Just in case you live in the dark reaches of a cave in outer Mongolia and haven't seen this, take a peek.
I've watched this about 400 times in the last few days and it never fails to make me tear up through a huge smile. I just love this kid. I love what he's done here and I love that he's sharing it with the world. Gawd bless Youtube, too.
There is a time, unfortunately, every damn day when I just hate people. The asshole tailgating me on the freeway, the check writer in line at the grocery store (I think we can all get behind the ire for that one), the puppy mill operator trying to defend their hell-worthy depravity. But when you see something like this it gives you a break from the negative turd that always seems to be floating in our pools.
It makes me want to do something special like that, too. Sometimes I dream of making some huge impact, imprint, impression that will touch people like Matt has. I really don't believe altruism exists and I struggle with the fact that doing something nice for someone else also makes me feel good so did I do the something to make them or me feel better? But in the end, does it really matter?
I say no.
Bringing joy to 3 million people on the internet or one little kid on the corner is equal. It makes a difference. One tiny drop in the ocean and how far it goes might not be visible to the naked eye but we can be rest assured it's there. The impact is felt, big or small.
And that's all that matters.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Dear Kitty,
You are the furry love of my life, KeeKee cat, and I appreciate the fact that you have an uncontrollable need to sleep as close to me as possible, even when that compulsion hits you at 5 fucking o'clock in the crackass of the morning. But must you park your butt on top of the pillow my head is currently occupying?
It is vital to snuggle with my face immediately after a visit to the poo poo house so I wake up with kitty litter stuck to my cheek? And as much as I Just. Can't. Get. Enough of your sweet purring it's not necessary to do so directly into my ear when mommy is trying to squeeze the last few drops of sleep out of her too-short night.
Also, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't CHEW MY HAIR like some circus freak with a follicle fetish.
Love you. Mean it,
Mama
p.s. please stop barfing. We all know it's you, despite the look of innocence you give me. Thank you.
It is vital to snuggle with my face immediately after a visit to the poo poo house so I wake up with kitty litter stuck to my cheek? And as much as I Just. Can't. Get. Enough of your sweet purring it's not necessary to do so directly into my ear when mommy is trying to squeeze the last few drops of sleep out of her too-short night.
Also, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't CHEW MY HAIR like some circus freak with a follicle fetish.
Love you. Mean it,
Mama
p.s. please stop barfing. We all know it's you, despite the look of innocence you give me. Thank you.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Long time no write
I guess it's time to give this blog a good dusting and push that gnarly pic of my broken arm down off the front page. Yes?
Hiya, kids? How are ya? Let's get all caught up, shall we?
Last December whitey and I went to visit my parents for Christmas. My brother and niece joined us as did whitey's mom for a few days. It was horrible. Of course whitey was awesome as was his mama but my mother and brother were bonkers in a bad way. In a word? It was fuckass.
(Some of you might have noticed I pulled 2 very long and gloomy posts detailing what happened with a lot of personal back story. And as much as I was hoping that would be an explanatory and cathartic thing it wasn't. Those words out there for the world to see never sat quite right with me and down they came. The short version is, my mother and I have always had problems, she crosses the line, I retaliated pretty hard, it was not good.)
My mother and I didn't speak for months. My brother can go suck it. I was depressed with a capital ugh. This lead to much crying and eating of chocolate and the inability to do much more than play Spider Solitaire (I will beat you 4 suits! I will!) and watch very bad reality TV day after day after day. (What were you thinking Big Brother? Seriously.)
In February I was the main photographer for a wedding and nearly lost my mind. Jebus H., the stress. That endeavor took up nearly every inch of space in my brain for 3 months solid not-to-mention most of my free fucking time. I said I'd never do that again but I've been booked by a co-worker to shoot her brother's wedding in August. It's a low-budget backyard affair and if the bride and groom are anything like my office acquaintance there will be a keg of Bud and illegal fireworks for entertainment so I'm not too bunched up about that one. As long as no one gets Velveeta on my camera we're all good.
Then in early April I fractured my arm in a horse fall. (See blechy pic below.) This was unfun. I put in a years worth of whining in the last 8 weeks and will have a sore arm for a couple more months but it's on the mend. Well, with the exception of some weird wonky scab issue from the wound that is usually found on horses and not humans (of course) that had to be treated with silver nitrate (!) but that's fixed now as well.
Also in April I finally retired my '95 Honda Accord (I cried like an idiot saying goodbye to that car. I'm such a girl.) and got a car I've wanted for a long time. Isn't she pretty?
Around that same time I'd had enough of the blubbering and fretting over the mom situation (brother can still suck it) and took my dad's advice and wrote my parents a letter, with a special paragraph to my mom. I didn't apologize outright, since it wasn't deserved, but I honestly expressed my sorrow for what went down, ate a little petite shit sandwich, and that did the trick.
My mother called me, sort of kinda apologized in her back-peddling way, but it opened the door and although my feelings are changed forever and I can't ever see spending more than 2 or 3 days with her under the same roof ever again, at least this wound isn't gushing blood all over my light beige carpet any longer. My mood improved a great deal and I could finally concentrate on new things.
Speaking of new things...
I've never considered myself the crafty or artistic sort. Oh, I've dabbled in a few things like quilt making (can you even imagine?) and I made a very ugly pair of earrings once. Mostly I just get a whim up my butt and buy all the supplies for the next, great objet d' crap that I'm convinced will be the envy of the world and prominantly displayed then I lose interest or can't bring myself to read the instructions and it gets shoved unmade in a cupboard or under a bed. (Anyone want nine thousand marble magnets?) Or I do things like glue my fingers together and stab myself repeatedly with pins. And there was that one night involving Saki and cement, but I won't go into it.
However, I've always enjoyed photography. I didn't start to take it seriously until about 2 years ago, or at least as seriously as I take anything. Taking pictures has nudged the desperate wanna-be artist I know is living deep inside my skull, lurking somewhere behind all the useless Brady Bunch trivia and memories of 5th grade. I have a serious technology disability but I'm learning and trying and sometimes getting lucky.
