Yesterday I did something I almost never do: I left a comment on one of the blogs I read regularly. I guess I just felt bad for this one woman who had commented and got the usual cyber-beating because she wasn't necessarily in total agreement with the post. Or something. I just felt like, Hey, the blogosphere is a lot like high school with rabid cliques ready to pounce with bared teeth on anyone who doesn't agree and I just felt like the new kid should be given a chance to voice her opinion.
Or maybe I just had PMS and decided to give PT a break from the acid spitting demon this month.
Well, of course I received a cyber-beat down from the Mommy Bloggers. I mean, I did cravenly hide behind a pseudnym so that, I DONT KNOW, they wouldn't come force feed me fertility drugs so that they could prove that once I have my own kids, I won't be so quick to judge. Or something.
So, they kindly pointed out that I was a bad person, dog poop, don't know anything because I don't have kids, am uninformed, etc. I even got a comment that said something like, WHEN YOU HAVE KIDS..., as though there were no other option. Like, the possibility of remaining blissfully childless until I die alone and my cats eat my face could not exist in the mommy-blogosphere, which, I guess is true. That isn't a possibility for them. It was eerily reminiscent of Florence King's sorority house mother: Having. A. Baby. Is. The. Most. Wonderful. Experience. On. Earth.
Of course, I fired back something along the lines of how reading these mommy blogs makes me ever more resolute in my decision to not have children of my own. OH. THE. HORROR. Thank goodness someone pointed out that if I hate kids so much, I shouldn't read the blogs. I hadn't thought of that. I mean, it makes sense. Except that if I read about the Holocaust does that mean I want to be in a concentration camp? No, it means, that sometimes learning about horrible things is a way of preventing them from happening again. Like, after the Titanic hit the iceberg and only 700 people were saved out of nearly 2000 passengers liners started putting in MORE LIFEBOATS so that a tragedy of that magnitude would never happen again.
But tragedy aside, I read a lot of blogs. Mommy-blogs, political blogs, personal accounts of people I know in real life. I don't read them for any other reason than entertainment value. Some of those Moms are pretty funny! But I don't think I'll be commenting again anytime soon. Not with Detective Adams on my trail.
Back to my regularly scheduled frivolity...
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
A Sinking Feeling
I have been listening to "A Night to Remember" on tape in the Panzer. Let me just say that I am riveted. I mean, I know that the boat is gonna sink. I know that over half the passengers are gonna drown, but I can't help feeling excited about what Mrs. John Jacob Aster is wearing under her lifebelt.
Interesting fact: The oldest living survivor of the Titanic lives in Worcester. Or as of April of this year she did.
I went to Pilates last night. We have incorporated a "body bar", a weighted bar (9 lbs), into our torture. The instructor, I forget her name, asked if I would come up closer to the front so that should wouldn't be in direct view of the older woman who wears such short shorts that you can see right up her... you know. I was flattered. Even though I forget to breathe and sometimes my belly button is NOT anchored to the floor, she still would rather look at me than an elder woman's cooter! Yes!
Interesting fact: The oldest living survivor of the Titanic lives in Worcester. Or as of April of this year she did.
I went to Pilates last night. We have incorporated a "body bar", a weighted bar (9 lbs), into our torture. The instructor, I forget her name, asked if I would come up closer to the front so that should wouldn't be in direct view of the older woman who wears such short shorts that you can see right up her... you know. I was flattered. Even though I forget to breathe and sometimes my belly button is NOT anchored to the floor, she still would rather look at me than an elder woman's cooter! Yes!
Monday, August 29, 2005
Wedding bullets
I saw platform flip flops that were bedazzled to say "I do".
I nearly threw up into my handbag.
I realized that food can look absolutely amazing but have NO TASTE WHATSOEVER.
"Open bar" are two great words that go great together.
I like donkeys better than marriages.
Fashion over practicality. Every. Time.
I nearly threw up into my handbag.
I realized that food can look absolutely amazing but have NO TASTE WHATSOEVER.
"Open bar" are two great words that go great together.
I like donkeys better than marriages.
Fashion over practicality. Every. Time.
The Wedding
It was a nice time. I didn't get too drunk, I charmed Gargamel's family. I slogged through the woods in formal wear.
Perspectives:
Dan (one of the groomsmen): So, now that Chris is married, the pressure is on Peter, huh?
Me: No way dude, now he's TOTALLY OFF THE HOOK.
Dan: Yeah, I guess Chris is gonna have to take care of the grandkids.
Me: Absolutely.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
She heard an unpleasant tearing sound as though someone were ripping a long, long strip of calico.
So said one of the passengers on the Titanic when it hit the iceberg.
And so I feel everytime someone mentions "The Wedding".
This weekend, I am heading up to Stowe, VT for Gargamel's brother's wedding. I will be leaving a SIX MOTHERFUCKING A.M. on Saturday, but, let's be honest, it will probably be closer to 7.
G's brother is getting married in a STREAM.
I am staying at THE TRAPP FAMILY LODGE.
I cannot stop thinking of bad clothes, singing and Nazis.
My coworker, Jeremy, pointed out that even though we resolved the case of the missing pants, since G will be STANDING IN WATER, he really didn't need pants, then? Perhaps waders?
Which brings up the question of what one wears to an Aquatic wedding?
Flippers?
I purchased a totally inappropriate pair of open toe, black satin heels.
