Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Madly straightening up the place
I have the feeling like when a friend/acquaintance/rogue Spanish lover is on your way over to your house unexpectedly and you spend frantic minutes picking up clothes and papers and used tissues and whatnot just to get things somewhat presentable for your guest. As to offer a great departure to the rathole you normally live in. Why? Because Elbo might be reading this blog now! And I don't want her to see the crappy post that has been sitting here for OVER ONE MONTH NOW.
So basically that's a big screw-off to all (read: two) my faithful COP readers who have gotten dick-all for their patience.
As a consolation, would you like to be my rogue Spanish lover?
No?
Would you like me to tell you that I am very sorry and it meant nothing to me and it was only because I was obliteratedly hopelesslytatedly schnookered and I promise baby baby I'll never slap you around again and just to show you how serious I am here are some flowers that I bought just special for you with a little teddy bear with them because I know how much you like teddy bears huh baby huh?
No?
Well, I just don't know how to please you anymore.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Stories I Forgot to Tell You, Volume 1, Issue 1
Lo, this is the actual Dunkin Donuts that appears so prominently in the story below. I took a picture of it while driving by one morning and nearly got in a wreck.
When my parents first arrived in mid-APRIL for what-would-become-the-neverending-of-2006-visit, I did not yet know then what I know now. Sure, I expected my father to spend 2 solid days sorting through the 900 Christian magazines/newsletters/catalogues/solicitations he has received at the house since his last visit. And I knew that he would quickly monopolise my laptop at all hours of the day, cursing at his inability to manipulate the mousepad which is naturally the computer's fault, not his. I was not surprised to see my mother rapidly descend into her habit of remaining seated in the same spot on the couch for days at a time and the wholesale consumption of anything remotely sweet in the house. The subsequent dusting of the entire house with tissues, half-completed crossword puzzles, and glasses of water was almost comforting to me, a loving reminder that I was once again. living. with. my parents. But never.
Never did I suspect that attempted murder was afoot.
Scene: We arrive home one night from a lovely dinner out. I am fully sated, a little tipsy, and more than ready to throw on my pajamas and hop into bed. I come in the front door with my mother following behind and, as I am crossing the room, I glance over at the Chinese coffee table where I notice that there is something underneath the table, like shredded-up paper napkins or something. This is Tallulah's not-so-secret hideout, where she is likely to bring and destroy something she has gotten ahold of that is not supposed to. So I say to my mother as I am headed towards my room, "Hey, it looks like Lu got into something," and I'm a little irritated, thinking that it is a discarded paper towel or something that my mother has left around, and I don't like Lu misbehaving. I reach my room and hear my mother say, "Oh no," in a way that lets me know: fuck shit.
Flash to me on my hands and knees picking up dog-chewed remnants of my mother's PRESCRIPTION MOTION SICKNESS MEDICATION blister pack that is almost entirely empty to the tune of about 13 or 14 pills. I look at Lu and she doesn't seem out of the ordinary, just maybe a little mellow. Like she is a little high. And a little tired. I look at my mother and she is looks at me as if to say, "What? I don't have pets. I never even think about this kind of stuff." So I call the animal poison control centre and finally they tell me that they have only had two cases of this kind of medicine ingestion ever and in one it was way less and the dog was fine and in the other the dog, uh, DIED.
So I'm driving to the 24-hour animal hospital at fucking 1am with the dog in the back, who seems a little like she is just catching on that we are probably not going to the park. My mother was like I'm coming with you and I hissed NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because my only consolation with the situation was that I could chain-smoke all the way there and all the way home. I see the vet, we talk, she pokes and prods Lu, I leave Lu there and drive home. I do, however, wake my mother up 5 hours later to go with me to pick the dog back up by 7am, lest they start charging a skillion dollars a minute in morning charges.
(Side story: when my mother was getting dressed, my father awoke briefly and said, "What's going on?" My mother explained that she and I were going to pick up the dog. He thought about this and then said why so early and my mother replied that they charge exponentially for additional time past 7am. And my father was quiet for a while and then my mother heard his voice rising from the pillow: "Worth every penny.")
Mum and I pick up Lu--apparently the only excitement is that she threw up once around 5am, a reaction to the charcoal pills administered to her to quell the effects of the poison. She's pretty out of it, though, so I get her into the back seat and start to drive us home. And my mother says, "Oh let's stop and get something to eat first." And I say, "Uh, well, I guess we can maybe do a drive-through or something, but clearly the priority is to get this animal home and settled." Which actually came out more like, "Um, ok."
So I point out a McDonald's that is across the street and my mother acts like I just suggested that she eat a piece of poo. So then she volunteers IHOP and I tell her there is no way that we are sitting in a restaurant when my just-pulled-back-from-teetering-on-the-brink-of-death dog is lying in the back seat of my car. And my mother rolls her eyes and says "Hunh!" all breathy, which means that I am being a total square and I really need to relax, man. Keep in mind that she has just paid approximately $300 for the hospital visit as punishment for almost killing my dog.
So we end up driving for a couple miles looking for something, and I'm just about to turn around when my mother bellows, "DUNKIN DONUTS!!!" And then proceeds to give me an order so extensive that I have to find a piece of paper to write it all down. The man working behind the counter actually has to help me carry it all to the car. So I get in and my mother is like, "Oh, let's just sit here and eat for a bit." And I am hungry, but I look at Lu and she is laying down and slowly looks up at me with watery, doleful eyes as if to say, is it almost over yet? So I take a swig of coffee and a bite of my croissant and begin to drive us out of the parking lot. And for the second time in less than twelve hours, I hear my mother say, "Oh no."