I've even opened up my own Etsy shop to hopefully sell some prints and things. (For those of you who aren't familiar, it's a place where people sell artist type hand-made stuff and supplies to make handmade stuff and handmade supplies to make more stuff.) Go check it out here:
http://www.tasteslikepurple.etsy.com/
So, I think that catches us up. I sure did miss you guys but how many posts could you have read that said "Still depressed. Ate my weight in cookies today. See you tomorrow." Not many, I'm sure. The AWOL is over, the bitchslappings and story telling shall commence once again.
It's good to be back.
Hiya, kids? How are ya? Let's get all caught up, shall we?
Last December whitey and I went to visit my parents for Christmas. My brother and niece joined us as did whitey's mom for a few days. It was horrible. Of course whitey was awesome as was his mama but my mother and brother were bonkers in a bad way. In a word? It was fuckass.
(Some of you might have noticed I pulled 2 very long and gloomy posts detailing what happened with a lot of personal back story. And as much as I was hoping that would be an explanatory and cathartic thing it wasn't. Those words out there for the world to see never sat quite right with me and down they came. The short version is, my mother and I have always had problems, she crosses the line, I retaliated pretty hard, it was not good.)
My mother and I didn't speak for months. My brother can go suck it. I was depressed with a capital ugh. This lead to much crying and eating of chocolate and the inability to do much more than play Spider Solitaire (I will beat you 4 suits! I will!) and watch very bad reality TV day after day after day. (What were you thinking Big Brother? Seriously.)
In February I was the main photographer for a wedding and nearly lost my mind. Jebus H., the stress. That endeavor took up nearly every inch of space in my brain for 3 months solid not-to-mention most of my free fucking time. I said I'd never do that again but I've been booked by a co-worker to shoot her brother's wedding in August. It's a low-budget backyard affair and if the bride and groom are anything like my office acquaintance there will be a keg of Bud and illegal fireworks for entertainment so I'm not too bunched up about that one. As long as no one gets Velveeta on my camera we're all good.
Then in early April I fractured my arm in a horse fall. (See blechy pic below.) This was unfun. I put in a years worth of whining in the last 8 weeks and will have a sore arm for a couple more months but it's on the mend. Well, with the exception of some weird wonky scab issue from the wound that is usually found on horses and not humans (of course) that had to be treated with silver nitrate (!) but that's fixed now as well.
Also in April I finally retired my '95 Honda Accord (I cried like an idiot saying goodbye to that car. I'm such a girl.) and got a car I've wanted for a long time. Isn't she pretty?
Around that same time I'd had enough of the blubbering and fretting over the mom situation (brother can still suck it) and took my dad's advice and wrote my parents a letter, with a special paragraph to my mom. I didn't apologize outright, since it wasn't deserved, but I honestly expressed my sorrow for what went down, ate a little petite shit sandwich, and that did the trick.
My mother called me, sort of kinda apologized in her back-peddling way, but it opened the door and although my feelings are changed forever and I can't ever see spending more than 2 or 3 days with her under the same roof ever again, at least this wound isn't gushing blood all over my light beige carpet any longer. My mood improved a great deal and I could finally concentrate on new things.
Speaking of new things...
I've never considered myself the crafty or artistic sort. Oh, I've dabbled in a few things like quilt making (can you even imagine?) and I made a very ugly pair of earrings once. Mostly I just get a whim up my butt and buy all the supplies for the next, great objet d' crap that I'm convinced will be the envy of the world and prominantly displayed then I lose interest or can't bring myself to read the instructions and it gets shoved unmade in a cupboard or under a bed. (Anyone want nine thousand marble magnets?) Or I do things like glue my fingers together and stab myself repeatedly with pins. And there was that one night involving Saki and cement, but I won't go into it.
However, I've always enjoyed photography. I didn't start to take it seriously until about 2 years ago, or at least as seriously as I take anything. Taking pictures has nudged the desperate wanna-be artist I know is living deep inside my skull, lurking somewhere behind all the useless Brady Bunch trivia and memories of 5th grade. I have a serious technology disability but I'm learning and trying and sometimes getting lucky.
I've even opened up my own Etsy shop to hopefully sell some prints and things. (For those of you who aren't familiar, it's a place where people sell artist type hand-made stuff and supplies to make handmade stuff and handmade supplies to make more stuff.) Go check it out here:
http://www.tasteslikepurple.etsy.com/
So, I think that catches us up. I sure did miss you guys but how many posts could you have read that said "Still depressed. Ate my weight in cookies today. See you tomorrow." Not many, I'm sure. The AWOL is over, the bitchslappings and story telling shall commence once again.
It's good to be back.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Intermission
Sorry for the delay. I've been stalled by an accident over the weekend that nearly broke my arm which is now hanging off my shoulder like a big meaty purple ham hock. It's impressive in a holy shit did you get the tag off the semi that ran you over kind of way and only half-functional.
I'm telling people I used my elbow as a battering ram to break down the door of a flaming orphanage to save 29 parentless children since confessing that my scaredy-cat widdle horsie didn't like the looks of my utterly terrifying light blue waterbottle which sent his pea-brain into a convulsion of horror causing him to jump 4 feet sideways effectively dumping my fat ass onto the ground and smashing my entire right side.
~sigh~
Be back soon.
**update: It's fricken broken!!
I'm telling people I used my elbow as a battering ram to break down the door of a flaming orphanage to save 29 parentless children since confessing that my scaredy-cat widdle horsie didn't like the looks of my utterly terrifying light blue waterbottle which sent his pea-brain into a convulsion of horror causing him to jump 4 feet sideways effectively dumping my fat ass onto the ground and smashing my entire right side.
~sigh~
Be back soon.
**update: It's fricken broken!!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Monday, December 24, 2007
Merry Happy
Well, as you can see I've taken a little break from blogging. And I do believe that break will continue for a while longer. Time to regroup and get some stuff behind me, cleared out of my brain and re-energize, which will SO CLEARLY NOT HAPPEN this week since I'm spending it with MY FAMILY. Then I need to decide if I can still do this. Should do this.
At least whitey and I will be together and his mom is joining us too. Oh, did I not mention? His mother is meeting my parents FOR THE FIRST TIME as we're all trapped in the same house for near a week during the holidaze. I don't know what I'm more nervous about killing me, the flights up there and back or all of us under one roof.
Anyway, I wish anyone who's still cruising by a very Merry Whatever You Celebrate and a safe & happy New Year. See you on the flip side. Sometime. Hopefully.
Here's a little prezzie from me to you.
