Oh Kim, you didn't think a little thing like a Thanksgiving food coma would make me forget your birthday, did you? No, no, no, Sweets. You cannot escape the humiliation. I hope you go to the Olive Garden and a group of servers serenades you because it is actually your birthday.
Kim and I met as freshman at the Puge, and lived two rooms away from each other. She was really quiet and studious, and it took awhile for us to truly bond (I believe there was mac and cheese involved) and discover that beneath that shy exterior lurked an 80's music-lovin' dancing MACHINE. If you ever have the chance to dance with Kim, do it. She takes her booty shakin' seriously, but will crack you up.
Kim loves Billy Ocean. She was making a mix tape one night (yes, I said TAPE, shut up) and upon learning someone had some Billy Ocean she could use SQUEALED and jumped up like a damn cheerleader. It was awesome.
Kim is easily embarrassed. Pretty much any time we left the house she'd swear that was the last time she would be seen in public with any one of our group of friends. Our favorite way to torture her was to tell the waitstaff at a restaurant that it was her birthday, and have them surround her while singing. She acted all horrified but secretly loved the free dessert.
Kim is one of the most direct people you will ever meet, but in the best way possible. She will tell you if your ass looks fat in those pants, but you'll thank her for it. She gives stright-up advice because she has zero patience for any crap. Which is fantastic.
Kim will sit with you while you hash out every detail of every date, love-life drama, whatever and will ask questions and offer hilarious commentary of her own while throwing in quotes from Adam Sandler movies.
Kim lives too damn far away. OK, Portland isn't so bad, considering the years she was all the way out in Japan, but I would do a cartwheel if she and her husband Justin moved to California.
Kim was our designated driver/handler for much of college and I credit her with keeping our drunken, rowdy little crew safe. And for helping me find various articles of clothing from time to time.
Kimmer, I love you and miss you! This year we've been able to see each other far more than in past years and I hope we can keep that going in 2009.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Giving Thanks
A few people and things for which I am thankful:
-My parents. Yes, all 4 of you. Probably not obvious given all of my "you are headed for a crap nursing home" jokes but you know how I roll.
-Baby Evan walking up to me first thing in the morning, standing very close to me while saying, "I love your face." He may have said that to get some of my Skittles, but I'll take it.
-Old friends who I can call at 3am, drunk or sober, laughing or crying, who listen and laugh and cry along with me.
-New friends who have brought unexpected joy and perspective into my life.
-Arrested Development reruns on Hulu. Don't judge. And don't underestimate my love for the Bluth men. Even Buster.
-Red lipstick, black boots, orange daisies, and blue cheese.
I'd like to think I didn't take my life for granted, but I know I did. Decent health, a wondeful family and friends who bring such joy and laughter and perspective: I've been blessed. While I wouldn't say I was unappreciative or expected good things to fall into my lap, I suppose at a certain point I simply got used to it.
Then life took this bizarre turn and I reached out to my parents for help. Without asking many questions, they provided practical and emotional support when I needed it. "Sure, that's what parents are for!" you say? I feel the same way; but I know so many people who don't have that kind of unconditional love. As much as I may joke about the burden of having four parents, it is a gift.
Friends checked in frequently and offered love, a place to stay, and many drinks. Some were friends I'd lost touch with and had recently reconnected. Some were new friends who were probably wondering if I was a drama-magnet. Some were old friends in the midst of huge life changes, taking the time out from midnight feedings and newlywed bliss and their own heartbreak to check in and remind me that while I had been hurt, there was true love all around me.
This Thanksgiving looks different than last year and sometimes I get a little sad about that. Plans and promises were made and broken, which is always hard. But you know what? I have everything and everyone who matters to me and it's tough to feel bad when I realize that my cheering section stretches around the world. Hopefully you know that I am cheering for you, too.
Thank you.
-My parents. Yes, all 4 of you. Probably not obvious given all of my "you are headed for a crap nursing home" jokes but you know how I roll.
-Baby Evan walking up to me first thing in the morning, standing very close to me while saying, "I love your face." He may have said that to get some of my Skittles, but I'll take it.
-Old friends who I can call at 3am, drunk or sober, laughing or crying, who listen and laugh and cry along with me.
-New friends who have brought unexpected joy and perspective into my life.
-Arrested Development reruns on Hulu. Don't judge. And don't underestimate my love for the Bluth men. Even Buster.
-Red lipstick, black boots, orange daisies, and blue cheese.
I'd like to think I didn't take my life for granted, but I know I did. Decent health, a wondeful family and friends who bring such joy and laughter and perspective: I've been blessed. While I wouldn't say I was unappreciative or expected good things to fall into my lap, I suppose at a certain point I simply got used to it.
Then life took this bizarre turn and I reached out to my parents for help. Without asking many questions, they provided practical and emotional support when I needed it. "Sure, that's what parents are for!" you say? I feel the same way; but I know so many people who don't have that kind of unconditional love. As much as I may joke about the burden of having four parents, it is a gift.
Friends checked in frequently and offered love, a place to stay, and many drinks. Some were friends I'd lost touch with and had recently reconnected. Some were new friends who were probably wondering if I was a drama-magnet. Some were old friends in the midst of huge life changes, taking the time out from midnight feedings and newlywed bliss and their own heartbreak to check in and remind me that while I had been hurt, there was true love all around me.
This Thanksgiving looks different than last year and sometimes I get a little sad about that. Plans and promises were made and broken, which is always hard. But you know what? I have everything and everyone who matters to me and it's tough to feel bad when I realize that my cheering section stretches around the world. Hopefully you know that I am cheering for you, too.
Thank you.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
A Cute Couple and a Drunk Redhead Walk Into a Bar...
Oh Interweb, you are in for a treat. CKD was in rare form this weekend. Katie's boyfriend Alan came up from Santa Barbara and it was like meeting an old friend. An old friend who buys many rounds of drinks. Enjoy the photographic evidence as we progress from "slightly buzzed" to "shitfaced and kinda retarded." Oh, did I say we? Because I meant me.
Hi Dad!
Hi Dad!
Katie, Alan and CKD still semi-sober and looking respectable en route to Bar #2.
The song "Kung Fu Fighting" came on at Banshee (Bar #3 for those of you keeping score at home) which kicked my booze-soaked brain into "idiot" and I started kicking my leg up in the air and pretending to karate chop everyone. People find this DELIGHTFUL in case you were wondering. Please note the lovely expression on my face. Please note Alan trying to restrain me.
Really, there are no words.
Uh, dude, watch that hand.
Spotlight On: Almost 21 Months (Cantilevering), Julie's Adventures in Oz, Raising JD, and The Heff's Blog
This week's theme is "Baby Blogs" for my spotlight special. It's no surprise that I love kids and I am so lucky that my amazing friends are breeding equally amazing shorties. Let's get to know them a little better, shall we?
