

this is me:


not in the physical sense, but in that weird comparison that people always make about having a good memory. i don't like the simile, but i'm going to go with it because it's the most recognizable, and also because i'm too lazy to start a whole new simile.

basically, i can remember a ridiculous amount of unnecessary details. i'm talking everything about everything that you never cared about remembering. you know that conversation we had about that new band we both liked three years ago? of course you don't. but i remember where we were, how the conversation started, what we had for lunch, and what we were both wearing.

i swear.

it's fucking sick.

even sicker is that i'm nearly thirty years old and i'm just now realizing exactly how unusual this is.

you want to know anything else about me? well, sally does. she said so herself on her blog. (about a week ago. sorry sally, i was in the grips of typhoid/diphtheria/scarlet fever/a really bad tummy ache). i've actually been tagged for this little thingy before by miss yvonne, and i complied by talking about myself and then tagging some other people. what happened was that the people i tagged either burned me up or ignored me. so this time i'm only going to do the talking about myself part, that's really my forte anyway.

so here's where i list ten things about myself that you don't already know:

1. whenever i hear someone say 'you're crazy' i always reply in my head 'i'm only mad north by northwest.'*

2. yesterday i was driving and saw an old hispanic man on a busy street waving a metal detector over the edge of the sidewalk. i thought to myself, 'what in the hell is that guy doing? there can't possibly be any buried treasure there!' and then i realized the metal detector was in fact a weed wacker.

3. i like pickles so much that sometimes b calls me pickley p. pickleberg. oh, and also because i'm a jew and i like pickles.

4. i don't think boxing counts as a real sport. or maybe i'm just disgusted by the brutality of it i can't understand how anyone could be a willing spectator.

5. my birthday season is fast approaching. what are you going to get me?

6. b just downloaded a bunch of the old classic video games onto the wii so last night we were playing bubble bobble at two am. full blown addiction. (the fruits of our previous internet battles with wires and routers and adapters oh my!)

7. i already shared this one with meaty, but i can count to ten in cantonese. my last job had a sushi bar and the sushi guys had so much fun telling me to say six and seven over and over. i finally interrupted their juvenile laughing fits to ask why and learned that the words for six and seven said together meant dick. i then proceeded to laugh like the juvenile that i still am at heart.

8. i don't understand why blogger keeps telling me that my request could not be processed. i wasn't asking you to do anything, stupid google shitass program!

9. i live thirty minutes from the town i grew up in and went to high school in. it's way too close and too far at the same time.

10. i just remembered there's a new flavor of beer in my fridge....


the ever-evolving essence of me will heretofore be on display at this location for as long as i am lazy enough to not sit down and post about anything else. enjoy!


*someone please tell me i'm not the only dork who knows this line.

eyeshadow and boobies live happily ever after

of all the many wonderful things in this world to be addicted to, i might be the only one who needs a support group for over-use of glittery eyeshadow. i've known about my weakness for years. yet somehow, i cannot manage to 'just say no' when i open my blue and green flowery make-up bag, search deep in its dark corners, and my happy hand closes upon a round silvery case of sparkly joy.

i really do need help.

(don't worry coffee, you're still my number one addiction. now and always.)

then again, maybe it's not so bad because the sparklies usually fall off pretty quick. then it just looks like i'm not wearing any makeup at all. either way, my huge tatas will almost always capture someone's gaze long before the bad taste in eyeshadow does.

for example, in this pic where i showered and put on clothes that don't have elastic waistbands, you can barely see the aforementioned sparklies:


kristine and i had a lovely night out at a concert this weekend. no husbands and no kiddies. it was the definition of amazing. conor oberst, if you're out there somewhere, you're genius is mindblowing. and the guy at your merch table has a very weird haircut.

as we navigated our way through the field of fellow concertgoers, closer and closer to the stage, i also realized that glittery eyeshadow is way better than that gross patchouli smell. i might have stuck out like a shiny beacon amongst the throngs of hippies, but at least i didn't have that musky stink radiating from my body, like an olfactory needle piercing the brains of innocent music lovers.

i also immensely enjoyed dancing like a mime/mexican jumping bean hybrid, despite repeatedly and unintentionally hitting the ass of the man standing in front of me. thankfully, enormous boobies are great cover. the guy said if it was someone with a big beer gut slamming into him he'd have to wreck shit, but because it was me with a nice smile (low-cut shirt) he'd let it go. joke's on you guy, because i have both a beer gut and a nice smile.

and now i'll stop, before i give you any more reason to believe i'm that person you'd love to hate at a concert. but if it's already too late, i can tell you that i will most definitely be the girl wooo-woooing loudly in your ear at the end of each song.

you're welcome for that.