I stop the car and look back and Tallulah has vomited all over the back seat. And because she had been fed charcoal, the vomit is jet black and slimy. I nearly threw up. It was almost a Stand By Me-esque vomit extravaganza. My mother? Completely and utterly unfazed, continued to nibble on her doughnut and drink her juice. So I get Lu out of the car, clean up the back seat (sorry Big Lots parking lot), get towels back there--by this time, Lu is weak and leeeeaning against me for support, so I have to lift her back in the car. My mother? Eating, drinking. Ho hum.
I pull out of the lot and up to a traffic light and I hear the noise. The huck-huck-huck in the throat that lets me know that this is juuuuuuuuust before Lu is about to lose it again. So, with one foot on the brake and with one hand on the wheel, I grab a Dunkin Donuts bag and swivel around and god bless it if this dog doesn't spew every drop of black vomity goodness into that bag. I mean, not a spilled drop. Not one. Then the light turns green, and I turn towards home. I hand my Mum the bag and say, "Sorry about your fritter." And she says, "What?" And I say, "Oh, sorry about your bear claw." And my mother, who has shown NOT ONE IOTA of emotion, caring, empathy, or concern up to this point, howls:
When my parents first arrived in mid-APRIL for what-would-become-the-neverending-of-2006-visit, I did not yet know then what I know now. Sure, I expected my father to spend 2 solid days sorting through the 900 Christian magazines/newsletters/catalogues/solicitations he has received at the house since his last visit. And I knew that he would quickly monopolise my laptop at all hours of the day, cursing at his inability to manipulate the mousepad which is naturally the computer's fault, not his. I was not surprised to see my mother rapidly descend into her habit of remaining seated in the same spot on the couch for days at a time and the wholesale consumption of anything remotely sweet in the house. The subsequent dusting of the entire house with tissues, half-completed crossword puzzles, and glasses of water was almost comforting to me, a loving reminder that I was once again. living. with. my parents. But never.
Never did I suspect that attempted murder was afoot.
Scene: We arrive home one night from a lovely dinner out. I am fully sated, a little tipsy, and more than ready to throw on my pajamas and hop into bed. I come in the front door with my mother following behind and, as I am crossing the room, I glance over at the Chinese coffee table where I notice that there is something underneath the table, like shredded-up paper napkins or something. This is Tallulah's not-so-secret hideout, where she is likely to bring and destroy something she has gotten ahold of that is not supposed to. So I say to my mother as I am headed towards my room, "Hey, it looks like Lu got into something," and I'm a little irritated, thinking that it is a discarded paper towel or something that my mother has left around, and I don't like Lu misbehaving. I reach my room and hear my mother say, "Oh no," in a way that lets me know: fuck shit.
Flash to me on my hands and knees picking up dog-chewed remnants of my mother's PRESCRIPTION MOTION SICKNESS MEDICATION blister pack that is almost entirely empty to the tune of about 13 or 14 pills. I look at Lu and she doesn't seem out of the ordinary, just maybe a little mellow. Like she is a little high. And a little tired. I look at my mother and she is looks at me as if to say, "What? I don't have pets. I never even think about this kind of stuff." So I call the animal poison control centre and finally they tell me that they have only had two cases of this kind of medicine ingestion ever and in one it was way less and the dog was fine and in the other the dog, uh, DIED.
So I'm driving to the 24-hour animal hospital at fucking 1am with the dog in the back, who seems a little like she is just catching on that we are probably not going to the park. My mother was like I'm coming with you and I hissed NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because my only consolation with the situation was that I could chain-smoke all the way there and all the way home. I see the vet, we talk, she pokes and prods Lu, I leave Lu there and drive home. I do, however, wake my mother up 5 hours later to go with me to pick the dog back up by 7am, lest they start charging a skillion dollars a minute in morning charges.
(Side story: when my mother was getting dressed, my father awoke briefly and said, "What's going on?" My mother explained that she and I were going to pick up the dog. He thought about this and then said why so early and my mother replied that they charge exponentially for additional time past 7am. And my father was quiet for a while and then my mother heard his voice rising from the pillow: "Worth every penny.")
Mum and I pick up Lu--apparently the only excitement is that she threw up once around 5am, a reaction to the charcoal pills administered to her to quell the effects of the poison. She's pretty out of it, though, so I get her into the back seat and start to drive us home. And my mother says, "Oh let's stop and get something to eat first." And I say, "Uh, well, I guess we can maybe do a drive-through or something, but clearly the priority is to get this animal home and settled." Which actually came out more like, "Um, ok."
So I point out a McDonald's that is across the street and my mother acts like I just suggested that she eat a piece of poo. So then she volunteers IHOP and I tell her there is no way that we are sitting in a restaurant when my just-pulled-back-from-teetering-on-the-brink-of-death dog is lying in the back seat of my car. And my mother rolls her eyes and says "Hunh!" all breathy, which means that I am being a total square and I really need to relax, man. Keep in mind that she has just paid approximately $300 for the hospital visit as punishment for almost killing my dog.
