Have you ever followed a blog then the writer just up and disappears with no explanation and you check back a few times and think to yourself wtf happened to that person?
Are they dead?
Had a baby?
Move to Paraguay?
Living in a van down by the river?
Kidnapped by a cabbage worshipping cult?
Get married?
Get divorced?
Dabble in the dark-sided?
Unfortunate gardening accident?
Self-combusted?
Became a David Hasslehoff groupie?
Swinging on a pole in Pocatello, Idaho?
Bear attack?
Chained to a tree for political reasons?
Chained to a tree for non-political reasons?
Having a medical "procedure" in Sweden?
Counseling Tyra Banks on how to be even more fierce?
Bacon coma?
Creative block?
Lazy?
Hazy?
Crazy?
Yea. Me too.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wrap it up
Our holiday was nice, but busy, and half filled with stress as we entertained whitey's mom for 5 days. You know how it goes...It wasn't the crushing spectacular crap of last year but we still fantasize about having the kind of vacation/staycation we dream about. Just the two of us, a giant bottle of Vodka and nothing to do but whatever we want. Someday.
I'm not making that sound very good but really, we had a fun time. There were plenty of laughs and killer bloody Cesar's, we're all still breathing in-and-out (which is a plus), and grateful for what we have. There are a lot of plans for 2009 and I'm looking forward to taking care of the things I have the power to take care of. In the meantime, here's a wrap-up of my year borrowed from the lovely Sundry.
1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Photographed two weddings. I'd add "and lost my mind doing it" but only the photographing part hadn't been done before.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't. I didn't even write anything down last year.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Only to a few dozen cows.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Thankfully, no. The 2 previous years were too full of that crap.
5. What countries did you visit?
Fantasyland, Frontierland, Tomorrowland, and Adventureland.
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Decent health.
7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 5th - the day I broke my arm.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Being the bigger person and repairing the relationship with my mother - and sticking to my guns on how visits will go from now on. Short and sweet. Even if it causes me a little pain that time is short with my elderly father - I'm proud of the way I've handled things and did what was best for me.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not losing this fucking weight.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Yes - on a daily freaking basis! Actually, things health-wise got worse this year and I plan on trying to fix what I can and brave my way through icky shit I'll be facing after the 1st. Darnit.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
A tie between my car and new washer/dryer combo. Getting those in the same month wasn't the brightest move, though.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Mine.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Mine.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Target and doctors.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I don't think I got thrice excited about anything but our trip to San Fran in Feb jazzed me up quite a bit.
16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Disturbia.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:a) happier or sadder?b) thinner or fatter?c) richer or poorer?
If we're talking about the exact date - things are better, way way better, but I've gone a few steps backwards with most of those - a bit sadder, a bit fatter and a lot poorer.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exercised.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Ate junk food.
20. How did you spend Christmas?
At home with family and friends.
21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
I fall more in love with my boyfriend every year.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
Oh - there are so many. I'd have to say True Blood or Dexter since they were both new to me this year.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Oh, sure. I'm a bitch like that. Although I don't use the word hate often.
24. What was the best book you read?
Water for Elephants - incredible!
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I'm not a music junkie.
26. What did you want and get?
A new(ish) car.
27. What did you want and not get?
To sell my house and move. :(
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Ironman.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I had a lovely day playing hookie from work, went to the barn and rode my favorite horse, had lunch with friends, a little shopping, then a nice sushi dinner at home with my love. 41 was awesome.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Really getting my shit together and stop acting like I'm a damn teenager who can treat her body however she wants filling it with junk, not getting enough sleep, etc. It's ridiculous. If I could make better decision so I can feel better I'd be extremely satisfied, I'm sure.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
Concept? Like did I invent a pulley system for my tits? I didn't do anything new except find the best hair care products ever.
32. What kept you sane?
Being at home. It's my haven.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I have the warm fuzzies for a lot of people, men and women, but I'd have to say Robert Downey Jr. gets my vote for most awesomest. He walked through the fire and came out the other side full of win! I hope he keeps rocking the shit out of Hollywood for a long, long time.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Jesus, do I even need to mention it? The whole fucking year was about politics but I'd have to say watching California take a GIANT shit with Prop 8 was devastating. Hopefully that discriminating, unconstitutional bullshit measure will be overturned this year. Equality for all!!
35. Who did you miss?
K. and her mom, D.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
I can't think of anyone.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
That my mother will always treat me differently than my brother and it's her problem, not mine. There's nothing I can do about it so stop fighting it. Stop feeling terribly about it. I have a lot more control over things than I though.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year
She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can't help myself
And a bonus 39 by me - What do you continue to hold true?
I'm grateful for every breath I take. Despite my challenges I will continue to live my life to the fullest possible, I love life.
See you all next year!
I'm not making that sound very good but really, we had a fun time. There were plenty of laughs and killer bloody Cesar's, we're all still breathing in-and-out (which is a plus), and grateful for what we have. There are a lot of plans for 2009 and I'm looking forward to taking care of the things I have the power to take care of. In the meantime, here's a wrap-up of my year borrowed from the lovely Sundry.
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and will be enjoying a happy and safe New Year. Since whitey and I are cranky jerks we'll be spending the evening enjoying some Japanese food (sushi for me, Kobe beef for the wuss him) and just relaxing at the house safe from drunk drivers, cover fees and annoying people. Woot! It's just the way we like it!
1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Photographed two weddings. I'd add "and lost my mind doing it" but only the photographing part hadn't been done before.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't. I didn't even write anything down last year.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Only to a few dozen cows.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Thankfully, no. The 2 previous years were too full of that crap.
5. What countries did you visit?
Fantasyland, Frontierland, Tomorrowland, and Adventureland.
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Decent health.
7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 5th - the day I broke my arm.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Being the bigger person and repairing the relationship with my mother - and sticking to my guns on how visits will go from now on. Short and sweet. Even if it causes me a little pain that time is short with my elderly father - I'm proud of the way I've handled things and did what was best for me.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not losing this fucking weight.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Yes - on a daily freaking basis! Actually, things health-wise got worse this year and I plan on trying to fix what I can and brave my way through icky shit I'll be facing after the 1st. Darnit.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
A tie between my car and new washer/dryer combo. Getting those in the same month wasn't the brightest move, though.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Mine.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Mine.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Target and doctors.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I don't think I got thrice excited about anything but our trip to San Fran in Feb jazzed me up quite a bit.
16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Disturbia.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:a) happier or sadder?b) thinner or fatter?c) richer or poorer?
If we're talking about the exact date - things are better, way way better, but I've gone a few steps backwards with most of those - a bit sadder, a bit fatter and a lot poorer.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exercised.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Ate junk food.
20. How did you spend Christmas?
At home with family and friends.
21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
I fall more in love with my boyfriend every year.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
Oh - there are so many. I'd have to say True Blood or Dexter since they were both new to me this year.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Oh, sure. I'm a bitch like that. Although I don't use the word hate often.
24. What was the best book you read?
Water for Elephants - incredible!
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I'm not a music junkie.
26. What did you want and get?
A new(ish) car.
27. What did you want and not get?
To sell my house and move. :(
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Ironman.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I had a lovely day playing hookie from work, went to the barn and rode my favorite horse, had lunch with friends, a little shopping, then a nice sushi dinner at home with my love. 41 was awesome.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Really getting my shit together and stop acting like I'm a damn teenager who can treat her body however she wants filling it with junk, not getting enough sleep, etc. It's ridiculous. If I could make better decision so I can feel better I'd be extremely satisfied, I'm sure.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
Concept? Like did I invent a pulley system for my tits? I didn't do anything new except find the best hair care products ever.
