Monday, December 12, 2005
Playdate number 4: Noel's pad.
After wreaking havoc by extracting every toy in the house from its
original location or container, Big Boy Bryant and Noel engage in a
round of Doctor/Patient, where Noel plays the sick one.
Let me stress: This was a well-supervised activity.
And now it's time for the "I rock"-dance 'cause, directly after all
that play, I successfully fed BBB pasta followed by freshly baked
scones. AND HE ASKED FOR MORE. That was my proudest moment of the
first half of December.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
First, I managed to purchase a St. Nicholas present for Noel, right
under her nose. The pharmacist was even in on it, and hid the present
from view. I love collaborative efforts to surprise people,
especially when it involves the help of random, nice people.
Second, during our dinner out, the Christmas tunes revolved to the
song "Noel, Noel". You should have seen my girl's (Noel's) face! She
had an adorable, almost 4-year-old expression that was a mixture of
shyness and extreme happiness. Her grin was blazing...
oooo, these things make me happy...
Monday, November 28, 2005
"Oh, hi. You're S's Mom, aye? Nice to meet you. Don't worry about parking in my spot. Actually, this is a very fortuitous meeting, as I was getting progressively worried about S and have been hoping to speak to someone close to her. I have heard escalating screams and pounding noises at early-morning and late-night hours, and was concerned about her welfare. Has she been OK?" *dumb-blonde BLINK BLINK*
*devious grin to self*
Sunday, November 20, 2005
#1. "I'll sleep with my fishy ALL night!"
#2. "I can tickle my fishy."
#3. "I want to take my fishy for a walk."
#4. And some garbled speech (she was going on and on while seating in
the back of the car, as I was driving) combined with talk of a "fishy
Note: The fish has successfully lived in our possession for a full 10 days now.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
We're driving along when the little lady says, "Carby is a slow car."
[Note: "Carby" is my Honda Civic.]
Followed by, "Make him go faster."
A.) Telling a speed queen that her car is slow can be a terrible blow. I like to pretend.
B.) There are limitations. By limitations, I mean traffic. By traffic, I mean that I live in the goddamn, overcrowded, too-densely-populated NorthEast, where assholes drive their Eddie Bauer, BMW, SUV-monstrosities and run over babies on the sidewalk.
Looks like she's taking after me...well, this time. She also hates amusement park rides and swing sets. *shakes head* I don't get that.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
each of the respective Mom's minds that the other expects a visit to
happen (fortunately the babyschool teachers are informants to this
trickery). Anyways, a visit to Noel's house did happen one evening.
Now, I *know* that the lovely Noel quite fancies BBB, but as a sage
friend of mine once uttered: boys with exotic eating habits are
difficult to feed and hence, keep. And BBB is certainly picky as HELL.
Show me a kid who doesn't like pizza, huh? Well, this young
gentleman, even having had the privilege of being the toppings-picker,
STILL managed to consume only a single bite. (He specifically directed
that his pizza should have the cheese on top, with meatballs
underneath.) And TRUST me there's almost nothing that makes me feel
like more of an ass than sending a child back to their parents hungry.
[P.S. I deserve an extra gold star for this post...I mean *you* try
and compose sentences over the sounds of multiple, pounding,
his-and-her orgasms and see how far you get...
P.S.S. I deserve a bit of coddling tonight, so I appreciate any love
you have to give. BOTH people that I spoke with this evening fell
asleep while we were talking. That's right. Two for two. SNORING,
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
still sent into fits of laughter when I view this photo. I had to
In unrelated, more recent news, my upstairs neighbor moved her
boyfriend in this weekend. I've already been treated to bouts of the
most musical, piercing orgasmic-screams that I've ever heard. At 2:00
in the morning.
I feel strange when I run into my neighbors. I hardly know anything
about them, although we've lived in the same house for over a year. I
do know what their sex sounds like, though. Hardly a good
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Monday, October 31, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
-don bat ring
-hang ghost and Frankenstein lights
-buy daughter costume that will inspire extra generosity during trick-or-treating
-light Halloween candles
-rent slasher movie
-buy skeleton cookie cake with gummy brains for Halloween party
-have strong, hunky man to retrieve laundry from dungeon-style basement and consume enough candy to rescue me from gaining 5 pounds
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
...a friendly store owner of a Halloween-themed shop let me enter his store at 10 minutes until closing. I quickly found the dress that I had been searching for (online, and in many stores), and was overjoyed about the way it fit—until I looked at the price. I sheepishly mentioned that I found the price to be high and the store owner offered me a 10% discount. I said, "Really?!?", all wide-eyed, and he said, "Yeah. Why not?!"
Monday, October 17, 2005
It's tastes better through the little hole in the top.
It's OK, I put my tongue on it.
It's not poop. (The words uttered moments before the accompanying
photograph was taken...)
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Man, I've missed you guys. No, I wasn't being held down by an enormous boulder (the sort of object that you would expect would be needed to keep me away from y'all), rather, there's just been too much a-happenin. Weddings of close friends, best friends having a stay-over, excursions to other countries (yes, Canada counts-even if you live in New England *wink*)...lots of stuff, all of which I had the good intention of reporting on.
In the meantime, I let slip by October 6th—the anniversary of when I started blogging. And blogging has brought me all sorts of happiness in ways that I never would have dreamed, so I had the good intention of celebrating. *sigh* Six days later,and now it's my birthday, so I've finally decided to push the pile of work papers away from my elbows and blog. And now, I'm feeling the urge to gush a little bit. For example, I need to give a huge shout out to Jay for having connected me. Jay is the first person to comment on my blog, and surprisingly enough, even come back for more. *wink* Without her, I likely would have let the whole thing be a quick phase. Instead, with little nuggets of encouragement, I kept on and met some incredibly funny, witty, sweet, clever, shocking, deep, priceless, wonderful, charming, and keen people. And then of course, there's the boy. *laughing...* You guys and gals have provided entertainment in a place where I expected none, friendship greater than I could have imagined, and adventures worth documenting. All from the internet....how wacky.
K. I'll try to stop my girly-rant and get back to biting commentary. In the meantime, I'll point you to a good, albeit completely unrelated story that caught my fancy today...
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
In the end J and PBF ended their relationship and lovely J began the mourning process (She proceeded to lose 7 pounds in the next week, stopped sleeping, engaged in overthinking everything...ya know the routine.) *sigh* Poor girl. Cheating is just one of those things that I fucking hate.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
1.) travel, travel, travel (Turkey, Alaska, Australia, Hawaii, Colorado, a tropical forest, etc.…….)