At least whitey and I will be together and his mom is joining us too. Oh, did I not mention? His mother is meeting my parents FOR THE FIRST TIME as we're all trapped in the same house for near a week during the holidaze. I don't know what I'm more nervous about killing me, the flights up there and back or all of us under one roof.
Anyway, I wish anyone who's still cruising by a very Merry Whatever You Celebrate and a safe & happy New Year. See you on the flip side. Sometime. Hopefully.
Here's a little prezzie from me to you.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Day 30
It's the end of Nablopomo 2007 and I'm left feeling, well, like I half-assed it. My head was full of ideas and stories but the motivation, she wasn't really there. Last year I definitely felt the pressure to push myself and I think I did. This year, the pressure felt very homeworky and being resistant to all things mandatory I performed like I normally do, with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy who's been asked to take out the trash. That kid will need a bulldozer and a barrel of vaseline to remove him from the couch.
And for that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for boring anyone (all 4 of you, heh) and sorry to myself for not trying harder. But hell, I know things have been emotionally crazy for awhile and I'm checked out half the time these days. I suppose it's my way of coping. And man, I didn't want to sound like Bummer Girl here since things are OK today. I've actually felt the first twinges of excitement over moving which is really fucking cool since I wasn't sure if that would come back and so soon to boot!
I've got a bit of the Christmas spirit and have hopes for our vacation to my parents house, which will be a total disaster but at least I'm laughing about it now. And planning the cocktails. Lots and lots of cocktails. I'm doing great on my gift budget this year and haven't done my usual 1 to 1 ratio of a gift off my list and one for me. Progress! I'm going to decorate this weekend and put up our little tree since we're flying out X-mas day and will have to celebrate on our own the night before.
We finally got some much-needed rain here, albeit with trepidation since it will cause mudslides to the burn areas and jesus, please, no one needs to have what's left of their house crash down a muddy hillside too. I'm going out to brunch and doing some shopping with one my favorite friends tomorrow and I took my first round of a special antibiotic to hopefully fix my eternally fucked up stomach and I haven't barfed it up yet so that's good too.
I'll most likely try Nablopomo again next year and hopefully I'll be in a better position to get my ass in blog gear soon.
And for that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for boring anyone (all 4 of you, heh) and sorry to myself for not trying harder. But hell, I know things have been emotionally crazy for awhile and I'm checked out half the time these days. I suppose it's my way of coping. And man, I didn't want to sound like Bummer Girl here since things are OK today. I've actually felt the first twinges of excitement over moving which is really fucking cool since I wasn't sure if that would come back and so soon to boot!
I've got a bit of the Christmas spirit and have hopes for our vacation to my parents house, which will be a total disaster but at least I'm laughing about it now. And planning the cocktails. Lots and lots of cocktails. I'm doing great on my gift budget this year and haven't done my usual 1 to 1 ratio of a gift off my list and one for me. Progress! I'm going to decorate this weekend and put up our little tree since we're flying out X-mas day and will have to celebrate on our own the night before.
We finally got some much-needed rain here, albeit with trepidation since it will cause mudslides to the burn areas and jesus, please, no one needs to have what's left of their house crash down a muddy hillside too. I'm going out to brunch and doing some shopping with one my favorite friends tomorrow and I took my first round of a special antibiotic to hopefully fix my eternally fucked up stomach and I haven't barfed it up yet so that's good too.
I'll most likely try Nablopomo again next year and hopefully I'll be in a better position to get my ass in blog gear soon.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Mind over emotion
I'm totally freaking out.
Like crying, hyper-ventilating, panic-attacking, dizzy-spelling freaking out.
We're putting the house back on the market. And never mind the fact that my new real estate agent is a creepy little weasel man and his associate/assistant is persistent as a raging yeast infection and we have to re-list my home for a disgustingly rock-bottom price because the fucking housing market is being a sullen bitch, the real panic is that WE'RE MOVING.
Oh my fucking gawd. How am I going to do this? How am I going to pack up and leave the only hometown I've ever known? Leave the city I've grown up in? Start all over virtually from scratch? New state, new city, new house, new job, new set of fears, phobia's and anxieties to contend with. There's not enough medication on the West Coast.
I weighed the pros and cons forever before I decided I was ready, although I've never really been ready. I don't do well with change. I don't even like to switch brands of pens, how the fuck do I think I can move 1000 miles north?? But I know I need to do this, for a myriad of very good reasons, intellectually I realize this is something that must be done. But emotionally? I'm screaming on the inside and mentally death-gripping the doorjamb while common sense is trying to shove my fraidy-cat fat ass through it.
And I had made the decision, months ago. I was going to go and was handling it but then the condo didn't sell and we took it off the market and once again I was saddled with tons of mixed feelings because I had been so ready, or rather I was going to fucking do it and get out of here and my window of opportunity for the decision was closed. And now I'm all fucked up about it again!
But I'm also afraid that if I don't do this now, if I don't take this chance and push myself for the experience of it all I'll be stuck in a rut forever and I'm sick of the sound of my own voice complaining about things I have the power to change. But gawd damn, is it ever terrifying. Even after all the research and questions posed to strangers and family and friends and hoping that our choice of new cities will be a good fit, it's still brain-numbing petrifying.
I don't like my job- hate it in fact, I don't have nearly the amount of friends I used to, most of the people I love are peppered all over the country and aren't in my hometown. My best friend here has a chaotic, busy life and we hardly see each other. I've been riding at my barn for 16 years now and it's sort of run its course. I don't love it like I used to and our core group isn't tight like it was 5 years ago.
Whitey and I have out-grown my little 1100 square foot condo and our neighborhood isn't the kind we'd like to live it. Our windows face our neighbors, all of them, so to have privacy we have to be shut up tight as a ducks ass. We spend most of our time working or sitting at home. Our commute sucks giant, sweaty donkey balls and it's so expensive here we're both working paycheck to paycheck. Our Homeowners fees are $375 a month which sort of feels like being rammed in the ass by a Duraflame log come billing time.
The weather sucks for me 8 months of the year, it's starting to smell like Los Angeles on the bad smog days, and we don't have a yard for the dogs we so desperately want and need for our sanity. To do any of the "touristy" things we like to do we have to wait for the off-seasons or we're contending with the million people vacationing here in the summer and escaping snow in the winter. And let's not even talk about fire season.