32. What kept you sane?
Being at home. It's my haven.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I have the warm fuzzies for a lot of people, men and women, but I'd have to say Robert Downey Jr. gets my vote for most awesomest. He walked through the fire and came out the other side full of win! I hope he keeps rocking the shit out of Hollywood for a long, long time.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Jesus, do I even need to mention it? The whole fucking year was about politics but I'd have to say watching California take a GIANT shit with Prop 8 was devastating. Hopefully that discriminating, unconstitutional bullshit measure will be overturned this year. Equality for all!!
35. Who did you miss?
K. and her mom, D.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
I can't think of anyone.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
That my mother will always treat me differently than my brother and it's her problem, not mine. There's nothing I can do about it so stop fighting it. Stop feeling terribly about it. I have a lot more control over things than I though.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year
She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can't help myself
And a bonus 39 by me - What do you continue to hold true?
I'm grateful for every breath I take. Despite my challenges I will continue to live my life to the fullest possible, I love life.
See you all next year!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Observations
There's something incredibly creepy about a funeral home radio advert that wishes you a (emphasis on this word) safe holiday season. Is that like reverse psychology or something? I remain suspicious.
It's pointless to argue with a sonogram tech over the insanely stupid amount of required water newly filling into your bladder mere minutes after you were praised for said amount of water being "just perfect" but is now "too much" because one cannot be expected to get up and use the restroom "every 10 minutes" when the calmly bitchy tech has an 8 inch vag cam shoved into your nancy. She really holds the cards at that point.
It's pointless to argue with a sonogram tech over the insanely stupid amount of required water newly filling into your bladder mere minutes after you were praised for said amount of water being "just perfect" but is now "too much" because one cannot be expected to get up and use the restroom "every 10 minutes" when the calmly bitchy tech has an 8 inch vag cam shoved into your nancy. She really holds the cards at that point.
I'd really like to develop a game of Walmart Bingo. The squares would consist of things/species/odors you will undoubtedly experience whens shopping there. Chances to win increase on Saturday afternoons. Things like wailing child, missing teeth, fart cloud, surly employee, mystery stain, fat ass blocking aisle, pile of broken glass, shoplifted item/empty carton, police car parked outside, and receipt error.
All U.S. Postal Service workers are assholes.
Yes. All.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Day 30
Daily posting for the month of November has come to an end. It wasn't that hard this year. I really didn't stress about it. I'm sure there are quite a few crap entries but at least I didn't give up or get all bent out of shape trying to be perfect cause we all know there's no such thing and perfectionism leads to inevitable failure which leads to bad feelings which lead to eating mass quantities of chocolate and the eating of chocolate should always be for a happy reason. Well, unless your mother is involved then pound away.
We're also winding down to the close of another year and with Thanksgiving being all stupidly late it feels like Christmas and New Years will be here in fricken blink and how the fuck am I suppose to redecorate the entire house before my boyfriend's mother gets here when I only have like 2 gawd damn days? I'd like to write a terse letter to whoever decides that shit.
In the meantime, I will keep working on not getting stressed out and taking the time to have fun, pay attention to the right things and reflect on the year. And if that involves large glasses of wine then so be it. As long as I'm not driving or throwing air punches at old ladies cutting in my Target line then it's A. O. K. Friends don't let friends drink and shop.
And even though we have another whole 30 days until the the calender turns over to 2009 I'm going to issue a challenge now since I think it takes some practice to get this right. I want you to be nicer to yourself. Take some time to pay attention to how you treat yourself and what your inner voice sounds like.
Does she sound like a nasty teenage girl cutting you down every chance she gets? Is it a viscous guy tearing you apart because you don't look like an airbrushed, anorexic model straddling seatless bike on the cover of Maxim? Do you tell yourself things you wouldn't up with from anyone? Are you nice to yourself?
Now, before you start to think, jesus h., she's given up the bitter for benevolent don't' worry, I'm still a crusty crank and always will be but I've had it up to "here" with beating my own self up for shit I can't change or letting myself either wallow in the boo-hoo's for the things that will be hard to change or sticking my lovely face in the sand and ignoring stuff all-together and it's time to stop that.
That's not saying that there are certainly times when existing on auto-pilot isn't OK and extremely justified. There is nothing wrong with that, it's part of self-preservation and I support it whole-heartedly. It's the letting that turn into crap habits that is the problem. So, here's the deal, my own personal goal,and challenge for anyone else out there wanting to change some undesirable factor in your life is to adopt a simple word, a pledge, a mantra.
Enough.
That's it. That's all you have to do. Be it out loud, whispered quietly, in your own mind, or shouted from the rooftops just say that tiny six lettered word. Enough.
Say it to stop the bullet train of negative thoughts in your head. The next time you're tearing yourself apart for having a fat belly, crows feat, hammer toes, tell yourself "ENOUGH". If you want to lose that fat belly then after the 20th m-n-m you're shoving into your maw say enough.
If you're in a relationship that sucks the soul out of you, is harmful, wrong or dangerous, resolve that it's enough and make the right moves to change it. Know without a doubt that if anyone ever tries to tell you that you aren't enough, you tell yourself you are. Fuck that, of course you are. If some asshole doesn't see it then that's their problem, not yours. Enough!
Have a shitty person in your life that constantly brings you down? Enough! Reaching for that last tequila shot that will cause your panties to drop and a day worth of puking ahead? Enough. Been in that crap-ass job for far too long and hear yourself complaining endlessly? Killing yourself trying to be perfect? Do you think you're not worthy unless something else wants you? Well, let me tell you, you are. Enough.
Spent way to long laying on that couch wallowing in self-pity, self-doubt, self-loathing, self-absorption? Tired of being a zombie living a half-life, dragging around the past like a ball-and-chain? Are you so over being weighed down by regret and flesh and ghosts of the past? That's enough, babe. Enough.
You are enough.
Now go buy yourself something pretty!
We're also winding down to the close of another year and with Thanksgiving being all stupidly late it feels like Christmas and New Years will be here in fricken blink and how the fuck am I suppose to redecorate the entire house before my boyfriend's mother gets here when I only have like 2 gawd damn days? I'd like to write a terse letter to whoever decides that shit.
In the meantime, I will keep working on not getting stressed out and taking the time to have fun, pay attention to the right things and reflect on the year. And if that involves large glasses of wine then so be it. As long as I'm not driving or throwing air punches at old ladies cutting in my Target line then it's A. O. K. Friends don't let friends drink and shop.
And even though we have another whole 30 days until the the calender turns over to 2009 I'm going to issue a challenge now since I think it takes some practice to get this right. I want you to be nicer to yourself. Take some time to pay attention to how you treat yourself and what your inner voice sounds like.
Does she sound like a nasty teenage girl cutting you down every chance she gets? Is it a viscous guy tearing you apart because you don't look like an airbrushed, anorexic model straddling seatless bike on the cover of Maxim? Do you tell yourself things you wouldn't up with from anyone? Are you nice to yourself?
Now, before you start to think, jesus h., she's given up the bitter for benevolent don't' worry, I'm still a crusty crank and always will be but I've had it up to "here" with beating my own self up for shit I can't change or letting myself either wallow in the boo-hoo's for the things that will be hard to change or sticking my lovely face in the sand and ignoring stuff all-together and it's time to stop that.
