Movin' on Up

To a deeeeluxe new site: http://isthisthingonckd.wordpress.com/

New look, same great snarky attitude! Be sure to update your Google reader and come visit soon!

Grace in Small Things: Super Friends Edition

Not that my friendships are a "small thing" but you know...

1.) The comfort and easy laughter of talks, emails and IM's with old friends nearly makes me spit coffee all over myself, but oh is it worth it. Might be a good thing we all don't live near each other; the amount of ditching work to watch movies and day drink would be astounding.

2.) The appearance of new friends (I say "new" but mean "within the last year") who have enriched my life and brought unexpected joy and perspective into my world. I can only hope I do a fraction of the same for each of them.

3.) The friends I have yet-to-actually-meet who exist somewhere in the bloggy world and push me to continue writing, however silly, and put it out there. That surprising support sustains me just when I think "Who cares?" and want to chuck it all.

4.) The expansion of my circle due to marriages and babies thrills me like none other, because if there's one thing I like it's a good party. And what better reason to celebrate than true love and shmoopy wee ones? Also, an open bar helps and pregnant chicks are great designated drivers.

5.) The constant reminders each of my friends give me to think about the small, beautiful things in life in the middle of chaos keep me sane and comforted when I feel overwhelmed or alone. Thank you.

This and That

I have no idea what is up, but I am EXHAUSTED. Not sure if I'm fighting off a cold or something, but my body appears to be shutting down, and my brain isn't far behind. Here's some updates, clarifications and Bluth family hilarity for you on a windy Wednesday:

-Um, just wanted to make it clear that at the time of my little incident on I-80, I WAS NOT DRINKING. The boozy part of the weekend took place post-accident, while I was safely relaxing at my cousin's home. And driving was done by a sober individual. Thanks, Dad!

-My truck sustained some fairly concerning damage and will survive, but the repairs are not limited to the tires. The tire shop dude said it appeared my rear tire suffered "catastrophic failure" which I think would be an awesome band name. Anyway, I will be spending some time trying to get CHP to give me a report detailing what they saw (I think the words "semi-hysterical white girl" and "huge-ass pieces of tire all over the damn place" will appear in the official report) and my only hope is that I will get to meet Ponch. And that the tire company will have to pay to fix the damage because it wasn't my fault the tire just up and exploded.

-This: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIT5sFhw4sU&fmt=18 has been making me laugh uncontrollably for the last day or so. If you were not a fan of Arrested Development it probably won't make you laugh quite as hard, but oh man...so good. Full disclosure: I sometimes dance like Lindsay and GOB when I am drunk. STEVE HOLT!

-One side of my hair is growing faster than the other. That's weird, right?

-Lately I've been spending way too much time contemplating the differences and my preferences between Tombstone and Wyatt Earp. I think I like Kurt Russell better as Earp, but really love that Mark Harmon is in the Kevin Costner version. And I am torn between the two Doc Hollidays...Val Kilmer and Dennis Quaid are both pretty hot and Quaid lost all that weight to make the tuberculosis seem real. See my dilemma? There's room in my heart for both films, not to mention room in pants for all the hotties of each movie (hey-o!) so I suppose there's no reason to choose.

-I am wearing these little weird sorta-stocking things that only cover my toes. They keep my feet from sliding in my shoes and protect my pedi (Holla!) but when I walk my feet make this weird noise. It sounds like I'm tooting with each step WHICH I ASSURE YOU I AM NOT. Might need to abandon them. (The stockings, not my feet.)

-My goal tonight is to stay awake to watch the remaining episodes of Battlestar Galactica on Hulu, so please do not tell me what happens in the finale, OK? Thanks.

I Almost Died in a Car Crash, Got Shitfaced with My Family and Saw Some Pigs. How Was Your Weekend?

Alternate title: The Longest Post EVER So Get Yourself a Drink and Settle in for a Detailed Account of How I Spent My Weekend, Y'all.