So why am I being such a pussy about this move??
Like crying, hyper-ventilating, panic-attacking, dizzy-spelling freaking out.
We're putting the house back on the market. And never mind the fact that my new real estate agent is a creepy little weasel man and his associate/assistant is persistent as a raging yeast infection and we have to re-list my home for a disgustingly rock-bottom price because the fucking housing market is being a sullen bitch, the real panic is that WE'RE MOVING.
Oh my fucking gawd. How am I going to do this? How am I going to pack up and leave the only hometown I've ever known? Leave the city I've grown up in? Start all over virtually from scratch? New state, new city, new house, new job, new set of fears, phobia's and anxieties to contend with. There's not enough medication on the West Coast.
I weighed the pros and cons forever before I decided I was ready, although I've never really been ready. I don't do well with change. I don't even like to switch brands of pens, how the fuck do I think I can move 1000 miles north?? But I know I need to do this, for a myriad of very good reasons, intellectually I realize this is something that must be done. But emotionally? I'm screaming on the inside and mentally death-gripping the doorjamb while common sense is trying to shove my fraidy-cat fat ass through it.
And I had made the decision, months ago. I was going to go and was handling it but then the condo didn't sell and we took it off the market and once again I was saddled with tons of mixed feelings because I had been so ready, or rather I was going to fucking do it and get out of here and my window of opportunity for the decision was closed. And now I'm all fucked up about it again!
But I'm also afraid that if I don't do this now, if I don't take this chance and push myself for the experience of it all I'll be stuck in a rut forever and I'm sick of the sound of my own voice complaining about things I have the power to change. But gawd damn, is it ever terrifying. Even after all the research and questions posed to strangers and family and friends and hoping that our choice of new cities will be a good fit, it's still brain-numbing petrifying.
I don't like my job- hate it in fact, I don't have nearly the amount of friends I used to, most of the people I love are peppered all over the country and aren't in my hometown. My best friend here has a chaotic, busy life and we hardly see each other. I've been riding at my barn for 16 years now and it's sort of run its course. I don't love it like I used to and our core group isn't tight like it was 5 years ago.
Whitey and I have out-grown my little 1100 square foot condo and our neighborhood isn't the kind we'd like to live it. Our windows face our neighbors, all of them, so to have privacy we have to be shut up tight as a ducks ass. We spend most of our time working or sitting at home. Our commute sucks giant, sweaty donkey balls and it's so expensive here we're both working paycheck to paycheck. Our Homeowners fees are $375 a month which sort of feels like being rammed in the ass by a Duraflame log come billing time.
The weather sucks for me 8 months of the year, it's starting to smell like Los Angeles on the bad smog days, and we don't have a yard for the dogs we so desperately want and need for our sanity. To do any of the "touristy" things we like to do we have to wait for the off-seasons or we're contending with the million people vacationing here in the summer and escaping snow in the winter. And let's not even talk about fire season.
So why am I being such a pussy about this move??
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
On the list
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The Setting
For the last two nights the sky has gone crazy. Right before sunset, when I leave work, the clouds have been slicing their way across the horizon and the colors change about every 30 seconds. I've barely been able to pay attention to the road as I crane my neck and stare into my mirrors trying to catch another glance and another and another.
I'd like to try and weave in a metaphor, grab a higher meaning, ponder some philosophical point about all of this, or apologize for the photos taken with my pocket camera with urban detritus in the way, but sometimes when you over think something you just muck it to hell.
Bottom line is, it's been unreal and stunning, taking my breath away. And sometimes you just need to shut your mouth and tell your brain to take a pill. Forget all the bullshit of life for a minute, let your eyes do the work and fucking appreciate the moment.
Tonight was one of those times.
I'd like to try and weave in a metaphor, grab a higher meaning, ponder some philosophical point about all of this, or apologize for the photos taken with my pocket camera with urban detritus in the way, but sometimes when you over think something you just muck it to hell.
Bottom line is, it's been unreal and stunning, taking my breath away. And sometimes you just need to shut your mouth and tell your brain to take a pill. Forget all the bullshit of life for a minute, let your eyes do the work and fucking appreciate the moment.
Tonight was one of those times.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Home stretch
I sort of feel like I've been a bit of a failure in this year's Nablopomo. My motivation and energy level has been so low I haven't put the effort into it as last time. And with my work blocking almost all blogs and my connection at home sketchy, I just haven't been able to do what I did or do what I wanted to do. Such a neglectful blogger. What a bummer.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Sew my knees, please
I wrote the story below a couple of years ago and because I'm not in a tricking mood I'm confessing to the reposting not-to-mention that after all of this time I still feel the exact same way. Especially when I have a holiday like the one I just survived that included all the fun things like my family, a house full of crazy and a surprise visit from one of my brothers old high schools friends, his mail order bride and their 2 kids.
You know when you get asked a question you can't possible say no to? That's what I was caught between, a rock and a bitch place. I say no and I'm a crab not to be forgiven and my torture level would have gone to new heights. Say yes and my Thanksgiving gets further crapped up than it already was. So, when I was posed with the question if it was OK for this family to "stop by" before dinner what could I say? Hell no, keep that weirdo old stoner and his brats out of my house? Not bloody likely.
This dude showed up more than an hour later than he said he would which fucked up my plans to take my parents dogs to the dog park and shoot a bunch of photos to hopefully use in the photo-calender I'm making for my mom's X-mas present. When they got to my house we all said our hello's and the 7 adults tried to find places to sit in my tiny condo that comfortably seats 4.
The baby wasn't an issue and I didn't mind bouncing her around for a little while but the 3 year old was a holy terror with unresponsive parents that thought it was perfectly fine for him to empty my decorative dish of pot-pourri all over my coffee table then take a brand new candle holder and dump the 9 tea lights out of it before having a tantrum and throwing them all over my living room. About 25 times. All while his parents did nothing. NOTHING.
I finally put my foot down when he grabbed the stack of glass coasters I got whitey for Christmas last year and this little shits father didn't move an inch to physically take them away from the ankle biter while they dangled them over my brick fireplace. I told them all, I was a preschool teacher, I don't have a problem making a kid cry and yanked them out of his sticky hands.
It was so fucking ridiculous.
Anyway, I thought it might be fitting to revisit some thoughts I had on the subject awhile ago. Thoughts I still hold, maybe even more so now.