That's not saying that there are certainly times when existing on auto-pilot isn't OK and extremely justified. There is nothing wrong with that, it's part of self-preservation and I support it whole-heartedly. It's the letting that turn into crap habits that is the problem. So, here's the deal, my own personal goal,and challenge for anyone else out there wanting to change some undesirable factor in your life is to adopt a simple word, a pledge, a mantra.
Enough.
That's it. That's all you have to do. Be it out loud, whispered quietly, in your own mind, or shouted from the rooftops just say that tiny six lettered word. Enough.
Say it to stop the bullet train of negative thoughts in your head. The next time you're tearing yourself apart for having a fat belly, crows feat, hammer toes, tell yourself "ENOUGH". If you want to lose that fat belly then after the 20th m-n-m you're shoving into your maw say enough.
If you're in a relationship that sucks the soul out of you, is harmful, wrong or dangerous, resolve that it's enough and make the right moves to change it. Know without a doubt that if anyone ever tries to tell you that you aren't enough, you tell yourself you are. Fuck that, of course you are. If some asshole doesn't see it then that's their problem, not yours. Enough!
Have a shitty person in your life that constantly brings you down? Enough! Reaching for that last tequila shot that will cause your panties to drop and a day worth of puking ahead? Enough. Been in that crap-ass job for far too long and hear yourself complaining endlessly? Killing yourself trying to be perfect? Do you think you're not worthy unless something else wants you? Well, let me tell you, you are. Enough.
Spent way to long laying on that couch wallowing in self-pity, self-doubt, self-loathing, self-absorption? Tired of being a zombie living a half-life, dragging around the past like a ball-and-chain? Are you so over being weighed down by regret and flesh and ghosts of the past? That's enough, babe. Enough.
You are enough.
Now go buy yourself something pretty!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The escapist
I'm still a bit high from my 28 hours of non-carnage Thanksgiving with my family. That's not to say there were pa-lenty of times that I mentally rolled my eyed and called my brother an asshole under my breath. And I'm still giving myself props for not losing my shit in a monstrous way when I heard my brother say the exact same thing verbatim that I did to my mom last Christmas that caused her to unhinge her jaws and swallow me whole and treating me like a leper with weeping sores for an entire week saying no much more than go to hell and please pass the gravy.
Somehow I managed to stay breezy the whole time and didn't let any stomach acid of stress boil over or be reactive in any way. I just let it go, which for me is not an easy task. Telling myself that my mom treats me different and always will and it doesn't make me any better or more importantly, worse than my brother or niece or anyone else so fuck it. I'm not getting my ass hair in a knot over it.
Look at me, all healthy and shit.
Dinner was fabulous but as I've been fighting the stupid tummy troubles I didn't eat too much so I wasn't rolling around like a beached whale moaning about being stuffed like everyone else was. And frankly, my mother's inventive style of passive-aggressive cooking always leaves me a little leery. There are plenty of things she's does well but she has this subconscious hangup about putting a twist on food that sets you up for failure.
The stuffing was from a Trader Joe's box that I've made myself before and tastes great on its own if you follow the simple directions. My mother gets the bright idea of adding to it but you end up with a few moist bread crumbs amidst 4 thousand pieces of celery, which I'm allergic to. And I did my best to encourage her not to eat the pumpkin pie that inexplicably grew a colorful and thick layer of mold over night but she wouldn't hear of it and I watched as she scraped a little off with a knife then cut herself a nice, big slice.
Dear Mother - DO NOT EAT MOLDY FOOD. We have a WHOLE NOTHER PIE.
At least we've gotten her to stop putting the turkey guts in the gravy. It's impossible to pick out specks of pulverized spleen from your mashed potatoes, I'll have you know. Plus my dad can't keep his hands off the boiling gizzard, neck, bunghole or whatever disgusting bird organ he so desperately loves so there's nothing left over to make gravy with except the beautiful, beautiful juices.
Things almost took a turn as I was being dropped off at the platform to make my way home. There was a 20 minute debate on where I should be standing (granted, it was a bit confusing with 2 tracks with matching platforms and misleading signs) and my brother's inner grizzly bear was starting to show his fangs, but thankfully my train approached (as my father stood in the middle of the tracks to watch it for fuckssake!) and was stopped long enough for me to ask a porter if it was the right one. I was relieved beyond measure.
My train rides to and from my brother's house were a mini adventure, to say the least. I saw many walks of life and restrained from pounding the cranky old lady who tapped me on the head to tell me to move my suitcase to give another passenger a seat on the crowded train leaving San Diego. Apparently the 10 seconds it was taking me to get situation was a lifetime to wait.
I upgraded to business class on my last train home and was given a complimentary glass of wine that I gladly accepted. It helped alleviate the desire to break the ankles of the woman fucking around with the foot rest on the back of my seat the whole way. Seriously, there were 50 plus fucking empty seats and she sits right behind my stupid ass. Naturally. But I was not murdered in Union Station during my layover in Los Angles so I'd call that also a success.
Best thing of the whole deal? Making this gingerbread trailer with my niece and mom. It was hysterical. A total mess but hysterical. I highly recommend making one. Hope you all had a great turkey day and thank gawd Nabloblahblah is almost over!
Somehow I managed to stay breezy the whole time and didn't let any stomach acid of stress boil over or be reactive in any way. I just let it go, which for me is not an easy task. Telling myself that my mom treats me different and always will and it doesn't make me any better or more importantly, worse than my brother or niece or anyone else so fuck it. I'm not getting my ass hair in a knot over it.
Look at me, all healthy and shit.
Dinner was fabulous but as I've been fighting the stupid tummy troubles I didn't eat too much so I wasn't rolling around like a beached whale moaning about being stuffed like everyone else was. And frankly, my mother's inventive style of passive-aggressive cooking always leaves me a little leery. There are plenty of things she's does well but she has this subconscious hangup about putting a twist on food that sets you up for failure.
The stuffing was from a Trader Joe's box that I've made myself before and tastes great on its own if you follow the simple directions. My mother gets the bright idea of adding to it but you end up with a few moist bread crumbs amidst 4 thousand pieces of celery, which I'm allergic to. And I did my best to encourage her not to eat the pumpkin pie that inexplicably grew a colorful and thick layer of mold over night but she wouldn't hear of it and I watched as she scraped a little off with a knife then cut herself a nice, big slice.
Dear Mother - DO NOT EAT MOLDY FOOD. We have a WHOLE NOTHER PIE.
At least we've gotten her to stop putting the turkey guts in the gravy. It's impossible to pick out specks of pulverized spleen from your mashed potatoes, I'll have you know. Plus my dad can't keep his hands off the boiling gizzard, neck, bunghole or whatever disgusting bird organ he so desperately loves so there's nothing left over to make gravy with except the beautiful, beautiful juices.
Things almost took a turn as I was being dropped off at the platform to make my way home. There was a 20 minute debate on where I should be standing (granted, it was a bit confusing with 2 tracks with matching platforms and misleading signs) and my brother's inner grizzly bear was starting to show his fangs, but thankfully my train approached (as my father stood in the middle of the tracks to watch it for fuckssake!) and was stopped long enough for me to ask a porter if it was the right one. I was relieved beyond measure.
