Fun Fact for Yesterday

Thursday 13

Thirteen Reasons My Birthday ROCKED This Year (In no particular order)

1. Ems coming all the way from BROOKLYN to have dinner with me.
2. Getting not one but TWO bouquets of flowers from that special someone.
3. Pho Dakao living up to all the hype. I mean, MY hype. I've always thought it was awesome, I'm glad others agree with me.
4. PT "fixing" my cake so it wasn't lopsided. (Dammit! Why didn't I get a picture to show Rob?)
5. DKNY's "Be Delicious". Morgan, you are AWESOME!
6. Master Shake
7. Woodford FUCKING Reserve, thank you Jack! This bourbon is only available to gods and higher order Cherubim, which is why I have never perchased it. Good thing my friends have fewer black marks on their souls than I do.
8. Everyone being kind to my cake mishap (although doused with liquor, it was quite good, quite good)
9. I don't really feel any older. (Despite teetering on the edge of 30. Ok, not teetering so much as seeing 30 looming on the horizon and laughing maniacally.)
10. Fitting into my "skinny jeans" despite eating and drinking like I was at a bacchanalia for the previous week.
11. Handmade mullet card. (Is there any better way to show that you care?)
12. My coworkers giving me a pound of chocolates.
13. Being with the people I love and who love me despite all of my neurosis. Usually.

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The proper response to the beginning of another year

Wine Tasting. In Sonoma.

I spent last weekend in California visiting some old friends. In addition to wine tasting, there was also climbing.
I mean climbing.

THe climbing was a lot of fun, despite having climbed like, oh, ONCE since the end of winter (Which, in my defense was only like 10 minutes ago), I still managed to haul my atrophied ass up a 5.9 hand crack. I also managed to bruise and scrape just about my entire body. Just in time to go with Sara to a black tie fund raising Gala on Saturday! I managed to (mostly) conceal the battleground of climbing injuries with a lovely pink wrap and too many cocktails while skulking in the shadows of very rich people.

My birthday present to all of you.

The Schooligan Knows Her Assholes

Check it out!

I won 2nd Place!

Dyngus Day

Perhaps even more awesome than having 2 kinds of pork before 11 am (ham and kielbasa) is the fact the tomorrow youngsters of Polish and Hungarian descent get to dump water on each other. Since my family has become increasingly more Polish over the years, I am looking forward to getting drenched and switched by eligible young men.

One thing that was a bit disappointing about this Easter (although, I must say, it was preferable to being stuck in the Las Vegas airport after having missed my flight home like I did last year) was not being able to locate my mom's Babka recipe. Well, that and losing to my cousin in the highly competitive Easter Egg Smash (you hit the point of your egg against the point of someone else's and see who's egg remains intact). But one would think that a trditional family recipe would be easier to locate than, say, one for TERYAKI ICE CREAM.

My weekend, overall, was pretty productive. I found the game Operation (Where you're the doctor!) at a thrift store for $1.99 and combined with a 12 pack of Tecate made for a hillarious and stressful time. For real, that game is so fucking nerve wracking. I don't know anything more stressful than trying to remove a funny bone without causing Cavity Sam to buzz with the sound of your failure.
Honestly, my sister and I freak the fuck out every single time we play. It's hillarious. Even better are the "sudden movement of the playing surface" psych-out techniques that we frequently employ.
I also had my first taste of ice cream in 40 days today. Heavenly. Even though I was not able to descend upon the local Dairy Queen and slather my body in Blizzards, I did make brownies and then pile on ice cream, caramel sauce, banana, whipped cream and a cherry!

In speaking of caramel sauce, apparently my father had a run in with some ice cream toppings yesterday when he crashed his shopping cart into a display at the supermarket and sen hot fudge flying everywhere. As my sister gasped out the details of the story while practically incapacitating the both of us with laughter I chastised her for not whipping her cell phone out and recording the event.

Thursday 13

Thirteen Songs I Am Totally DiggingRight Now!