I will teeter on the bank in style.
And so I feel everytime someone mentions "The Wedding".
This weekend, I am heading up to Stowe, VT for Gargamel's brother's wedding. I will be leaving a SIX MOTHERFUCKING A.M. on Saturday, but, let's be honest, it will probably be closer to 7.
G's brother is getting married in a STREAM.
I am staying at THE TRAPP FAMILY LODGE.
I cannot stop thinking of bad clothes, singing and Nazis.
My coworker, Jeremy, pointed out that even though we resolved the case of the missing pants, since G will be STANDING IN WATER, he really didn't need pants, then? Perhaps waders?
Which brings up the question of what one wears to an Aquatic wedding?
Flippers?
I purchased a totally inappropriate pair of open toe, black satin heels.
I will teeter on the bank in style.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
M&M Fast Continued...
Begining Day 3 of NO M&Ms... For someone sitting next to a FOUR POUND BAG, that is no small feat.
After getting hideously drunk on Saturday (sorry to anyone I may have offended), I woke up Sunday morning feeling slightly wretched and obliged to attend the Rutland Clam Chowder Festival with my grandmother. At the moment of my doom, I could not think of ONE SINGLE THING that I wanted less than clam chowder.
My dad, my sister and G arrived at the Stidesn Family Compound around noon-ish and headed over to the festival. My grandmother immediately embraced G and then forgot his name (Bill? George?). Still, she is 82 years old and it was about 97 degrees out, I was forgetting things too.
Is there anything worse than clam chowder when it is a bazillion degrees outside and you are hung over?
I contest that there is NOT.
Still, we made are way around the Chowder Tent sampling soup from various vendors. Then we voted. I voted for The Boynton because they had Tobasco at their table, and their chowder was light on the clams. Oh, did I mention I don't really like clams? Heh.
Post-chowder tasting, we melted back to my grandma's house where she gave my sister and I bedspreads and percolators. G and I had noticed that the Voodoo Lounge might be lacking in a lot of things (silverware, overhead lighting, switchplates) but we have more than enough coffee pots, blankets and towels. And now we have more. I feel like I am running a percolator rescue. GOt any unwanted electric percolators? Send them to me!
With my Grandma, it is far easier to take whatever she gives you and donate it later than to argue with her about why you don't want it. So when she sized up George? Ralph? Peter? and decided that he was the perfect size for my dead Grandpa's shirts. Thankfully, he was gracious and took the shirts without protest. Even more thankfully, my boyfriend has a vastly different style than and 84 year old man.
Photos to follow...
After getting hideously drunk on Saturday (sorry to anyone I may have offended), I woke up Sunday morning feeling slightly wretched and obliged to attend the Rutland Clam Chowder Festival with my grandmother. At the moment of my doom, I could not think of ONE SINGLE THING that I wanted less than clam chowder.
My dad, my sister and G arrived at the Stidesn Family Compound around noon-ish and headed over to the festival. My grandmother immediately embraced G and then forgot his name (Bill? George?). Still, she is 82 years old and it was about 97 degrees out, I was forgetting things too.
Is there anything worse than clam chowder when it is a bazillion degrees outside and you are hung over?
I contest that there is NOT.
Still, we made are way around the Chowder Tent sampling soup from various vendors. Then we voted. I voted for The Boynton because they had Tobasco at their table, and their chowder was light on the clams. Oh, did I mention I don't really like clams? Heh.
Post-chowder tasting, we melted back to my grandma's house where she gave my sister and I bedspreads and percolators. G and I had noticed that the Voodoo Lounge might be lacking in a lot of things (silverware, overhead lighting, switchplates) but we have more than enough coffee pots, blankets and towels. And now we have more. I feel like I am running a percolator rescue. GOt any unwanted electric percolators? Send them to me!
With my Grandma, it is far easier to take whatever she gives you and donate it later than to argue with her about why you don't want it. So when she sized up George? Ralph? Peter? and decided that he was the perfect size for my dead Grandpa's shirts. Thankfully, he was gracious and took the shirts without protest. Even more thankfully, my boyfriend has a vastly different style than and 84 year old man.
Photos to follow...
Monday, August 22, 2005
One small step back for my ever expanding ass...
Total M&M Consumption this week to date: 0
Yes, Zero.
Alcohol Units: Ugh. After Saturday, zero.
Tobacco Units: See above.
As BJones would say, am perfect saint-style person.
Yes, Zero.
Alcohol Units: Ugh. After Saturday, zero.
Tobacco Units: See above.
As BJones would say, am perfect saint-style person.
Friday, August 19, 2005
All quiet at the Voodoo Lounge
Yeah, I am pretty lame these days.
The big excitement (well, besides the Luau themed cockout, where everyone got "leid") was taking G's old suit (the one WITH pants) to the dry cleaner. I did pick out a new shirt and tie for him. A greyish lavender CK dress shirt and matching grey/purple tie. I was a bit apprehensive because I didn't want him to hate the shirt because it looked "gay", but it was so nice and so EIGHT DOLLARS at TJ Maxx. Tuens out he liked it, or realized that after all the hysteria about the missing pants he just didn't care anymore. I think that the tie and shirt should nicely offset his naked bottom.
I had to work at the gym tonight. Yawn. I am so bored with the YMCA rock gym. I dragged my sister along and she took to climbing really easily. Much better than the small african boy who didn't speak English. I had to interpret which mumblings meant "lower me" and which meant "I can't seem to buckle my harness."