My train rides to and from my brother's house were a mini adventure, to say the least. I saw many walks of life and restrained from pounding the cranky old lady who tapped me on the head to tell me to move my suitcase to give another passenger a seat on the crowded train leaving San Diego. Apparently the 10 seconds it was taking me to get situation was a lifetime to wait.
I upgraded to business class on my last train home and was given a complimentary glass of wine that I gladly accepted. It helped alleviate the desire to break the ankles of the woman fucking around with the foot rest on the back of my seat the whole way. Seriously, there were 50 plus fucking empty seats and she sits right behind my stupid ass. Naturally. But I was not murdered in Union Station during my layover in Los Angles so I'd call that also a success.
Best thing of the whole deal? Making this gingerbread trailer with my niece and mom. It was hysterical. A total mess but hysterical. I highly recommend making one. Hope you all had a great turkey day and thank gawd Nabloblahblah is almost over!
Friday, November 28, 2008
WHEW!
I made it. More than 24 hours with my family and nothing bad happened. Not one thing! And despite public transportation freakies and nusances, internally rolling my eyes about 20 times at stuff and having the obligatory worries about my dad, it all went smashingly well without any real smashing!
I'd call that a Success!!
YAY!
I'd call that a Success!!
YAY!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Turkey Day
I have so much to be thankful for. And I will be thinking of it all while I'm drinking in the bar car. Wish me luck and have a great day!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Is it over yet?
I'm so looking forward to this 4 day weekend I could cry gravy. 4 whole days. In a row. NO. WORK. It's going to be glorious. Although I'm quite nervous about the next 36 hours since I'm spending Thanksgiving with my family sans whitey and spending the night at my brother's house. With my parents, their 2 dogs and my niece. In a 2 bedroom condo. Pray for me.
I decided not to make the 4 to 5 hour drive since I'm still having that stupid panic attack thing when I'm driving on the freeway (gawd, I feel like an imbecile over that) so I'm taking the train for the very first time. I've been on trains before but not like this so I hope it'll be fun and not a giant suckfest. And there's always the bar car to visit.
I figure that's another good reason not to drive. Since we all haven't been together since Fuckass Christmas 2007 Extravaganza of Shit I'm petrified another show-down will take place so I'm planning on lubricating myself on the way up and then I can drink to forget or celebrate, whichever is required, on the way home Friday night.
I've planned a few things to keep everyone busy, or at least me and the kid, and since my mother won't let me go near the food I don't have to cook. But it's really not my fault that I'm a menace to society when playing chef, my mother never taught me anything, I've had to wing it on my own but I will admit, I, ah, have a little bit of trouble in the kitchen.
The first turkey I ever cooked turned out awesome but it had a slight tinge of a plastic aroma to it since I accidentally left the baggie of turkey guts inside. And I swear I fisted the shit out of that bird and I could not find it. It was exactly like when someone is "changing" a "lightbulb" naked in the "shower" and "slips" off the "ladder" and "falls" onto the flashlight that's now lodged up in their grill. That stuff was jammed way up and in tight. But the people who ate it didn't complain, they just made fun of me a lot.
These days I'm not allowed in the kitchen very often since my idea of a decent dinner is spaghettios straight from the can. And no, I'm not kidding. Don't get me wrong though, I can bake like a fiend. Despite that one banana cream pie that turned out more like banana man creamed in the pie, but I have a pretty big repertoire of goodies that I kick ass making. And I can do a few choice appetizers too. But when things involve, oh, stuff like anything besides cookies it's bound to be a disaster.
Foods such as meat, vegetables and casseroles? Forget it. My chicken is raw in the inside, black on the outside and tastes like whatever was cooked in the pan the time before. With garlic. Burnt garlic.
My vegetables turn gray and my attempt at casseroles resemble the sweepings from a Denney's floor after the dinner rush. I managed to explode an entire Pyrex dish once by putting a rock-solid frozen steak straight from the freezer into a piping hot oven. It's a gift.
Pasta is easy, right? Not when I make it. My al dente will chip a tooth. Want me to add a little extra something to the sauce? No, you don't. Because I will add celery seeds and nutmeg to the ground beef. Those are spices right? Herbs? No? I don't know.
Poultry is cooked at 250 for 3 hours, right? 450 for 5? More salt the better, yes? Would you like another helping? WHY NOT?
Like I said, I blame this on my mother. She never taught me how to cook and even though she can throw some tasty meals together she cuts the mold off cheese and thinks beet juice is better than a fine wine. My father is even worse. The man puts ketchup on lettuce and calls it a salad. When I was in school I'd open my wrinkled re-used utterly embarrassing kill me now full-sized grocery bag at lunchtime to find peanut butter and butter sandwiches. Or peanut butter and mayonnaise. Mayonnaise, people.
And if I was really lucky? Peanut butter and tuna. OK, I made the last one up but I did get the other 2 and how gross is the thought of peanut butter and mayo? Pretty fucking gross, I'll tell you what.
So, I will help where I can on Thursday, trying to stay out of the way. And even though I won't be doing any of the cooking per say, I do have a pretty good recipe for stuffing. Of which I will share with you now. At least this is how I make it.
~ Open pre-made box of stuffing
~ Wrestle with hermetically sealed inner bag
~ Get out sharp knife to finally open stupid impenetrable inner bag
~ Cut finger
~ Silently swear
~ Wrap dirty paper towel around bleeding appendage
~ Drink glass of wine
~ Pour contents of bag into plastic bowl
~ Boil water in glass measuring cup in microwave
~ Sustain steam burn on hand reaching into microwave
~ Swear louder
~ Pour hot water over contents in plastic bowl
~ Splash boiling water on hands and stuffing crumbs into eyes
~ Fucking hell fucking fuck
~ Wipe face with egg-yolk encrusted dish rag
~ Watch plastic bowl melt
~ Stare as contents pour down side of cabinet onto floor
~ God dammit fuckity fuck
~ Drink glass of wine
~ Check to see if someones watching
~ Scoop up contents from floor
~ Transfer to glass bowl
~ Pick out cat hair
~ Stir
~ Drink glass of wine
~ Serve
Voila!
The author takes no responsibility for injuries to important body parts to anyone attempting this recipe. I suggest you have 911 on speed dial.
I decided not to make the 4 to 5 hour drive since I'm still having that stupid panic attack thing when I'm driving on the freeway (gawd, I feel like an imbecile over that) so I'm taking the train for the very first time. I've been on trains before but not like this so I hope it'll be fun and not a giant suckfest. And there's always the bar car to visit.
I figure that's another good reason not to drive. Since we all haven't been together since Fuckass Christmas 2007 Extravaganza of Shit I'm petrified another show-down will take place so I'm planning on lubricating myself on the way up and then I can drink to forget or celebrate, whichever is required, on the way home Friday night.
I've planned a few things to keep everyone busy, or at least me and the kid, and since my mother won't let me go near the food I don't have to cook. But it's really not my fault that I'm a menace to society when playing chef, my mother never taught me anything, I've had to wing it on my own but I will admit, I, ah, have a little bit of trouble in the kitchen.
The first turkey I ever cooked turned out awesome but it had a slight tinge of a plastic aroma to it since I accidentally left the baggie of turkey guts inside. And I swear I fisted the shit out of that bird and I could not find it. It was exactly like when someone is "changing" a "lightbulb" naked in the "shower" and "slips" off the "ladder" and "falls" onto the flashlight that's now lodged up in their grill. That stuff was jammed way up and in tight. But the people who ate it didn't complain, they just made fun of me a lot.