So we end up driving for a couple miles looking for something, and I'm just about to turn around when my mother bellows, "DUNKIN DONUTS!!!" And then proceeds to give me an order so extensive that I have to find a piece of paper to write it all down. The man working behind the counter actually has to help me carry it all to the car. So I get in and my mother is like, "Oh, let's just sit here and eat for a bit." And I am hungry, but I look at Lu and she is laying down and slowly looks up at me with watery, doleful eyes as if to say, is it almost over yet? So I take a swig of coffee and a bite of my croissant and begin to drive us out of the parking lot. And for the second time in less than twelve hours, I hear my mother say, "Oh no."
I stop the car and look back and Tallulah has vomited all over the back seat. And because she had been fed charcoal, the vomit is jet black and slimy. I nearly threw up. It was almost a Stand By Me-esque vomit extravaganza. My mother? Completely and utterly unfazed, continued to nibble on her doughnut and drink her juice. So I get Lu out of the car, clean up the back seat (sorry Big Lots parking lot), get towels back there--by this time, Lu is weak and leeeeaning against me for support, so I have to lift her back in the car. My mother? Eating, drinking. Ho hum.
I pull out of the lot and up to a traffic light and I hear the noise. The huck-huck-huck in the throat that lets me know that this is juuuuuuuuust before Lu is about to lose it again. So, with one foot on the brake and with one hand on the wheel, I grab a Dunkin Donuts bag and swivel around and god bless it if this dog doesn't spew every drop of black vomity goodness into that bag. I mean, not a spilled drop. Not one. Then the light turns green, and I turn towards home. I hand my Mum the bag and say, "Sorry about your fritter." And she says, "What?" And I say, "Oh, sorry about your bear claw." And my mother, who has shown NOT ONE IOTA of emotion, caring, empathy, or concern up to this point, howls:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
As if she is starring in Sophie's Choice. As if portions of her body are being extracted out of her by force. As if falling down an interminable well of shame and regret.
When I point this out to her, she is quiet and seems a little embarassed. NOT, however, too embarrased to mention more than a few times before arriving home that (in a small voice), "It had just been so long since I had had one," and "I only got to have one bite."
Thursday, July 20, 2006
I don't want to hear your shit.
And that's exactly the kind of attitude that keeps my readers coming back. Yeeeees.
I don't even know if you are going to be able to read the below IM convo I just had with K, but it was funny. A little slice of life, if you will. And you will. OH YOU WILL!
Anyway, I know you have missed me terribly. But I've had lots of shit to do. Like loll around in my bed on the weekends and surf the internet at work. Here are the highlights of the recent lowlights:
I don't even know if you are going to be able to read the below IM convo I just had with K, but it was funny. A little slice of life, if you will. And you will. OH YOU WILL!
Anyway, I know you have missed me terribly. But I've had lots of shit to do. Like loll around in my bed on the weekends and surf the internet at work. Here are the highlights of the recent lowlights:- more than 3/4 through Business Law course
- work has been eh but picking up
- parental drama with my mother's knee dying down*
- going to Chicago to see Claire and attend Lollapalooza in 2 weeks
- juuuuust started dating a boy so yay fun
- been flossing much more regularly
- planning my late birthday party for 26 August, mark your cals
- it's so hot, even I have been using my air conditioner
- putting one leg on the wagon (0 drinks this week so far, about to change tonight though)
Hope this satisfies you for a while. I'm probably going to have to start slow.
love, me.
*this reminds me that I have a story I have to tell you later.Monday, May 22, 2006
A Lazy Sunday parody, how novel.
I know, I know: I'm officially the lamest. But Special K (with strawberries) and soy milk is so good that I don't care! I don't! I have been having this for breakfast for about two months straight now, and it never fails to please. And you can't toy with the recipe: I tried cow milk last week and just about threw up. A near-spew. Narrowly avoided. One slight variation that is barely permissible is the light soy milk--but it's just not the sweet, fatty goodness of the regular soy.But to each her/his own. I won't judge you.
Friday, May 19, 2006
What? Yeah, I know. Shut up.
You know what's a good album? This one, over here to the right. Yes, the tiny picture. It's It Still Moves by My Morning Jacket. I don't know when it was released, it's not brand-new, that's for sure. I bought it because it has a song on it that my sister Claire put on a mix for me that I really like called Golden. But now I think my favourite one on the whole album is track number nine. I don't know what it is called. Shit I really need to get on this. Okay, hang on.
Got it: album was released in 2003. And the song is called Rollin' Back. I hope you are happy.
In other news, I have class now on Fridays. AWESOME!!! It's only through the first week of June, but AWESOME!!! Tomorrow Kat and I are having Spa Day hurrah. And Sunday I will probably just be doing homework shizz. Off to DC to see Gin next weekend and parentals will be here for most of June. I got an A in Global Econ. The digital camera my sisters and I bought for my dad's surprise birthday pressie arrived yesterday. Don't worry, he doesn't even know about this blog. So I can ramble on about all the RAMPANT SEXUAL DEVIANT ACTS I AM PERFORMING if I wanted to. This presumes that I am actually having sex. Which as of late, I am not. But on a good note, I don't have cancer. I'm not being facetious, the report from my biopsy came back all clear the other day. The office was very lassez-faire about it--I hadn't heard anything after a few weeks, so I rang and they were like "what? oh, ok, hang on. *wait* "ok, uh no, nothing, you're clear." *click*
Well, this post took a left turn. Eh, what do you expect after such an absence?
