Thursday 13

The only 13 songs I listen to on my iPod.

1. Do You Want To- Franz Ferdinand
2. Down the Old Plank Road- The Chieftans
3. Travelin' Thru- Dolly Parton
4. Sugar, We're Going Down- Fall Out Boy (aka the "Looliorah" song)
5. I'm Money- Zebrahead
6. Bonnie Taylor Shakedown- HelloGoodbye
7. Behind These Hazel Eyes- Kelly Clarkson
8. She's a Rebel- GreenDay
9. Bojangles- Pit Bull
10. Pass that Dutch- Missy Eliott
11. God's Gonna Cut You Down- Johnny Cash
12. Devastation Wagon- Frantic Flattops
13. Man of Constant Sorrow- The Soggy Bottom Boys

13 Reasons It's a Great Day to Be Alive

1. Cold Brewed Coffee- One of the chef's I used to work with in CO used to make it this way and I had totally forgotten about it until the NYT Magazine did a piece on it. Of course, the Times featured a $40 "cold brewer" and I just use a jug and a strainer (total cost: $2 from your local dollar store), but if you haven't tried coffee this way, you are missing something wonderful.

2. 80 degrees and sunny!

3. I fixed my dishwasher for once and for all! Fuck you, Sears! (It just needed a new hose.)

4. Replaced the light fixture above my sink so I can actually SEE to replace said dishwasher hose.

5. As always, $1 PBR drafts at the Hotel Vernon, home of the recent "Ukepalooza" Ukulele Festival. (Great entertainment for out of town guests!)

6. Edy's slow churned ice cream.

7. Underfoot's haircut. Every time I look at her I die a little inside. (from cute o.d.)

8. Kobe beef hamburgers.

9. Tempranillo. Spanish red is the new Zin! (And you can totally quote me on that)

10. 90210 Season 2 on DVD.

11. $217 airfares to Minnesota.

12. Someone left a whole bag of Dove dark chocolate candies on my dining room table.

13. I got rice cooking in the microwave...

Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?

I don't consider myself to be a particularly loving person. When it comes to other people, (of course, llamas, kitties, puppies, OMG PONIES!!1!, hamsters, goatersons, etc. are not included in the rage-making) I find that I am, more often than not, filled with unbridled rage. (Thanks, Paris! Oh, and P.S. HA HA you're going to JAIL!)

So when my stone cold heart is moved by someone, it usually takes me by surprise and I'm all "WTF? Should I call an ambulance? Do I have any Zantac?"

Saturday I had a talk with my mechanic, who is the most fantastic man on the entire planet (Sorry, Santa Claus!) not only because he knows everything I don't about cars, but also because he is honest. He assured me that the $600 "scheduled maintenance" on my car was mostly a scare tactic and he'd let me know what (if anything) my car does need. That's basically what I thought, but since I don't know crap about fixing/maintaining cars, it's reassuring to hear it from someone who does. Especially since I just recently had to actually use the Extended Warranty thing to get my computer fixed which I had convinced myself was a waste of $100 when I bought it 2 years ago. Turns out it was worth it. The $129.99 they tried to charge me to reinstall Windows, however, would have been a waste of money since i am perfectly capable of inserting a CD and hitting enter a few times.

Later that evening I watched Calvin Borel win the Kentucky Derby on Street Sense and after hearing him talk in THE MOST ADORABLE CAJUN ACCENT I felt that unfamiliar twinge of emotion inside and wanted more than anything to scoop him up and put him in my jacket pocket. OMG PONIES!!1!! I dare you to read this guy's story and not get a little emotional.*

*No mint juleps were consumed during the writing of this blog.**

**Goddammit.

Underpocalypse Now

Spring is traditionally known as a time of change and renewal. Eggs hatching, trees and flowers blooming, lambs gamboling in pasture and hairball producing kitties getting haircuts.