People, I am DONE with driving long distances and Big Scary Freeways for awhile, at least. Yes, I spent most of my childhood and adolescence on the Dumbarton Bridge and am nonplussed by more than two lanes of traffic but holy mother of swear words and cars and drive-thrus...I am staying put for the forseeable future.

WARNING: If you are one of my dads or I ever lived in your uterus, you might want to skip the first part of Friday because you will lose your shit. No offense guys, but you're kinda wimpy when it comes to the thought of me almost dying. Just move along to the parts where I am drunk because you have all seen that.

Friday: Day started out on a pretty normal note. Got some last minute laundry done, packed my bag for my crazy-busy weekend and headed out of Chico in my recently tuned-up truck. My old, but lovingly cared for, well-maintained (OK, yes, it does need a good washing but other than that, just shut up, alright?) truck. The first half of the drive goes by with zero incident and I'm bopping along and decide to pull off of I-80 in Fairfield for a coffee. As I make my way over to the right lane I hear a huge BANG, the truck pulls sharply to the left and the next few moments are a blur as I spin out and almost hit the wall before managing to get the car pointed in the right direction over on the shoulder. I call 911 because I can see chunks of my tire in the road and know that the CHP office is at the next exit. (Seriously, I do this drive all the damn time and know every bathroom, every Peet's coffee location, whatever.) Another car pulls over to check on me as I'm half hyperventilating-recounting the story of OHMYGODIJUSTSPUNOUTWHATTHEFUCK? to the dispatcher. The people in the other car inform me my driver's side rear tire appears to be shredded and I relay this to the dispatcher, who is asking me all kinds of questions that I am having trouble answering (like, my name) but I manage to give her my location. In the meantime, one of the three Good Samaritans seems really put off by the fact that I am devoting more attention to the 911 dispatch than to him, and mistakes my reluctance to fully exit the vehicle as a fear that he will rob me, rather than a fear of being mowed down by one of the hundreds of cars flying past us. He proceeds to inform me that I clearly hate black people, FSP shows up and a highway patrol officer rolls up to check on me too. I try to explain to the dude that I am not racist, just freaking the fuck out and maybe I have forgotten my manners but I AM HAVING A BIT OF A CRISIS HERE and would appreciate if he could wait a moment while I get shit done and then I will be happy to chat with him and inspect the tire while practically standing in the freeway. The FSP dude manages to get the tire situation under control while the officers block traffic and run out onto the freeway to retrieve tire chunks. If you had to slow down on I-80 last Friday afternoon, SORRY! AAA shows up too, makes sure things are cool and I'm sent on my way. Although the car is deemed totally safe to drive, I am still a little flipped out but manage to get myself to my dad's house in one piece.

Upon arrival in Pacifica, I give the fam a quick rundown of the situation and my uncle offers to drive me to my dinner party in the city. I politely decline, so he offers to make me a drink instead. Sold!

I love that my uncle and I speak the same language: Bushmills.

The dinner with B&G, D&K and E was fabulous as always. B looked at me and said, "It feels right having you at my table" and I gotta say, it feels right to me too. Talking about leaving my heart in San Francisco.

D&K, adorable as ever.

The gourmets: G cooked up a five-star meal and K spoiled us with homemade tiramisu.

Saturday: Up at dawn to road trip to Fresno (aka The 'No) for my Great-Aunt Peggy's memorial service. She passed away last month and is terribly missed by our family. A beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the lady liked to have fun and her children and grandchildren put on a wonderful party that honored her memory. I always forget that this side of the family is the Unapologetic Day Drinking side, and realized I need to visit more. We saw a ton of relatives we hadn't seen in years and I discovered that the penchant for sick jokes and a "That's What She Said!" sense of humor is genetic.

Timothy Evan and Evan William partying it up.

The evening is a bit of a blur... I know I went on a liquor run with my dad, got back to the house, downed the rest of my wine and got my uncle to hook his favorite niece up with some cocktails. Our cousins Terri and Mark are pig farmers and have a gorgeous property with lots of cute baby pigs. I felt a little guilty enjoying my bacon and cilantro wrapped shrimp, but got over it pretty fast because sweet baby Jesus, that stuff is SO GOOD. I explained that as a city girl, I prefer not to make friends with my meals and they agreed they would only serve me food I hadn't met. Seems fair. Ridiculous and fairly graphic explanations of inseminating pigs for breeding ensued and at one point I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Eventually the crowd dispersed and I passed out in my cousin's room.