Monday, May 01, 2006
I want a refund on my crappy weekend.
This weekend I resolved to drink little and be very productive. I succeeded on completely inverse levels. At least the drinking was isolated to Friday night only, but nonetheless, it was bad. And by bad I mean that I fell out of the cab at my house. Recovered pretty quickly, but have a lovely blue and bloody knee to show for it. Also found my calculator and tissues that spilled out of my purse on the driveway the next afternoon.
So I didn't go out for the rest of the weekend, but it didn't matter--the weekend was already cursed. I wake up at 2am the next night to the progressively louder and consistent noise of a helicopter hovering over my neighborhood. I think oh well it's in the area nearby, but NO it is shining the spotlight ON MY STREET looking for god knows who. The scene was replete with policemen on foot walking around with flashlights, poking into bushes and whatnot. I watched for about a hour peeking out from my bathroom blinds while sitting on the toilet. Eventually everyone went away, so I watched an old SNL until 4am. It was a rare 95-96 season one with Jim Carrey. Probably would have been funnier at any other time than 4am.
The coup de grace? Last night's dream, in which I dreamt that the man I was probably supposed to marry showed up into town with his girlfriend and I had to host them for the whole weekend, taking them around to tourist spots and bars and shit. The whole time I kept thinking, "I can't BELIEVE I am doing this!" while seething with bitter jealousy.
Even my dreams hate me. Weekend, I want my money back.
So I didn't go out for the rest of the weekend, but it didn't matter--the weekend was already cursed. I wake up at 2am the next night to the progressively louder and consistent noise of a helicopter hovering over my neighborhood. I think oh well it's in the area nearby, but NO it is shining the spotlight ON MY STREET looking for god knows who. The scene was replete with policemen on foot walking around with flashlights, poking into bushes and whatnot. I watched for about a hour peeking out from my bathroom blinds while sitting on the toilet. Eventually everyone went away, so I watched an old SNL until 4am. It was a rare 95-96 season one with Jim Carrey. Probably would have been funnier at any other time than 4am.
The coup de grace? Last night's dream, in which I dreamt that the man I was probably supposed to marry showed up into town with his girlfriend and I had to host them for the whole weekend, taking them around to tourist spots and bars and shit. The whole time I kept thinking, "I can't BELIEVE I am doing this!" while seething with bitter jealousy.
Even my dreams hate me. Weekend, I want my money back.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Moon River, wiiiiider than a mile. . .
I'm crossing you in style some daaaaaaay. . .
My friends are all class. Well, one in particular.
Monday, April 10, 2006
INTERNATIONAL DAY OF LEAH!!!!!!
So I think I work pretty hard. I busted my hump all weekend, writing papers, reading case studies, conducting analyses, and researching business theory. And just for kicks, I picked up my OTHER sister from the airport, washed the dog, cleaned off the back porch, and did my taxes. I did a lot of stuff, and I still have a lot of stuff to do in the near future and a lot of people to do that stuff with--which I am cool with, it just means that I have to keep organised and focused and make sure I get everything done when I need it done.
So this morning I check my email, and there's one from Leah entitled: "feeling overlooked." Which refers to the fact that when I blogged about being busy I FAILED TO MENTION that, in addition, my sister Leah will be visiting in early May. So. Here goes.
MY SISTER LEAH WILL BE VISITING IN EARLY MAY AND I AM JUST WETTING MY PANTALOOOOOONS IN ANTICIPATORY EXCITEMENT JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. REALLY! I JUST WET MY PANTS! WET THEM STRAIGHT THROUGH!!!
As an visual ode to the occasion, I have created a collage of Leah, a veritable Leah melange of goodness. Behold:
LEAH!!! LEAH!!! LEAH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!
Okay, that's quite enough of that. To bring us back down, here is a picture of Leah when she realised that the rock she had been leaning against was covered in chalk:
I love that one. See ya soon, Sis. Mwah!
So this morning I check my email, and there's one from Leah entitled: "feeling overlooked." Which refers to the fact that when I blogged about being busy I FAILED TO MENTION that, in addition, my sister Leah will be visiting in early May. So. Here goes.
MY SISTER LEAH WILL BE VISITING IN EARLY MAY AND I AM JUST WETTING MY PANTALOOOOOONS IN ANTICIPATORY EXCITEMENT JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. REALLY! I JUST WET MY PANTS! WET THEM STRAIGHT THROUGH!!!
As an visual ode to the occasion, I have created a collage of Leah, a veritable Leah melange of goodness. Behold:
LEAH!!! LEAH!!! LEAH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!Okay, that's quite enough of that. To bring us back down, here is a picture of Leah when she realised that the rock she had been leaning against was covered in chalk:
I love that one. See ya soon, Sis. Mwah!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Post titles? We don't need no stinking post titles!
The tension has been palatable. From the brownstones to townhomes to the farmhouses and palatial estates all over this great land of ours, one question has been on the people's minds: and it is: here it comes:
Will. Eleanor. Ever. Post. Again?
I know, I know, it's been rough. Every day checking the blog in ever-decreasing degrees of hope, wishing, PRAYING, that it would be the day that El would update.
Well, today is that day.