When I dropped UnderFizz at the groomers today she completely filled her pet carrier. When I picked her up 1 hour later, she was approximately 1/3 her original size. The groomer said she behaved very well and just sort of sighed and lay there while she got 35 pounds of fluff sheared off. That's my girl: resigned.


As much as I feel bad about inflicting such a ridiculous haircut on my cat (not shown: pom pom tail) I can't help but hear that ZombieNation song every time she walks through the house.

Bedroom eyes are easier if you have bangs or if you are a llama

I finally got a haircut on Saturday. Yes, finally. I FINALLY have non-embarassing hair. I was at that point where you almost don't want to go to a salon because you know they will be looking at your 4 inch roots and give you a "What the hell were you thinking?" look and then pick up a limp strand and say something about "We've got a LOT of work ahead of us."

I guess I have mixed feelings about judgemental hair stylists. On the one hand, I KNOW I look terrible, I don't need to pay someone $60 to remind me. But on the other hand, I want them to be judgemental and make me look good. As in, the opposite of how I look when I walked in.

I get the same way only worse when it comes to bikini waxes. I mean, I can't afford to go every 4 weeks like I am "supposed to", but then when I let it go too long (hahaha) I feel extremely self concious. I mean, even more self conscious then I usually feel while a Russian woman is yanking out my pubic hair. Luckily, Svetlana doesn't say anything. Possibly because she doesn't know that much English. Or maybe she's just being nice because of that time I let Anya watch and practice her waxing technique on my crotch. You know, the more the merrier.

Which was the theme of Alissa and The Schooligan's Birthday Extravaganza 2007. It totally turned out great though, in spite of my utter and complete lack of organizational skills. Perhaps they were cancelled out by Sangria. Even though I initially wanted to ignore the whole birthday all together (I'm 29, wtf?) I'm glad we ended up at a great restaurant surrounded by people we love and who don't mind me picking food directly off their plates.

It was super nice out today, so I went to the petting zoo on my lunch break. A llama tried to steal my iced coffee and a goat tried to eat my dress. There were some children there, but unfortunately luckily none of them got head butted by over zealous goats.

Just when you thought Lederhosen couldn't get any more ridiculous

We get DIGITAL LEDERHOSEN!

I would totally be listening to "This is why I'm hot"

Jesus H. Sandwich

Obviously my lunch today was a sign from God.
A sign that I should eat it.

Yum.

Much more incriminating than Thursday 13

My google search history.