Tomorrow I am heading to Rumney with Mike Hansen where we will do our best to avoid any falling trees. I hope.
The big excitement (well, besides the Luau themed cockout, where everyone got "leid") was taking G's old suit (the one WITH pants) to the dry cleaner. I did pick out a new shirt and tie for him. A greyish lavender CK dress shirt and matching grey/purple tie. I was a bit apprehensive because I didn't want him to hate the shirt because it looked "gay", but it was so nice and so EIGHT DOLLARS at TJ Maxx. Tuens out he liked it, or realized that after all the hysteria about the missing pants he just didn't care anymore. I think that the tie and shirt should nicely offset his naked bottom.
I had to work at the gym tonight. Yawn. I am so bored with the YMCA rock gym. I dragged my sister along and she took to climbing really easily. Much better than the small african boy who didn't speak English. I had to interpret which mumblings meant "lower me" and which meant "I can't seem to buckle my harness."
Tomorrow I am heading to Rumney with Mike Hansen where we will do our best to avoid any falling trees. I hope.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Updates
1. About the girl who got hit with the falling tree while climbing last weekend:
I'd like to thank Rob and Mike for their assistance Sunday (please someone pass this on). While I know I could have gotten my partner/belayer down safely, it was great having Al their direct the rescue because I was emotionally involved and concerned for my partner. Also, having other climbers nearby (like Rob and Mike) is a comfort. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a proper thank you at the cliff.
FYI, my partner is recovering nicely. The helmet surely saved her from a more significant head injury (at the least) and her thumb was badly bruised (not broken). Her leg was badly bruised and scraped and her other hand bruised as she used it to brace herself. The scare and thoughts of what COULD have happened play over constantly in our minds, and that's the more significant impact. We feel very lucky and also see this as a huge learning experience. We did everything right - we reacted and responded in the best way we could under the circumstances. Not much else you can do about a tree falling on your line...we will both be climbing again this weekend and will be on that same line (replacing the bad images with good ones) in no time at all.
Climb safe everyone!
2. Pants Rant 2005: As of today, G has a number of calls into JNY customer service and is sharpening his "face ripping gloves" in preparation for what might me a v. v. interesting trip back to Wrentham. We also ordered him some new boots because what is a wedding without spikey HELL BOOTS? and they appear to be lost in the mail.
G responds.
I'd like to thank Rob and Mike for their assistance Sunday (please someone pass this on). While I know I could have gotten my partner/belayer down safely, it was great having Al their direct the rescue because I was emotionally involved and concerned for my partner. Also, having other climbers nearby (like Rob and Mike) is a comfort. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a proper thank you at the cliff.
FYI, my partner is recovering nicely. The helmet surely saved her from a more significant head injury (at the least) and her thumb was badly bruised (not broken). Her leg was badly bruised and scraped and her other hand bruised as she used it to brace herself. The scare and thoughts of what COULD have happened play over constantly in our minds, and that's the more significant impact. We feel very lucky and also see this as a huge learning experience. We did everything right - we reacted and responded in the best way we could under the circumstances. Not much else you can do about a tree falling on your line...we will both be climbing again this weekend and will be on that same line (replacing the bad images with good ones) in no time at all.
Climb safe everyone!
2. Pants Rant 2005: As of today, G has a number of calls into JNY customer service and is sharpening his "face ripping gloves" in preparation for what might me a v. v. interesting trip back to Wrentham. We also ordered him some new boots because what is a wedding without spikey HELL BOOTS? and they appear to be lost in the mail.
G responds.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
You're my obsession...
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Pants Rant 2005
I adore Gargamel. I really do. How can you not adore someone who manages to LOSE THE BOTTOM HALF OF A SUIT???!!???!
A few weeks ago, we embarked on a quest to get G a suit for his brother's wedding (11 days and counting...). Now, it is decidedly impossible to purchase a suit off the rack for someone goon-sized. Seriously difficult, but we found one. So, we bought it, took it to the cape, took it back home, moved, and then yesterday went to get the pants tailored because not everyone with a 50 inch chest has a 42 inch waist (thank god).
We arrive at the tailor and G plops down the suit bag and says, I need to get some pants taken in. The tailor opens the bag and says, There are no pants.
He's right. There are no pants. And hillarity ensues...
hello jones of new york sherry speaking
Hi sherry my name is...
couple weeks ago i came and bought a lovely suit from yall.
it went directly into the trunk of the car.the car went on vacation with us to the cape.
we got back from the cape and the suit went directly into the closet to keep it out of the moving chaos as my girl and i had taken to moving into new place and we need a holiday holiday.
jny: ok
well today i went with aforementioned girlfriend to the tailor to get them fitted.specially cause the helpful sales woman at the time had told us the pants were a size 42 and i thankfully am not.
we got to the tailor and to all of our surprise(tailor included)
there were no pants.
we've checked the car.
i've demolished the closet (where the suit was living)and there are still no pants.
this leads me to beleave that some how i bought a suit with no pants.
Let me repeat... HE BOUGHT A SUIT WITH NO PANTS.
Let me also say that we have 11 days to convince Jones of New York that we need a pair of pants to go with the top half of the suit otherwise we are going to be quite a pair at the wedding. As G would say, price of suit 203. price of boots 115
goin to your brother's wedding as the best man who escaped the 2005 broadway tribute to the village people... priceless.