These days I'm not allowed in the kitchen very often since my idea of a decent dinner is spaghettios straight from the can. And no, I'm not kidding. Don't get me wrong though, I can bake like a fiend. Despite that one banana cream pie that turned out more like banana man creamed in the pie, but I have a pretty big repertoire of goodies that I kick ass making. And I can do a few choice appetizers too. But when things involve, oh, stuff like anything besides cookies it's bound to be a disaster.
Foods such as meat, vegetables and casseroles? Forget it. My chicken is raw in the inside, black on the outside and tastes like whatever was cooked in the pan the time before. With garlic. Burnt garlic.
My vegetables turn gray and my attempt at casseroles resemble the sweepings from a Denney's floor after the dinner rush. I managed to explode an entire Pyrex dish once by putting a rock-solid frozen steak straight from the freezer into a piping hot oven. It's a gift.
Pasta is easy, right? Not when I make it. My al dente will chip a tooth. Want me to add a little extra something to the sauce? No, you don't. Because I will add celery seeds and nutmeg to the ground beef. Those are spices right? Herbs? No? I don't know.
Poultry is cooked at 250 for 3 hours, right? 450 for 5? More salt the better, yes? Would you like another helping? WHY NOT?
Like I said, I blame this on my mother. She never taught me how to cook and even though she can throw some tasty meals together she cuts the mold off cheese and thinks beet juice is better than a fine wine. My father is even worse. The man puts ketchup on lettuce and calls it a salad. When I was in school I'd open my wrinkled re-used utterly embarrassing kill me now full-sized grocery bag at lunchtime to find peanut butter and butter sandwiches. Or peanut butter and mayonnaise. Mayonnaise, people.
And if I was really lucky? Peanut butter and tuna. OK, I made the last one up but I did get the other 2 and how gross is the thought of peanut butter and mayo? Pretty fucking gross, I'll tell you what.
So, I will help where I can on Thursday, trying to stay out of the way. And even though I won't be doing any of the cooking per say, I do have a pretty good recipe for stuffing. Of which I will share with you now. At least this is how I make it.
~ Open pre-made box of stuffing
~ Wrestle with hermetically sealed inner bag
~ Get out sharp knife to finally open stupid impenetrable inner bag
~ Cut finger
~ Silently swear
~ Wrap dirty paper towel around bleeding appendage
~ Drink glass of wine
~ Pour contents of bag into plastic bowl
~ Boil water in glass measuring cup in microwave
~ Sustain steam burn on hand reaching into microwave
~ Swear louder
~ Pour hot water over contents in plastic bowl
~ Splash boiling water on hands and stuffing crumbs into eyes
~ Fucking hell fucking fuck
~ Wipe face with egg-yolk encrusted dish rag
~ Watch plastic bowl melt
~ Stare as contents pour down side of cabinet onto floor
~ God dammit fuckity fuck
~ Drink glass of wine
~ Check to see if someones watching
~ Scoop up contents from floor
~ Transfer to glass bowl
~ Pick out cat hair
~ Stir
~ Drink glass of wine
~ Serve
Voila!
The author takes no responsibility for injuries to important body parts to anyone attempting this recipe. I suggest you have 911 on speed dial.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Just a number
I've often said that I'm a 17 year old trapped in the body of a 40-something woman. Or sometimes it's 22, depending on if I need an ID to drink or get into a bar or buy porn. I've, on occasion, felt like I've reached a certain age that whatever I want to wear/do/see/be isn't appropriate for the number on my driver's license.
I remember shopping one time and seeing some trendy frock and thinking, crap, I can't wear that anymore. But as I get older I realize that most of that kind of thinking is just bullshit. Well, within reason. If I left the house wearing a onesie with glitter lipstick I'd look like a mental patient but for the most part getting older gives you the right to do what you want when you want without having to apologize for it. And if anyone gives you crap about the decisions you make for yourself that don't interfere with anyone else, yourself, or the law than I say go for it! I might make fun of you but who cares!
I still love stuffed animals. I have to stop myself from buying every cute plush thing I see because frankly I don't have the room but sometimes I splurge and why not? Who cares if I have a 4 foot dolphin on the bed? (I will get that someday, I will.) I like toys. 99% of time I buy a happy meal because of the goodie that comes with it. (Ironic that the one I purchased yesterday came with the hippo from Madagascar 2, no?)
I like to step on dried up leaves to hear them crunch under my feet. I covet wee little purses and own several yummy smelling lip glosses from Bonnie Bell. I think farting is hysterical. My adoration for crappy pop music is legendary (I'm downloading the new Mylie Cyrus song right now) and my idea of a good time is playing games until I win them all.
I want a gumball machine in my house and the best present I got for my birthday was a giant lava lamp. I don a tiara any chance I can get, wear my hair in pigtails, paint my toes bright blue, and buy magazines mostly for the pictures. I have a life-long love affair with Snoopy. I wouldn't say no to drinking a cocktail with a curly straw. My dream is to having an entire wall in my kitchen covered in chalkboard paint.
My parents think I'm mostly silly, but silly is fun! I don't ever want to stop being silly. I will never stop being silly. Life is too short not to be silly. And I'm sure Jenny Joseph agrees with me, although I'm wearing purple now.
When I am Old I will wear Purple!
When I am an old woman,
I shall wear purple - -
With a red hat which doesn't go,
and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals,
And say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
and gobble up samples in shops
and press alarm bells
and run with my stick along public railings,
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit!
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at ago,
or only bread and pickles for a week,
and hoard pens and pencils
and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
and pay our rent
and not swear in the street,
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner
and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know meare not too shocked and surprised
when suddenly I am old,
And start to wear purple!
--Jenny Joseph
I remember shopping one time and seeing some trendy frock and thinking, crap, I can't wear that anymore. But as I get older I realize that most of that kind of thinking is just bullshit. Well, within reason. If I left the house wearing a onesie with glitter lipstick I'd look like a mental patient but for the most part getting older gives you the right to do what you want when you want without having to apologize for it. And if anyone gives you crap about the decisions you make for yourself that don't interfere with anyone else, yourself, or the law than I say go for it! I might make fun of you but who cares!
I still love stuffed animals. I have to stop myself from buying every cute plush thing I see because frankly I don't have the room but sometimes I splurge and why not? Who cares if I have a 4 foot dolphin on the bed? (I will get that someday, I will.) I like toys. 99% of time I buy a happy meal because of the goodie that comes with it. (Ironic that the one I purchased yesterday came with the hippo from Madagascar 2, no?)
I like to step on dried up leaves to hear them crunch under my feet. I covet wee little purses and own several yummy smelling lip glosses from Bonnie Bell. I think farting is hysterical. My adoration for crappy pop music is legendary (I'm downloading the new Mylie Cyrus song right now) and my idea of a good time is playing games until I win them all.
I want a gumball machine in my house and the best present I got for my birthday was a giant lava lamp. I don a tiara any chance I can get, wear my hair in pigtails, paint my toes bright blue, and buy magazines mostly for the pictures. I have a life-long love affair with Snoopy. I wouldn't say no to drinking a cocktail with a curly straw. My dream is to having an entire wall in my kitchen covered in chalkboard paint.
My parents think I'm mostly silly, but silly is fun! I don't ever want to stop being silly. I will never stop being silly. Life is too short not to be silly. And I'm sure Jenny Joseph agrees with me, although I'm wearing purple now.