TICK TICK TICK
I've spent a considerable amount of time with both children and animals in my life, and particularly today, while being poked, prodded, bothered, bugged, teased, tormented, and irritated by my niece, I've come to this conclusion. I do not have a ticking timepiece in my loins wanting for an offspring to go forth and prosper. I yearn for a puppy. A dog. Any dog. In fact I want lots of them.
I do not have a biological clock, I have a dogilogical one. And that fucker isn't echoing through the halls with a gentle plink plink plink. It's a giant gong and it's shaking the mother off its foundation.
I've never been one of those girls who knew they always wanted kids. I didn't dress up my dollies and lovingly push them in a miniature carriage cooing and fussing over imaginary wet diapers and play bottles full of fake milk. I forced my cat into a pink dress with matching bloomers and Maryjane shoes amidst screeching and flying fur and chased her through the house yelling "kitty kitty kitty, pretty kitty."
I don't posses the ability to try and talk myself into it. The thought has always scared the shit out of me, even if I might, and I mean might have ever for a fleeting, minute, infinitesimal, weensy, pocket-sized nano-second ever had a slight cervical twinge to maybe one-day spawn, it was gone before you could say mucous plug.
This involuntary flinching of my fallopians has been reinforced by the gory and elaborate details I've been subjected to at the thousands of grueling baby showers I've had to sit through. O.K., maybe there haven't been thousands, but it sure as hell seems like it when you're sitting there trying to keep your knees daintily together and not loaf on some mother's floral sofa like the pig you really are while attempting to stifle the huge burp crawling up your throat.
And whoever in the fucking world thought it would be cute to pin a fake piece of shit on my $100.00 Nordstrom blouse only later to rip it off of me with shrill screaming of satanic glee shall I accidentally utter the word "baby" at a fucking "baby" fucking shower?? Oh yea, can I get a lifetime membership to that club please? I only go to those things to win the prizes, lame as they may be, and I don't care if you're 8 months pregnant. I'll knock your ass over to get that mini shower gel with the matching loofah.
By some twist of sadistic fate after I graduated from college I found myself at the head of a preschool classroom staring at 16 little grimy faces while they waited to be entertained by the one person who thinks kids are a pain in the ass while I said to myself, how the hell did I get here? But I took my job seriously and really got into it. I was a great teacher and most of the kids and parents loved me. But I tell you what. That's the hardest god damn job I've ever had and I never want to do it again.
I love being an educator, and plan on making that my next career move, but not the little guys. They can be sweet, but it was hard enough dealing with my boyfriend at the time let alone being the stand-in parent for thirty 4 year-olds all day long. I only lasted 2 years and I learned some valuable lessons. Among other things, kids can do a lot more then most people give them credit for, and they're a pain in the ass!
One of the things that bugs me the most, and this is hard to choose since so much chaps my ass, but I get this one all the time and I'm losing my ability to respond with patience and kindness. "But you'd be such a good parent". Even my MOTHER threw this one at me recently. MY MOTHER!! Maybe, yes, I'm sure I would, but really, why is it so important to people that we all procreate?
It's THE MOST IMPORTANT thing you'll ever do and I for one do not want any Joe Blow Dipshit popping out a bunch of babies if they're not sure. This is not a color choice for carpet people. I can't say, aw damn, I should have gotten the sand dune instead of the wheat field and order up another roll. I've always, always, had an affinity for animals instead of people. The only scene in Jaws I care about is when the dog gets whacked in the first five minutes. Damn you George Lucas! Damn you to hell!
Dogs are especially dear to my heart. Maybe I was a wolf in a past life (insert bitch jokes here, har har). My black lab Casey was the love of my life. I can't imagine loving a child more than I loved her. Ah yes, I know that there's no love greater, yada yada, and everyone with kids didn't think so either until they placed that squirming pile of goo in your hands, blah blah, but I don't have any other reference point so throw me a bone.
Casey was the sweetest, smartest, funniest, (yes, funny), baby girl that ever walked the earth. And I still miss her so much it hurts. By far the worst day in my entire life was the day I had to put her to sleep. And that even beats the day I was told I had cancer. Casey and I were best friends and she got me through some tough times. She learned new tricks right up until the end, even though she'd gone almost entirely deaf. That smart cookie learned sign language! I even looked the other way when she apparently grew 12 more appendages at night that all managed to jab me in the ribs and push me to the very edge of the bed. If I could just kiss her sweet head one more time...
I haven't gotten another dog because of my work/life schedule. I didn't want to leave an animal that, by nature, runs in packs and would be home alone and sad all day and in the worst case scenario destroying my furniture from severe separation anxiety. I would still love that puppy, but don't be eatin' mama's fucking couch a'ight? I vowed that I would get another dog if I had another significant other and we got one together, or adopt 2 dogs so they had a buddy to hang with during the day. (I'm a huge advocate of adopting adult dogs from shelters by the way.)
But all of a sudden, it's been 6 years since my Casey has been gone and wow, I don't have another dog. Something is wrong with this picture. So, today, as I was taking a walk in the snow with my mom & her dog, a friend of hers & her dog, and my niece, I felt my dogilogical clock ring louder than I've ever heard. We were walking down a trail, hard snow crunching under our feet, while our dogs ran like salt and pepper bullets back and forth.
My parents have a black lab mix that isn't that much fun. I think she is schizophrenic or something, but the other dog we were with was this big, lovable yellow lab. And I fell instantly in love. This is not to say that I don't love my niece, or some kids in general. They can be cute as hell, and funny and entertaining and I know they're all special. But I really think I'm meant to raise animals and not people. And that's O.K. So everybody, stay out of my uterus and I'll keep my foot out of your ass.
And future puppy, mama's on her way.
You know when you get asked a question you can't possible say no to? That's what I was caught between, a rock and a bitch place. I say no and I'm a crab not to be forgiven and my torture level would have gone to new heights. Say yes and my Thanksgiving gets further crapped up than it already was. So, when I was posed with the question if it was OK for this family to "stop by" before dinner what could I say? Hell no, keep that weirdo old stoner and his brats out of my house? Not bloody likely.
This dude showed up more than an hour later than he said he would which fucked up my plans to take my parents dogs to the dog park and shoot a bunch of photos to hopefully use in the photo-calender I'm making for my mom's X-mas present. When they got to my house we all said our hello's and the 7 adults tried to find places to sit in my tiny condo that comfortably seats 4.