_____________

if you were at all interested in seeing some great pics from the show, you could go here to kristine's blog. she posted some great shots that encapsulated the whole night. and as usual, her paint skills can be rivaled by no one.

i'm a sadist*, now with more evidence

yesterday i was struck by the realization that there are not nearly enough drive-through coffee places around. as i was out with little miss, the last thing i wanted to do was strap her in, unbuckle, re-strap, and repeat more than was absolutely necessary. she doesn't even like coffee so it's not like i could bribe her to make it easier to take.

but after ultimately successfully pouring a hot cup of love in a dirty gas station while holding a wiggling baby in one arm, i felt pretty damn impressed with myself.

that is, until i got home.

upon returning from my day's activities, i spied the biggest, baddest, meanest wasp of all time buzzing about on my kitchen window screen. so naturally the first thing i did was grab a cup and something to slide under the cup. i trapped that mother so fast it didn't even know what was going on.

i set the angry wasp on the counter and weighted the glass with a lemon. it looked like this:


i giggled and clapped a little.

the wasp got angrier and flew into the glass repeatedly, methodically making it's way up and down, around its clear prison wall.

i love when i can trap bugs who think they're faster than me. i'll show you wasp, how many breaths do you have left little fella? better stop your squealing** before it's too late.

the next thing i did was run over to my computer and type b a little note:


me: when you come home i have something special waiting on the counter for you

b: uh-oh. is it a bug trapped under a glass?

me: hahaha (translate to evil cackle) it is!! it's a giant wasp!

b: oh :( i was hoping you were going to say it was beef wellington.

(no creative license needed, this was our exact conversation)



my standard procedure with bugs i find in the house is this:

1. try to get monster to eat the bug

if that fails (or is likely to fail), i then

2. trap bug under a glass and then put something on top of the glass just to make sure it's too heavy for any super bug adrenaline rush to move

the end result being that

a. b comes home and disposes of offending bug for me

(OR)

b. the bug dies a horrific death, gasping and wheezing until it finally succumbs to suffocating in a cup of irony, eyes wide open staring blankly at the great world outside of the glass barrier.


well kiddies, b had to work late last night, so guess which fate ol' mr. angry wasp was met with. that's right, he ended up like this:


poor bastard was probably holding his wings and begging for his mommy with his last breath. now if i were standing in the kitchen, waiting for it to finally expire, then i might have a problem. but i was content to only go back in and check a few times so i don't think i need an intervention or anything like that.



*a very special thank you to skitch and mjenks for the correct definition

**it was only screaming in my head

drink if you dare, or if you want to get high

this morning i sat down to a healthy breakfast of super strong coffee and a (small) handful of jelly bellys to read the local paper. now this rag has been duly mocked for its ridiculous headlines, but every once in a while i will spot something that really hits home to me.

today is was this article. i'll spare you from having to read it, the link is there more to prove i'm not making this up. apparently there were almost 20,000 cases of red bull confiscated because they contained cocaine. now it all makes sense.

as my affinity for coffee may lead you to correctly surmise, i got hooked on caffeine early in my youth. recently i was reading over at children of the 90s about surge, but i have to say i never got into that one. jolt was my gateway drug of choice.

i never did (and still don't) enjoy soda in general because i found the syrupy sweetness only made me more thirsty. but i would down a can of jolt in no time just to get the shakes that i craved so much from caffeine overdose.

once i discovered the magical powers that coffee had for my awful hangover that lasted from when i was nineteen to about twenty four, i was fully dependent. i've never gone back to energy drinks and i can't say i miss them. b, on the other hand, will relish the high that nothing else can bring like a red bull and vodka to an empty stomach.

i knew something had to be unnatural about this combo when the sweet, charming man i knew and loved turned into a raging ball of hate after only about eight large drinks. unfortunately for me, the concert we were attempting to see offered only bud, bud light, and red bull and vodkas. being the beer snob that i am, and unable to handle any liquor whatsoever, i was sullenly sober.

the more b drank, the more i counted down the minutes until we were escorted out of the concert. thanks a lot modest mouse, you sounded great from fucking outside. so as we stood in the street in front of the venue, b's apology came to me in the form of him offering up suicide as a way to garner my forgiveness.

'i'll fucking kill myself for you, is that what you want? look, i'll kill myself on this bus!!' he screamed as he attempted to run into the front end of a parked bus. after he was sure that i was thoroughly impressed with his brazen bus-suicide, he allowed me to put him in the car and drive home.

to this day, i will protest loudly if he even looks in the general direction of a stash of red bull. and now, this very morning, i am vindicated. so what the coke was found in china, it still could end up in american red bull somehow, and for that i feel justified in breaking b's habit. i'm not a nagging wife, i'm a champion of heart health and savior of parked buses in the greater ny metro area.

and now that it's nearly 10 am, i need to go make another pot of coffee for my late morning fix.