23 skidoo
Veloute
wasabi mashed potatoes
american gem society
pseudocyesis
funnycide
Rochom P'nieng
inherited hammertoe
complaints about subway sandwich
shocking truths
white chocolate
big dipper
mathematical theorems
being poor is your own fault
New yorkers are ridiculous
Fra Browning
Family in oregon stranded
johnny cash middle finger
cheap trip to Kentucky derby
blood pressure
Delaware emission limits for coal fired power plants
paso corto
calories in cheese omelet
hip haircuts
riesling
kibbee
patrick Deuel
glockenspiel
walnut
abdominal migraine
zodiac killer
god rest ye merry gentlemen
history of candy bars
modern pyramid schemes
claymoore
garrote
Uninvited game reviews
chelated iron
fireproof christmas tree
old fashioned licorice all sorts
What's the fuss over TMX Elmo?
Is the shroud of turin fake?
Tenzig Norgay
plaid fur lined hat with ear flaps
canine liver shunt
petite four
fung was bus disaster
stikfas
medical quakery
william howard taft
Sopron dog yard
Luke perry in 2006
Sport team rivalry
What's the difference between William Henry Harrison and James Garfield?
Ass over teakettle
T is for Texas
Teens bake puppy in oven
rasputin stout
causes of tinnitus
copper allergy
meniere's disease
SDA virus
exploding stomach from over eating
co-morbid anxiety
interrobang
I hate the schooligan
Syrian Rye
Running shoes make my feet numb
desert aisha plusie
schadenfreude
living with morbid obesity
totenkopf
chloe the pitbull
urim and thummim
#10 envelope
subaru recall
how to spot fake gucci
absolute zero
Alice Hoffman
islands near puerto rico
giant underpants
children misbehaving at restaurants
drill hole in head
periodic limb movement disorder
arrow through head
free things to do in columbus, OH
pizza bites
gunga din
aspartame will kill you
real estate cody, wy
family circus sucks
beauceron
vice versa
Nembutal
self important conversation
Ramadan 2007
Fill & drain hose coupler assembly
TJX security breach
attuned eating
Cruel Girl Jeans
beriberi
Camp Wind in the Pines
Russian Moose Farm
folliculosis
out of control binging
How to fold large pieces of paper
Anthony Bourdain
Bone marrow donation
glenlivet natural Scotch whisky
How tall is Beth Rodden?
Wilted spinach
How to cut emo bangs
homozygous proven stallion
rachel ray meatloaf muffins
cat eye syndrome
diverticulitis
mahi mahi recipe
Starbucks 9/11
Leland Olds air permit
Morgellons
Siberian Cat
English bull dog problems
Yom kippur
lumbago
rusty cage
oleana
cant touch this lyrics
can ducks throw up
gurney
Duke Belews Creek
balancing moonflower
phonics
raw seal fat
sopapilla
honey dew donuts
cervical punch
world's smallest horse
whiskey on the rocks and a quarter for the juke box
quid pro quo
when was shake and bake invented?
mock apple pie
ways to lose your driver's license
momo syndrome
obesity crisis in america
what is a placket
chiropractors on crystal meth
blueberry cobbler
BLM horses
ring bone
Dog chapman arrested
little yellow jacket
cotton eye
hell house
Gerald Gentleman station
Deval Patrick
Children who are difficult to toilet train
behind these hazel eyes
spontaneous lactose intolerance
museum of russian icons

The Height of Sophistication

Last year I had a page-a-day calendar from "The Joy of Cooking" (but only because I could not find my usual Edward Gorey variety) and every day there would be a fun fact about food, a recipe or when the day was particularly lame, a quote vaguely related to food. I kept the pages in a stack on my desk to use as scrap paper and while I was making a to-do list I re-discovered the "Waldorf Salad".

According to the calendar, in the early 1900's mayonaise combined with celery and apples was "The Height of Sophistication." (The walnuts and grapes came later, THANK GOD.) Or you could make it child friendly with mini marshmallows.

You know how I feel about mayonnaise (the devil's ketchup), so can I just say, What The Fuck? This has got to be the grossest interpretation of "salad" ever. Mayonnaise? Walnuts? Fucking marshmallows? Was it a joke? Tell me it was a joke played on rich New Yorkers, "Ha ha ha. They'll eat ANYTHING! Throw in some more celery boys! Don't forget the red grapes. Oh, and what the hell, leave the SEEDS IN THEM!"

My local sunday paper has a section called "Happy Times" where kids write essays on various topics and get them published in the paper. Right next to Ziggy. Awesome. This week's topic was "If I had a time machine..." Pretty much all the kids would travel back to Ancient Egypt to watch the pyramids being built (hope they have a few decades with nothing to do) or to prehistoric times to see dinosaurs*. Not me. If I had a time machine I would travel back to New York c. 1896 and punch Oscar Tschirky in the face. Twice. "This is for the Waldorf Salad!" *punch* "And this is for THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING!" *punch* "Oh and don't get any fancy ideas about poached eggs and hollandaise either."

*How did stegosauruses have sex? No, seriously, how did they? It seems kind of impossible. Hmmm. Maybe that's why they went extinct.

Pigeon Hotel Foxtrot

The pigeon sitch at the Voodoo Lounge is officially out of control.

Last week I couldn't stand the cooing and the loud avian debates so I unleashed my secret weapon: Underfoot. She did a good job prowling around the attic and hopefully putting the fear of cat into them. Ninja, on the other hand, was completely worthless, and nervously refused to leave the house.