2.) crochet something for good (i.e. some sexy top/skirt with the holes in all the right places…..reference: Heather Graham’s hot dress in Austin Powers) [Note: crochet for evil involves potholders and Kleenex-box covers, mainly]
3.) see Noel grow up, not turn out weird, and still want to hang-out with me
4.) have a job where I am respected and earn enough money (see #1)
5.) make a noticeable difference in a worthy organization. I’m thinking non-for-profit, maybe medically-related…
6.) live in a beautiful reclusive place in the wilderness and write
7.) marry my best friend
Things I Can Do
1.) run a radio show-including programming and dialogue
2.) run a polyacrylamide gel
3.) write a medical manuscript and have it published
4.) tie a knot with a cherry stem….no hands, just tongue
5.) make a wedding veil
6.) play the clarinet
7.) throw a baseball like a boy (I’ve been hit on for my softball skillz. *wink*)
Things I Cannot Do
1.) go a week without bruising myself
3.) show up on time
4.) stop myself from laughing inappropriately, or control the volume of my voice/laughter
5.) call people when I should
6.) play happy, when I’m really not
7.) fake an orgasm
Seven Things That Attract Me To The Opposite Sex
1.) Will dance with me (oh right, that was out by the 2nd guy I dated *wink*) Nerdiness/Cleverness
2.) Kindness (especially to animals, small children, and ugly people)
3.) Similar humor appreciation
4.) Being tall and fit, and having nice hands
5.) Being into words
6.) Being into music (‘specially the stuff I like *wink*)
7.) Being able to fix things…e.g. computers, bikes, me
Seven Things I Say Most Often
2.) TAKE THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH.
3.) I like it, a LOT.
7.) Daft prick! (Well not really, but I’ve been meaning to integrate that into my speech for ages, now. *wink*)
Celebrity Crushes (although I’d pick some solid, regular time alone with Lever, over any of these boys/girl)
1.) tobey mcguire
2.) bill murray
3.) ralph fiennes
4.) giovanni ribisi
5.) minnie driver
6.) cilian murphy
7.) john malkovich
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
...I read your blog, I thought "Dear god, is this the same language I speak?" Crisps, boot-of-a-car, bollocks, lorry, lilo, queue, banger racing, wedding tackle, titting-about, gaffs, baggies...good god—where's my urban dictionary?!? Of course, some of the confusion must have just been due to a broken "u" on the keyboard, because some of the words were spelled close to the proper spelling...cheque, manouevre, colour, honour, favour...but with an extra vowel tacked in there.
...I read your email I was school-girl happy. Mmmmm, a nice, clever, polite boy is emailing me...
...I got your text, I almost crashed my car, trying to find my phone and decrypt why it was making strange noises (I was not a texting-girl.) But the words made me squeal as I swerved down the highway, trying to read it...
...I heard your voice on my answering machine, I had the compulsion to practice saying your name over and over in your accent. (I still don't have it quite right.)
...We spoke on the phone, I could hardly understand what you were saying. Although, that was partly my fault for swooning over the sound of your voice—that sort of thing shuts down my brain function, including word comprehension. It was a v. short phone call. :D
...I laid eyes on you, I was nervous as f@%k and pretty damn tired to boot. Fortunately, you're cool about handling small talk without much reinforcement. ;)
...We hugged, I thought, "He's definitely my type of boy."
...We held hands, I was like a giggly school girl. It still sends me into wild bouts of uncontrollable happiness to think about it.
...You kissed my cheek, I was on some kind of high....
SO yeah, maybe next time we meet up, we can get to second base. (Second base was considered groping, right? It's been too long since middle school)...*wicked grin* You free to cross the Atlantic, babe? Soon, pahhleaze? *eye flutter*
Anyways, my sweetheart HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Monday, September 12, 2005
I ran in a half marathon recently.
(where ran= moved barely faster than a walk for 7 miles and then interspersed jogging and walking for the last 6.1)
Here is the main conclusion that I came to:
RUNNERS ARE COMPLETELY NUTTERS.
They find their running time more important than:
a.) not littering (hence THOUSANDS of cups and food wrappers all over the course)
b.) using a toilet (I witnessed many in-the-woods style piss-breaks and heard tell of some that just went in their pants.)
c.) consuming non-engineered foods such as "goo" and "aminovital" (code for nasty-ass wanna-be food products that you should never, ever subject your poor, harmless taste buds to)
Here's my defense for why I did it anyways: (athough I certainly did NOT engage in littering or peeing in weird places)
a.) I'll try *just about anything* once
b.) They had bands. MANY, many bands.
c.) My siblings all did it.
d.) It was on Virginia beach....beauuuuutiful....
The funny part is, there have been consequences. I trained for this foolish stunt (although not enough, mind you) by running the 0.1 mile loop that I live on. Yeah, laugh it up. I *DID* have to run around like a *gerbil*, completing the loop 70 times for 7 miles, for example. The funny thing is, now there's this flock of biddies that have taken to fast-walking my loop. They're a group of gossiping, older ladies that have cumulatively lost 10 pounds in the last 3 weeks between moving their legs and their mouths. It induces me to laugh and laugh when I see what I have caused....
Thursday, September 08, 2005
household, I thought I'd update you with the 3rd Triple B-Looty
Lovekins date (the 2nd was at his place....so all those reports would
just be heresy *wink*). Here is is. Triple B thought the food was
terrible and LL cried her eyes out for most of the evening. There was
no sharing the cool, green bike and no agreement on a show to watch.
The marbles, however, were magic. Sending marbles into unreachable
places such as down exhaust grates, behind heavy furniture, and into
dark corners made the 3-year-olds shine.....
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Apparently. she has been expressing genes that were not inherited from me, recently.
Also, I will keep this in mind when she has a child of her own and is responsible for naming it. I will have to keep a close eye on the situation....
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Metropolitan Museum of Art. We did it, long into the evening. Too
bad there were an overabundance of security guards making silly,
irrational demands from square one. I was trying to enjoy ART, for
god's sake, do you mind taking your bullying elsewhere? (But then
again, Noel, SFMD & I ARE a v. suspicious bunch...better keep an eye on us!!
We might....I dunno...laugh too loud or something. *wink*)
Friday, August 19, 2005
BBFK: "How are you, J?"
J: "Good. Tired."
BBFK: "I saw you last night..."
J: "Oh, where was that?"
BBFK: "At your boyfriend's. [He lives 3 houses down from me.] I was out for a run and called your name to say hi..."
J: "....That wasn't me."
BBFK: *confused* "Oh. Well a girl parked her car and went to his house. She looked just like you, but it was dark, so I couldn't see her face clearly..." *trailing off + looking disheartened*
J: "What was she driving?"
BBFK: "A VW."
J: "Yeah...I know who she is."
BBFK: *deflated look + stumped for what to say, as "Sorry that I've just given you evidence that your boyfriend is fucking another woman" just didn't seem right*
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
by Joseph Heller
Incredibly witty and funny, you have a taste for irony in all that you
see. It seems that life has put you in perpetually untenable situations, and your sense
of humor is all that gets you through them. These experiences have also made you an
ardent pacifist, though you present your message with tongue sewn into cheek. You
could coin a phrase that replaces the word "paradox" for millions of
Yeah. And anyone that knows me, KNOWS that this is my favorite book of all time. *high fives the fabulous quizz makers at Blue Pyramid*
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Thanks to the lovely Rebekah for this, BTW.....(http://antisocialtendencies.blogspot.com/)
(Well, at least according to the resident expert, 3 yr old.)