What have I got to say for myself? Let's see if I can nutshell it. I turn 30 in 9 days, the same day of the resurrection of Christ (oh that crazy Christ! but seriously, the competition is so fierce this year), but BEFORE then: my sister comes into town, then my parents, and then I get a piece of my cervix taken out. The latter for which they prescribed me exactly two valiums. That I am guarding like a crack addict.
Other than that, I've got a fuck-busy weekend coming up and I've been hungover at work the last two days in a row. AWESOME!!! I'm sitting here right now plotting the lies I could concoct to be able to leave early.
So, to conclude: you didn't miss much.
And, scene.
Will. Eleanor. Ever. Post. Again?
I know, I know, it's been rough. Every day checking the blog in ever-decreasing degrees of hope, wishing, PRAYING, that it would be the day that El would update.
Well, today is that day.
What have I got to say for myself? Let's see if I can nutshell it. I turn 30 in 9 days, the same day of the resurrection of Christ (oh that crazy Christ! but seriously, the competition is so fierce this year), but BEFORE then: my sister comes into town, then my parents, and then I get a piece of my cervix taken out. The latter for which they prescribed me exactly two valiums. That I am guarding like a crack addict.
Other than that, I've got a fuck-busy weekend coming up and I've been hungover at work the last two days in a row. AWESOME!!! I'm sitting here right now plotting the lies I could concoct to be able to leave early.
So, to conclude: you didn't miss much.
And, scene.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Amazing skies are here again!
Hurrah!
The seeds are oh-so-carefully being sown for Summer's arrival in the ATL!
It's getting darker later, resulting in impressive sky displays that I am taking crappy pictures of using my cameraphone on the way home from work. To wit:
Pretty sure this one was from last night:
Amazing cloud patterns from last week:
This was Monday night:
Last night, again, but I liked the blurriness:
Uh, okay, maybe I went a little overboard last night. But look at the reflection of the sun on the clouds!!
I loves me some Mother Nature! Rejoice!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Oh dear sweet Lord.
So two nights ago, I noticed a bit of a whiff of something not-so-pleasant smelling in my kitchen. Thinking maybe I didn't properly rinse something down the drain, I put some bleach in the sinks and didn't think too much more about it.
Well, last night I get home and the whiff is now definitely a stink. And it ain't good. I can't determine a point of origin, so I rebleach the sinks and throughly clean out the kitchen bin thinking that I'm covering both places that a STRONG PONG! would come from.
And then now. Today. Wednesday. I'm talking to a couple of colleagues at the office when I am inexplicably struck with the mind-blowing relevation that I microwaved cauliflower on Sunday. AND COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT.
It's been in there for three fucking days. Stewing. Rotting. Growing. Part of me wants to race home right now and deal with it and part of me never wants to go home again.
Can you imagine the unholy stench that is going to hit me when I open that door?
I'm scared.
Well, last night I get home and the whiff is now definitely a stink. And it ain't good. I can't determine a point of origin, so I rebleach the sinks and throughly clean out the kitchen bin thinking that I'm covering both places that a STRONG PONG! would come from.
And then now. Today. Wednesday. I'm talking to a couple of colleagues at the office when I am inexplicably struck with the mind-blowing relevation that I microwaved cauliflower on Sunday. AND COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT.
It's been in there for three fucking days. Stewing. Rotting. Growing. Part of me wants to race home right now and deal with it and part of me never wants to go home again.
Can you imagine the unholy stench that is going to hit me when I open that door?
I'm scared.
Monday, March 06, 2006
I'm awesome!!!
Remember when I overexerted my quads in a bodysculpting class last year and I had to use the handicap stall for like a week? No? Well, take a stroooooll down memory lane if you like!
Anyway, this weekend I went for two brisk walks with Lu and while nowhere near the level of intensity from last year's fiasco, my legs are kind of sore today. Like when I have been sitting for a while and get up to go somewhere, I have to concentrate on walking normally. It feels a bit like I am an underoiled tinman and my legs are going clackety clack. Not from running, mind you, but from walking. WALKING. Two brisk walks, one Saturday and one Sunday.
In my defense, however, my neighbourhood is rather hilly. In spots.
Anyway, this weekend I went for two brisk walks with Lu and while nowhere near the level of intensity from last year's fiasco, my legs are kind of sore today. Like when I have been sitting for a while and get up to go somewhere, I have to concentrate on walking normally. It feels a bit like I am an underoiled tinman and my legs are going clackety clack. Not from running, mind you, but from walking. WALKING. Two brisk walks, one Saturday and one Sunday.
In my defense, however, my neighbourhood is rather hilly. In spots.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Damned if you do, damned if you don't
I present to you a slightly dark picture of my beautiful and lovely sister Claire from last year's ACL Fest. This is for comparative purposes (see below)
Okay, so this post is either going to really piss off my sister or really crack her up. Went to a party last month and I met the friend of a friend of mine. And I could not get over how much she looked like my sister. That is, if my sister was a cross-dressing tranny. Now that I've dropped that bomb, let me just say that this woman was very nice and pleasant and it is not her fault that God also gave her a penis. Okay, she doesn't have a penis. But she is rather mannish. AND she looks like my sister. If my sister was a cross-dressing tranny. I took this picture of her and YOU CANNOT DENY THE SIMILARITIES!!!