Cantilevering (Almost 21 Months) is all about Sam, son of my friends Stephen and Cabrelle. Stephen and I met while working together when we were young single twentysomethings. It's funny to think my old drinking and dancing buddy is now a daddy, but looking back, Stephen had the makings of a good dad. Much like a toddler, my moods could swing from a-OK to freaking the hell out, so he's had some practice at the whole soothing a flipped out kid gig. Luckily for his parents, Sam seems to be a pretty chill little guy, and they clearly cherish every experience they get to share with him. I love all of the photos and the captions are priceless. If you like your baby blogs on the "funny" rather than "precious" side you'll dig this one.
Julie's Adventures in Oz comes to us from the Land Down Under! Julie and I go waaayyy back. How far back? Our moms have been friends since the first grade. So yeah. She and her husband Don relocated to Australia with their son Makoa when he was tiny, and it's great fun to read about their adventure. I miss them terribly (they lived in SF when Julie was pregnant and when Makoa was first born) but love the idea that I have a place to stay in Sydney. This has been an ideal way for Julie to keep friends and family at home updated on Makoa's milestones, as well as share some of the fun quirks of living abroad.
Raising JD is the long-awaited follow up to Rico's Dirt Sailor. Happily home from Iraq, Rico is back with his family: Attractive Wife Beth and little boy Joaquin (Jack). Young Jack is almost three, full of personality, and quite possibly the most mellow kid I've ever met. Now, we haven't spent a great deal of time together, but I have never seen him act up or even remotely cranky. Maybe he got the memo that his parents will send him to Gitmo if he dares step to them? Well-played, Alvari!
The Adventures of Moco and Bubba makes me laugh every time I read it. Yeah, the stories Cece tells about her daughter Memphis (Moco) and Grayson (Bubba) are funny. BUT for me, the entertainment value is in seeing a college friend being all...Mom-like. Don't get me wrong: she is an excellent mother and her work/home life balancing act is a thing to behold. Still, it kills me that someone who used to dance against a wall to Biggie in the Sigma Chi basement is taking the Brownie troop to the movies on Friday nights. If you'd like a study in contrats (ie what happens when the two kids spawned from the same womb are total opposites), this is the site for you.
The Heff's Blog follows the adventures of Mary, Brian, baby Francie...and Baby Number 2 on the way. Mary and I went to high school together and reconnected at our reunion. This is basically an online baby book...that will put ANY baby book to shame. Seriously. Each post features a ton of photos and a who's-who? in the Simonson/Heffernan family. I feel like I know every member of their family, as well as many friends. Which, if I ever meet them in person, is going to be a creepy interaction. "Oh, hi there. You've never met me, but I saw every picture of you last Halloween. What's up?" Mary is an amazing photographer and manages to capture great photos of both special occasions and every day events. Also, they have a bounce house, so I'm moving in with them. Surprise!
Cantilevering (Almost 21 Months) is all about Sam, son of my friends Stephen and Cabrelle. Stephen and I met while working together when we were young single twentysomethings. It's funny to think my old drinking and dancing buddy is now a daddy, but looking back, Stephen had the makings of a good dad. Much like a toddler, my moods could swing from a-OK to freaking the hell out, so he's had some practice at the whole soothing a flipped out kid gig. Luckily for his parents, Sam seems to be a pretty chill little guy, and they clearly cherish every experience they get to share with him. I love all of the photos and the captions are priceless. If you like your baby blogs on the "funny" rather than "precious" side you'll dig this one.
Julie's Adventures in Oz comes to us from the Land Down Under! Julie and I go waaayyy back. How far back? Our moms have been friends since the first grade. So yeah. She and her husband Don relocated to Australia with their son Makoa when he was tiny, and it's great fun to read about their adventure. I miss them terribly (they lived in SF when Julie was pregnant and when Makoa was first born) but love the idea that I have a place to stay in Sydney. This has been an ideal way for Julie to keep friends and family at home updated on Makoa's milestones, as well as share some of the fun quirks of living abroad.
Raising JD is the long-awaited follow up to Rico's Dirt Sailor. Happily home from Iraq, Rico is back with his family: Attractive Wife Beth and little boy Joaquin (Jack). Young Jack is almost three, full of personality, and quite possibly the most mellow kid I've ever met. Now, we haven't spent a great deal of time together, but I have never seen him act up or even remotely cranky. Maybe he got the memo that his parents will send him to Gitmo if he dares step to them? Well-played, Alvari!
The Adventures of Moco and Bubba makes me laugh every time I read it. Yeah, the stories Cece tells about her daughter Memphis (Moco) and Grayson (Bubba) are funny. BUT for me, the entertainment value is in seeing a college friend being all...Mom-like. Don't get me wrong: she is an excellent mother and her work/home life balancing act is a thing to behold. Still, it kills me that someone who used to dance against a wall to Biggie in the Sigma Chi basement is taking the Brownie troop to the movies on Friday nights. If you'd like a study in contrats (ie what happens when the two kids spawned from the same womb are total opposites), this is the site for you.
The Heff's Blog follows the adventures of Mary, Brian, baby Francie...and Baby Number 2 on the way. Mary and I went to high school together and reconnected at our reunion. This is basically an online baby book...that will put ANY baby book to shame. Seriously. Each post features a ton of photos and a who's-who? in the Simonson/Heffernan family. I feel like I know every member of their family, as well as many friends. Which, if I ever meet them in person, is going to be a creepy interaction. "Oh, hi there. You've never met me, but I saw every picture of you last Halloween. What's up?" Mary is an amazing photographer and manages to capture great photos of both special occasions and every day events. Also, they have a bounce house, so I'm moving in with them. Surprise!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Hey, Remember When I Used to Write About More Than Food?
We are in the midst of a severe vending machine/snack industry crisis.
First of all, what brain trust came up with chocolate Skittles? I have finally come to terms with blue M&M's, but chocolate fucking Skittles? That shit is outside the paint.
OK, fine, Skittles. Make your damn disgusting new flavor. But why in the name of everything holy are they in our vending machine? WHY? What's wrong with the regular Skittles? And who made this genius call to switch it up? Oh, let me guess! The Shittles (not a typo there, I'm just 100% certain that chocolate Skittles are horrific) were discounted or something? Yeah, there's a reason: they taste like garbage. The thing is, EVERYONE knows these will be gross, so no one's buying them, thus damning us to an eternity of the chocolate Skittles taking up space in the vending machine for YEARS. Possibly DECADES.
In other news: I am crazy.
First of all, what brain trust came up with chocolate Skittles? I have finally come to terms with blue M&M's, but chocolate fucking Skittles? That shit is outside the paint.