No jokin' around there. No bother with a little, "I don't want it" or "We ate that yesterday, Mom." Nope, she went right in for the kill....no arguing with the ugly, tortured death induced by blueberries...
Sunday, August 14, 2005
We went on the rides.....
........The picture illustrates the headlock Noel puts me in as the
merry-go-round shakily starts, and continues to vibrate. She has a
stronger inhibition of danger than I do, apparently.
We played the games.....
.........Well, admittedly, just one, 'cause they are a rip-off and
they didn't even bother to have a duck-pond: the gold-standard in kids
festival games. The neighbor's scheme to assuredly win a prize for
Noel at the water-gun game (be the first bloke to squirt enough water
in a clown's mouth to break a balloon and win), was ruined when a
horde of straight-shooting kids showed up. Despite her brainstrom that
I should whore myself out in order to procure a nice, yellow, stuffed
duckling, I walked away. I felt complemented by her confidence in my
abilites to induce the gentleman game-operator to part with the
aforementioned duck, ("He's cute! Just batt your eyes and
smile...."), but the duck just wasn't THAT cute. And my girl already
has the amount of stuffed animals that should take 10 years to
accumulate (including a yellow duck, BTW)
We ate the food.....
........Although, here we diverged from the usual festival experience.
There was a cultural twist to this one. Instead of corn-dogs, cotton
candy, and fudge, the fare at this fest included
sausage/peppers&onions, cannolis, lemon ice, and pizza frittas.
Mmmmm...Evviva gli Italiano!
Friday, August 12, 2005
recluse. That was sort of odd, considering I was in NYC for the day.
It's always weird feeling lonely when you're surrounded. I had the
distinct feeling all day that there was some big secret that I was not
privy to. Here are the incidences and observations which fed that
1.) It all began when I spied a truck driving down the train tracks,
as I was sweating it out at the station (The East coast is currently
very stickystickysticky. Did I mention it's been humid out recently?)
Ummmmm....since when did TRUCKS drive on TRAIN tracks? (Check out the
picture....those red lights in the distance are the rear break-lights
of a truck.)
2.) The meeting that I had to attend was on a topic that I very
recently started learning about and only had a 17% likelihood of
pronouncing correctly. The people-involved rattled off acronyms and
technical jargon at a quick pace, oftentimes talking over each other.
Lucky me...I'm the lackey that gets to implement all their wording
desires...just as soon as I figure WTF they were talking about, that
3.) Ripply-muscled cops jumped on our crammed elevator as we rode in
the wrong direction to the lobby. They bantered about a guy who was
"able to walk around." Um....yeah. Normally not a noteworthy skill.
(As a nice bonus, the cop took an extra second to make a single
comment to my boss that got her rattled enough to pull me aside for a
confidence boost sort-of-question. Props, NYPD.)
4.) A stretcher rolled out of the hotel to a near-by ambulance.
5.) After managing to squeeze my body into one of the 2 seats left on
the densely populated train and position my bag in a way that didn't
encroach on other people's space, I realized that the boob-level
button of my shirt had worked its way undone.
6.) I found the driver's side car mirror on Car-bie was scratched to
shit. *shrugs shoulders* Wasn't me. My poor wounded Car-bie, who
hurt you and how could they be so mean and careless? (Car-bie will
likely remain scarred...I'm too poor to worry about cosmetic fixes.)
[Note: Following a viewing of Herbie:Full Throttle, Noel christened
our car with the name, Car-bie.]
Sunday, August 07, 2005
her mouth hung open long enough to consume a day's worth of protein
just from the bugs that entered! (Of course, she'd have a problem
with this because she would mourn the loss of all those bugs...she's
the sort that escorts bugs out of her house and gives them a little
cash to start a new home before sending them on their way. *wink*)
Anyways, when she arrived, the party for her was already in full
swing. We had consumed enough salad, sausage roll, fruit and cheese
appetizers to make us uncomfortable if we weren't sitting up straight,
done-in half the sherbet-champagne punch, and almost run out of
conversation. The party thrown by her soon-to-be-in-laws was in honor
of S's upcoming wedding, and was destined to be memorable, if only
because of the momentous amount of food (the main course included 7
large tins of Italian delicacies). There was a pedicure/manicure
station, a wine-tasting table, and scores of well-decorated tables
(with dragonflies for bug-loving S), all with a view of the ocean, as
we were a jump (literally) away from the beach. Thankfully, there was
drinking instead of guess-retarded-details-about-the-bride-to-be-games
and a stripper instead of um, er...actually the lack of any real
entertainment (like with other wedding showers I've been to). Yes, I
DID say a stripper...I'll get back to that. 'Course it was pretty
entertaining watching S wade through the tall pile of presents geared
at making her a homemaker. I had mine delivered by Noel, so as to add
another assurance of trust, beyond the obvious shape of the gift.
True-to-form, there was a book under the wrap. A cookbook to be more
precise. It was the bookmark that was the kicker (see photo). She
received the prescribed amount of kitchen appliances and tools,
candles, home-crotchet goods-destined never to leave the box, and
slinky underwear, i.e. buttfloss. Then policeman Giovanni showed up
because he'd heard S had been bad. He proceeded to flick his leather
belt in a whip-motion, handcuff S, take off his shirt, AND,
AND....that would be when the 3 year old and I took a walk. So much
for my first opportunity to see a stripper......We made it back for
the cake, cookies, and marshmallow salad though. I think I was in a
food-coma when I left, however, I was quite satisfied that S had been
thrown a party that sufficiently relished, embarrassed, and adored
her. Wishing you the best S and J.....
Thursday, August 04, 2005
(Noelspeak code: bummie=ass and BIG=grown-up....or so I like to tell
myself...*wink* *schedules in an extra run, just in case*)
Noel to Mom, again: You look so shiny, mama.
(Noelspeak code: shiny=good-to-me....not "dear god, please get some
soap for the oily-skin issue on your forehead.....!"
BBFK arrives to pick up Noel. Noel runs to get Big Boy Bryant and
holding his hand, insists that he needs to come over to her house.
Triple B's Mom enters and negotiations begin for the "BIG HANGOUT".
Sensing that progress is being made, Triple B and Noel jump up and
down, shouting "YAY!" while still holding hands. Discussion of
logistics ensue between the Moms, during which Triple B insists that
he stay over "a very long time", while Noel starts haggling for a
sleepover. The sleepover idea is immediately refuted and the proper
etiquette is explained. The first date is a dinner only; sleepovers
need to happen later in the relationship. ;)
Triple B and Noel have their first date.
Much jumping, toy-sharing, chalk-drawing, and Spiderman-viewing ensue.
Over homemade pepperoni pizza with a side of fresh carrots, Noel
offers to "tip" (code for "let's toast") and Triple B raises his glass
and says, "Cheers!". Plans for "BIG HANGOUT PART II: BIG BOY BRYANT'S
HOUSE" are discussed before the night is over.