See? Granted, my sister is much prettier and less, ahem, uh rode hard and put away wet, but you see where I am coming from. Don't you? And yes, I do feel like a total asshole for bashing this delightful woman who had no idea that I was going to take her picture in order to compare her to my sister if my sister had XY chromosomes. And a big hairy dick. Feel free to barrage me with hate comments, I defiantly stand by my story. Thursday, March 02, 2006
Lollapafuckyeah
I also scored a major coup today by getting Lollapalooza 06 festival tix for $45 each!!! Yay!!! August in Chicago with a skillion other people. And my sister. Yay!!
crap crap and more crap
Here is my new bed. It's all firm yet fluffy and wonderful. Although I did almost give myself a coronary streeeeeeetching the sheets over the box spring. I'm not doing that anymore. I got a bedskirt. Also my fantastiricacal pink 600TC are on it now. They rule, but they are pretty slippery. I was trying to read in bed the other night in a half-supine position and I couldn't get any traction with my feet. So, anyway, the bed:
So the other week, Tony D calls me on a Wednesday and is like what are you doing tonight? And I said going to my shit-useless-lame-as-fuck-marketing-class and he said oh well I guess I will just throw away this sweet motherfreaking ticket to the Stones show that was just given to me and I said what time shall I meet you? The show was great, even better than the October one--they played some really great songs that I don't think they play a lot live. It was awesome. So yes, I have now seen the Stones twice in less than 6 months and both times for FREE. Although the first time I did have to sell a little part of my soul. Anyway, here is Mick playing a little song on the piano:
Alrighty. Next up is the most adorable baby I know, Parker Elizabeth. This is Ali's baby that is coming up on a year old in the next couple weeks. She is also being christened--soon to be a good Catholic baby and not going to hell. What I like best about Parker is that she is extremely friendly and sociable and laughs a lot and is a very happy baby. Plus one time she fell asleep on my chest and my ovaries yearned. Simply yearned. Miss P:
So the other week, Tony D calls me on a Wednesday and is like what are you doing tonight? And I said going to my shit-useless-lame-as-fuck-marketing-class and he said oh well I guess I will just throw away this sweet motherfreaking ticket to the Stones show that was just given to me and I said what time shall I meet you? The show was great, even better than the October one--they played some really great songs that I don't think they play a lot live. It was awesome. So yes, I have now seen the Stones twice in less than 6 months and both times for FREE. Although the first time I did have to sell a little part of my soul. Anyway, here is Mick playing a little song on the piano:
Alrighty. Next up is the most adorable baby I know, Parker Elizabeth. This is Ali's baby that is coming up on a year old in the next couple weeks. She is also being christened--soon to be a good Catholic baby and not going to hell. What I like best about Parker is that she is extremely friendly and sociable and laughs a lot and is a very happy baby. Plus one time she fell asleep on my chest and my ovaries yearned. Simply yearned. Miss P:
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Peace Accord
Contrary to K's vote of confidence, I think we have a victory on all sides. Lu had definitely poked around the reinforced area the next day, but overall things looked pretty secure. The next morning, I delivered the coup de grace: when getting ready for work, I was in the bathroom with the ex-door and I noticed that Lu was obviously nervous and guilty-looking when lurking nearby. Inspiration struck: I took the bag of door shreds intended for the rubbish pick-up and spread them over the fence area. Last night: untouched. Plus I am keeping her happy with lots of attention and positive reinforcement. Plus I am going to have a dog walker come on Tuesday and Wednesdays, hopefully starting next week.
Plus I will beat her into an oblivion if she doesn't quit pulling this shit.
Plus I will beat her into an oblivion if she doesn't quit pulling this shit.
Monday, February 13, 2006
This means war.
I'm at war with my dog. I fear it will be a fight to the death.
Advantage me: larger brain, opposable thumbs
Advantage Tallulah: at home all day alone, massive separation anxiety complex
War was initiated by Lu last week and was raging for three days before I was even aware of it. Then found note in mailbox left by neighbor that she had been running around the neighborhood via large escape hole under the fence. Which she would then CRAWL BACK UNDER to be home like nothing happened when I got home at night.
My response was admittedly weak, but it was dark and cold and I was exhausted: stuck bag of firewood into hole.
Tallulah promptly responded the next day by digging new hole next to original one and losing her collar somewhere.
First round: Tallulah, definitely.
I planned on staying home pretty much all weekend, but had to attend an engagement party Saturday night. Since I hadn't fixed the holes yet, I put Lu in the guest bathroom for a few hours. I lovingly placed one of her dog beds, a chewie, and some water for her comfort. Tallulah retaliated by EATING THE ENTIRE BACK OF THE DOOR. I came home to a large pile of sawdust at the base of the door. I open the door to find five times more sawdust and the water tipped over, so the room is an intoxicating blend of wet wood and panicked dog. I spend next hour cleaning up crap and Lu sleeps in basement. She tries to get me back chewing up some newspaper, but it doesn't faze me.
Second round: Tallulah, with the door and all. But my anger is brewing.
Sunday I set about repairing the hole and devising some way to win the war once and for all. In the bottom of the holes I placed a layer of firewood logs stacked side-by-side. Then a layer of metal netting staked down, topped with a lot of top soil all tamped down in it. Lastly, a shit load of black pepper all over the place. Hopefully she will get a snootful of pepper in her face and become afraid of the site. If she makes it to the netting, I'm hoping this will mystify her to the point of surrender. And there's no way she can move the logs.
Third round: God I hope me. Because otherwise shit is going to go down.