The baby wasn't an issue and I didn't mind bouncing her around for a little while but the 3 year old was a holy terror with unresponsive parents that thought it was perfectly fine for him to empty my decorative dish of pot-pourri all over my coffee table then take a brand new candle holder and dump the 9 tea lights out of it before having a tantrum and throwing them all over my living room. About 25 times. All while his parents did nothing. NOTHING.
I finally put my foot down when he grabbed the stack of glass coasters I got whitey for Christmas last year and this little shits father didn't move an inch to physically take them away from the ankle biter while they dangled them over my brick fireplace. I told them all, I was a preschool teacher, I don't have a problem making a kid cry and yanked them out of his sticky hands.
It was so fucking ridiculous.
Anyway, I thought it might be fitting to revisit some thoughts I had on the subject awhile ago. Thoughts I still hold, maybe even more so now.
TICK TICK TICK
I've spent a considerable amount of time with both children and animals in my life, and particularly today, while being poked, prodded, bothered, bugged, teased, tormented, and irritated by my niece, I've come to this conclusion. I do not have a ticking timepiece in my loins wanting for an offspring to go forth and prosper. I yearn for a puppy. A dog. Any dog. In fact I want lots of them.
I do not have a biological clock, I have a dogilogical one. And that fucker isn't echoing through the halls with a gentle plink plink plink. It's a giant gong and it's shaking the mother off its foundation.
I've never been one of those girls who knew they always wanted kids. I didn't dress up my dollies and lovingly push them in a miniature carriage cooing and fussing over imaginary wet diapers and play bottles full of fake milk. I forced my cat into a pink dress with matching bloomers and Maryjane shoes amidst screeching and flying fur and chased her through the house yelling "kitty kitty kitty, pretty kitty."
I don't posses the ability to try and talk myself into it. The thought has always scared the shit out of me, even if I might, and I mean might have ever for a fleeting, minute, infinitesimal, weensy, pocket-sized nano-second ever had a slight cervical twinge to maybe one-day spawn, it was gone before you could say mucous plug.
This involuntary flinching of my fallopians has been reinforced by the gory and elaborate details I've been subjected to at the thousands of grueling baby showers I've had to sit through. O.K., maybe there haven't been thousands, but it sure as hell seems like it when you're sitting there trying to keep your knees daintily together and not loaf on some mother's floral sofa like the pig you really are while attempting to stifle the huge burp crawling up your throat.
And whoever in the fucking world thought it would be cute to pin a fake piece of shit on my $100.00 Nordstrom blouse only later to rip it off of me with shrill screaming of satanic glee shall I accidentally utter the word "baby" at a fucking "baby" fucking shower?? Oh yea, can I get a lifetime membership to that club please? I only go to those things to win the prizes, lame as they may be, and I don't care if you're 8 months pregnant. I'll knock your ass over to get that mini shower gel with the matching loofah.
By some twist of sadistic fate after I graduated from college I found myself at the head of a preschool classroom staring at 16 little grimy faces while they waited to be entertained by the one person who thinks kids are a pain in the ass while I said to myself, how the hell did I get here? But I took my job seriously and really got into it. I was a great teacher and most of the kids and parents loved me. But I tell you what. That's the hardest god damn job I've ever had and I never want to do it again.
I love being an educator, and plan on making that my next career move, but not the little guys. They can be sweet, but it was hard enough dealing with my boyfriend at the time let alone being the stand-in parent for thirty 4 year-olds all day long. I only lasted 2 years and I learned some valuable lessons. Among other things, kids can do a lot more then most people give them credit for, and they're a pain in the ass!
One of the things that bugs me the most, and this is hard to choose since so much chaps my ass, but I get this one all the time and I'm losing my ability to respond with patience and kindness. "But you'd be such a good parent". Even my MOTHER threw this one at me recently. MY MOTHER!! Maybe, yes, I'm sure I would, but really, why is it so important to people that we all procreate?
It's THE MOST IMPORTANT thing you'll ever do and I for one do not want any Joe Blow Dipshit popping out a bunch of babies if they're not sure. This is not a color choice for carpet people. I can't say, aw damn, I should have gotten the sand dune instead of the wheat field and order up another roll. I've always, always, had an affinity for animals instead of people. The only scene in Jaws I care about is when the dog gets whacked in the first five minutes. Damn you George Lucas! Damn you to hell!
Dogs are especially dear to my heart. Maybe I was a wolf in a past life (insert bitch jokes here, har har). My black lab Casey was the love of my life. I can't imagine loving a child more than I loved her. Ah yes, I know that there's no love greater, yada yada, and everyone with kids didn't think so either until they placed that squirming pile of goo in your hands, blah blah, but I don't have any other reference point so throw me a bone.
Casey was the sweetest, smartest, funniest, (yes, funny), baby girl that ever walked the earth. And I still miss her so much it hurts. By far the worst day in my entire life was the day I had to put her to sleep. And that even beats the day I was told I had cancer. Casey and I were best friends and she got me through some tough times. She learned new tricks right up until the end, even though she'd gone almost entirely deaf. That smart cookie learned sign language! I even looked the other way when she apparently grew 12 more appendages at night that all managed to jab me in the ribs and push me to the very edge of the bed. If I could just kiss her sweet head one more time...
I haven't gotten another dog because of my work/life schedule. I didn't want to leave an animal that, by nature, runs in packs and would be home alone and sad all day and in the worst case scenario destroying my furniture from severe separation anxiety. I would still love that puppy, but don't be eatin' mama's fucking couch a'ight? I vowed that I would get another dog if I had another significant other and we got one together, or adopt 2 dogs so they had a buddy to hang with during the day. (I'm a huge advocate of adopting adult dogs from shelters by the way.)
But all of a sudden, it's been 6 years since my Casey has been gone and wow, I don't have another dog. Something is wrong with this picture. So, today, as I was taking a walk in the snow with my mom & her dog, a friend of hers & her dog, and my niece, I felt my dogilogical clock ring louder than I've ever heard. We were walking down a trail, hard snow crunching under our feet, while our dogs ran like salt and pepper bullets back and forth.