I think the final straw was when they invited a freaking squirrel over to their frat house and took turns loudly taunting me and shitting on things that may be of value. Oh, and they are totally into porn as well. I found a piece of a smutty magazine covered with poo and feathers.

Fucking pigeons.

Functional appliances are hot.

There are many reasons why I dislike doing dishes, among them is that my sink is not designed with a dishwashing giraffe in mind and after about 1 minute of standing at this sink my back starts to hurt. Also, I paid dearly for that dishwasher, and I'll be damned if I use it only for counter space. And storing dirty dishes.

Because I am too cheap (read: poor) to get someone to comeout and fix the stupid thing, I've been trying to diagnose and fix the problem myself. Tip: Never buy anything at Sears. I've been there twice now and have talked to approximately 8 different people and NONE OF THEM knows a fucking thing about dishwashers, or, I expect, anything else. Except maybe how to look like they just stepped off the set of a Dallas! reunion special.

The lady at the Parts & Service department, conveniently located in upper Siberia, knew nothing about either parts nor service. Except to tell me that for $75 I could have a "technician" come out and LOOK AT IT. Not fix it. Look at it. I declined and she directed me to Sclamo's (another appliance store).

Besides having awesome commercials on the local TV station, (The ads direct you in a piercing voice, to go to SCLAAAAAAA-MOS! Then they show bad shots of the outside of the store) the guy at Sclaaaaaa-mos actually knew a thing or two about dishwashers. He even gave me the website for a plumbing supply website where I can order the part I need ($62 + tax & shipping, no charge for me to look at the dishwasher with said part in hand). Then he told me that if I felt comfortable with simple tools, lever, inclined plane, etc. I could probably do-it-myself. Either that or live with a dishwasher that is both non-functional AND in pieces.

To The Person Who Left ONE Gummy Bear in the Candy Dish

(And I know who you are!)

Not eating ALL the gummy bears does not negate your glutonous consumption of the other 99.9999% of the department refreshments.

Making Insomnia Work for You

I mean, if you can't sleep at 5 am, might as well go to the gym, right?

Tip: You're an idiot of you think you aren't going to need a shower after running 2 miles. Bring a towel.

Exactly why I hate supervising on "college night"

AnnoyingNewbieGirl: I can't seem to get this move.
AnnoyingNewbieBoy: That's because you're too short! It's totally a route for us tall people.
Me: (rage bubbling over because ANG doesn't deserve that kind of crap) Um, Beth Rodden is only 5'1".
ANB: Is she, like, some pro climber?
Me: Uh, yeah. She like totally made the 2nd free ascent of The Nose.
ANB: (who has ZERO idea what he's talking about, but am guessing he thinks "free climbing" means not in the gym?) Yeah, well free climbing is easier 'cuz you can use whatever holds you want.
Me: (All restraint GONE.) Actually, at 5.13 I wouldn't call it "easier"
ANB: *walks away*

Now maybe I'm just old and crotchety (*smirk*) but I can NOT stand these kids, who haven't ever been beyond the YMCA rock gym, telling me what's what. Especially when it's 9.27 and I want to close at 9.30 but people are still dicking around on their "projects".

From the "Not so much annoying as potentially dangerous" Files:
Basically Nice Kid Who Doesn't Have Much Experience But Apparently Thinks He Does: Are there lead routes at Metro Rock?
Me: Yup. There's a bunch. (incredulously) Do you lead?
BNKWDHMEBATHD: Well, no. But I have quickdraws.

Earhole-itis

Here's one for the "bizarre medical issues" file:

My weird ear ringing/dizzy spells have continued since the first onslaught after Christmas. It's nowhere near as bad, but kind of annoying. So, I made a doctor's appointment, you know, just to see if it was anything or if I was just crazy.