Can she just dig elsewhere along the fence line? Perhaps. But she has always dug here, so maybe my obvious attempts to keep her in the yard will translate to some kind of reassurance of love in her tiny dog brain. And besides, she doesn't really want to get out, she just wants attention.
Tonight: Judgement Day.
Advantage me: larger brain, opposable thumbs
Advantage Tallulah: at home all day alone, massive separation anxiety complex
War was initiated by Lu last week and was raging for three days before I was even aware of it. Then found note in mailbox left by neighbor that she had been running around the neighborhood via large escape hole under the fence. Which she would then CRAWL BACK UNDER to be home like nothing happened when I got home at night.
My response was admittedly weak, but it was dark and cold and I was exhausted: stuck bag of firewood into hole.
Tallulah promptly responded the next day by digging new hole next to original one and losing her collar somewhere.
First round: Tallulah, definitely.
I planned on staying home pretty much all weekend, but had to attend an engagement party Saturday night. Since I hadn't fixed the holes yet, I put Lu in the guest bathroom for a few hours. I lovingly placed one of her dog beds, a chewie, and some water for her comfort. Tallulah retaliated by EATING THE ENTIRE BACK OF THE DOOR. I came home to a large pile of sawdust at the base of the door. I open the door to find five times more sawdust and the water tipped over, so the room is an intoxicating blend of wet wood and panicked dog. I spend next hour cleaning up crap and Lu sleeps in basement. She tries to get me back chewing up some newspaper, but it doesn't faze me.
Second round: Tallulah, with the door and all. But my anger is brewing.
Sunday I set about repairing the hole and devising some way to win the war once and for all. In the bottom of the holes I placed a layer of firewood logs stacked side-by-side. Then a layer of metal netting staked down, topped with a lot of top soil all tamped down in it. Lastly, a shit load of black pepper all over the place. Hopefully she will get a snootful of pepper in her face and become afraid of the site. If she makes it to the netting, I'm hoping this will mystify her to the point of surrender. And there's no way she can move the logs.
Third round: God I hope me. Because otherwise shit is going to go down.
Can she just dig elsewhere along the fence line? Perhaps. But she has always dug here, so maybe my obvious attempts to keep her in the yard will translate to some kind of reassurance of love in her tiny dog brain. And besides, she doesn't really want to get out, she just wants attention.
Tonight: Judgement Day.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Strooooolling down meeeeemory lane
I was just sitting here in my office when a memory struck me from my college years. One of my best friends at the time, Cat Wall, had a dream/nightmare about an impending date. In reality, Cat met some guy at a frat party who went to UT. He invited her to his own fraternity party the next weekend and she accepted. Towards the end of the night, she asked him what fraternity he was in, and he replied the music fraternity. Throughout the week leading up to the date, Cat became more progressively stressed out about the date to the point that she had a dream about it.
In the dream, she brings me and another friend of ours as buffers to the party, which is actually more like a prom. Everyone is in formal dress and--as she imagined a music fraternity party to be--the party sucks. Everyone is lame and nerdy and we are having a terrible time. At the end of the dream, we retreat to a corner of the ballroom to sit at a large, tableclothed round table. To our surprise, another friend of ours, Kevin, is already sitting there, bowtie loosened, feet on the table, and smoking a cigarette. We all turn to look at him: Kevin looks around the room at the other partygoers, takes a deep drag on his cigarette, and proclaims, "Classic dorks." End of the dream.
That's really the post. A memory about someone else's dream. But in real life Cat did indeed drag both of us to the party and it did indeed suck. Differences included that it was at somebody's lakehouse versus a ballroom, attire was casual, and Cat and I beat two of the frat guys in a pool game, whereupon the ENTIRE FRATERNITY serenaded us in nineteen-part harmony.
In the dream, she brings me and another friend of ours as buffers to the party, which is actually more like a prom. Everyone is in formal dress and--as she imagined a music fraternity party to be--the party sucks. Everyone is lame and nerdy and we are having a terrible time. At the end of the dream, we retreat to a corner of the ballroom to sit at a large, tableclothed round table. To our surprise, another friend of ours, Kevin, is already sitting there, bowtie loosened, feet on the table, and smoking a cigarette. We all turn to look at him: Kevin looks around the room at the other partygoers, takes a deep drag on his cigarette, and proclaims, "Classic dorks." End of the dream.
That's really the post. A memory about someone else's dream. But in real life Cat did indeed drag both of us to the party and it did indeed suck. Differences included that it was at somebody's lakehouse versus a ballroom, attire was casual, and Cat and I beat two of the frat guys in a pool game, whereupon the ENTIRE FRATERNITY serenaded us in nineteen-part harmony.
The woot of all genius.
So a while ago, a random friend told me about woot.com . In a nutshell, this site sells one item per day for a set price. When that item is gone, you have to wait until midnight eastern time for a new item to post (the exception being the occasional but ever-exciting woot-off in which multiple products may be for sale in a subsequent fashion one day). Needless to say, I am fascinated. I have yet to actually purchase a woot offering, and they tend to favour the technical/computery side of things, but the accompanying commentary and product description is always worth the visit. To wit: today's offering? A bag of random crap. For $1. And they sold out. IN FOUR MINUTES. God I hope you are reading this blog TODAY so you can read the product info. If not, here are some highlights:
Crap is a many-splendored thing. If crap be the food of love, crap on. It is better to have crapped and lost than never to have crapped at all. Crap, lift us up where we belong.