When I am Old I will wear Purple!
When I am an old woman,
I shall wear purple - -
With a red hat which doesn't go,
and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals,
And say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
and gobble up samples in shops
and press alarm bells
and run with my stick along public railings,
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit!
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at ago,
or only bread and pickles for a week,
and hoard pens and pencils
and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
and pay our rent
and not swear in the street,
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner
and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know meare not too shocked and surprised
when suddenly I am old,
And start to wear purple!
--Jenny Joseph
Monday, November 24, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Snapshot Sunday
In honor of the city I didn't get to play around in this weekend due to the cementbrainia I have going on here are a few shots I took on my last trip in February. It was a great time and hopefully I can do back in a couple of week.
The entire set can be seen here.
The entire set can be seen here.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Saturday
Dear Universe,
I would just like to get behind the wheel of my beloved car and NOT encounter 15 FUCKING ASSHOLES every 4 miles who put my life in danger by driving like headless IDIOTS who couldn't rub 2 brain cells together to make a fucking SPARK if their very existence depended on it!!
If you could arrange that I'd really appreciate it.
Thanks,
Betty
I would just like to get behind the wheel of my beloved car and NOT encounter 15 FUCKING ASSHOLES every 4 miles who put my life in danger by driving like headless IDIOTS who couldn't rub 2 brain cells together to make a fucking SPARK if their very existence depended on it!!
If you could arrange that I'd really appreciate it.
Thanks,
Betty
Friday, November 21, 2008
Sigh
So, I had an x-ray of my head today and will get the results sometime next week to see if there's anything in there. Ah, I mean anything nefarious, not the evidence of actual brain matter. Although a lot of times that fact is in question also judging by the amount of times I injure myself while doing completely insane and risky things like putting on my pants (smashed toe into closet door this morning.)
I went to my allergist dude today and he diagnosed me with a fucked up sinus cavity and in his words I'm "allergic to the world" and he's surprised I don't feel like shit all the time and I said for fuck's sake, doc I DO. So he ordered the fancy brain pikshure, threw some drugs my way and told me it was probably a good idea that I didn't get on a plane today or I could have 'sploded all over the cabin in a not-so-feminine splash of snot and skull fragments.
And that is not how I'd like to finally end up in the pages of People.
I went to my allergist dude today and he diagnosed me with a fucked up sinus cavity and in his words I'm "allergic to the world" and he's surprised I don't feel like shit all the time and I said for fuck's sake, doc I DO. So he ordered the fancy brain pikshure, threw some drugs my way and told me it was probably a good idea that I didn't get on a plane today or I could have 'sploded all over the cabin in a not-so-feminine splash of snot and skull fragments.
And that is not how I'd like to finally end up in the pages of People.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Bummed
I just cancelled my weekend trip to San Francisco because it still feels like my head is going to explode at any minute and the high pitched squeal in my right ear reached a maximum high today driving me nearly bonkers and I'm totally bummed. And scared it's something more serious than mystery congestion. And really bummed.
And that's all I have to say about that.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
P.U.
It's 1980-something and I'm a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed teenager. OK, I'm a smart-mouthed pain-in-the-ass but somehow I sweet-talked my parents into leaving me home alone while they went traipsing off to Montana for a couple of weeks in the years before they moved there for goo.
I'm left with the house and our 2 dogs to take care of, was given a whopping $60.00 and instructions to "not touch the alcohol, sweetie". Sweetie was said through slightly clenched teeth due to a previous un-heeded warning I've written about before that involved me being very, very stupid with many, many cups of alcohol and my parents getting very, very mad after my many, many trips to puke in the toilet.
Everything goes just fine the first night, until I decide to finish the book Pet Sematary by Stephen King at 1 a.m. on a dark and scary night and the minute I read the last word the dogs started going batshit crazy barking in the garage over I'm sure a demon who wanted to eat my face. Needless to say the dog's got to sleep inside that night and I watched bad late night TV until I finally fell asleep with a crazy lab and a protective doberman on each side of me.
After I survived the scary night and the demon I decided to invite a couple of girlfriends over to "not touch the alcohol, sweetie" and we're having a good time with our naked pillow-fight, cause you know we really do that. Again, I hear those damn dogs going batshit crazy outside in the backyard and I run to the sliding glass door to holler their noisy asses back inside.
And that's when it hit me.
Like and atom bomb of shit.
Right in the nose.
SKUNK.
Oh shit, oh no, not this. Skunk? Damn those dogs! They had chased that fucking skunk again and got sprayed. Now the whole damn house is gonna smell all damn night!
I go into the garage to reprimand the pooches and that’s when I realize...um...there’s like no oxygen in here. WTF? It had been completely evaporated by the fresh ass blast of the scaredy cat skunk. And in all my life I have never experienced anything like that before. I couldn’t breath.
I immediately started gagging. I looked at my dobie and she was foaming at the mouth and squinting, unable to open her eyes. So of course I did the natural thing and grabbed her, drug her over the hose and tried to rinse out the offending substance. This however is where I met my own fate. I too was now covered in skunk butt juice.
I checked my lab and of course her whole neck was soaked. Yay! Another dose of puke smell all over me! Now I’m screaming for my friends to help me, they’re screaming and holding their noses and the dogs are foaming, spitting, snorting and barking at the screaming girls.
I lock them in the garage (the dogs, not girls), grab some money and hop in my car. My only choice is 7-11 since this was pre all-night grocery stores. I hauled ass through the streets, ran into the store, grabbed all the super size cans of tomato juice and plunked them on the counter.
The clerk starts to sniff the air with a look on his face like he just ate a rancid pickle. “Hey, do you smell something”? I say, “Ah…no, I don’t smell anything”, hoping he's none the wise. I pay for juice and haul ass back home. I dash through the house grabbing both dogs on the way and throw them in the bathroom and start filling the tub when I then had to DRAG both chicken shit scared of a little water dogs into the bath to start “the treatment”.
3 giant cans of cold, nasty tomato juice is not my idea of a day at the spa, btw.
Now I’m covered with skunk, tomato juice and dog hair, the muts are shivering and trying to escape from the tub and this shit it’s NOT taking away the smell one little bit and to top it all off now my white lab is a pretty shade of pink.
My mostly useless friends finally did pitch in to help me clean the dogs and get them dried off and just as we’re finally seeing the humor in this nightmare, laughing about the whole ordeal and wondering when I’m going to stop smelling like a wet dog, an Italian restaurant and ass (it was 3 days btw), our lovely state of California decides it’s time to relieve a little tectonic pressure and we have a fucking earthquake.
More screaming girls, more barking dogs and that’s when we touched the alcohol, sweetie.
I'm left with the house and our 2 dogs to take care of, was given a whopping $60.00 and instructions to "not touch the alcohol, sweetie". Sweetie was said through slightly clenched teeth due to a previous un-heeded warning I've written about before that involved me being very, very stupid with many, many cups of alcohol and my parents getting very, very mad after my many, many trips to puke in the toilet.
Everything goes just fine the first night, until I decide to finish the book Pet Sematary by Stephen King at 1 a.m. on a dark and scary night and the minute I read the last word the dogs started going batshit crazy barking in the garage over I'm sure a demon who wanted to eat my face. Needless to say the dog's got to sleep inside that night and I watched bad late night TV until I finally fell asleep with a crazy lab and a protective doberman on each side of me.