The doctor did a bunch of bizarre tests involving me sitting up, lying down, moving my head, closing my eyes, walking in a straight line. She was trying to bring on the dizzyness. (Oh, it had already been brought!) No luck. Looking in my ears didn't show anything amiss. She assured me I wasn't crazy or delusional and what was probably wrong with me was something called Labyrinthitis.

No, really. Apparently David Bowie is fucking with my inner ear. Jerk.

The best part? It will most likely go away on its own IN A COUPLE OF MONTHS.

Now I Can Get Back to Worrying About What's Really Important

Namely, my hair.

Yes, the hair is back. After my last hair disaster, I decided to go see the experts: The Russians.

I see Sveta every couple of months for a bikini wax and figured anyone that expert and adept at ripping hair off my crotch must know where to get a decent haircut. Luckily, the spa is a full service facility for all types of hair, and I got an appointment with Mary for a cut and color.

I'm not going to mince words here: She gave me the best haircut EVER. Seriously, ever. It's ironic that someone who's first language is NOT Enlgish, and who learned to speak it mostly by watching Oprah (from what I can gather), was able to understand EXACTLY what I wanted done. The haircut has met and exceeded all of my expectations. It's totally perfect.

And also purple.

Knowledge is obsession

While I was at work today, I started looking up the calories in various foods. I do this periodically to freak myself out. Like reading about Morgellon's Disease. Shock therapy or something. Anyway, I set up one of those accounts where you log everything you eat and it tells you how many calories, fat, etc. you had. It also gives you an overall grade for your food for the day. I got a C+. And that's not counting the glass of wine I'm drinking right now.

I was a little feaked out when I saw how much I had consumed. I mean, it wasn't ridiculous, and I think some of the portions are off, but damn. Part of this I have to blame on the chick who made my coffee at Starbucks this morning. I ordered a cappuccino and she gave me a LATTE. I didn't realize it until I got to work and took a sip and I wasn't about to drive back and demand a new coffee. I was already 15 minutes late as it was. That bitch cost me FIFTY CALORIES!

Braveheart Syndrome

Tonight, I had what is hands down the best run of my life. And by best I mean, I didn't feel like I was going to die after 5 minutes and for a good portion of it, I didn't hate running.

It's so totally the iPod.

I put a bunch of new music on there yesterday in the hopes that it would stop playing Leadbelly so freaking much. It worked. Kinda. Leadbelly has been replaced by Mambo Cubano! which makes me want to swivel my hips and beat some timbales. Hard to do while running. Especially for someone who's equilibrium is not 100% reliable.

The best part came when I was running through the parking lot of The Big Lie and some rousing Celtic anthem came on. I think it may have been something by Old Blind Dogs. I immediately picked up my pace and charged across the moor, Claymore brandished high vowing to overthrow the Hanovarians/British/Protestants! I was Bonnie Prince Charlie! I was Michael Collins! I was Braveheart without the anti-semitism!

And then I was Tito Puente.

2007: The year of the wing.

I'm still wondering how the holidays and a whole year managed to slip by without me realizing it. All I realized is that I am old and lame and went to bed at 12:02 the other night.

I hosted a family party (and I dipped no one's hand in a jar of acid) on New Year's Eve. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to that, but it certainly wasn't "I hope that every chicken wing in the world makes its way to my house." Luckily my brother invited a bunch of his friends over and force fed them wings. I don't even like wings, and I especially don't like finding them in drawers, behind furniture and under the dishwasher. (I just discovered an ENTIRE TRAY of uncooked wings chilling on my back porch. Ahhahahahahah.) I declare 2007 to be the year of the Wing.

I think the best part of deciding to have this party (which actually turned out all right, all wings considered) was getting sick the Wednesday after Christmas and lazing about in bed until Sunday when I organized a frantic oh my god people can NOT see how I live, must scrape pigeon shit off the stairs, who's idea was it to make wings anyway, cleaning binge.