Daddy comes to pick up Triple B, and Triple B is so distressed about
leaving Noel, he's not able to return a hug.
Noel returns the truck that Triple B had left at Noel's house.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
In fact *everything* went swimmingly right up until we needed to get
to the church. I found the fact that 4 bridesmaids and a bride were
*ahead* of schedule in the makeup/hair/dress up department to be a
near unmatchable feat on a wedding day. It unfortunately just
lengthened the seemingly endless time that we waited for the limo that
never came. At 1:40pm my lovely sister was told that the stretch limo
had broken down on the highway, but would arrive in 20 minutes. The
hitherto calm bride immediately went into well-deserved
hysterical-mode, as 2:00pm was the start time for her wedding
ceremony. We recruited the Marriot van at that point, glamorous as it
was, and were laughing before we reached the church.
We barely lasted through the ceremony. And no I'm not moaning about a
preachy Protestant sermon (actually the priest took a novel approach:
he recited an epic rhyming poem about the couple) or about screechy
kids (Noel was a star and quietly swung her white-dress adorned body
while standing with the bridal party in the front of the church), or
even about a corny, folk-group singing squad (a lovely hand-bell choir
had been recruited for the occasion), rather I'm talking about the <90
degree heat and the non-moving air in the unconditioned church. Sweat
rolled down even the children's faces and created dark stains on
everyone's fancy frocks. We happily emerged from the service to soft
breezes, light rain, and NO limousine. A battery of calls and enough
time for a photo-shoot later, we found a replacement parked out front.
The limo could not be revived, and a "limo" bus had been sent as a
replacement. It was roomy, however, it did not have the panache of
the classic limo, well, especially when the front hood was cracked
open, and a little Honda was parked in front of it with jumper cables
attached. Several tries later, the limo bus came to life, and we all
piled in, relieved to finally have a mode of transportation. Our
brief foray around town for more scenic pictures gave us a glimpse of
our intended stretch limo as it was gingerly being towed from its
resting place on the highway. We giggled.
The reception was flavored with guests that entertained and inspired.
(?!) There was the dedicated wicken-boy who went so far as to file
down his teeth to shape fangs, then the stubbornly bitter cousin who
STILL sits alone at the bar sucking down as much free liquor as
possible-even though she's just a few months from turning 40, and the
suede-dress clad Amazon woman who rocked her body on the dance floor
like she needed a pole. Oh, wait-I forgot, I DID find out that she
WAS a stripper, confirming my suspicions�. Damn she was hot. I felt
no need to shake my ass, with her considerable moves on the dance
As the reception wound down the flakey bridesmaid showed her true
colors. She slopped her wine down the front of her dress and dropped
her glass on the dance floor. Her profuse apologizes were lost as I
ushered her and her bare feet away, not allowing her to pick up the
glass; the situation was too dangerous.
Reception concluded, a shuttle safely transported the guests to their
hotels. But, oh, no, the night was not destined to end that easily.
The over-drunk bridesmaid made a $150 puke on the shuttle, disembarked
mid-trip, and gave a farewell finger to the driver. Classy.
And that, my dear friends was my little sister's wedding day.
My Lever had the pleasure of experiencing it all first hand, and had a
small encore of the transportation hassles the next evening. A
burning car on the Tappan-Zee bridge left us sitting for hours,
moaning and then celebrating his missed transatlantic flight.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
I did. I was probably around 8 years old at the time.
Now your turn...
Oh, and feel free to admit to the consumption of any other questionable substances. At first I was thinking of other pet foods, but why limit this confessional? ;)
On an unrelated note, my current favorite medical magazine, is now the Journal of Hand Therapy. I'm definitely ranked "13 year old boy" when it comes to maturity.
Monday, July 25, 2005
likely unprecedented way. I was doing my usual jog around the
neighborhood street, pushing a stroller full of Noel, when I noticed a
smallish, cat-like animal in the middle of the road blocking my path.
My instinctual alarms went off, but I was bullheaded and determined
not to break my stride (mostly because once I do, there is only a 50%
chance that I'll start up again). When I was 2 feet away I noticed
that the entire animal was black, with the exception of a bit of white
on his or her tail.... I then recalled the heinous smell that wafted
through my window the previous night. Fortunately, the skunk chose to
skitter-off instead of spraying me and my poor, unsuspecting, asleep,
3 year old.
So, the associated pictures were taken on the ferry-trip to Long
Island this past weekend. It was lovely, I'd like to report (and
thanks for asking darling, Rebekah). The food was good, no cars were
towed, and my friends were delighted to find a garage sale chock-full
of plastic goods to feed their barbie fetish (I'll have you know, Noel
and I escaped Barbie-free. *happy sigh*) Did you know that there
exists a champagne-room barbie van, complete with revolving bar stools
and a disco ball? My friends stopped themselves from buying that even
for a bargain 5 dollar price and went with the barbie VW bus, instead.
Anyways, I'd like to make a public apology to anyone that I owe an
email to. I still dig you, but the 1000-word days that I've been
putting in at work, have sucked all the email and blog life out of
me...well most of it anyways. For those of you who've received an
email in the last three days, you've gotten the star treatment; any
people with an email from me in the last week is on my special list;
anyone who hasn't heard from me in the last month shouldn't despair
yet, and if you've heard from me in the last 24 hours then you must be
my sweetheart, Lever. ;)
Saturday, July 23, 2005
2.) Texting me while bike riding in a forest and sending me a *woody kiss.* (his words)
3.) Making out with me on a mostly empty train ride in NYC. (New Yorkers can handle a little steamy-ness.)
4.) Every time he says *just* what I was about to say.
5.) Attempting to lay a kiss on my Mom's cheek and landing on her lips instead.
6.) Farting on my hand while we're saying goodbye in the airport parking lot of the JFK airport.
7.) Making out in the rain in the middle of a (not busy) street in Bath. He got soaked, as he'd loaned the foolish American-in-England his parka.
8.) Every time random people strike up conversations with us. This happens regularly in the BBFK/Lever world.
9.) Giving (correct) directions to 3 different, inquiring people in NYC, having been in the country a full 5 hours.
10.) Falling asleep while conversing with me on the phone last night. And *yes* he snores.
K. Gotta pack up. I'm off to wreak havoc...er....adventure on Long Island. Be back soon. *kiss* Play amongst yourselves...
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
I managed to escape work unscathed today. At the end, it was like someone released a rottweiler into a small den of cats. I just gathered my belongings, slunk out as quietly as possible, and left the ladies to stew in their own self-loathing that gets reflected in their bitch-ass behavior.
Today's observation, as I walked down the treacherous walk between my work and Noel's school, was that the cops around these here parts are particularly useless. I've had dealings with them several times now, but were they around when an SUV hit Noel and I as we strolled down the street?(No); were they present when an SUV was inches away from my body as I walked across the pedestrian walk? (NO!); and finally were they present as 2, mind you-two cars!!, drove in the wrong direction down the one way street yesterday? Um, yeah, the cop was practically flirting with the ladies, judging by the glances exxhanged...I guess that would be why he did NOTHING about it. Bleah to that. I'm sure he'll be around to throw tickets on parked cars tomorrow, though.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
But I still *don't* like it when......