OK, fine, Skittles. Make your damn disgusting new flavor. But why in the name of everything holy are they in our vending machine? WHY? What's wrong with the regular Skittles? And who made this genius call to switch it up? Oh, let me guess! The Shittles (not a typo there, I'm just 100% certain that chocolate Skittles are horrific) were discounted or something? Yeah, there's a reason: they taste like garbage. The thing is, EVERYONE knows these will be gross, so no one's buying them, thus damning us to an eternity of the chocolate Skittles taking up space in the vending machine for YEARS. Possibly DECADES.
In other news: I am crazy.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
On Runs to the Border, and Being a Classy Lady
Would you think less of me if I told you I went to Taco Bell tonight in my sweatpants, Van Halen 1980 Invasion t-shirt and slippers? Oh, and a Chico State sweatshirt since it's a little chilly out? Would your opinion be any different if I told you that I hit up the drive-thru, so no one saw the slippers?
I also feel it bears mentioning that I did wear my pearl earrings on this outing. But even that may be canceled out by my decision to go commando and freestyle.
I also feel it bears mentioning that I did wear my pearl earrings on this outing. But even that may be canceled out by my decision to go commando and freestyle.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Hey! Guess Who Ate Two Full Lunches within One Hour of Each Other?
If you guessed CKD, you'd be correct. If you also guessed that I was the one shaming iron workers for only have one serving of food and making jokes about taking off my top in front of my mom, you're on a streak.
Let me explain.
Today was the "Topping Out" for my mom's project, which means the final steel beam was placed (or, as I shouted, "The steel is erected, people!") which is kind of a big deal. There was a big lunch for everyone on the project, my mom got up and gave a speech and damn it if she isn't the cutest thing ever in her hard hat! I always call this the "Topping Off" and my mom always corrects me so I called it the "Take Off Your Top" and apparently she felt the need to share that with a bunch of iron workers, who in the construction hierarchy are like the Great Big Badasses of the entire crew. They love me.
So after finishing my tri-tip, beans, salad and roll, I announced I was off to our office Thanksgiving lunch.
"You're going to eat MORE?" one guy asked.
"Uh, yeah. This was just my base layer. If you'll excuse me, I need to show my department how it's done."
After almost killing a student assistant who was taking too long at the mashed potato station I retired to my office to inhale more food in peace. Round two included turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and Katie just brought me pie so I didn't have to get my ass out of my chair. I'm not sweating yet, so I don't think I'm all that full, but yeah, we may need to schedule that angioplasty sooner than later. Or at least some sort of intervention.
Let me explain.
Today was the "Topping Out" for my mom's project, which means the final steel beam was placed (or, as I shouted, "The steel is erected, people!") which is kind of a big deal. There was a big lunch for everyone on the project, my mom got up and gave a speech and damn it if she isn't the cutest thing ever in her hard hat! I always call this the "Topping Off" and my mom always corrects me so I called it the "Take Off Your Top" and apparently she felt the need to share that with a bunch of iron workers, who in the construction hierarchy are like the Great Big Badasses of the entire crew. They love me.
So after finishing my tri-tip, beans, salad and roll, I announced I was off to our office Thanksgiving lunch.
"You're going to eat MORE?" one guy asked.
"Uh, yeah. This was just my base layer. If you'll excuse me, I need to show my department how it's done."
After almost killing a student assistant who was taking too long at the mashed potato station I retired to my office to inhale more food in peace. Round two included turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and Katie just brought me pie so I didn't have to get my ass out of my chair. I'm not sweating yet, so I don't think I'm all that full, but yeah, we may need to schedule that angioplasty sooner than later. Or at least some sort of intervention.
CKD Phones It In
Here is a Christmas Survey stolen from Cece. It's really one of those emails you're supposed to forward, but we have adapted it because I know the Interweb is dying to know the answer to these questions.
And yes, this is a total cop-out for a "real" post but I'm working on a Friday so be a dear and deal with it, mmmk?
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? We stopped wrapping gifts years ago and make the recipient close his/her eyes and then hand off the gift. My dad's family insists on ruining the planet, so I wrap their gifts.
2. Real tree or Fake? We have a bunch of small fake trees all over the house that my mom decorates with her jabillion ornaments. Dad and Judy get a real tree which we pray Evan will not pull down on top of himself.
3. When do you put up the tree? Beginning of December-ish.
4. When do you take the tree down? New Years-ish
5. Do you like eggnog? Yes, and keep the Bushmills coming, please.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Probably either one of my Cabbage Patch Dolls or my Barbie Dream House. Thanks, guilt-ridden divorced parents!
7. Hardest person to buy for? Mom
8. Easiest person to buy for? Evan
9. Do you have a nativity scene? Dad and Judy do, Mom and Dave are heathens.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Depends on how on the ball I am. Y'all may be getting drunk dialed this year.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't think of a "bad" gift. I mean, even if something didn't fit or whatever, it's usually still a nice gift and it's the thought that counts.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie? A Christmas Story and Elf
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Sometimes I find myself picking up stuff throughout the year, but usually not until after Thanksgiving
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Just the gift bags
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies. Lots of 'em.
16. Lights on the tree? Yes
17. Favorite Christmas song? "Blue Christmas"
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Travel down to my dad's which doesn't really count, since it's not a big deal. Depends on the year, though.
19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Yes, there's Joey, Jordan, Donnie, Paul, Ringo, Sharona and Vixen
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? One present on Christmas Eve, the rest the following morning
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? How flipped out people (not my family per se) get over the perfect holiday or buying the perfect gift. Dude, just have some eggnog, eat a cookie and let's watch a movie. It's the together-time that counts.
23. Favorite ornament theme or color? That's a stupid question
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? My mom's upside down pear/cranberry/ginger cake. Yes, I know that's dessert. Don't look at me like that.
25. What do you want for Christmas this year? For all the children of the world to hold hands and sing in harmony. Also, bigger boobs.
26. Who is most likely to respond to this? Your Mom
27. Who is least likely to respond to this? Uh, everyone
28. Favorite thing about Christmas? Hanging out with family and friends. Now that Evan is getting older, watching how much he loves the music and decorations and is still oblivious to the materialistic/commerical end of things.
And yes, this is a total cop-out for a "real" post but I'm working on a Friday so be a dear and deal with it, mmmk?
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? We stopped wrapping gifts years ago and make the recipient close his/her eyes and then hand off the gift. My dad's family insists on ruining the planet, so I wrap their gifts.
2. Real tree or Fake? We have a bunch of small fake trees all over the house that my mom decorates with her jabillion ornaments. Dad and Judy get a real tree which we pray Evan will not pull down on top of himself.
3. When do you put up the tree? Beginning of December-ish.
4. When do you take the tree down? New Years-ish
5. Do you like eggnog? Yes, and keep the Bushmills coming, please.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Probably either one of my Cabbage Patch Dolls or my Barbie Dream House. Thanks, guilt-ridden divorced parents!