My parents have a black lab mix that isn't that much fun. I think she is schizophrenic or something, but the other dog we were with was this big, lovable yellow lab. And I fell instantly in love. This is not to say that I don't love my niece, or some kids in general. They can be cute as hell, and funny and entertaining and I know they're all special. But I really think I'm meant to raise animals and not people. And that's O.K. So everybody, stay out of my uterus and I'll keep my foot out of your ass.
And future puppy, mama's on her way.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Awwww
When things get to be too much, with emotions running at a steady high and tempers flare and life-altering HUGE decisions are being made. And you feel like a caged animal being poked by sticks from all sides sometimes it's OK, nay, necessary for your mental fucking health to take a breather, sit back and admire something like the intense love between a dog and her stuffed buffalo.
Even if that love is wildly inappropriate most of the time...
Even if that love is wildly inappropriate most of the time...
Friday, November 23, 2007
sob
Today was worse than yesterday. Sorry for the lame contribution but I don't have it in me to say much more than I'm fucking wiped out with a side of depression.
Hope everyone else had a better holiday than I did.
Hope everyone else had a better holiday than I did.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
2 more days
In addition to things I'm truly thankful for, having my house spared from the San Diego fire storm, my wonderful boyfriend, my kitty, money in the bank, the fact that I'm not 6 feet under, yada yada I'm going nuts. Starting with the food.
We might have gotten a little overzealous with the size of turkey we thought we'd need. It really didn't look that big all wrapped up in its shiny white straight jacket. But after being tenderly caressed with herbs and spices, roasted in the oven for 5 hours and lovingly placed on a pretty platter, that thing was FUCKING HUGE.
19 pounds. Who thought we needed a 19 pound bird for 5 people? What boob brain decided having a dead hunk of poultry bigger than 4 chihuahuas put together was necessary?
Um...
That would be me.
Did I think we'd all chow down like the Donner party after they'd run out of tasty man thighs to gnaw on? Was I anticipating turkey sandwiches, for what, the next 6 months? Or maybe I'm really smart and knew in order to consume that much left-over turkey we'd need at least a ratio of 2 to 1 for gravy with means there'd have to be at least a gallon of that to go with the meat.
Man, I'm smart.
And if you're wondering, yes, I'm surviving, but barely. My brother the wunderkin can do no wrong showed up this morning and it was just SO AWESOME to watch my mothers entire demeanor change as he lumbered through my door. She was all full of "reallys" and "you don't say, you had to drive in traffic, you poor boy" and "I've heard that too, breathing is necessary" when I get "you suck" and "you don't know what you're talking about" and "I hate you."
OK, maybe she's not that severe with me but she sure is encouraging to someone who hasn't held a steady job for more than 9 months IN THE LAST 10 YEARS when he comes up with yet another hair-brained idea to make money like oh, become the next Marlboro man just because he's tall and smokes a pack and a half a day. Jesus on a day glow cross. If I even suggest that the pie crust isn't thawed all the way I get the mouth noise of disdain and a grimace followed by a snotty, "it'll be FINE and a WHATEVER." Whatever? My mother whatever'd me!
My mom doesn't just have her picture in the dictionary next to passive-aggressive, she's has a lifetime membership to Anal-Retentive Quarterly and is in the PA hall of fame with a giant mural painted in her honor on a wall of the Sigmund Freud Institute for Backhanded Comments and Maternal Manipulation.
It never, ever goes the way I hope it to, these family visits. In fact, I stopped hoping and started gearing up for what I was going to endure, which I'm still not used to. It still upsets me and I found myself in tears once today already. I have to get to that place where it doesn't bother me at all, I ignore every single comment, even the ones where she purposefully screws up what I just told her 10 seconds ago ("Oh, I thought you told me to throw the brand new can of whipped cream away when in actuality you asked me to pass it to you") and not reply back. Better yet, I don't want to feel anything but calm coursing through my veins.
Either that or Vodka laced with Ativan. And don't think I didn't do that today already.
Gah.
We might have gotten a little overzealous with the size of turkey we thought we'd need. It really didn't look that big all wrapped up in its shiny white straight jacket. But after being tenderly caressed with herbs and spices, roasted in the oven for 5 hours and lovingly placed on a pretty platter, that thing was FUCKING HUGE.
19 pounds. Who thought we needed a 19 pound bird for 5 people? What boob brain decided having a dead hunk of poultry bigger than 4 chihuahuas put together was necessary?
Um...
That would be me.
Did I think we'd all chow down like the Donner party after they'd run out of tasty man thighs to gnaw on? Was I anticipating turkey sandwiches, for what, the next 6 months? Or maybe I'm really smart and knew in order to consume that much left-over turkey we'd need at least a ratio of 2 to 1 for gravy with means there'd have to be at least a gallon of that to go with the meat.
Man, I'm smart.
And if you're wondering, yes, I'm surviving, but barely. My brother the wunderkin can do no wrong showed up this morning and it was just SO AWESOME to watch my mothers entire demeanor change as he lumbered through my door. She was all full of "reallys" and "you don't say, you had to drive in traffic, you poor boy" and "I've heard that too, breathing is necessary" when I get "you suck" and "you don't know what you're talking about" and "I hate you."
OK, maybe she's not that severe with me but she sure is encouraging to someone who hasn't held a steady job for more than 9 months IN THE LAST 10 YEARS when he comes up with yet another hair-brained idea to make money like oh, become the next Marlboro man just because he's tall and smokes a pack and a half a day. Jesus on a day glow cross. If I even suggest that the pie crust isn't thawed all the way I get the mouth noise of disdain and a grimace followed by a snotty, "it'll be FINE and a WHATEVER." Whatever? My mother whatever'd me!
My mom doesn't just have her picture in the dictionary next to passive-aggressive, she's has a lifetime membership to Anal-Retentive Quarterly and is in the PA hall of fame with a giant mural painted in her honor on a wall of the Sigmund Freud Institute for Backhanded Comments and Maternal Manipulation.
It never, ever goes the way I hope it to, these family visits. In fact, I stopped hoping and started gearing up for what I was going to endure, which I'm still not used to. It still upsets me and I found myself in tears once today already. I have to get to that place where it doesn't bother me at all, I ignore every single comment, even the ones where she purposefully screws up what I just told her 10 seconds ago ("Oh, I thought you told me to throw the brand new can of whipped cream away when in actuality you asked me to pass it to you") and not reply back. Better yet, I don't want to feel anything but calm coursing through my veins.