Bubba shows off his monkey bollock (blanket) and monkey jammers.

Mark, please do not explain to him how baby pigs are made, nor where the bacon came from.

Thumbs up all-around for Terri, the coolest cousin!

Sunday: Woke up with the slightest headache, but after tallying the drinks (3 beers, 2 glasses of wine and a shit ton of whiskey and soda) I was not in horrid shape. After some breakfast, coffee and a shower I was handed a mimosa. I use the term "mimosa" lightly because those are supposed to have orange juice in them, which I guess mine did technically, but really, who are we kidding? Again with the day drinking and damn if my head didn't feel absolutely marvelous instantly. Dad and Judy came by with Evan and apparenly Bubba was up half the night with a fever.

Some snippets of conversation:

Terri: "My girlfriends and I used to have a pool going when we'd go out and whoever got asked to dance by the ugliest guy got the money."

Judy: "I want in on that. You're talking my game! Also, lesbians love me. We start talking softball and next thing I know..."

Me: "If the rules were the oldest dude asking you to dance I'd beat all of you hands down. Old guys love me. And I want extra credit if they are wearing chains!"

Dad: "Will someone please take the champagne away from them?"

Have you ever been drunk in the car with your drunk stepmom, sober dad and three year-old brother? Because here's what you can expect: making up songs that heavily feature the word "poop" with the three year-old, begging your dad to pull over for Jack-in-the-Box because, "Dude, we are drunk hungry! I need food noooooowwwww" and passing out next to the aforementioned toddler. A toddler who will try to wake you by throwing toys at your head and playing a pretend trumpet. Interweb, that is the closest I've ever come to hitting a child. I wonder when he'll realize "Sissy is tired" means "Sissy is hammered" and "Sissy needs to sleep" means "Sissy passed out and will likely attack if woken?" Hopefully not for another year or so. I woke from my car nap covered in my own drool and still feeling buzzed. My dad is exceptionally proud of me.

Show of hands: who is concerned that Evan was able to take this photo because I was too drunk/lazy/oblivious to wrestle my camera away from a person who weighs 30 lbs?

Monday: After another fitful, feverish night with Evan the entire family trekked to Kaiser for an appointment with Dr. Ami, the best pediatrician since my childhood doctor. The kid has some weird ass preschool disease like foot and mouth, only the sores are only in his mouth. I wasn't so much disgusted as concerned, but still - ew!

While putting the little diseased kid down for his nap and saying goodbye he warmed my cold, dead heart with this little gem:

"I'm so glad you're my potty talk friend!"

For reals. I cannot begin to express how completely awesome this kid is. You just need to experience him to fully understand the wacky charm that is Bubba.

The drive home was uneventful, but I stopped every five minutes to check my tires and hyperventilate and imagine that the car was going to careen off the road. Good times. After spending roughly three hours in the car Friday-Monday I am so grateful my daily commute is 40 minutes round trip. CKD needs a break, yo.

So, um, there you go. My weekend in approximately 7,000 words, give or take. If you'll excuse me now I need to collapse and maybe pour myself a drink. Haven't had one of those in about 18 hours and we wouldn't want my liver tissue to regenerate, now would we?

Fancy Ladies

My mom and I went out for dinner together, and like most of our interactions, I was left wondering if any other moms and daughters talk about the same things we do. Sure, we chat about work, friends, our family...but then sometimes the conversation takes a turn for the bizarro.

Me: "Hey, you have a zit next to your mouth just like I do!"
Mom: "I know. I think it's from getting this [gestures to upper lip area] waxed."
Me: "Me too! It's sucks. You have to make the choice: zit or ladystache."
Mom: "I'll take the zit."

A few minutes later...