After I survived the scary night and the demon I decided to invite a couple of girlfriends over to "not touch the alcohol, sweetie" and we're having a good time with our naked pillow-fight, cause you know we really do that. Again, I hear those damn dogs going batshit crazy outside in the backyard and I run to the sliding glass door to holler their noisy asses back inside.
And that's when it hit me.
Like and atom bomb of shit.
Right in the nose.
SKUNK.
Oh shit, oh no, not this. Skunk? Damn those dogs! They had chased that fucking skunk again and got sprayed. Now the whole damn house is gonna smell all damn night!
I go into the garage to reprimand the pooches and that’s when I realize...um...there’s like no oxygen in here. WTF? It had been completely evaporated by the fresh ass blast of the scaredy cat skunk. And in all my life I have never experienced anything like that before. I couldn’t breath.
I immediately started gagging. I looked at my dobie and she was foaming at the mouth and squinting, unable to open her eyes. So of course I did the natural thing and grabbed her, drug her over the hose and tried to rinse out the offending substance. This however is where I met my own fate. I too was now covered in skunk butt juice.
I checked my lab and of course her whole neck was soaked. Yay! Another dose of puke smell all over me! Now I’m screaming for my friends to help me, they’re screaming and holding their noses and the dogs are foaming, spitting, snorting and barking at the screaming girls.
I lock them in the garage (the dogs, not girls), grab some money and hop in my car. My only choice is 7-11 since this was pre all-night grocery stores. I hauled ass through the streets, ran into the store, grabbed all the super size cans of tomato juice and plunked them on the counter.
The clerk starts to sniff the air with a look on his face like he just ate a rancid pickle. “Hey, do you smell something”? I say, “Ah…no, I don’t smell anything”, hoping he's none the wise. I pay for juice and haul ass back home. I dash through the house grabbing both dogs on the way and throw them in the bathroom and start filling the tub when I then had to DRAG both chicken shit scared of a little water dogs into the bath to start “the treatment”.
3 giant cans of cold, nasty tomato juice is not my idea of a day at the spa, btw.
Now I’m covered with skunk, tomato juice and dog hair, the muts are shivering and trying to escape from the tub and this shit it’s NOT taking away the smell one little bit and to top it all off now my white lab is a pretty shade of pink.
My mostly useless friends finally did pitch in to help me clean the dogs and get them dried off and just as we’re finally seeing the humor in this nightmare, laughing about the whole ordeal and wondering when I’m going to stop smelling like a wet dog, an Italian restaurant and ass (it was 3 days btw), our lovely state of California decides it’s time to relieve a little tectonic pressure and we have a fucking earthquake.
More screaming girls, more barking dogs and that’s when we touched the alcohol, sweetie.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Tip for Tuesday
If you need a good laugh go to these places. They will make it so.
http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/
http://waiterrant.net/
http://failblog.org/
http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/
http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/
http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/
http://waiterrant.net/
http://failblog.org/
http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/
http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/
Monday, November 17, 2008
Hey 1950, I miss you!
You know, I'm an independent person, probably too independent, and I'm not one to hang onto the antiquated notions about what the particular sexes should and should not do. Girls not calling boys? Why ever not? Boys can't appreciate nice decor or that makes them fruity - preposterous. A woman can't be president! Well, never mind about that one. But there are certain things that have gone out the window that fall into traditional roles and it PISSES ME OFF!
I've recently had a man let a door slam onto my body when I was going through right behind him. The fuck, dude? I know you saw me! We walked across the parking lot almost in tandem. You couldn't hold the fucking door for me? Fuck forbid you actually let me go through first, like a gentleman would, but to let the shit slam onto my arm? You're a douchebag who needs to pull your head out of your self-absorbed bunghole, you rude jerk.
A few years ago I had 2 flat tires in as many months, both times stranded in busy areas with lots of cars whizzing past me as I struggled and sweat and cursed my way through putting my spare on. Did one fucker stop to help me? No. And the second time I made it to a gas station/convenient mart in a heavily populated area. I mean, I know I don't fit the typical Southern California Hooters girl profile but jesus, you'd think at one person would have stopped to ask if I needed help.
And then there's today. I'm walking to yet another doctors appointment to figure out what the heck is wrong with my dizzy head and hopefully get a solution and I see a fragile, little old lady standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the office building. (Why the fuck there isn't a ramp there I don't know.) And I see several people pass her by without a glance.
I was wondering if she needed help or if she was waiting for someone and before I could inquire she said to no one in particular, "Can someone please help me up these stairs?" as loudly as her shakey, elderly voice could muster. And the 2 men walking past her didn't even entertain the thought of giving assistance. Not a break in their stride.
The younger guy looked back but kept going. The medical person with the white coat standing 8 feet away didn't budge. So of course I went over to her and had to haul her walker thing up the flight of stairs (with my still healing busted elbow screaming with displeasure) and help her keep her balance at the same time while trying to keep mine as well and I made sure she made it all the way into her doctors office.
She was very sweet and thanked me profusely calling me her angel for the day but god dammit I was mad! There must have been 20 individuals that walked past her and didn't even think to ask if she needed a hand. What is wrong with people?
You know - I complain about my parents sometimes, they have their faults and warts and hang-ups, but they fucking taught me to get involved when the situation calls for it. No way would either of them walk by a little old lady looking wantonly up a stack of steps without asking if she's OK. And my dad is 83 years old!! They taught me to be caring and aware and to do the right thing.
I'm not perfect but I hold doors open, I let fuckers merge onto the freeway (unlike the dick who didn't let me on this morning and got my middle finger in his face for his trouble), and I help when I can! I try not to be in my own world or have the "I don't want to get involved" attitude if the situation is right.
There are a lot of studies that show a woman calling rape doesn't get a response from anyone but if she yells "fire" a brigade of heroes come running. There are too many people who have the "it's none of my business" attitude. But what about the every day instances that is being just plain courteous? Looking out for your fellow humans, or animals for that matter? What happened to doing the right thing?
I think those values were left back in the 50's or 60's. I really do. Those people might have been square and hiding all kinds of addictions and secrets and there was way too much oppression but can you get a kid to rescue a cat from a grandma's tree? I doubt it. They're all too busy yanking their pants 14 inches past their asses to care.
Now, I know it would be stupid to pull over on a dark highway at night by myself to help a group of guys in a broken down car, but if I saw a couple having a nasty screaming match with a baby between them at Red Robin I wouldn't walk away. The least I'd do is call mall security. You, of course, have to look out for your own welfare but fucking hell, if you can, lend a hand! I don't want things to go backwards but I sure as shit would like to see an increase in thoughtfulness in the world I live in. That sure would be swell.
I've recently had a man let a door slam onto my body when I was going through right behind him. The fuck, dude? I know you saw me! We walked across the parking lot almost in tandem. You couldn't hold the fucking door for me? Fuck forbid you actually let me go through first, like a gentleman would, but to let the shit slam onto my arm? You're a douchebag who needs to pull your head out of your self-absorbed bunghole, you rude jerk.
A few years ago I had 2 flat tires in as many months, both times stranded in busy areas with lots of cars whizzing past me as I struggled and sweat and cursed my way through putting my spare on. Did one fucker stop to help me? No. And the second time I made it to a gas station/convenient mart in a heavily populated area. I mean, I know I don't fit the typical Southern California Hooters girl profile but jesus, you'd think at one person would have stopped to ask if I needed help.