The mystery of the missing pants:
and at least i can NOW finally say ive been caught pantless.
im just boggled as to where the hell they could be other then we didnt get them.
i remeber the saleschick saying the pants were sized 42..
something bout the seem or pleat in the back so we could get em taken in..but i dont remember the PANTS.
do you remember the PANTS?
who the fuck steals pants.
ive never lost pants ever.
hell ive got pants older then yer siblings.
why the hell would i lose pants?
A few weeks ago, we embarked on a quest to get G a suit for his brother's wedding (11 days and counting...). Now, it is decidedly impossible to purchase a suit off the rack for someone goon-sized. Seriously difficult, but we found one. So, we bought it, took it to the cape, took it back home, moved, and then yesterday went to get the pants tailored because not everyone with a 50 inch chest has a 42 inch waist (thank god).
We arrive at the tailor and G plops down the suit bag and says, I need to get some pants taken in. The tailor opens the bag and says, There are no pants.
He's right. There are no pants. And hillarity ensues...
hello jones of new york sherry speaking
Hi sherry my name is...
couple weeks ago i came and bought a lovely suit from yall.
it went directly into the trunk of the car.the car went on vacation with us to the cape.
we got back from the cape and the suit went directly into the closet to keep it out of the moving chaos as my girl and i had taken to moving into new place and we need a holiday holiday.
jny: ok
well today i went with aforementioned girlfriend to the tailor to get them fitted.specially cause the helpful sales woman at the time had told us the pants were a size 42 and i thankfully am not.
we got to the tailor and to all of our surprise(tailor included)
there were no pants.
we've checked the car.
i've demolished the closet (where the suit was living)and there are still no pants.
this leads me to beleave that some how i bought a suit with no pants.
Let me repeat... HE BOUGHT A SUIT WITH NO PANTS.
Let me also say that we have 11 days to convince Jones of New York that we need a pair of pants to go with the top half of the suit otherwise we are going to be quite a pair at the wedding. As G would say, price of suit 203. price of boots 115
goin to your brother's wedding as the best man who escaped the 2005 broadway tribute to the village people... priceless.
The mystery of the missing pants:
and at least i can NOW finally say ive been caught pantless.
im just boggled as to where the hell they could be other then we didnt get them.
i remeber the saleschick saying the pants were sized 42..
something bout the seem or pleat in the back so we could get em taken in..but i dont remember the PANTS.
do you remember the PANTS?
who the fuck steals pants.
ive never lost pants ever.
hell ive got pants older then yer siblings.
why the hell would i lose pants?
Monday, August 15, 2005
I may not climb 5.11
But at least I wasn't hit by a tree.
Seriously.
Check out what happened to my frinds Mike and Rob on Sunday:
Mike and I were scoping out the line of Sea of Holes,
and were just about ready to start when we heard that
aweful noise of scraping from up on high. We looked up
and saw something...
Whoa, that looks like a huge duffel bag, no wait, it
is a canoe, no... HOLY SHIT! THAT'S A TREE FALLING
DOWN!!!
I screamed out rock, as it looked like it was heading
straight for the party on Slabs Direct. The leader
somehow managed to move to the left just in time for
this tree to slide by on her right. Somehow, it
managed to miss her and her ropes. Her belayer,
however, was not so lucky...
She got hit, almost full on. One of the scariest
things I have ever seen. It just so happened that
AdminAl from neclimbs.com was on a route just to their
left with 2 clients. He shouted to us to call 911, and
Mike H ran over to the hotel to do just that. The
leader was sort of stuck in a bad place, as she had
clipped the bolt on SD, but was about 15 feet above
it, and about 30 feet above the anchor. She could not
go up or down really...
When Mike got back, we simul climbed up to the belay
just under them, I am not sure if it is the belay for
slabs direct or not, but anyway, in this time, Al had
actually traversed over, and had managed to coax the
leader back to the belay. Around this time, MRS showed
up, and watched as the scene above them unfolded. It
was really interesting being the relay between Al and
the injured belayer, and the MRS people. I was in the
middle. Anyway, Al tied them together, and stated
lowering them to the toilet bowl station. I traversed
over to the toilet bowl from where I was, so that I
could receive them, and lower them down to the launch
pad. About this time, just to make things interesting,
it started POURING rain. I set up the belay, which
left Mike H about 50 feet to my right, and slightly
down from me. I put the two women on belay, and
lowered them down to the waiting MRS personnel at the
Launch Pad. Al went back to his 2 teenage clients, and
I brought Mike over on a now soaking wet, super
sketchy traverse to the toilet bowl. He made it fine,
and we rapped to the ground, and Al came down ok with
his clients spidered onto himself. Scary day! The
whole thing took about 2 hours to complete, which
included giving the gear to Joe Cote and his wife, who
happened to know the injured party, and who just
happened to walk up to the cliff as the whole drama
was unfolding.
Uhhh. Yeah, so even though I flailed my way through a couple of not very impressive climbs at Rumney yesterday AND got a $115 speeding ticket on the way there, at least I was not hit by a falling tree.
Thank god.
Seriously.
Check out what happened to my frinds Mike and Rob on Sunday:
Mike and I were scoping out the line of Sea of Holes,
and were just about ready to start when we heard that
aweful noise of scraping from up on high. We looked up
and saw something...