7. Hardest person to buy for? Mom
8. Easiest person to buy for? Evan
9. Do you have a nativity scene? Dad and Judy do, Mom and Dave are heathens.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Depends on how on the ball I am. Y'all may be getting drunk dialed this year.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't think of a "bad" gift. I mean, even if something didn't fit or whatever, it's usually still a nice gift and it's the thought that counts.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie? A Christmas Story and Elf
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Sometimes I find myself picking up stuff throughout the year, but usually not until after Thanksgiving
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Just the gift bags
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies. Lots of 'em.
16. Lights on the tree? Yes
17. Favorite Christmas song? "Blue Christmas"
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Travel down to my dad's which doesn't really count, since it's not a big deal. Depends on the year, though.
19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Yes, there's Joey, Jordan, Donnie, Paul, Ringo, Sharona and Vixen
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? One present on Christmas Eve, the rest the following morning
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? How flipped out people (not my family per se) get over the perfect holiday or buying the perfect gift. Dude, just have some eggnog, eat a cookie and let's watch a movie. It's the together-time that counts.
23. Favorite ornament theme or color? That's a stupid question
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? My mom's upside down pear/cranberry/ginger cake. Yes, I know that's dessert. Don't look at me like that.
25. What do you want for Christmas this year? For all the children of the world to hold hands and sing in harmony. Also, bigger boobs.
26. Who is most likely to respond to this? Your Mom
27. Who is least likely to respond to this? Uh, everyone
28. Favorite thing about Christmas? Hanging out with family and friends. Now that Evan is getting older, watching how much he loves the music and decorations and is still oblivious to the materialistic/commerical end of things.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Cure for the Common "Blahs"
Lately a general sense of malaise has overcome me and I haven't quite known how to get out of it. Even my excitement over the holidays hasn't been able to fully pull me out of it.
And then a cure came today, in the form of concert tickets.
For Willie Nelson AND Blondie*. I am beyond thrilled. There are a lot of fun things to look forward to between now and then (Willie is in January, Blondie in February), such as, oh, you know, the entire festive, wonderful holiday season...but having a little extra somethin' going on really lifted my spirits today. Woohoo!
*Two separate shows, but can you imagine if they toured together? Wow.
And then a cure came today, in the form of concert tickets.
For Willie Nelson AND Blondie*. I am beyond thrilled. There are a lot of fun things to look forward to between now and then (Willie is in January, Blondie in February), such as, oh, you know, the entire festive, wonderful holiday season...but having a little extra somethin' going on really lifted my spirits today. Woohoo!
*Two separate shows, but can you imagine if they toured together? Wow.
The Cabbage Patch Doll Incident
It's Crazy CKD Thursday kids. Today we move away from the food neuroses and into my generally pissy attitude that was in serious need of adjustment.
Enter Dave.
Let it be known that now, in 2008, neither one of us can recall the actual catalyst that set his plan into motion. I assume it's because I was being a little bitch and needed to be taught a lesson, but it could just be that he was bored that day.
When Dave first moved in with us he was working as our apartment complex manager, which was a pretty sweet gig. Excellent break on rent, and he was home during the day with me when school was out. The only drawback? He was home during the day with me when school was out. He grew up in a LOUD family of five boys and while generally comfortable around kids, wasn't really sure what to do with this overly sensitive, awkward, ridiculous little girl. So our days were spent alternately playing (swimming, playing basketball) and bickering (who drank the last of the milk? who ate the last cookie?) which must have been exhausting for the poor dude. Apparently no one gave him the memo that in addition to never getting involved in a land war in Asia, you don't engage in the craziness of a child.
One day I must have done something particularly annoying, like called my mom at work to report that Dave made me a sandwich with tomatoes, and since I was allergic he was clearly trying to kill me. From here on, the details are a bit fuzzy, but there was much stomping and pouting on my part. I went back to my room and there she was.
My Cabbage Patch Doll was hanging from my curtain rod, my bathrobe sash used as a noose. I started shrieking and Dave appeared behind me and quitely said, "She was depressed. You couldn't have known. Don't blame yourself."
Clearly I was pretty flipped out. I knew this was Dave's handiwork and more than anything I was annoyed he had touched my stuff. Only child issues? Yes, right here.
Neither one of us is really sure what this was supposed to accomplish, other than showcase Dave's sick sense of humor. And maybe pass some of that down to me, which he did. Well-played, Dave.
Enter Dave.
Let it be known that now, in 2008, neither one of us can recall the actual catalyst that set his plan into motion. I assume it's because I was being a little bitch and needed to be taught a lesson, but it could just be that he was bored that day.
When Dave first moved in with us he was working as our apartment complex manager, which was a pretty sweet gig. Excellent break on rent, and he was home during the day with me when school was out. The only drawback? He was home during the day with me when school was out. He grew up in a LOUD family of five boys and while generally comfortable around kids, wasn't really sure what to do with this overly sensitive, awkward, ridiculous little girl. So our days were spent alternately playing (swimming, playing basketball) and bickering (who drank the last of the milk? who ate the last cookie?) which must have been exhausting for the poor dude. Apparently no one gave him the memo that in addition to never getting involved in a land war in Asia, you don't engage in the craziness of a child.
One day I must have done something particularly annoying, like called my mom at work to report that Dave made me a sandwich with tomatoes, and since I was allergic he was clearly trying to kill me. From here on, the details are a bit fuzzy, but there was much stomping and pouting on my part. I went back to my room and there she was.
My Cabbage Patch Doll was hanging from my curtain rod, my bathrobe sash used as a noose. I started shrieking and Dave appeared behind me and quitely said, "She was depressed. You couldn't have known. Don't blame yourself."
Clearly I was pretty flipped out. I knew this was Dave's handiwork and more than anything I was annoyed he had touched my stuff. Only child issues? Yes, right here.
Neither one of us is really sure what this was supposed to accomplish, other than showcase Dave's sick sense of humor. And maybe pass some of that down to me, which he did. Well-played, Dave.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A Message from Juno
Oh, hi there! I'm Juno Constance. You may recognize me from such posts as "Area Baby Humiliated" and "Stay Classy San Diego." Today I just decided to sit up all on my own. You know, for the hell of it. And because I'm AWESOME. I've been rolling over for ages (like, way earlier than other babies) and practice yoga regularly, so why not switch it up a bit and try this "sitting" thing. Well, I have to get going. Have a great day and enjoy this picture of me being the sweetest kid ever.Monday, November 17, 2008
Spotlight On: Karma vs Dogma, Mighty Girl and Oh Happy Day
You might wonder what's up with my reading list over there on the right side of the page. Much like me, it's a wondrous mix of wit, humor, charm and style. No? Not really? OK. Maybe this is a cop-out to devote posts to other sites but whatever. Mama's tired kids. Cut her some slack.
I've decided to start giving the blogs their due notice and attention in case you haven't bothered to check them out yourselves. Lazy bastards.