Me: "Not really loving this new development where I need to deal with a ladystache. I was explaining to a friend that it's not dark, but my hair is so long. I look like Hulk Hogan."
Mom: *Laughs* "Yeah, I don't have that problem. I have more of a 'Vote for Pedro' five o'clock shadow, wouldn't you say?"
Me: *Almost chokes from laughing* "Sure, we can call it that."

And, SCENE!

Hey You Kids! Get Off My Lawn!

In reality, I guess I should ask them to quit skateboarding in front of my house and making out in my driveway, but you get the picture.

Upon arriving home tonight, I saw that some boards were blocking my access to my driveway. As in, I could not park my truck where I park it every fucking day. My teenage neighbor was sitting between his family's driveway and mine with some girl, as I gave him the "Hey, would you be a dear and move your shit outta my way so I can park? Thanks bunches" look. He looked at me, then the boards (which are really pathetic and in no way constitute some sort of homemade bitchin' skate park and if this girl is impressed by his "stunts" then she deserves to be with the dumbshit), and continued to sit there and be as useless as tits on a frog. Let me repeat this: HE SAT THERE AND DID NOTHING TO REMOVE THE OBJECT AND BE A HALFWAY DECENT HUMAN BEING WITH ANY REGARD FOR OTHER PEOPLE WHO NEED TO EXIST AROUND HIM. I knew that if I rolled down my window and asked him to do this, I would not be able to contain my ire, so I just parked on the street.

As I got out of my car, Tony Hawk offered a lame, "Sorry about that" and continued the strenuous activiy of sitting on his skinny ass while his little girlfriend breathed through her mouth. "It's cool. You're busy." I answered and marched myself into the house quickly while I was able to resist the urge to hurl the boards at their heads.

So, how was your day?

Sacramento? More like SacramentNO!

I admit it: I wasn't super-psyched to attend a conference in Sacramento, especially since it fell during my second favorite holiday: St. Patrick's Day. (My favorite holiday? Halloween. Yes, if given the choice, I will take candy over booze. Fun fact.) I mean, I'm sure Sacramento is lovely and it is the state capital and all that...but I have no ties, no real affinity for the city. Plus, what if the "Irish pubs" were lame? Turns out my fears were unfounded and it was an excellent mix of business and fun.

The conference itself was pretty great, and it does please me that our school values me enough to send me to events where I can learn and grow and take ownership of this role. I am still exhausted from the drive, hotel sleeping (which is never ever restful for me), networking, and bouncing between sessions in order to hear from a variety of speakers. So, you get a recap in bullet form, because grenade form* just seems so intense.

-I overpacked, as is my MO whenever I leave my house for more than 20 minutes. My swimsuit never saw the light of day, as it wasn't really warm enough for the pool. And like a well-intentioned moron, I packed running/workout gear, which also never found its way out of my bag. Silly CKD.

-Had some extra time to burn Monday evening and thought I'd run some errands. Apparently when I asked the Concierge for directions to the nearest Target, she heard that as "Please send me to the unemployment office" because when I followed the directions and landed at the address she gave me, that's exactly where I ended up. I'm not sure if I was just road-weary, hungry, or am just a flat-out bitch, but my frustration quickly turned to a white-hot rage and I found myself screaming "I'M GONNA CHOKE THAT BITCH!" alone in my car as I made my way back to the hotel. I'm sure the other drivers on the road didn't find that sketchy in the least.

-Free wi-fi my ass, Hyatt Regency. I refused to pay $10 per day for intermittend Interweb access, which also sent me into an irrational fit of "OH THE INJUSTICE THRUST UPON ME! WHY GOD? WHY MEEEEEE?" Then I remembered the hotel had a bar downstairs.

-In recent months I've become more confident about going out alone, and quickly found that a hotel bar is an awesome place to make friends. Seriously. There was nothing sketchy, just a lot of business travelers and I made friends with a fellow conference attendee. I turned an IT consultant from Texas on to Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and he bought me one to show his gratitude. The bartender and I are best friends and he makes an awesome Kir Royale.