1. Hips Don't Lie-Shakira (I think she is so sexy, and it doesn't even matter that she is only like 4 feet tall. This song will not get out of my head.)
2. Whiskey for My Men (Beer for My Horses)- Toby Keth & Willie Nelson (I'm a sucker for cowboy songs and the phrase, "when the gunsmoke settles...")
3. In the Midnight Hour- Wilson Pickett (It's totally suggestive in the most innocent way.)
4. Hung Up- Madonna (Even though I do not approve of her hair lately, I mean, feathered? COME ON, this song is super danceable and catchy.)
5. Back to Hell-Alkaline Trio (Yes, kind of Emo for my liking, but well, I like it anyway.)
6. Lean Wit It (Rock Wit It)- Franchize Boyz (Ok, possibly the dumbest song ever, but for some reason, whenever I hear it I can't seem to stop leanin' wit it and rockin' wit it.)
7. Rompe - Daddy Yankee (I have no idea what he is singing about or why I am so fascinated, but he can totally be my Daddy. I dare you to listen to this song and not feel equal parts annoyed and entranced.)
8. Kerosene- Miranda Lambert (Love songs about vengeful ex-girlfriends. And pyromania. Can you say "Empowerment"?)
9. Travelin' Thru- Dolly Pardon (No, I have not seen the movie, but I totally want to. And Dolly is still awesome, if slightly plastic looking.)
10. I Shoulda Been A Cowboy- Toby Keith (This song makes me sad and nostalgic, but's it's so true I should have been a cowboy!)
11. Blue Mountain Hop - Bela Flack (The Bluegrass Sessions is probably one of my favorite albums ever. And everytime I hear this tune, I fall a little bit more in love with Bela Fleck.)
12. It's Tough to Have a Crush- OkGo (It certainly is. Dammit.)
13. Minority- Greenday (I think Warning was their last great album. Honestly I could not see why there was such a fuss about American Idiot because it sucked.)

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Banner courtesy of MoodSwing Creations.

I really really really want a donut

And some asshole had to go buy some and send me not one but TWO text messages about it. Only a few more days, baby. And then you are likely to find me lying on the floor bloated with empty Entenmann's boxes strewn about.

Oh, and as a warm up for my birthday (which I am not certain how I want to celebrate. should I have a party? well, should I?) I got a Happy Birthday postcard from none other than CHICKEN OF THE SEA! On the back was a coupon for 25 cents off a can of tuna! WHAT A CRAPPY BIRTHDAY PRESENT! If you can show me a more effective way to prove to someone that you 100% do not care about their birthday, I'd like to see it.

Randomly I applied for a side job exercising Icelandic Horses. How cool would that be? (pretty cool) Unfortunately, I think they need someone during the week when I am, you know, WORKING. Sigh. I sent along my resume anyway, and we shall see...

Uphill Battle

Literally. Last night, in lieu of going to the gym, I decided to go running. For maximum awfulness I decided to run a hilly course, mostly uphill that is. It was soon apparent that I was no Rocky Balboa.

Or maybe I was Rocky in the early days of training when he fell over heaving and gasping on the stairs of the Philadelphia Art Museum. At least at the end of everything I didn't have to get pummeled by Apollo Creed for 15 rounds. I did however, manage to get in a decent workout as evidenced by soreness in 80% of my body.

After that I figured I was warmed up enough to make scones without injuring myself. Chocolate Cinnmon Scones, I'll have you know. And they are delicious, if only vaguely scone-like.

Satin Bedspread plus Satin Jim Jams Equals Nightmares of Luge

Before I say anything else, let me just say that my night at the rock gym reaffirmed my desire to remain ever childless. One dad and 4 boys under 11 and HOLY SHIT, isn't it passed their bedtime? How about now? Now? Oh, sweet Jesus, please. just. stop. yelling. and. running.

But on to how awesome my friends are...
Last night Forrest had us over to celebrate his 50th birthday. And what better way to celebrate than with single malt (Laphroaig, yesssss!) and some yummy olde wine that he mined from his cellar just for the occasion. The best part? We drank out of glasses USED BY ERNEST HEMINGWAY! Yes, apparently, he stayed at Forrest's mother's house in Idaho and drank (himself not exactly to death) out of the very glasses we were using. Despite the possibility of having some "Papa" in me, I dare say my writing has not improved much. But on the other hand, I don't have any great desire to shoot myself. So, there you go.

Having not learned my lesson with Jack's cheesecake, I went and made Forrest a Boston Cream Pie. It came out ok, except the custard was a bit more like creme brulee than I would have liked... and sort of lumpy. But surrounded by cake it was alright. I allowed that Jesus wouldn't mind of I had a teeny bite, just to see how it all went together. I was not struck down, but am not holding my breath for all of eternity.

Your Ass Got GONGED!

In the spring a Schooligan's thoughts turn to total and utter absurdity.