My Karma Ran Over Your Dogma is co-written by Roadtripper8 and Bad Wolf. I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting Bad Wolf in person, but hope we will get together soon and share a pint and make each other LOL in person. Roadtripper and I? Well, we have a fascinating "How do you two know each other?" story. Basically, it involves why I moved back to California in June. Want more details? Buy the book. Anyway, you might be wondering how on Earth could I be on speaking terms - let alone shout-out terms - with this woman. Well, that's our business, but the short answer is she's a damn cool broad and a pretty sweet writer to boot. One of the things I love best is how both writers don't take themselves or their site too seriously. This is not to say they half-ass it, but they aren't afraid to out themselves as geeks or make goofy pop culture references. I rarely read a post without laughing, so do yourself a favor and check it out if you dig funny.
I've decided to start giving the blogs their due notice and attention in case you haven't bothered to check them out yourselves. Lazy bastards.
My Karma Ran Over Your Dogma is co-written by Roadtripper8 and Bad Wolf. I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting Bad Wolf in person, but hope we will get together soon and share a pint and make each other LOL in person. Roadtripper and I? Well, we have a fascinating "How do you two know each other?" story. Basically, it involves why I moved back to California in June. Want more details? Buy the book. Anyway, you might be wondering how on Earth could I be on speaking terms - let alone shout-out terms - with this woman. Well, that's our business, but the short answer is she's a damn cool broad and a pretty sweet writer to boot. One of the things I love best is how both writers don't take themselves or their site too seriously. This is not to say they half-ass it, but they aren't afraid to out themselves as geeks or make goofy pop culture references. I rarely read a post without laughing, so do yourself a favor and check it out if you dig funny.
Mighty Girl is the work of San Francisco's Maggie Mason. I stumbled upon her blog while reading Dooce and was instantly taken with her style and the tone of her writing. Speaking of style, her other sites - Mighty Goods, Mighty Haus and Mighty Junior - are amazing if you ever need to buy anything for any person for any occasion (or no occasion at all). Seriously. Love shopping? You'll enjoy the wide variety of goods offered without worrying about closing times or lugging bags all over a mall. Hate shopping? You'll love that you can narrow searches by occasion, recipient and/or price to narrow it down so you can get in and out. Bonus: Many of the options offered are actually affordable for people in real life (read: those of us who are freaking out as we see our 401k's take a hit) and available at both brick and mortar stores as well as online. One of her most recent posts about 10 Little Luxuries Under $10 led me to my bitchin' new red lipstick, so hey...I'm a fan for life.
Oh Happy Day is also written by a San Francisco-dweller by the name of Jordan Ferney. Her about me reads, "I like good weather and pretty things." I can get on board with that. A former Anthropolgie employee, her style is not trendy, but brings out the best in vintage, classic design but not in a costume-y way. Her site provides great inspiration for interesting pieces for home, wardobe, and entertaining. Fluffy stuff, yes, but don't we need that once in awhile? It also inspires me to put down the Van Halen 1980 Invasion shirt and strive for Pretty Lady status.
So there you have it. Three of the sites I check out on a regular basis and think highly enough of them to share with you. Nothing but the best for you, Interweb.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Making Dad Proud: The Playground Version
You know what will really make your father beam with pride? Use the the play structure to demonstrate your pole dancing skills while singing "Tainted Love."
This is also a good way to get the attention of the DILFs at the park, if that's something you need to do.
This is also a good way to get the attention of the DILFs at the park, if that's something you need to do.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I'll Have the Venti None of Your Damn Business
While in line at Starbucks* I was looking at an adorable little girl in a rad lime green stroller. Apparently my admiration for her smiley cuteness and awesome red hair (oh, how I wish my hair had retained that perfect redness into adulthood!) did not go unnoticed by the guy behind me.
Scruffy Older Dude: *Gestures toward little girl* "So, where's yours?"
Me: "Um, what? Oh! Yeah, no... I, uh...I don't have one of those." (Really? "One of those?" Like the child is an iPod?)
Scruffy: "Why not?"
Me: *Laughing nervously* "Oh, you know... Um, I don't know. Haven't, uh, gotten around to it." (Because having a kid is much like getting the oil changed in my car: it's time, just haven't "gotten to it" yet.)
Scruffy: "Oh, that's OK. Wait until you're older. You'll be more patient and treat them better."
Me: *Nods head vigorously* "Yeah. Totally." (Yes, make sure you take advice from this guy. He seems really on the ball.)
Mercifully, it was at this point that I was able to place my order and fade into the crowd of people waiting for drinks. I started to wonder when my parenthood status became an acceptable topic of conversation with a stranger. The weather is unseasonably warm - can't we just talk about that? Or the fact that pumpkin lattes are delicious? Anything?
I never thought I'd welcome someone trying to talk to me about accepting Jesus Christ as my personal savior.
*Yes, I went to Starbucks. Not a lot of walking distance options in Pacifica. Back off.
Scruffy Older Dude: *Gestures toward little girl* "So, where's yours?"
Me: "Um, what? Oh! Yeah, no... I, uh...I don't have one of those." (Really? "One of those?" Like the child is an iPod?)
Scruffy: "Why not?"
Me: *Laughing nervously* "Oh, you know... Um, I don't know. Haven't, uh, gotten around to it." (Because having a kid is much like getting the oil changed in my car: it's time, just haven't "gotten to it" yet.)
Scruffy: "Oh, that's OK. Wait until you're older. You'll be more patient and treat them better."
Me: *Nods head vigorously* "Yeah. Totally." (Yes, make sure you take advice from this guy. He seems really on the ball.)
Mercifully, it was at this point that I was able to place my order and fade into the crowd of people waiting for drinks. I started to wonder when my parenthood status became an acceptable topic of conversation with a stranger. The weather is unseasonably warm - can't we just talk about that? Or the fact that pumpkin lattes are delicious? Anything?
I never thought I'd welcome someone trying to talk to me about accepting Jesus Christ as my personal savior.
*Yes, I went to Starbucks. Not a lot of walking distance options in Pacifica. Back off.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Making Dad Proud
Actual conversation between my dad and me this morning:
Me: "I like your jeans."
Dad: "Thanks. They're new. I started buying 559's. I got a few in different washes."
Me: "Isn't that the style you always get?"
Dad: "No, I used to get 569's - "
Me: "BWAHAHAHAHA! YOU SAID '69!'"
Dad *Hangs his head and sighs heavily*
For those of you playing the home game, I had only been at the house for 12 hours at this point. I was asleep for 8 of them.
We're hoping Evan turns out normal.
Me: "I like your jeans."
Dad: "Thanks. They're new. I started buying 559's. I got a few in different washes."
Me: "Isn't that the style you always get?"
Dad: "No, I used to get 569's - "
Me: "BWAHAHAHAHA! YOU SAID '69!'"
Dad *Hangs his head and sighs heavily*
For those of you playing the home game, I had only been at the house for 12 hours at this point. I was asleep for 8 of them.