In quick succession, I arrive home and sift through my mail to find an exorbitant bank fee and a credit card bill that is growing faster than the dandelions in my yard. Then, the doorbell rings to reveal a young man trying to foist some educational books off on me, for his internship which he describes as a "personal growth experience", directly followed by the next door lady handing me a catalogue of candle knick-knacks she's trying to sell (complete with the guilt trip that she faithfully watches my daughter when I need her to). Swallow *that* within a 10 minute period. It was a hard pill...need I spell it out? *I'm f*cking poor, people! I'm a single Mom living in an expensive town. I skimp on things like paying for TV service, for gods sake!* On a happy note, the DVD player that was also broken by a not-to-be-named-sweetie-pie-3-year-old within that same 10 minute time period, was disassembled and put into working order by lil' ole' me, tonight. *sigh of relief* I was about to chalk it up to 2 downed DVD players in one year (she managed to take out the portable one a couple months ago.)
Then this morning, while I was escorting the very big, hairy, black spider out of my house that Noel pointed out (imagine a yell: "Mom! There's an ant!!!"...Ok, she at least got the insect part right) my fire alarm went off. I mean WTF! I wasn't even cooking anything, much less lighting fires....
The last clustering to report weighs heavier than the others, but is way less fun to write about. Just the typical overburdened writer-girl scenario. I've gotten loaded up with too many manuscripts that have the same deadline, concurrent with other little projects that manage to usurp way more time than you'd think possible. See I'm drooling just writing about it. I need to stop before I get everyone's keyboards wet... ;)
Yeah, and stop I will. I can’t BELIEVE I’m forsaking quality time with my Harry Potter book for blogging! That's a change in priorities that I never would have predicted. I definitely need blog-a-holics anonymous, it’s confirmed.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
I didn't let it end there. Once I was conscience enough, I decided that some gluing was in order. You see, my sis-my beautiful, wonderful little sister-is getting married on Saturday and I'm in charge of making the veil. But man, being a perfectionist, gluing trim to veil material can really make you sweat (especially when it's 2000 degrees in my apartment already....do you like how scientific I am with my numbers tonight? No units, no sig figs...) So there I was half-naked gluing...do you remember those shirts that were "naked" versions of all different sports? I think naked gluing could be the new rage, aye?
schedule. My daughter consistently makes use of this fact and uses
her wily ways to stay up until 11pm on some nights, even *shudder*
very, occasionally- to midnight. Regimented anything is just not me.
In fact, you can pretty much guarantee that I'll be 10 minutes late to
anything that I need to arrive to, regardless of how important it is
to be on time. I'm very reliably 10 minutes late.
Anyways, I'm in a zone, currently, where I have SO much to accomplish,
that I've literally had to do the very dull task of planning out when
I could run to the bank, when I could meet with the babysitter, when I
would attempt to tire Noel out before the 2 hour conference call, etc.
(I'm drooling with boredom just thinking about it again.) So in my
time slot where I was scheduled to start the pizza dough for dinner, I
was thrown for a classic-BBFK-loop. You see that little photo that's
associated with this? Click on it. Then you'll clearly see that my
kitchen sink faucet fell off. That's right. You've read just what
you thought you read. You see, i was doing a damn solid job of this
(crap) schedule thing, when suddenly the faucet was in my hand and
water was on the ceiling. And, I just didn't have a "re-attach
faucet" time slot scheduled in. What *was* I thinking..... Now do you
understand my world? *laughing....*
Monday, July 11, 2005
2.) Sales mentality: In an effort to get me to buy matching underwear, a sales clerk pulled out all the stops. She wasn't thwarted by "I don't wear thongs." No. She then pitched the ole', "This is a great starter thong!" idea. Wha? There are *trainer* thongs? Is this like a trainer bra or those rubber spoons and forks babies use when they first start eating solid food? Oh, and I love the idea that you could be hooked on wearing thongs. "This one will get you started, but then you won't be able to stop! Your whole way of life will soon change..."
3.) The first thing out of the lips of my babe this morning was, "I'm making a muscle!", as she put her arm in the air and flexed..er...well, I'm assuming there was flexing. It's hard to tell on a 3-yr-old. I was still impressed. ;)
Friday, July 08, 2005
blog-log. I've been paralyzed into inaction by the hovering
guilt-cloud of an ugly manuscript that's been rearing its head.
Fortunately, the bastard (and I only call it that because it happens
to be on a crap topic) is on its last moments of the BBFK-respirator
and will soon be breathing on its own (for better or worse, I might
say). In early celebration, I figured I might start writing what I
*want* to write about, starting with the closing moments of my Free
Fallin' weekend (which I might add, no one guessed the concert that I
attended, yet...feel free to dig in...)
So cue up your Erasure and read on....
P and I, in our best attempt at pretending to *like* mornings, peeled
our bodies off of our respective hard surfaces: the floor and fold-out
chair. We shook off our alcohol-clouded heads, assembled our randomly
scattered belongings, and hit the local Hot Bagels. East coast bagels
hit the spot like no other breakfast food can, save maybe a good
English scone, and we were convinced and energized enough to plod on.
So off we went to our next destinations: the semi-local basketball
courts and outdoor running path. And run I did. Five miles worth of
it, fortunately through a nicely wooded section and with occasional
breaks for water. The cool-down mile walk was even accessorized with
some lovely company from another continent.
Fast-forward ahead past the non-movie worthy portions of the day, and
there we were driving North, on the road to NYC. My karma (damn, I
was a bastard in a previous life) kicked up then, and poor P found
himself with a ticket in hand, poor man. Yay, for a lack of towing
that weekend, but REALLY, going 12 miles over the speed limit is not a
big deal when you're on the highway and the speed limit is a lame
Once we did a little off-roading style crossing of a median, got lost,
and found, we managed to get into the least car-dense bridge or tunnel
leaving New Jersey. NYC was another matter though. Gay pride was all
hot and heavy, strutting through 5th Ave intermittently, between
stop-and-go traffic. I jumped out and into the fray. And oh, was it
worth it! There were gay versions of everything...gay rugby, gay
volleyball, gay volleyball, gay Jewish, gay Episcopalians...it went on
and on by genre. There were hotties and thongs and sweat (including
on me, at >92 degrees F), and loud thumping *good* dance music, and
unwanted freebies, and squirting water, and cops. It was all I could
hope for on a sunny Sunday on my own.
(My apologies to the heterosexual males. The parade offered next to no
eye candy for anyone other than gay men and heterosexual woman.)