Whoa, that looks like a huge duffel bag, no wait, it
is a canoe, no... HOLY SHIT! THAT'S A TREE FALLING
DOWN!!!
I screamed out rock, as it looked like it was heading
straight for the party on Slabs Direct. The leader
somehow managed to move to the left just in time for
this tree to slide by on her right. Somehow, it
managed to miss her and her ropes. Her belayer,
however, was not so lucky...
She got hit, almost full on. One of the scariest
things I have ever seen. It just so happened that
AdminAl from neclimbs.com was on a route just to their
left with 2 clients. He shouted to us to call 911, and
Mike H ran over to the hotel to do just that. The
leader was sort of stuck in a bad place, as she had
clipped the bolt on SD, but was about 15 feet above
it, and about 30 feet above the anchor. She could not
go up or down really...
When Mike got back, we simul climbed up to the belay
just under them, I am not sure if it is the belay for
slabs direct or not, but anyway, in this time, Al had
actually traversed over, and had managed to coax the
leader back to the belay. Around this time, MRS showed
up, and watched as the scene above them unfolded. It
was really interesting being the relay between Al and
the injured belayer, and the MRS people. I was in the
middle. Anyway, Al tied them together, and stated
lowering them to the toilet bowl station. I traversed
over to the toilet bowl from where I was, so that I
could receive them, and lower them down to the launch
pad. About this time, just to make things interesting,
it started POURING rain. I set up the belay, which
left Mike H about 50 feet to my right, and slightly
down from me. I put the two women on belay, and
lowered them down to the waiting MRS personnel at the
Launch Pad. Al went back to his 2 teenage clients, and
I brought Mike over on a now soaking wet, super
sketchy traverse to the toilet bowl. He made it fine,
and we rapped to the ground, and Al came down ok with
his clients spidered onto himself. Scary day! The
whole thing took about 2 hours to complete, which
included giving the gear to Joe Cote and his wife, who
happened to know the injured party, and who just
happened to walk up to the cliff as the whole drama
was unfolding.
Uhhh. Yeah, so even though I flailed my way through a couple of not very impressive climbs at Rumney yesterday AND got a $115 speeding ticket on the way there, at least I was not hit by a falling tree.
Thank god.
Friday, August 12, 2005
AniMail
Anyone who has cats can tell you just how demanding they can get when they decide it's time to eat. UnderFizzle is usually really good about not bugging me for breakfast until the designated 6.30 am wake up. Occasionally, she'll stand on my chest and lick my face at 5.15 in hopes that i will be fooled/annoyed and feed her early. I am far to smart to fall for this trick and usually roll over and ignore her for another hour.
This morning, she actually let me sleep in until 6.40, but when I did get up she ran from room to room, MEEEWWWWING in the most demanding and piercing way. Like, "You can pee AFTER I get my cat chow. JEEZ." I finally stumbled over to her dish and dumped some food in, but in the process, I knocked over her water dish and spilled water all over her dining area. I went back to the kitchen to get a towel to wipe it up, and the damn cat followed me, her MEEEEEWWWWWWWS getting increasingly more annoyed. HOW DARE I EXPECT HER TO ENJOY BREAKFAST IN A PUDDLE OF WATER. STUPID HAIRLESS ONE! I wiped up the water and she deigned to eat her breakfast.
I stumbled around the apartment trying to get myself together and out the door to work. I had my clothes on and my laptop over my shoulder, but I hadn't gotten around to putting my shoes on yet. I stopped to give Gargamel a hug and say goodbye and he looked at me and said, "Don't forget your shoes."
As I was driving down Park Ave, by Elm Park, traffic suddenly ground to a halt. We were a ways from the Highland Street intersection and I was about to get all BEEEEEEPY on the dude who was holding things up. Then I looked up to see a parade of geese crossing the street. It was just like that book with the ducks and Boston and thing. Just like all the annoying pedestrians in Worcester, the geese took their sweet time crossing AGAINST THE LIGHT, as they moved to check out the action on the opposite side of the street.
I stopped at Starbucks on my way to work. I really hate that I go there. I mean, their coffee is expensive, they are run by Satan, they make you order things in a ridiculous way... but something about a triple shot cappuccino just effing sucks me in there more often than I would like to admit. My old friend Matt B., whom I used to mercilessly tease (sorry, man!) about his soulless dedication to SBucks, would be proud of me I think. Or at least give me the ole, I TOLD YOU SO! I may be losing my soul, but at least it's covered in caramel. Mmmmm.
This morning, she actually let me sleep in until 6.40, but when I did get up she ran from room to room, MEEEWWWWING in the most demanding and piercing way. Like, "You can pee AFTER I get my cat chow. JEEZ." I finally stumbled over to her dish and dumped some food in, but in the process, I knocked over her water dish and spilled water all over her dining area. I went back to the kitchen to get a towel to wipe it up, and the damn cat followed me, her MEEEEEWWWWWWWS getting increasingly more annoyed. HOW DARE I EXPECT HER TO ENJOY BREAKFAST IN A PUDDLE OF WATER. STUPID HAIRLESS ONE! I wiped up the water and she deigned to eat her breakfast.
I stumbled around the apartment trying to get myself together and out the door to work. I had my clothes on and my laptop over my shoulder, but I hadn't gotten around to putting my shoes on yet. I stopped to give Gargamel a hug and say goodbye and he looked at me and said, "Don't forget your shoes."