We're hoping Evan turns out normal.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
And the Yogurt Hits Keep on Comin'...
There has been a request for another Crazy Little CKD Loses Her Mind Over Something Stupid and this one is also food-related. In fact, it's another story of Dave messing with my yogurt.
When the yogurt supply got low, I would go into a bit of a panic. See, I had some issues with food and control and being crazy. You know how it goes.
Anyway, I knew I was down to one yogurt and went about my little OCD morning routine. I reached for my snack, calling out to my mom and Dave that it was time for a trip to the store before my head exploded or whatever.
I open up the yogurt and my not-fully-awake-brain doesn't quite grasp what is in the container at first. Because it sure as hell isn't yogurt.
It's a KOOSH BALL. Remember those? Well, I had one and apparently someone who shall remain Dave thought it would be funny to scoop out my yogurt, replace it with a Koosh Ball (so I wouldn't be able to tell at first that the container was empty) AND a post-it note with a picture of a clown on it. Why a clown? Because they are fucking horrifying, that's why.
For those of you keeping score at home, Dave is 30-ish at this point in his life, and I am but a wee, high-strung girl of maybe 9 or 10. And HE is the one pulling this crap. I think you know how the story goes: much shrieking, stomping, yelling for my mother to DO SOMETHING before Dave relented and revealed he had simply scooped out the yogurt and it was ready to eat. But of course I freaked out again because it wasn't IN THE PROPER CONTAINER and I was convinced he had tampered with it.
Next week...Cabbage Patch dolls are caught in the crossfire in a battle of wills.
When the yogurt supply got low, I would go into a bit of a panic. See, I had some issues with food and control and being crazy. You know how it goes.
Anyway, I knew I was down to one yogurt and went about my little OCD morning routine. I reached for my snack, calling out to my mom and Dave that it was time for a trip to the store before my head exploded or whatever.
I open up the yogurt and my not-fully-awake-brain doesn't quite grasp what is in the container at first. Because it sure as hell isn't yogurt.
It's a KOOSH BALL. Remember those? Well, I had one and apparently someone who shall remain Dave thought it would be funny to scoop out my yogurt, replace it with a Koosh Ball (so I wouldn't be able to tell at first that the container was empty) AND a post-it note with a picture of a clown on it. Why a clown? Because they are fucking horrifying, that's why.
For those of you keeping score at home, Dave is 30-ish at this point in his life, and I am but a wee, high-strung girl of maybe 9 or 10. And HE is the one pulling this crap. I think you know how the story goes: much shrieking, stomping, yelling for my mother to DO SOMETHING before Dave relented and revealed he had simply scooped out the yogurt and it was ready to eat. But of course I freaked out again because it wasn't IN THE PROPER CONTAINER and I was convinced he had tampered with it.
Next week...Cabbage Patch dolls are caught in the crossfire in a battle of wills.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Why She's My Best Friend Part Deux
In addition to her excellent feedback on my writing, Lili has produced a child destined to follow in her fashionista footsteps:
Argyle legwarmers courtesy of Auntie Francine and Uncle Dave (aka Juno's honorary Tutu and Papa). I love that this is her outfit for yoga. Yes, I am wearing the same Old Navy sweats from 2002 but whatever. Juno can be stylish enough for the two of us. Her mommy will see to it.
Argyle legwarmers courtesy of Auntie Francine and Uncle Dave (aka Juno's honorary Tutu and Papa). I love that this is her outfit for yoga. Yes, I am wearing the same Old Navy sweats from 2002 but whatever. Juno can be stylish enough for the two of us. Her mommy will see to it.
Why She's My Best Friend
Me: need a tagline for my blog. any ideas?
Lili: I got it - "you can't accuse me of cockblocking"
Me: I love you.
Lili: or... "your ass looks fat in those pants"
Lili: I got it - "you can't accuse me of cockblocking"
Me: I love you.
Lili: or... "your ass looks fat in those pants"
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
This is What Hundreds of Thousands of Dollars Worth of Private School Educations Gets You
After Kevin the Crazy Plumber left today:
Dave: "Does it smell in here? Like chemicals or something?"
Me: "Yeah, Kevin probably used something to fix the sink. Like CAULK. Hey, it smells like CAULK in here!"
Dave *giggling*: "Huh huh I smell some CAULK! Has someone been LAYING PIPE?"
Me *trying not to fall over laughing* "Wow, decades of excellent educations and all we can do is yell 'CAULK' back and forth."
*Calls Mom at work to give her an update*
Me: "Kevin just left. That guy is a trip."
Mom: "Yeah, he is."
Me: "Anyway, it smells like CAULK..." *laughs uncontrollably*
Mom: "You're retarded. What's for dinner?"
The End.
Dave: "Does it smell in here? Like chemicals or something?"
Me: "Yeah, Kevin probably used something to fix the sink. Like CAULK. Hey, it smells like CAULK in here!"
Dave *giggling*: "Huh huh I smell some CAULK! Has someone been LAYING PIPE?"
Me *trying not to fall over laughing* "Wow, decades of excellent educations and all we can do is yell 'CAULK' back and forth."
*Calls Mom at work to give her an update*
Me: "Kevin just left. That guy is a trip."
Mom: "Yeah, he is."
Me: "Anyway, it smells like CAULK..." *laughs uncontrollably*
Mom: "You're retarded. What's for dinner?"
The End.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Does Your Mother Know?
I fancy myself a badass, but we all know I'm a Nice Girl. Proof? I'm rated PG, bitches.
Wait, wouldn't "bitches" kick me up into PG-13 territory? One can only dream.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Lessons Learned
Maybe next time I go out for drinks and dinner with my boss and our construction management teams (ie my mom and her co-workers) I won't say or do any of the following:
-ask any of the guys if he has his period (or call him a "pussy") if he sticks to beer
-pretend to fellate an empty tequila bottle for photos
-describe my plan to enchant the bouncer with my wit and charm, but tell the intern she may need to switch to plan B: "Bewitch Him with Your Ta-Tas"
-tell the waitress to keep my whiskey sours "light on the sweet-n-sour"
-do the "Peter Fawzi" dance: pantomime licking my hand and then spanking an imaginary ass at the dinner table
So with me off to an excellent start a few of us headed to the Mother Hips show so I could wish the birthday boy well. The show was fun but it has become increasingly obvious that I cannot handle roughly 98% of my fellow humans. I understand you're trying to drunkenly maneuver your way through the crowd, but please don't put your sweaty hand on me.
Then the cab driver and I had a cool talk about sustainability and bringing some small changes into your home. He's going to start replacing his regular lightbulbs with CFL's. Good to know I can function after five whiskey sours and two beers. Made me feel like Big Tom Callahan.