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Sunday, July 03, 2005
It was a classic moment between us. We had been shoe shopping, partially in further preparation for my sister's wedding and in part because that it what you do every season change when you have a growing 3-year-old. So after accomplishing our white shoes and new sandal purchase, we started hiking it out of the store. I wasn't surprised when the escalator coming into view caused Noel almost to convulse with excitement over the possibilities. I knew the happiness that a little ride would bring, so although it was a detour, we set off for the escalator. I hopped on, and apparently didn't have a solid grip on her little hand, because she wasn't with me in the continual downward movement. I called for her and she donned a trepidations look and refused. As I had gone 8 feet down at this point, I started running up the escalor (*sarcasm*a fun exercise in futility) and got within inches, but managed to grab her doll, and not her. I kept cajoling her to jump on, meanwhile. Two more failed attempts at swiping her later and a line behind Noel, and I was getting *very* frustrated. A nice black woman finally took her hand and remedied the situation. 'Course we immediately had to get on the "up" escalator. *blood pressure raises just remembering* Right. That first escalator ride only happened because why? I needed a new spatula in the kitchen appliance section or a new push-up bra in the downstairs section of the department store. Um, NO!!
Thursday, June 30, 2005
So I'm learning to fly.....
We carpooled our way to the show. It was in Hartford, at their enormous outdoor amphitheatre. People were streaming in by the thousands, highschoolers, school age...did they get their artist straight? Maybe I wouldn't be able to buy a ticket at the door...and I forgot my book (the backup plan) *sigh* I thought, "I may have to lurk outside looking forlorn until half way through, someone takes pity..."
As soon as we integrated into the mass migration, the *happy* set in. God I enjoy concert-people watching! The current trend-the peasant skirt in its shortened form-was something that all body types were taking on, much to my pleasure. Surely many looked like sausages in their outfits, bursting out of their casings (probably hoping for help peeling off the wrappers later....) Then there were the bikini-tops (solid choice for an outdoor concert at night) and the ones that chose jeans that caused rolls to protrude, even if they weren't heavy.... The guys had less fashion and also less faux pas, but some still managed. For example there were those that chose to forsake shirt-wear and expose enough boxer to almost see ass-cheek from the bottom.
But I digress. Mmmm, concert. I *did* make it in without having to pander a doe-eyed, have pity-on-me style look or having anything confiscated at the gate. (How did all that skunk, that I smelled/viewed later, slip through?) So we identified our spot on the lawn and settled in. The new fashion of posting texts to a billboard kept us amused, slightly. Although, "the man" had definitely filtered out all the good stuff and distilled most messages down to "hi mom!" or "love you forever, bob" There was no swearing to be read or even a nice little sexual insinuation. We had to get by with little chuckles over the guy that proposed and the girl that responded, "No." Fortunately, our more immediate surroundings provided a slew of entertainment. SO much so, that S was caught uttering, "We have another crier", and "watch out!" as another boy took a roll down the hill. Drinking and grassy hills don't mix?! Mid second act, things got more serious though. The gentleman behind us stumbled over a young man (~10 yrs old?) *a couple times*. The mother reacted much as I would have: she got in the offenders face and uttered some choice words. The gentleman took the very-useful"It wasn't my fault" stance and with the aid of my friends S and J, things got to a boil. I tried my best to catch the gentleman's eye to give him my best, "I'm laughing *AT* you because you are a stupid, wasted drunk-ass frat boy...good luck standing"-look. The cloud passed and our lovely artists continued to rock out more of their best hits. In fact, only 3 songs fell outside of the best-of category, the one new one of note had the chorus "blah, blah,blah....crawl through the winda, I'm off to see Melinda..." Well, it was something like that. The point is that "window" and "Melinda" were being rhymed. *shakes head*
And that kicked off my Free Fallin' weekend....
Monday, June 27, 2005
locals do relationships. I'm thinking they must be really great at it,
as they like to spell out *every detail* of how they would like things
to be done, even the most obvious of points. Whereas the rest of the
world makes the *assumption* that it's uncool to vandalize, New Jersey
folk don't leave that knowledge up to chance. They'll tell ya
straight up. I can imagine their romantic conversations, "Oh, baby,
kiss me on the neck, put your lips on my mouth, then grab my *****,
gently tease my ****, and don't stop until I've *********. Avoid
pinching or bruising, thank you."
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
lovely picture of a famous blackboard taken at a special exhibit at
Oxford's History of Science Museum, but a photo not even taken by my
own hand!!!! (Thank you, Lever dear.) If you look deeply into the
ethics of cloning, you can see Lever and BBFK....
Sunday, June 19, 2005
*only BBFK is actually eating the full meal*
BBFK: "Comeon then! Eat up, please."
Noel: "I don't want poison."
BBFK: "It's not poison!"
Noel: "They're not carrots."
Apparently *cooking* carrots converts them to *not-carrot* form. A form similar to an evil superhero, able to kill, like poison.
[Mom note: I have surreptitiously induced Noel's admission that she *knows* there are carrots on her plate but that she just doesn't want them. Sweet.]
Friday, June 17, 2005
There's this adorable little store down the street from where I work. It sells cool, off-the-wall foods at amazingly good prices. They have friendly people that work for them and reliably offer samples of their foods while you're browsing their store. The store is set up in a grid pattern so it's easy to negotiate and you're greeted with an abundance of flowers at the door. SO just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Noel and I got ourselves arranged in a carriage and got to it: starting with bananas. Which is when it happened. This granola-looking boy pulled out a bag of long balloons and asked us what we desired. Noel quickly replied "A dog!" and the reply was "oh, that's easy." And then, he quickly fashioned a pink dog for Noel (and meanwhile I did some balloon research: apparently the *pig* is the hard one to make, BTW.) We went about our business then, with our newly acquired pink balloon-dog. Of course, the 3-yr-old HAD to mess with it. Ya know: hug it, squeeze it, make it jump...all the things a balloon is not meant for. Before long the dog had unfolded and lost his rear and tail. Luckily all-purpose-Mom-skill-2,014 happens to be "Repair unfolded balloon-dogs" and I fixed it. Although we had since moved to the frozen-foods section, granola-boy appeared again to complement me on my skillz. By the time we were to the pizza sauce section, the dog had again come undone *sigh to 3-yr-old* and granola-boy once again was there to the rescue, asking if he could refold that for us...
And there ya have it. Props to the local food mart for finding new ways to please...
SO how *could* I be salty after that, aye?
1.) >90 degree weather, no air conditioner, and no screens in the windows. We live in a sweatbox.
2.) Broken glass outside my house due to severe delinquency of the owner of the house. Painting in the fall caused the storm glass to be removed...it was never replaced despite notes and many, many calls (and bad winter heating bills for me).
4.) A broken washer.
5.) The house owner that does not answer her phone or have an answering machine so that I can leave a message.
6.) Crap email from judgemental people.
Maybe I need to shop.....
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
2.) Ladies don't wear bras (well many don't, at least). I can really appreciate this. I've been through several phases where I'd forsake 'em (and even when I do wear them, I want it to feel like I'm not. The person who invented underwire can kiss my ass.) Confusingly, some American boys *want* you to wear a bra, but are psyched as hell just to hear the word "commando." Whatever. I don't pretend to understand.