As I was driving down Park Ave, by Elm Park, traffic suddenly ground to a halt. We were a ways from the Highland Street intersection and I was about to get all BEEEEEEPY on the dude who was holding things up. Then I looked up to see a parade of geese crossing the street. It was just like that book with the ducks and Boston and thing. Just like all the annoying pedestrians in Worcester, the geese took their sweet time crossing AGAINST THE LIGHT, as they moved to check out the action on the opposite side of the street.
I stopped at Starbucks on my way to work. I really hate that I go there. I mean, their coffee is expensive, they are run by Satan, they make you order things in a ridiculous way... but something about a triple shot cappuccino just effing sucks me in there more often than I would like to admit. My old friend Matt B., whom I used to mercilessly tease (sorry, man!) about his soulless dedication to SBucks, would be proud of me I think. Or at least give me the ole, I TOLD YOU SO! I may be losing my soul, but at least it's covered in caramel. Mmmmm.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Jesus Likes Hotdogs
So, when I am not freaking out about carpet, I like to act totally ridiculous. Well, ridiculous in a different way.
A couple of weeks ago, my sister, G and I were painting the apartment (really! I am not making this up!) and listening to the radio. It was Sunday, so there was some god-fearing hip hop show on or something. Anyway, my brother was having a cook out at GreenHill Park and had invited us along. He promised an abundance of burgers and hot dogs. My sister, truly cut from the same cloth as moi, scrunches up her face and says, "Ewwwww. Who likes HOT DOGS?" At the exact moment that she finished her sentence, the radio suddenly blared out "JEEEEESUSSSSSSSSSSSS!" Well, there you have it, Jesus loves hot dogs.
That became a running joke between the 3 of us and today when I was catching up on Outpost Nine, Az wrote a hillarious story about Zombie Jesus. I sent it to G, and he wrote:
jesus santa zombie christ.
and on the 7th day he did arise from his cave...
And on high so even the little creatures of the forest and hills heard him ...
I WANT SOME WEINERS or at least some BRAINS
Eat of my flesh....For it is made of artificial by products and lips knees and assholes...Mixed 2 by 2.
BRAINS!
A couple of weeks ago, my sister, G and I were painting the apartment (really! I am not making this up!) and listening to the radio. It was Sunday, so there was some god-fearing hip hop show on or something. Anyway, my brother was having a cook out at GreenHill Park and had invited us along. He promised an abundance of burgers and hot dogs. My sister, truly cut from the same cloth as moi, scrunches up her face and says, "Ewwwww. Who likes HOT DOGS?" At the exact moment that she finished her sentence, the radio suddenly blared out "JEEEEESUSSSSSSSSSSSS!" Well, there you have it, Jesus loves hot dogs.
That became a running joke between the 3 of us and today when I was catching up on Outpost Nine, Az wrote a hillarious story about Zombie Jesus. I sent it to G, and he wrote:
jesus santa zombie christ.
and on the 7th day he did arise from his cave...
And on high so even the little creatures of the forest and hills heard him ...
I WANT SOME WEINERS or at least some BRAINS
Eat of my flesh....For it is made of artificial by products and lips knees and assholes...Mixed 2 by 2.
BRAINS!
I wish I wasn't a whiny bitch
So that I could tell you how I went to see Bela Fleck and Del McCoury on Friday with Brian, Action Geek and some of Brian's friends from Vermont and how much it rocked and how bluegrass music makes me so happy and breaks my heart at the same time and how we giggled like high school kids as we chugged $3 beers that we weren't allowed to take back to our seats.
But, I am a whiny bitch so I am choosing to focus in the new carpet that Bill the Carpet Guy (I love you so much, man! Really, I wasn't kidding about rolling around naked on the new carpet.) put in yesterday, and managed to leave dirty footprints on. So, last night, instead of happily putting my room back in order, I lay on my new carpet and sobbed and realized that tears are no match for the cleaning power of OXYCLEAN! I browbeat my poor sister into helping me shampoo the rug, but the rug cleaner seemed more intent of THROWING UP HAIRBALLS than cleaning the carpet.
And of course, I was grumpy and mean to Gargamel even though he patiently stood with me in REI as I debated which headlamp to buy. (I got THIS ONE.) He keeps telling me to stop stressing and use the energy to fix the apartment and that freaking out doesn't get stains out of carpet. BUT I CAN'T. Seriously. I can't do this. Everytime I think we are one step closer to NOT LIVING IN A CRAPHOLE, something happens that creates ten more steps that we have to do before we are finished. IT IS NEVER GOING TO END. EVER.
Or else I am going to destroy all of my meaningful relationships in the process.
I really wish I could cope with stress without going into total meltdown mode, but I can't.
But, I am a whiny bitch so I am choosing to focus in the new carpet that Bill the Carpet Guy (I love you so much, man! Really, I wasn't kidding about rolling around naked on the new carpet.) put in yesterday, and managed to leave dirty footprints on. So, last night, instead of happily putting my room back in order, I lay on my new carpet and sobbed and realized that tears are no match for the cleaning power of OXYCLEAN! I browbeat my poor sister into helping me shampoo the rug, but the rug cleaner seemed more intent of THROWING UP HAIRBALLS than cleaning the carpet.