-ask any of the guys if he has his period (or call him a "pussy") if he sticks to beer
-pretend to fellate an empty tequila bottle for photos
-describe my plan to enchant the bouncer with my wit and charm, but tell the intern she may need to switch to plan B: "Bewitch Him with Your Ta-Tas"
-tell the waitress to keep my whiskey sours "light on the sweet-n-sour"
-do the "Peter Fawzi" dance: pantomime licking my hand and then spanking an imaginary ass at the dinner table
So with me off to an excellent start a few of us headed to the Mother Hips show so I could wish the birthday boy well. The show was fun but it has become increasingly obvious that I cannot handle roughly 98% of my fellow humans. I understand you're trying to drunkenly maneuver your way through the crowd, but please don't put your sweaty hand on me.
Then the cab driver and I had a cool talk about sustainability and bringing some small changes into your home. He's going to start replacing his regular lightbulbs with CFL's. Good to know I can function after five whiskey sours and two beers. Made me feel like Big Tom Callahan.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Because Apparently I Live in an Episode of 30 Rock
From Dave this morning: "Whatever...all white people look the same to me."
Thursday, November 6, 2008
The Great Yogurt Incident of 1988
Last week I wrote about my bizarre OCD tendencies and generally uptight nature as a child. My dear friend and fellow blogger Cece requested the Yogurt Story as another illustration of how nutburgers I was. Cheaper than therapy, right?
This story is really proof Dave's patience and good influence in my life, although at the time I thought it was child abuse.
As mentioned last week, I was partial to (read: completely obsessed with) one specific type of yogurt: Dannon Fruit-at-the-Bottom Mixed Berry. No other flavor (say an individual berry, as opposed to the mixed) was acceptable. As you can imagine, grocery shopping and menu planning was an absolute joy for my parents what with me being so easy-going. Really, they should get some sort of prize for not putting me up for adoption when I was 9.
I'm not entirely sure how it came about, but I think at some point Dave ate one of "my" yogurts and when I pitched a fit, he suggested I eat another one, or find some other snack. So what did I do? Retire to my room and pout. Sure, of course.
Fast forward to a week or so later, the yogurt supply has been replenished, along with other flavors since my parents are not freaks and eat more than two things. I head to the refigerator for the yogurt portion of my breakfast, grab one, open the lid, and begin stirring. Stirring was essential because the fruit was at the bottom (hence the name) and I needed an even distribution of berries. (Has the OCD thing become obvious enough at this point? Because it really should.)
As I'm stirring I notice that the color of what should be the berries is NOT RIGHT and begin freaking out, thinking it's a bad batch or spoiled or something gross. But then I smell it and it's...apple. This is where tiny CKD loses her mind and her tone of voice could only be described as HYSTERICAL AND CURRENTLY DYING.
"THIS IS NOT MY YOGURT!!!! WHEEEERRREEEE IS MYYYYY YOGUUUUURT???" I begin wailing as Dave laughs hysterically on the couch. It's apparent to me that he is evil and must be thrown out immediately. Never mind that this is the man who taught me to swim and watches "Pee-Wee's Playhouse" with me every Saturday. I am despondent and want him arrested.
My mom is trying to get ready for work and I burst into the bathroom where she is drying her hair. I remember this clearly because she didn't even need to turn off the hair dryer to hear me shrieking. She finally turns it off, tells me to calm down, and comes into the living room to ask Dave what happened. He explains the innocent prank: he thought it would be funny to switch the yogurts out. Why? Oh, because his stepdaughter is clearly out of her mind and needs to snap out of it. Also, he grew up in a family of five boys; pranks were part of daily life. No big deal. My explanation? Because he is Satan and clearly was trying to give me a heart attack or get me to starve to death.
My mom tells me to grab another yogurt and continue getting ready for school. But can I let it go? Oh no no no no NO! I proceed to sulk, and open EVERY SINGLE YOGURT AND INSPECT THEM to make sure this won't happen again. In retrospect, I think my mom probably stayed late at work just to avoid us.
At some point I started eating other foods and laughing and even playing my own pranks. But at that moment? High drama.
This story is really proof Dave's patience and good influence in my life, although at the time I thought it was child abuse.
As mentioned last week, I was partial to (read: completely obsessed with) one specific type of yogurt: Dannon Fruit-at-the-Bottom Mixed Berry. No other flavor (say an individual berry, as opposed to the mixed) was acceptable. As you can imagine, grocery shopping and menu planning was an absolute joy for my parents what with me being so easy-going. Really, they should get some sort of prize for not putting me up for adoption when I was 9.
I'm not entirely sure how it came about, but I think at some point Dave ate one of "my" yogurts and when I pitched a fit, he suggested I eat another one, or find some other snack. So what did I do? Retire to my room and pout. Sure, of course.
Fast forward to a week or so later, the yogurt supply has been replenished, along with other flavors since my parents are not freaks and eat more than two things. I head to the refigerator for the yogurt portion of my breakfast, grab one, open the lid, and begin stirring. Stirring was essential because the fruit was at the bottom (hence the name) and I needed an even distribution of berries. (Has the OCD thing become obvious enough at this point? Because it really should.)
As I'm stirring I notice that the color of what should be the berries is NOT RIGHT and begin freaking out, thinking it's a bad batch or spoiled or something gross. But then I smell it and it's...apple. This is where tiny CKD loses her mind and her tone of voice could only be described as HYSTERICAL AND CURRENTLY DYING.
"THIS IS NOT MY YOGURT!!!! WHEEEERRREEEE IS MYYYYY YOGUUUUURT???" I begin wailing as Dave laughs hysterically on the couch. It's apparent to me that he is evil and must be thrown out immediately. Never mind that this is the man who taught me to swim and watches "Pee-Wee's Playhouse" with me every Saturday. I am despondent and want him arrested.
My mom is trying to get ready for work and I burst into the bathroom where she is drying her hair. I remember this clearly because she didn't even need to turn off the hair dryer to hear me shrieking. She finally turns it off, tells me to calm down, and comes into the living room to ask Dave what happened. He explains the innocent prank: he thought it would be funny to switch the yogurts out. Why? Oh, because his stepdaughter is clearly out of her mind and needs to snap out of it. Also, he grew up in a family of five boys; pranks were part of daily life. No big deal. My explanation? Because he is Satan and clearly was trying to give me a heart attack or get me to starve to death.
My mom tells me to grab another yogurt and continue getting ready for school. But can I let it go? Oh no no no no NO! I proceed to sulk, and open EVERY SINGLE YOGURT AND INSPECT THEM to make sure this won't happen again. In retrospect, I think my mom probably stayed late at work just to avoid us.
At some point I started eating other foods and laughing and even playing my own pranks. But at that moment? High drama.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Goals
If there's one thing I regret about my teens, it's the complete absence of a wild-and-crazy-out-of-control-biker-gang-shows-up-there's-a-car-in-the-pool-type of party. I'm talking about a cross between the party scenes in Sixteen Candles and Weird Science, people, but for reals. But now that I'm living at home maybe I can convince my parents to head out of town and realize this dream.