Yes, crap is in the air once again, so we're sending this randomly crappy, bag-shaped valentine to all the people we really love. If you don't manage to get one, it's because we're sulking over something you've done to upset us. Try to guess what it was!
and:
THE HOLY CRAP COMMANDMENTS v2.0:
I. Thou shalt expect nothing beyond one bag of some kind and your chosen quantity of crappy items (which should be THREE).
II. Thou shalt not whine and complain when some people's crap turns out to be nicer than yours.
III. Thou shalt take a moment to consider whether you might be better off just not buying this crap.
IV. Thou shalt not order just one crap and blame it on anything but your own inattention.
V. To paraphrase Stephen Stills, shalt thou not get the crap you want, want the crap you get.
Warranty: you wish
Features:
1 (one) bag
Some (some) crap
To quote woot.com, God bless the internet.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Le Porc Rose!
Continuing on in the grand tradition of thing-that-happened-over-two-months-ago, I present to you camera pics I took of Claire's and my adventure on Macy's Pink Pig ride last November. We actually bought "reserved" tickets, meaning we didn't have to stand in line with the rest of the riff-raff and we got free commemorative badges! Despite the ride being billed as "for children of all ages," it was decidedly not. Claire and I were the only ones over eight and we quickly discovered that we needed to sit in one car. Each.
Another picture of Claire next to the stationary car for scale purposes.
The overwhelming sign that greeted us upon entrance into THE PINK PIG TENT.
For kicks, they had the original pink pig car on display. A couple of things about this: a) it was not pink. ???? b) it was microscopic, easily half the size of the hip, new pink pig car. And enclosed! How did the kiddies of the 50's do it??? I'll tell you: no growth hormones and preservatives in everything they ate, that's how.
Afterwards, we bought a wooden pink pig train Christmas tree ornament.
Here is a pic of Claire having fake fun. Note child in wonder behind her.
Another picture of Claire next to the stationary car for scale purposes.
The overwhelming sign that greeted us upon entrance into THE PINK PIG TENT.
For kicks, they had the original pink pig car on display. A couple of things about this: a) it was not pink. ???? b) it was microscopic, easily half the size of the hip, new pink pig car. And enclosed! How did the kiddies of the 50's do it??? I'll tell you: no growth hormones and preservatives in everything they ate, that's how.
Afterwards, we bought a wooden pink pig train Christmas tree ornament. Monday, January 30, 2006
Museum Shizz
I hate my job and I hate everyone who works here. Lame lame lame.
But instead of focusing on that, here are some camera pics from THANKSGIVING WEEKEND. I teem on the cutting edge of current news. Fuck off.
This was a nice pair of black and white suspended lips. As you can see. Can't remember the artist. But I like it.
Very large installment of pears and peaches on the new High veranda. There was a big sign saying do not fucking touch this you asshole. I was thinking, well no shit, but then I remembered that there are plenty of assholes who would do that because it looks all cartoony and it's not in a frame on a wall. I might add that this astounding relevation is coming from the person who hand-planted The Nightwatch and set off alarms when she was seven. At least when I fuck with art I pick the good shit.
Taken on the skywalk connecting the old and new wings. For a piece of shit camera phone, I think this is a pretty damn good picture, catching both my shadow near. . . . and far. Near. . . . and far. Near. . . . . . . . . . . . . . and far.
That's it from the High. You may now resume your normal activities.
But instead of focusing on that, here are some camera pics from THANKSGIVING WEEKEND. I teem on the cutting edge of current news. Fuck off.
Okay, this is a shot of the High's Ten Marilyns. I have to say, now owning one, not impressed. Quality of colour reproduction frankly sketchy on some of them, and their version of mine had a frayed corner. A frayed corner! I mean, really, what is the art world coming to? Disgraceful. Moving on.
This was a nice pair of black and white suspended lips. As you can see. Can't remember the artist. But I like it.
Very large installment of pears and peaches on the new High veranda. There was a big sign saying do not fucking touch this you asshole. I was thinking, well no shit, but then I remembered that there are plenty of assholes who would do that because it looks all cartoony and it's not in a frame on a wall. I might add that this astounding relevation is coming from the person who hand-planted The Nightwatch and set off alarms when she was seven. At least when I fuck with art I pick the good shit.
Taken on the skywalk connecting the old and new wings. For a piece of shit camera phone, I think this is a pretty damn good picture, catching both my shadow near. . . . and far. Near. . . . and far. Near. . . . . . . . . . . . . . and far.
That's it from the High. You may now resume your normal activities.Monday, January 23, 2006
I see. . . a basement! In the Alamo!
Will I ever post again with any semblance of regularity? Can I recreate the magic? Is the blog MEANT TO BE???
I cannot answer these questions now. The future is uncertain. All I can handle right now are recap bullets, mere soupcons of information. Bon appetit.
I cannot answer these questions now. The future is uncertain. All I can handle right now are recap bullets, mere soupcons of information. Bon appetit.
- Hols in Malta were great: click here for photo album
- Work is soul-sucking and not fun
- School is fairly intense and panning out to be a challenging semester
- I need a new mattress VERY badly
- I do not have gonorrhea or chlamydia (Did I have look up both those words to spell them correctly? Yes.)
That's all for now. Wipe your chin, you're dribbling.
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