And of course, I was grumpy and mean to Gargamel even though he patiently stood with me in REI as I debated which headlamp to buy. (I got THIS ONE.) He keeps telling me to stop stressing and use the energy to fix the apartment and that freaking out doesn't get stains out of carpet. BUT I CAN'T. Seriously. I can't do this. Everytime I think we are one step closer to NOT LIVING IN A CRAPHOLE, something happens that creates ten more steps that we have to do before we are finished. IT IS NEVER GOING TO END. EVER.
Or else I am going to destroy all of my meaningful relationships in the process.
I really wish I could cope with stress without going into total meltdown mode, but I can't.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Dare I say... CARPET???
Apparently, Bill the carpet guy is coming over TODAY and putting in our CARPET!
It should be done by the time I get out of work!!!
At which time, I shall go home and roll around deliriously in carpetty goodness.
(That is, UN-ROLLED carpetty goodness, that is somehow attached to the floor of the corresponding room.)
Over the weekend, I did NOT go climbing (boo!), but I did go to the Salvation Army and I bought the best/worst cookbook. It's one of those horrendous cookbooks from the 60's and has recipes for HAM CONES, SPAGHETTI PIE and CABBAGE OLIVE LOAF! Yum! Guess what's for dinner at Jim Jam Station?
It should be done by the time I get out of work!!!
At which time, I shall go home and roll around deliriously in carpetty goodness.
(That is, UN-ROLLED carpetty goodness, that is somehow attached to the floor of the corresponding room.)
Over the weekend, I did NOT go climbing (boo!), but I did go to the Salvation Army and I bought the best/worst cookbook. It's one of those horrendous cookbooks from the 60's and has recipes for HAM CONES, SPAGHETTI PIE and CABBAGE OLIVE LOAF! Yum! Guess what's for dinner at Jim Jam Station?
Friday, August 05, 2005
Personality Profile
I went to see my doctor today. The witch doctor, the one who keeps me somewhat sane and adequately supplied with Valium. I told her that things are going pretty well but that sometimes, as Gargamel likes to say, the demonic 5 year old who lives in my head likes to make an appearance, start a fight and leave me to clean up the mess. I told her that Rosemary's baby usually shows up when I am otherwise stressed out, like, for example, when MOVING or PAINTING, and then causes me to freak out and throw things, although usually NOT myself. She said, These are times you should probably take your valium. Yeah, no kidding, Doc. Then she said, Well, this could just be an aspect of your personality.
Did you all get that? I can't blame it on a "chemical imbalance", it's MY FREAKING PERSONALITY. I AM A RAVING LUNATIC! It's official.
It is also official that my house IS NEVER GOING TO BE DONE. EVER. NEVEREVEREVERNEVER. G's friend, Bill the carpet guy is apparently busy every possible second until doomsday and we are going to forever live with rolled up carpet in the dining room. Although, as my girl Ems said,
What's wrong with rolled up carpet in the
living room? Brian and I slept with a fucking bloodstained mattress
propped up in our living room for months. Squalor, Jess. It gives you
CHARACTER.
So apparently, I am going to be the biggest character on the planet.
Hooray!
In better news, I am going to see Bela Fleck tonight with Brian and Action Geek. I have been foaming at the mouth to see Bela Fleck for AGES now, and what's better is that there will be no discussion of carpet. Just banjos.
And beer. Definitely beer.
Did you all get that? I can't blame it on a "chemical imbalance", it's MY FREAKING PERSONALITY. I AM A RAVING LUNATIC! It's official.
It is also official that my house IS NEVER GOING TO BE DONE. EVER. NEVEREVEREVERNEVER. G's friend, Bill the carpet guy is apparently busy every possible second until doomsday and we are going to forever live with rolled up carpet in the dining room. Although, as my girl Ems said,
What's wrong with rolled up carpet in the
living room? Brian and I slept with a fucking bloodstained mattress
propped up in our living room for months. Squalor, Jess. It gives you
CHARACTER.
So apparently, I am going to be the biggest character on the planet.
Hooray!
In better news, I am going to see Bela Fleck tonight with Brian and Action Geek. I have been foaming at the mouth to see Bela Fleck for AGES now, and what's better is that there will be no discussion of carpet. Just banjos.
And beer. Definitely beer.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Narcolepszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Somehow, in ridding myself of the UTI from hell, i got the sore throat/flu from hell. I seriously feel like I am being strangled. I also can't seem to stay awake. Tonight, i had such grand plans, dinner, laundry, going to the gym. But no, instea I came home, went directly to bed, didn't pass go and didn't collect anything close to $200.
But at least I have reached the upper echelon of geekdom: my HOUSE now has its own email address. Yes, you can send mail to my apartment at voodoolounge@verizon.net
But at least I have reached the upper echelon of geekdom: my HOUSE now has its own email address. Yes, you can send mail to my apartment at voodoolounge@verizon.net
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Blogging in bed
We just got out internet hooked up here at the Voodoo Lounge. Let me just say that checking my email from BED is the Greatest. Thing. Ever. Period.
Let me also say that Underfoot has started accessorizing. She has this thing where she likes to carry small objects around, stuffed animals, socks, and apparently, jewelry. I came home to find Babar wearing blue beads.