I'm not really sure what part of all of this is the most concerning: that I've spent some time today reflecting on my adolescent regrets, or that I am living with my parents.
I'm not really sure what part of all of this is the most concerning: that I've spent some time today reflecting on my adolescent regrets, or that I am living with my parents.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Oh Shut Up, Election Day Isn't Over Yet
So, um, yeah...we have a new president and I don't feel like crying. Well, I do, but not tears of pain and frustration. How freaking cool is this? No, all of our problems will not be solved on January 21, 2009, but people are more hopeful now than they have been in a long, long time and that is a fantastic start.
We did not go out for our traditional pie this evening. After voting we were all hungry for a real meal and opted for our favorite sushi joint - which also serves up some of the best cheesecake ever. We walked in and said we were ready to order "sushi for change" which then sparked several "for change" jokes. "I'll have the plum wine for change." "The pumpkin cheesecake for change sounds yummy!"
And then we went from silly to flat-out idiotic.
Mom: "I hate the word 'poo.'"
Me: "Me too. I prefer 'poop.'"
*Pause and look at Dave*
Dave: "I'm on the fence."
*While coloring on the tablecloth with crayons*
Dave: "I love coloring!"
So, while our nation's leadership is changing my family is still as ridiculous as ever. Comforting.
We did not go out for our traditional pie this evening. After voting we were all hungry for a real meal and opted for our favorite sushi joint - which also serves up some of the best cheesecake ever. We walked in and said we were ready to order "sushi for change" which then sparked several "for change" jokes. "I'll have the plum wine for change." "The pumpkin cheesecake for change sounds yummy!"
And then we went from silly to flat-out idiotic.
Mom: "I hate the word 'poo.'"
Me: "Me too. I prefer 'poop.'"
*Pause and look at Dave*
Dave: "I'm on the fence."
*While coloring on the tablecloth with crayons*
Dave: "I love coloring!"
So, while our nation's leadership is changing my family is still as ridiculous as ever. Comforting.
Stay Classy, San Diego: The Photos
Here's some evidence of Juno's supreme beauty and sweet nature, as well as our last-minute Halloween costumes.
Oddly enough, the shot of Daddy in a half-shirt and skirt did not make it over to me...Hmmm....
Sadly, this beautiful girl fell asleep before the official Halloween festivities got going, but we had a fashion show on the bed while she was still perky. Please note her bright eyes, smile and my ass in the background.
Prom Queen CKD, Goddess/MILF Lili and Kitty Kat Katie before hitting the party across the street.
(Alternate captions for this photo: Juno Has Two Mommies and Shnoowich)
Hey, guess who is too old to stay up all night and then look semi-human the next day? Mommy had the good sense to come home and go to sleep. Auntie? Not so much. I hope Juno doesn't associate me with the smell of vodka and exhaustion. Everyone knows my signature scent is whiskey and regret.
After Today You Won't Have to Read About the Election, OK?
So, I received a few emails from friends asking about the "Election Day Pie Tradition" in our family, and was kind of shocked to discover so many of you thought we threw pies at each other or something. I can kind of see how you might think Dave would be into that, but my mom? No. Francine "Please Use a Coaster" Carreira would not be down with pie throwing within a five mile radius of herself or her home.
The family pie tradition dates back to when I was a kid living in Fremont, and our polling place* was around the corner from a Marie Callender's, which was the pie place of choice in our family. Oh man, I could write an entire post about getting pies from there with my grandpa, and how he NEVER forgot to bring back the pie tin so we could save $.10 or whatever. That guy loved a good bargain...
Oh, sorry, back to the pie. Anyway, the local Marie Callender's gave out "free slice of pie" coupons at our polling place: you just had to present your little voting receipt or whatever. Pretty sweet deal: participate in the democratic process, eat some food. Very American, really. And very true to my family's nature. If there's anything that defines us, it's eating and then feeling superior to others.
*Did I mention the polling place in question was a FIRE STATION? With real live FIREFIGHTERS? Voting has never felt like a chore to this girl.
Monday, November 3, 2008
On Rocking the Vote and Such
Who has two thumbs and loves Election Day? *Points to Self* THIS GIRL!
I am giddy like a kid on Christmas Eve. Seriously. Still single!
I encourage all of you to establish some sort of fun Election Day tradition with friends or family if you don't have one already. Ours involves pie. You are welcome to adopt that one as it is fun and delicious. Kind of like Democracy.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Stay Classy, San Diego
You know that comforting feeling of being around family and lifelong friends where all pretenses of politeness and such are abandoned, but in a good way? That's what it's like for me to be around Lili and her family. We have our own relationship shorthand and can communicate in facial expressions, movie quotes and sound effects. It's great.
We were pretty lame about photos, but once they get settled in the new place Lili will send some my way and I will share with you, Interweb. You're welcome.
In the meantime, a quick rundown of my trip:
-Minutes after my arrival before someone who shall remain me uttered the phrase "cock block": Two, maybe three.
-Minutes after my arrival before someone who shall remain Lili said the word "mount," then paused, looked at me and said, "Huh huh, I said 'mount'" before finishing her sentence: Three, maybe four.
-Times I decided to show my appreciation for something by declaring my desire to hump it: Oh Jesus, a bunch. But it was for stuff like a carne asada taco and their kick-ass clawfoot bathtub so it was totally justified. Sure, judge me. But you didn't eat those tacos, nor did you see the tub.
-Times I had to resist the urge to eat Juno's fingers: Lost count at 87,000.
-Weeks until I see these lovely peeps again: Six-ish.
Oh, and if a guy dressed as a cowboy offers you a swig from his flask, maybe get more details on what is in it BEFORE accepting his gracious offer. Luckily it wasn't a roofie colada, but 100 proof vodka? Maybe not the best call of my life.
We were pretty lame about photos, but once they get settled in the new place Lili will send some my way and I will share with you, Interweb. You're welcome.
In the meantime, a quick rundown of my trip:
-Minutes after my arrival before someone who shall remain me uttered the phrase "cock block": Two, maybe three.
-Minutes after my arrival before someone who shall remain Lili said the word "mount," then paused, looked at me and said, "Huh huh, I said 'mount'" before finishing her sentence: Three, maybe four.
-Times I decided to show my appreciation for something by declaring my desire to hump it: Oh Jesus, a bunch. But it was for stuff like a carne asada taco and their kick-ass clawfoot bathtub so it was totally justified. Sure, judge me. But you didn't eat those tacos, nor did you see the tub.
-Times I had to resist the urge to eat Juno's fingers: Lost count at 87,000.
-Weeks until I see these lovely peeps again: Six-ish.
Oh, and if a guy dressed as a cowboy offers you a swig from his flask, maybe get more details on what is in it BEFORE accepting his gracious offer. Luckily it wasn't a roofie colada, but 100 proof vodka? Maybe not the best call of my life.
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