And then there's today. I'm walking to yet another doctors appointment to figure out what the heck is wrong with my dizzy head and hopefully get a solution and I see a fragile, little old lady standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the office building. (Why the fuck there isn't a ramp there I don't know.) And I see several people pass her by without a glance.
I was wondering if she needed help or if she was waiting for someone and before I could inquire she said to no one in particular, "Can someone please help me up these stairs?" as loudly as her shakey, elderly voice could muster. And the 2 men walking past her didn't even entertain the thought of giving assistance. Not a break in their stride.
The younger guy looked back but kept going. The medical person with the white coat standing 8 feet away didn't budge. So of course I went over to her and had to haul her walker thing up the flight of stairs (with my still healing busted elbow screaming with displeasure) and help her keep her balance at the same time while trying to keep mine as well and I made sure she made it all the way into her doctors office.
She was very sweet and thanked me profusely calling me her angel for the day but god dammit I was mad! There must have been 20 individuals that walked past her and didn't even think to ask if she needed a hand. What is wrong with people?
You know - I complain about my parents sometimes, they have their faults and warts and hang-ups, but they fucking taught me to get involved when the situation calls for it. No way would either of them walk by a little old lady looking wantonly up a stack of steps without asking if she's OK. And my dad is 83 years old!! They taught me to be caring and aware and to do the right thing.
I'm not perfect but I hold doors open, I let fuckers merge onto the freeway (unlike the dick who didn't let me on this morning and got my middle finger in his face for his trouble), and I help when I can! I try not to be in my own world or have the "I don't want to get involved" attitude if the situation is right.
There are a lot of studies that show a woman calling rape doesn't get a response from anyone but if she yells "fire" a brigade of heroes come running. There are too many people who have the "it's none of my business" attitude. But what about the every day instances that is being just plain courteous? Looking out for your fellow humans, or animals for that matter? What happened to doing the right thing?
I think those values were left back in the 50's or 60's. I really do. Those people might have been square and hiding all kinds of addictions and secrets and there was way too much oppression but can you get a kid to rescue a cat from a grandma's tree? I doubt it. They're all too busy yanking their pants 14 inches past their asses to care.
Now, I know it would be stupid to pull over on a dark highway at night by myself to help a group of guys in a broken down car, but if I saw a couple having a nasty screaming match with a baby between them at Red Robin I wouldn't walk away. The least I'd do is call mall security. You, of course, have to look out for your own welfare but fucking hell, if you can, lend a hand! I don't want things to go backwards but I sure as shit would like to see an increase in thoughtfulness in the world I live in. That sure would be swell.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Snapshot Sunday
Since I've spent the weekend in bed trying to keep my head from spinning, without the fun of earning it with alcohol, my plans of shooting some new pics didn't come to fruition so I'll have to post some stuff I shot this summer.
At the end of September my beloved and I set off for a monumental road trip. 3012 miles over 7 states in 8 days. Our goal, to have a short but sweet visit with my parents, then his family, then a couple of days to ourselves.
We met those goals but it wasn't easy spending hours upon hours in the car every day. I'd do a road trip again but not like that. However, the visits went surprisingly well (with the exception of one ruined evening with his crazy, drunk uncle) I was thrilled that we escaped my parents house without any type of repeat Christmas incident and whitey & I got along great. Thank the lerd.
We're both lucky to have family living in Montana and before you make a bunch of unibomber black helicopter hick ass jokes Montana is a beautiful state with a lot to offer, even if some of the people are backwoods weirdos. And I had to take most of my photos from a moving automobile, but I was pleased with a few.
Taken in Yellowstone
Lower Falls
America's Next Top Model
The world's shortest river
Desert highway
The entire set can be seen here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bitterbetty/sets/72157608015415491/
At the end of September my beloved and I set off for a monumental road trip. 3012 miles over 7 states in 8 days. Our goal, to have a short but sweet visit with my parents, then his family, then a couple of days to ourselves.
We met those goals but it wasn't easy spending hours upon hours in the car every day. I'd do a road trip again but not like that. However, the visits went surprisingly well (with the exception of one ruined evening with his crazy, drunk uncle) I was thrilled that we escaped my parents house without any type of repeat Christmas incident and whitey & I got along great. Thank the lerd.
We're both lucky to have family living in Montana and before you make a bunch of unibomber black helicopter hick ass jokes Montana is a beautiful state with a lot to offer, even if some of the people are backwoods weirdos. And I had to take most of my photos from a moving automobile, but I was pleased with a few.
Taken in Yellowstone
Lower Falls
America's Next Top Model
The world's shortest river
Desert highway
The entire set can be seen here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bitterbetty/sets/72157608015415491/
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Again
My heart goes out to Los Angeles and Orange County. We almost lost our house last year in the San Diego fires and I know first-hand how terrifying it is. I really hope the firefighters can knock the fires out and nothing starts up in SD. No one wants to go through that again.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Spinning
So I have a raging case of vertigo, of all stupid fucking things. I've been having little twinges of dizziness and ear pain for about a month but this week it kicked into high gear and has gotten worse since Monday. Today I feel like some invisable asshole is slowly turning me upside down and I'm spending a good portion of every hour trying not to hurl the pomegranate tootsie pop I ate earlier. I'd joke around and say it's probably a gawd damn tumor but I've had a real gawd damn tumor so it's not that funny.
I happened to have a doctor's appointment yesterday for some other stuff and told her I was spinning right round baby right round and she kept asking me what kind of dizziness. Um, the kind that makes you feel dizzy? Yes, but what kind of dizziness? Is the room spinning or do you feel faint. Well, neither, I said. It sort of feels like a head rush. Then she asked me again, what kind of dizziness. Gah!
Then after she slammed me onto the exam table a couple of times and made me touch my finger to my nose then to her finger (I passed that little sobriety test with flying colors) she determined that she really didn't know what was causing it - maybe an inner ear virus or allergies - and it'll go away. When? I don't know but it should be fun to get on an airplane next week and see if the pressure makes my head explode at 30 thousand feet!
I'm going to leave work early and go get some sea sickness pills, a vat of chocolate and a gallon of Propel. I've never experience motion sickness and always thought those that did were being wussies. I owe you all an apology. So, from the bottom of my dizzy, nauseous heart, I'm sorry. I'm not going to hold your hair while you're puking over the side of a boat or anything but I won't make fun of you any more. Much.
I happened to have a doctor's appointment yesterday for some other stuff and told her I was spinning right round baby right round and she kept asking me what kind of dizziness. Um, the kind that makes you feel dizzy? Yes, but what kind of dizziness? Is the room spinning or do you feel faint. Well, neither, I said. It sort of feels like a head rush. Then she asked me again, what kind of dizziness. Gah!
Then after she slammed me onto the exam table a couple of times and made me touch my finger to my nose then to her finger (I passed that little sobriety test with flying colors) she determined that she really didn't know what was causing it - maybe an inner ear virus or allergies - and it'll go away. When? I don't know but it should be fun to get on an airplane next week and see if the pressure makes my head explode at 30 thousand feet!
I'm going to leave work early and go get some sea sickness pills, a vat of chocolate and a gallon of Propel. I've never experience motion sickness and always thought those that did were being wussies. I owe you all an apology. So, from the bottom of my dizzy, nauseous heart, I'm sorry. I'm not going to hold your hair while you're puking over the side of a boat or anything but I won't make fun of you any more. Much.
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