It has been so damn hot the past week. Gargamel was worried about Underfoot because she has been lounging on the dining room windowsill almost continuously for the past 2 days. I assured him that she was fine. Just extremely lazy and that we should revoke her internet access until she finishes her chores. And helps me pick out some new earrings.
Action Geek cartooned our breakfast this morning. Yup. Pretty much sums it up.
I'm sick and going to bed.
*cough*
Oh wait... I'M ALREADY IN BED!!!
Let me also say that Underfoot has started accessorizing. She has this thing where she likes to carry small objects around, stuffed animals, socks, and apparently, jewelry. I came home to find Babar wearing blue beads.
It has been so damn hot the past week. Gargamel was worried about Underfoot because she has been lounging on the dining room windowsill almost continuously for the past 2 days. I assured him that she was fine. Just extremely lazy and that we should revoke her internet access until she finishes her chores. And helps me pick out some new earrings.
Action Geek cartooned our breakfast this morning. Yup. Pretty much sums it up.
I'm sick and going to bed.
*cough*
Oh wait... I'M ALREADY IN BED!!!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Domes...WHAT?? Titty? Huh?
Yesterday was my first real experience with this new thing I am trying out: MY LIFE. I had a bearable day at work and left just before 5 so that I could rush home and change and then rush out to pick up my dad's dog, Finnegan from the kennel. It all went like clockwork, I forgot my keys, the dog's leash, had to run back into the house about 1000 times. Got back, walked dog. Couldn't find collar, so looped leash around his neck like a noose and prayed that he wouldn't choke to death.
The G and I walked to the Big Lie to get some stuff for dinner. It's sort of nice to, you know, have actual food in our refrigerator. He prevented me from buying Oreos, ice cream, mini cupcakes and other things that I should not be eating. Instead we got chicken and vegetables and dish soap and cat food. And then I died of boredom right there in the checkout line. But I was thin, at least.
G had spent the day organizing the kitchen and setting up our table so that we have a place to sit and eat. I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO EXCITED ABOUT A TABLE IN MY LIFE. But considering our last meal in the house was chinese take out balanced on milk crates, I feel as though I am entitled to be a bit giddy about sitting at a table. With chairs even! Matching chairs!
We ate dinner sitting at our table and I read outloud from the Sunday Times Wedding announcements all about Elizabeth and Some Dude who met at summer camp and WROTE LETTERS to each other on "handmade stationary" and had Linda Ronstadt at their wedding. And then we both vomited all over our caesar salads.
The G and I walked to the Big Lie to get some stuff for dinner. It's sort of nice to, you know, have actual food in our refrigerator. He prevented me from buying Oreos, ice cream, mini cupcakes and other things that I should not be eating. Instead we got chicken and vegetables and dish soap and cat food. And then I died of boredom right there in the checkout line. But I was thin, at least.
G had spent the day organizing the kitchen and setting up our table so that we have a place to sit and eat. I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO EXCITED ABOUT A TABLE IN MY LIFE. But considering our last meal in the house was chinese take out balanced on milk crates, I feel as though I am entitled to be a bit giddy about sitting at a table. With chairs even! Matching chairs!
We ate dinner sitting at our table and I read outloud from the Sunday Times Wedding announcements all about Elizabeth and Some Dude who met at summer camp and WROTE LETTERS to each other on "handmade stationary" and had Linda Ronstadt at their wedding. And then we both vomited all over our caesar salads.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Do Not Go On Vacation with the Schooligan
Unless you want to spend HOURS driving around the Cape looking for a Clam Shack, don't mind sitting on the beach in the rain, or think that listening to toddlers throw tantrums after losing at Mini Golf is an ideal way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
However, if you wish to watch someone scale a 2nd floor balcony and break into a sliding glass door with a credit card, then by all means vacation with the Schooligan.
Consider yourself warned.
However, if you wish to watch someone scale a 2nd floor balcony and break into a sliding glass door with a credit card, then by all means vacation with the Schooligan.
Consider yourself warned.
And at 10:30 I will eat Oatmeal.
After eating nothing but M&Ms and various fried products for the past 2 weeks, and spending a weekend at the beach in mortal fear of being harpooned, I am making a concentrated effort to stop eating like such a fucking pig. I mean, I keep bitching about how I am not as svelte as I would like to be, and yet I eat ice cream for dinner (and sometimes lunch).
So, as Wesley Willis would say, Here is when and how I am losing weight, by staying away from fatty foods, eating healthy foods and going on a strict diet.
Well, not exactly, but I am not going to eat M&Ms all morning at my desk, instead I am going to have a healthy mid-morning snack of instant oatmeal. It is like a mantra, "At 10:30 I will eat oatmeal, at 10:30 I will eat oatmeat, at 10:30 I AM GOING TO EAT SOME MOTHERFUCKING OATMEAL, SO HELP ME GOD!" Can you feel the empowerment?
I'm going to make some oatmeal.
So, as Wesley Willis would say, Here is when and how I am losing weight, by staying away from fatty foods, eating healthy foods and going on a strict diet.
Well, not exactly, but I am not going to eat M&Ms all morning at my desk, instead I am going to have a healthy mid-morning snack of instant oatmeal. It is like a mantra, "At 10:30 I will eat oatmeal, at 10:30 I will eat oatmeat, at 10:30 I AM GOING TO EAT SOME MOTHERFUCKING OATMEAL, SO HELP ME GOD!" Can you feel the empowerment?
I'm going to make some oatmeal.
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