On Friday, G and I helped Jack celebrate his blank-blank birthday by going out for sushi. I managed to subtley eat more than my fair share of sashimi tuna. G had had the foresight to have a cheeseburger before we went just in case. As we were paying our check, the waitress overheard us saying it was Jack's birthday and she said, "Would you like the Gong?" WOULD WE EVER!

For the next two hours, Jack was temporarily deaf.

Back at the Voodoo Lounge, I proved the perfect hostess buy opening a bottle of bourbon and elating my guests with witty banter and full glasses of Frontier Whiskey, the ultimate in minimalist entertaining.

Is there anything more lady-like than "female trouble"?

According to Mrs Ruding, there is not. Which is why I should have been Venus rising from the fucking gynocological table.

Unfortunately, it is v. hard to appear ladylike and dignified when you are spread open beneath a piece of paper while total strangers examine your girly bits. Especially when they are wielding such tools as a PUNCH and a BRUSH.

The best best BEST part is that I have my period and as the doctor kindly YELLED DOWN THE HALLWAY as I was leaving my appointment, "Remember: Nothing in the Vagina for THREE DAYS!" Dammit. I had a whole list of things I was going to put there. Including, oh, I don't know, TAMPONS? Yes, I got my period a day later and was forced to go out and purchase and then wear A PAD. It has been so long since I have used one of these things (I like my Keeper) that I had no idea what to buy. I got something with wings.

I also have WICKED BAD cramps, which I do not normally have, but am thinking that my body is just punishing me for harassing the cervix (which, Emily is right, does sound like some kind of African antelope) Although after an acupuncture sesssion, I felt much, much better. So I went home, went running, did grocery shopping, made a cheesecake, tidied up, did NOT do laundry, and then curled up to watch "The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio". It was good, but I kept thinking about how much my mom would have liked it, and that made me cry and unable to sleep despite the super snoozle powers of not 1 but 2 cats and all the crap TV and sleeping pills I could handle.

Thursday 13

Thirteen Things I Want For My Birthday (April 26)

1. A HAUNTED PIANO
2. A pastry roller
3. A freaking iPod. An old one, even. I don't even want to 60GB video (although would not refuse one), just a 20GB 4th gen. I'll even take a REFURB!
4. A new comforter for my bed. The one I currently have caught on the bedframe and when I pulled it loose, it tore wide open. Now I sleep wrapped in the stuffing that has oozed out of the wound.
5. D&G Jeans
6. DK "Be Delicious" Perfume
7. Photoshop Lessons (This means you, PETER.) I still can't wrassle my way to a decent finished project and I don't want to spend the rest of my life in WinPaint.
8. This white eyelet skirt from the Gap.
9. Dinner at a steakhouse. Especially a cheesy chain, like PRONGHORN or BUGABOO CREEK. Definitely one that sings happy birthday to me while I sit on a sawhorse with raw meat hanging out of my mouth.
10. A bottle of Bulleit Frontier Bourbon
11. This T-Shirt
12. These Shoes
13. Someone to worship me while I minx about in the above.

What I Really Want For My Birthday

And it's even FREE!

Arianna Huffington

Sometimes brain malfunction can be humourous, like when I keep humming the same tune from Bela Fleck's "Outbound" over and over while searching for pictures of motorized penny-farthings,

Or telling everyone that I'm sorry I missed their birthdays, when I hadn't.

But often it is simply annoying. Like how, for the past 2 weeks have gone to bed and woken up every. single. day. saying "Arianna Huffington".

Friday night, two factions met for parley over pizza to discuss... well, stuff. I chose this quiet little pizza place, Junior's, that I had discovered with Slevy a few weeks ago. The pizza was great, but the atmosphere was loud. We were seated near a table of 4 girls drinking Appletinis (delicious, yes, but you would NEVER catch me ordering one in public) and SHREIKING. It served to unite us in hatred at least.

After dinner (pesto, tomato and roasted red pepper pizza and Fish and chips. Yum.) I begged a stop at the Struck for a wee nightcap, because it's a nice little restaurant with a quiet bar. Except on Friday when they have live music. I choked down a martini while trying to block out the absolute worst version of Del McCoury's "1952 Vincent Black Lightening". A word for bar and restaurant owners, live music is not necessarily a good idea. Especially in an intimate environment.

Even bolting down my drink in record time, I couldn't seem to drink enough to drown out the cacophony so we adjourned to the quietude and free whiskey of the Voodoo Lounge.