I don't know what was/is wrong with me, but signs point to something fucked up with my ears, because i spent most of last week without equilibrium and being unable to move my head without feeling like I was going to throw up and walking into more things than usual. I'm getting used to the constant ringing in my ears and really, who needs to move their head anyway? (It's kind of like being drunk and having the room spin, except I did not have the pleasure of getting drunk.) My doctor is on vacation until Jan. 7, so I did not seek medical attention and instead drank 24 cans of Diet Ginger Ale.

My fitness/diet (ha!) regimine has been seriously thrown off by the holidays and the swimmy head business, but I tried to recoup my losses (or more accurately, my gains) and hit the gym. I must say that the iPod Shuffle (aka the musical postage stamp) was particularly kind to me tonight and played songs I actually wanted to hear. I don't know where the Shuffle gets off claiming to play a random assortment of your music library because it clearly does not. No, my workout is soundtracked by the whims of a tiny silver dictator. And for some reason, it LOVES Leadbelly, which is all well and good, but he makes me want to kill myself rather than run another 20 minutes. Also, there are songs that I am convinced I am NEVER GOING TO HEAR because we need to play Coin Operated Boy 4 times in 20 minutes.

In speaking of dictators, I must confess that when the news revealed that Saddam Hussein had been executed I immediately went online to try and see the footage. I sort of hate myself for watching this, but I simply couldn't NOT watch. Luckily the video (clearly taken with someone's camera phone) was shakey and of poor quality, but still, it was pretty horrific. I found it a bit absurd that the media was all concerned about showing/not showing the execution when OBVIOUSLY it was going to be put on the internet 5 minutes after the event? I should totally be reading F. Scott Fitzgerald or something instead of watching this kind of stuff.

Thursday-Yes-I-Realize-It's-Friday-13

My 13 Favorite Christmas Songs

(in no particular order, except the first one. Er, first TWO.)

1. Santa Baby- Even though I have no idea how even Santa could fit a DUPLEX into a christmas stocking.

2. Blue Christmas- But only when sung by Elvis. And never when sung by Porky Pig.

3. O Holy Night- My brother adores Mariah Carey's version, but I prefer Mahalia Jackson.

4. Good King Wenceslas- Admittedly it's not even about Christmas, rather St. Stephen's Day which is the 26th (aka Boxing Day), but I still like it.

5. Here we go a-wassailing- I think the best part about wassailing (besides singing to trees) is Ye Olde New England's interpretation: Although wassailing is often described in innocuous and sometimes nostalgic terms, the practice has not always been considered so innocent. In fact in early New England wassailing was associated with rowdy bands of young men who would enter the homes of wealthy neighbors and demand free food and drink in a trick-or-treat fashion. If the householder refused, he was usually cursed, and occasionally his house was vandalized. Nothing says Christmas like drunken vandalism!

6. O Little Town of Bethlehem- Even though it doesn't paint what I would consider to be a realistic picture of what Bethlehem was like. I mean, O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie! Dude, I was so there and there was nothing still about it. It was totally a party town.

7. Christmas on Christmas Island- Actually it was a toss up between this one and "Xmas on the Isthmus of Panama", but I would like to hang my stocking from a coconut tree regardless. (How can you not love a song that rhymes "isthmus" with Christmas? Brilliant!

8. Sleigh Ride- This song totally rocks. Even when performed by an 8th grade orchestra.

9. Jingle Bells- Especially when Diana Krall sings it, although the end is a bit bizarre; she says emphatically "I just really love horses!" I think she hit her head when her sleigh got upsot.

10. Carol of the Bells- It's actually kind of creepy, and makes me feel frantic, like I suddenly realized it's Christmas and I haven't done a thing to get ready. Shit.

11. Holly and Ivy- All wholesome and traditional. Like me.

12. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen- Ahhh. Comfort and Joy, like a hot cup of wassail. Just the thing to save me from Satan's Power when I have gone astray.

13. We Three Kings- The darker side of Christmas, all doom and gloom and bitter perfume.

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