Either that or Vodka laced with Ativan. And don't think I didn't do that today already.
Gah.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Not the record but...
We made it 23 hours and 42 minutes before a huge argument.
My mother has turned on the passive-aggresiveotron.
It's all downhill from here.
Pray for me.
Send booze.
~sigh~
My mother has turned on the passive-aggresiveotron.
It's all downhill from here.
Pray for me.
Send booze.
~sigh~
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Hit me baby one more time
As Thanksgiving approaches talk of that day is upon us. The intertubes are crammed with leaked info, the news reporters are foaming at the mouth talking about it and you just know a bazillion goons are dusting off their camping gear in anticipation of spending a chilly night on a sidewalk in front of Circuit City hoping to snag the one and only flat panel TV in stock discounted by 5%.
I'm talking about Black Friday. The day after turkey day. The biggest shopping heyday of the year. And one of the stupidest things I've ever done.
Last year I nearly killed myself getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to score all the deals I wanted to buy for Christmas.
I didn't get a single one.
The throngs of crazies beat me to it because they never went to bed the night before and stupid me thought getting up before GOD would be good enough. You really have no chance. Not when stores open earlier and earlier every year. It's insane. And with so many of the big ticket items and large stores having their sales fliers stolen and posted online, and only 1 thing per customer it seems, everyone knows where they should park their asses before the doors are unlocked.
I understand wanting and needed to save a buck, lord knows I've put myself on a very strict budget this year that I'll try to stick to, but is a $4.00 savings really worth standing in a line behind caffeine soaked scrappers, risking being trampled by sensible shoes at Michael's trying to purchase 100 feet of curling ribbon? It's just not worth it.
Personally I will never do that again. I won't wait in line like a fool for nothing. I will never, ever, ever, ever get up at 4:30 ever again.
5:00 maybe...
I'm talking about Black Friday. The day after turkey day. The biggest shopping heyday of the year. And one of the stupidest things I've ever done.
Last year I nearly killed myself getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to score all the deals I wanted to buy for Christmas.
I didn't get a single one.
The throngs of crazies beat me to it because they never went to bed the night before and stupid me thought getting up before GOD would be good enough. You really have no chance. Not when stores open earlier and earlier every year. It's insane. And with so many of the big ticket items and large stores having their sales fliers stolen and posted online, and only 1 thing per customer it seems, everyone knows where they should park their asses before the doors are unlocked.
I understand wanting and needed to save a buck, lord knows I've put myself on a very strict budget this year that I'll try to stick to, but is a $4.00 savings really worth standing in a line behind caffeine soaked scrappers, risking being trampled by sensible shoes at Michael's trying to purchase 100 feet of curling ribbon? It's just not worth it.
Personally I will never do that again. I won't wait in line like a fool for nothing. I will never, ever, ever, ever get up at 4:30 ever again.
5:00 maybe...
Monday, November 19, 2007
Dialing it in
On account of me and whitey working our collective asses off for the last 3 days getting this gawd damn house ready for my parents arrival tomorrow afternoon I am too brain dead to write much of anything. There have been multiple grocery trips, massive spit-shining, yard work, carpet cleaning, present buying, and porn hiding. I scrubbed the shower walls for fucksake. This bitch is tired.
Therefore I will gift you with another recipe that will give you multiple mouth orgasms and your guests will shower you with compliments and probably money. The angels will sing your praises, the dog will stop farting and children will behave. It's that good.
Bitter Betty's Super Fanfuckingtastic Pumpkin Cheesecake
1 cup graham-cracker crumbs
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
6 tablespoons butter, melted
16 ounces cream cheese at room temp.
1 can (16 ounces) pumpkin
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon each ginger and nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 pint sour cream (2 cups)
1 teaspoon vanilla
optional garnishes: whipped cream, toasted almonds
Mix crumbs with 1 tbsp sugar and melted butter until blended. Press onto bottom of 8 or 9-inch springform pan; chill. Beat cream cheese and 3/4 cup sugar until well blended. Beat in pumpkin, spices and salt. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each. Pour onto prepared crust. Bake in preheated 350° oven for 50 minutes.
Remove cake: raise oven temp. to 400°. Mix well, sour cream, remaining 1/4 cup sugar and the vanilla. Spread over filling. Bake 8 minutes. Cool cake on rack. Remove sides of pan and chill.
Makes 12 servings. Calories = you don't want to know and it's a holiday. Who cares. Eat the damn cake.
This isn't as hard as it might look and I always get compliments when I bring it to a holiday dinner. Just make sure you have a good springform pan so it doesn't leak all over the oven. I usually put foil underneath just to be safe. Be prepared for people to kiss you square on the mouth and be sure to save yourself the biggest piece. Enjoy!
Therefore I will gift you with another recipe that will give you multiple mouth orgasms and your guests will shower you with compliments and probably money. The angels will sing your praises, the dog will stop farting and children will behave. It's that good.
Bitter Betty's Super Fanfuckingtastic Pumpkin Cheesecake
1 cup graham-cracker crumbs
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
6 tablespoons butter, melted
16 ounces cream cheese at room temp.
1 can (16 ounces) pumpkin
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon each ginger and nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 pint sour cream (2 cups)
1 teaspoon vanilla
optional garnishes: whipped cream, toasted almonds
Mix crumbs with 1 tbsp sugar and melted butter until blended. Press onto bottom of 8 or 9-inch springform pan; chill. Beat cream cheese and 3/4 cup sugar until well blended. Beat in pumpkin, spices and salt. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each. Pour onto prepared crust. Bake in preheated 350° oven for 50 minutes.
Remove cake: raise oven temp. to 400°. Mix well, sour cream, remaining 1/4 cup sugar and the vanilla. Spread over filling. Bake 8 minutes. Cool cake on rack. Remove sides of pan and chill.
Makes 12 servings. Calories = you don't want to know and it's a holiday. Who cares. Eat the damn cake.
This isn't as hard as it might look and I always get compliments when I bring it to a holiday dinner. Just make sure you have a good springform pan so it doesn't leak all over the oven. I usually put foil underneath just to be safe. Be prepared for people to kiss you square on the mouth and be sure to save yourself the biggest piece. Enjoy!
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