3.) People don't get expensive, silly cosmetic procedures (from what I've observed) and thusly, don't look plastic (like Americans can.) K. I think this all amounts to the British are more practical and relish *comfort* over *preening and strutting.* Cheers to that.
4.) The British appreciate the use of "understatement" as a form of humor.
5.) People are considerate and extraordinarily polite in the UK.
6.) The accent makes me drool.
7.) Fish and chips.
8.) A beautiful view while highway driving...lots of green, little litter.
9.) The British *know* how to make chocolate. Now that I've had British chocolate, I just can't go back. I've started pondering tracking down an internet ordering site for when my quickly dwindling chocolate stockpile that I imported is gone (Oh, and sorry to all those friends that I meant to give chocolate gifts to..I had the best of intentions... *wink*)
10.) Access to the boy who rocks my world.
And just to verify this, I retook this test that I took back in March, and STILL got the same outcome....
You Belong in the UK
A little proper, a little saucy.
You're so witty and charming...
No one notices your curry breath
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
SO, I decided to go and try to work off the pent-up energy by a little stroll and banana snack. My skin's a little pinker now and there's a slight sheen of sweat on my skin. That would be because the sun is on FULL blast and it's hot as a mofo out there (and that's officially what the weatherman SAID, thank you.) So WHY did I run into a woman with a fur slung over her shoulder? WTF is she trying to prove? Dead animal is cool anytime? Goddamn this area. *blows air over skin to encourage cool down*
to open my eyes!
And more follies revealed, as per request.
There were a couple things that I could *possibly* be blamed for on
the whirlwind UK tour (if I could call 3 cities in 5 days, that...)
1.) The car was towed.
OK, outwardly, I had nothing to do with it. I didn't park it, suggest
where to park it, moon any tow-dudes, or leave any "please tow me"
notes on the windshield. But then again my tow history totals one in
Champaign, one in NYC, and one in Boston (2 of which happened in the
last 9 months). Lever's had none, until, now. Someone has "please
tow me" listed in their karmic profile and I *may* have to point a
finger at me for this one. It was a hard situation, because the
doe-eyed reception desk workers almost made me go American-style,
self-important, crass, "fix-this-now"! on them. I was mostly
restrained. In the end I decided it was more fruitful to just make
out with Lever until he'd almost forgotten his woes.
2.) I flooded the bathroom.
The water was scalding and the controls were refusing to bend to my
will. Um, for a solid 10 minutes (god, I sound incompetant.
Hmmmm...) So, there was a bit of water that dripped out of the tub.
Well, OK, maybe enough to fill up the floor and be considered
hazardous...maybe enough to drip to the room below us. Maybe. That's
not verified, but there was speculation towards that conclusion. But
I think the fact that we weren't kicked out of the hotel, is evidence in my favor, aye?
*convincing eye flutter*
3.) I got my head wet.
But it's my head, dammit, I can do what I want. Solid defense, aye?
Except that I didn't actually *want* it to get wet. I just intended
to turn on the water in the tub, ever-so-briefly, and then walk away.
Oh, well. Wet clothes, gotta remove 'em.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Monday, June 06, 2005
leaving me half-blind. I had them long enough to clearly view the
well-dressed black woman squatting at the rear bumper of his car (30
minutes in the country) and the hail that came down another 5 hours
later, but from there it was a blur. It caused some funny situations.
On day 2 I was hit on in a pub, by being asked "Are you OK?" by a
little cluster of British boys. After taking a second to assure them
that I was, I immediately walked myself into a mirror. From there I
was left to grope the wall in search of a way to open the girl's room
door that had been engineered to be inconspicuous, and lay flush with
the wall. I heard a ripple of laughter behind me as I fumbled around.
This was not the only instance of toilet mishap. I walked up close to
many bathrooms, squinting, trying to discern the writing, throughout
the entire journey through London, Oxford and Bath. Following a lunch
of fish and chips at Oxford's self-proclaimed best-pub, I headed off
in the direction of the bathroom, to find that it was the boy's room.
Furthermore, the girl's had been located directly across from my
seat, less than 10 feet away. The older gentleman watching the
situation, remarked that I may not want to go into the gent's although
it may pleasantly surprise someone�.
He was a complete sweetheart about the situation. He drove on the
wrong side of the road (in my estimation *wink*), navigating to new
places by himself, all the while saying, "look how quickly we found
our [insert destination here]!" He'd always explain our routes and
finish off with a "Does that sound good?" , to which I'd nod my blind
head and play along with the game; the game being that I was
contributing anything at all to the travel process, to deserve any bit
of consideration while decrypting our routes or any fraction of the
praise for successful arrival. What I *did* deserve was blame for the
bathroom that I so clumsily flooded and for forgetting my raincoat,
leading my sweet to become drenched on several occasions while I wore
his parka (What a git aye? Neglecting to pack the raincoat on her
trip to *England*, for god's sake.). He would gently tease me about it
all, ask me if I was doing OK, and then lead me to the next
destination that my heart desired. We traveled that way through
England for 5 days, hand-in-hand and oblivious to the world.
And now I've returned to America, to my girl, to my medical writing,
left to ache and pine and lust for more wanderings through a place
3000 miles away with the boy who's claimed my heart.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
And HOW uncool is it to hand over your leatherman keychain to the security guards at the local government agency metal detector and sharp objects checkpoint, and come back to find the man PLAYING with it? Can ya keep your hands off it man? That's MY toy.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Noel: I love you, mommy.
BBFK: I love you too, babes.
Noel: I love you eyebrow. *pointing above my eye*
[Challenge: Hold it in, hold it in! Don't snicker BBFK!
She was being sentimental and sincere...!]
2.) (end of the day trip to the babyschool)
Noel's Teacher: Are you OK [BBFK]?
BBFK: What? Oh, me? Yeah just a bit exhausted from lack of sleep.
I went to sleep at 5am this morning. It was stupid.
Noel's Teacher: *covers ears* Ooops! Bad word! We didn't hear that kids!
[Challenge: determining whether I had said "stupid" like I thought or
"really fucking retarded" like I meant. Did I just get into trouble
for saying "stupid"?!]
Sunday, May 22, 2005
a.) Color two cushions of the couch green.
b.) Color the floor with a green crayon, as well.
c.) Entangle a handful of silly putty in her hair.
Furthermore, I partied like a college-girl Saturday night...well sort of. I drank 3 rum and cokes, one Thai mixed drink that I can't recall the name of, a microbrew, and several shots. I went to a bar with 6 guys, and got my groove on. I ate a steak and cheese sub with barb-que chips after getting completely loaded, while a guy was retching in the background (actually, that kinda put a damper on how much I ate, although it didn't seem to affect the other guys.) And then the night was capped off by jumping in a hot tub that overlooked the beach until almost 4am (when I had gotten sober-enough to drive.)
However, the entire time my mind was on this boy; this boy who I have maintained this crush on, who claims that he likes me, but still had other plans on his Saturday night... (see how he teases me?). Have you ever been so enamored, that the advances of the opposite sex barely even register? That you get in a hot tub-drunk-but clothed and still conscious of maximizing the space between you and the boys who are not-the-one-you-want? (where boys = one of your closest friends from the last decade and his friend who danced all night long with Ula-hot, blonde Polish woman...all the rest of the boys had their face in a bowl or had passed out.) Have you ever gone out and partied, but still found yourself in the corner at various points during the night fulfilling the urge to get just *a little bit*, just a little fix of the boy who's not there...(i.e. texting, calling, the like...) Have you responded to a random-bar-boy hitting on you by going on about the Impressionist artist who originally painted the art located behind the bar? So anyways, no hooks ups: nothing vaguely even close to report. Just pining. So maybe I only get a C+ on the college-girl Saturday night rating scale. Agreed?
And the final happy endings to the weekend:
1.) I was a successful "dating advocate" (Have ya heard of this: it's when a girl is part of a group of guys, facilitating their hook up with other chicks, just because of the trust factor); Newt hooked up with Ula (pronounced Ooooo-la, while drunk) the next day.
2.) Noel was fed, the plants were watered, the floors were cleaned, and banana bread was baked. We even played some Candyland...
3.) A glimmer of a chance developed that the boy-I-have-a-thing-for may give-me-the-time-of-day soon, as they say. Ya know, tentative plans and all in a week's time...
Thursday, May 19, 2005
2. It's been pointed out that I'm a clutz. (And just to put the nail in the coffin on that idea,) the only time I've ever broken anything was 2 years ago. I fell over my *couch*, while trying to make sure Noel didn't take a tumble, while holding a (non-alcoholic) drink. I broke 2 ribs, then went and played soccer an hour later. (Yes, you can correctly conclude that I have a very high tolerance to pain.) Um, yeah, I didn't *know* they were broken until a week-ish later (it started becoming hard to run.)
3. I am a "group-sports, leg girl." I developed this theory early on that most people tend to be arm people or leg people when it comes to sports. The arm people play basketball, volleyball, baseball, etc., while the leg people have an affinity for soccer and track. I sort of straddled this; evidence that obviously not everyone complies with this rule of thumb. (And yes, it's poor form to immediately give an example that contradicts a theory that you've just proposed.) ;) I did basketball (poorly), softball (well, when the ball wasn't hitting my face), and soccer (which I adored and did well at without too much injury.) Unfortunately, I've had to resort to non-group sports as I've gotten older, e.g. running.
4. My concert resume: Bush, Moby, Fear Factory, Barenaked Ladies (3X), Indigo Girls (2X), Sarah MacLachlan, Counting Crows, Eminiem, Limp Bizkit, Coal Chamber, New Kids on the Block, REO Speedwagon, Sting, Cibo Matto, Liz Phair (2X), Ani Difranco (2X), Slipknot, Billy Joel, Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Natalie Merchant, The Mystechs, The Bomboras, Bonnie Raitt, Foo Fighters, John Mayer, Lanterna, Libby Kirkpatrick, Goldfinger, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Peter Gabriel, Prince, Sarge, The Reputation, The Merekats, Sheryl Crow, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, They Might Be Giants, Ministry. I can guarantee this isn't all of em', but all that come to mind. And no, I didn't filter any bands out consciously (obviously!! I just tried to intersperse the embarrassing ones, so that maybe you'd just skim over 'em.); it's all hanging out for your pleasure. And yes, feel free to both snicker and admire.
5. Artists I'd *heart* to see NOW: Semisonic, The Shins, Jem, New Order, Some Girls (Did I mention that I adore music?)
6. I watched my best friend's apartment building burn down about eight years back. We stood and watched and smoked cigarettes. (Stess release for her, irony for me.)
7. I have never had a one-night stand.
8. I have been cheated on.
9. I have been in love before.
10. I'm a blog addict. Any recommendations on online support groups? *laughing...* ;)
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
My girl and I had just completed our ritualistic trip to the grocery store, finishing as always with her sweetly asking the service desk help for a balloon (My child logs all the "good stuff" and never missses a beat. If the opportunity arises, she asks for more good stuff again...) So we left the store, grocery bags and balloon in hand, as usual.
The little lady is 3.5 and has reached the stage where she can be reasoned with *BIG sigh of relief*, so when she suggested that she wanted to "let the balloon go" I decided to go with it. So after just a single warning that Mom couldn't retrieve the balloon once it left her little fingers and started floating away, we got out of the car and launched the balloon. She watched, intrigued, for a nice bit. But then it all fell apart, as you can visualize yourself.
So, yeah, we learned that day that some things that you let go, cannot be retrieved, no matter how hard ya cry about it. And likely, your Mom will try and impart this wisdom and many other truths on you many, many times before it sticks.
[I need a drink. ;)]
Sunday, May 15, 2005
The moment I walked into the venue, I knew this was going to be good. We'd had a bit of a problem getting in: our free admission tickets, were apparently only free until 10 pm, and it was well past. After the owner had a little talking to, we persuaded our way through without additional funds. But the moment we were in, I realized the full irony of the situation. I turned to S and declared, "Oh, paaaalease! We're *girls* they should have PAID us to be here." And as S stated, it was indeed a sausage-fest. Not that this was unexpected: we were going to watch a collection of the best metal bands this lo-cal had to offer. (Yes, a questionable proposition, really.)
Immediately the sights had us amused. There was the large woman signing her own plentiful bosom at the bar and the wheelchair bound man with the blue underlighting, as if his mobile device was a bass-thumping, hip-hop blasting Monte Carlo. The music that we walked into was (another round of laugher is incited with the memory...) just *pleasurable.* Imagine this (in the best heavy, growly voice you can conjure:) SQUATTERS!! gggggggrrrrrAAHHHH!! Drip. Dry. DRIP DRY!!! Definitely a very philosophical band. All of their themes were deep. Well, actually it only boiled down to 2: the previously mentioned girl-peeing theme + the prevalent bong-smoking theme (sheepish admission of a fancy for the growling, however.) ;)
The concert-goer's were *almost* as amusing as the first band's lyrics. There were a certain amount of very well made-up, spiky-heeled girls attempting to attract boy-attention. Some clumps of girls even bothered to coordinate outfits with each other. Many were misshapen, a couple were not. One, in an attempt to endear herself to the band, moved her tight bod to the stage and did a hair-flip-a-minute move that she *wishes* she had patented. (But really, most girls are aware of the hair flip and put it in their boy-attracting repertoire occasionally. This girl was a bit overdone, though, with it.) And the boys, well, were as you'd expect. Tattooed, muscle-y, Metallica-shirted things, with long, scraggly hair. Some of the boys and girls would couple up, and you could watch the ass-slaps and attempts at sly-copping-a-feels by the boys as the girls wriggled and perched their asses.
And me? Well, I just tried to lay low and capture it all. My friends sang all the words to the hair-band music that played between the live music, and lamented not being able to attend the upcoming Cinderella concert, in sarcastic voices. I developed a desire to record it all and inquired about a pen with the bartender. With a smile he gave me a condom, a pen, and a piece of paper that he scrawled "Call me..." SLICK boy.