-One of the keynote speakers at the conference was super hot, super smart and super funny. Also: married. Dumb bitch. I think it's a real testament to my geekiness that I go into a full-tilt swoon over these environmental/academic types. I developed about four crushes per minute while chatting with presenters and fellow attendees and discovering shared interests in breathing and being able to drink water. Wow. Just reading that sentence makes me think it's time to take a long hard look at my standards.

-While out on the town for St. Patrick's Day a (presumably) drunk girl stopped to tell me I have great legs and that she's jealous of them. I thanked her, a little embarrassed (note to self: time to learn to accept compliments gracefully), but was pleased. My companion concurred with her assessment, so there's that.

-Every bar was an out of control amateur night disaster, so back to the hotel bar for me where my new BFF made me the best whiskey sour of my life. People, if you are ever in the Sac, hit up Dawson's at the Hyatt Regency and tell them the Wildcat sent you. You won't be sorry.



*Credit Whiskeymarie

Happy Birthday Jen! aka "Who's the boss? Tony Danza? No, I think it's Jennifer"

March 14 was my dear friend Jen's birthday and I hope she will forgive me for the tardiness of this post. Jen and I met at the Puge; she and Kim lived two doors down from me in Regester Hall (Virgin Vault - HOLLA!) and we quickly discovered a shared affinity for Goonies, Adam Sandler and speaking in movie quotes. We have a winner! Also, her product collection and morning routine rivals mine in the "Holy crap, how much stuff do you have?" department. My only complaint about Jen is that she lives so far away now. What's it gonna take for you guys to move to California? I'll do the truffle shuffle...

Jen is an adorable white girl from So Cal who also happens to have mad rap skillz. She and Kim do an excellent Dr. Dre/Snoop Dogg for "Nothing but a G Thang" that will send you into fits of uncontrollable laughter and awe.

Jen's nickname, The Boss, is a shortened version of her maiden name, but also an excellent way to sum up her dynamic, take-charge attitude. This woman chaired committees for, like, 90% of the activities of our campus and every single one was a raging success.

Jen is never embarrassed by my ridiculous shenanigans and just encourages me to be a jackass by laughing when I dance like Elaine. So, blame her.

Jen's dance skillz would make Kevin Bacon proud. She can do any routine from Footloose, including the part where Ren dances around by himself and yanks off his sweatshirt. Just thinking about it is mkaing me crack up right now.

Jen is an awesome karaoke partner. Our version of "Sweet Caroline" brought down the house at orientation. Word.

Jen has a Rain Man-like memory for song lyrics and movie lines. Throw out some obscure line from Friends or pretty much any movie ever and the woman will respond in kind.

Jen, for all of her straightforward, "I'm-not-gonna-pump-sunshine-up-your-butt"-ness is always, always the first to offer love and support and encouragement in a time of need.

Jen is not afraid of confrontation or saying the Thing Maybe You Don't Really Want to Say but Probably Should. Being terrified of every offending anyone ever when I met her, I learned from her example that it's possible to stand up for yourself and the world will not fall apart. There are times even now that I channel that energy and it has served me well.

Oh Hen, I miss you and wish we lived in the same building again so we could get some fro-yo from Smell. If you ever slow down for two seconds I'll come visit soon since I have yet to meet your baby Tessie. Plus, Jeff and I clearly need to discuss the subtle nuances of the genius that is Happy Gilmore. You are so money, and you don't even know it!

Remember That Time Blogspot Was All Effed Up and I Almost Had a Stroke?

That wasn't fun. I am insanely behind in posting (birthday! my Sacramento adventure!) and am just glad this technical issue has been resolved because OH MAN DO NOT CUT ME OFF FROM ALL THREE OF MY ADORING FANS.

Stay tuned kids. More to come.*



*That's what she said.

Step Inside, Walk This Way

Guess who is going to see Def Leppard, Poison and Cheap Trick in concert, bitches? To say that I am excited is a supreme understatement. I am pretty much freaking out and cannot wait until September. I am going with some of my favorite concert buddies and am going to throw out a quick plea to S to come down from Seattle for this momentous event. Come on, Man! Remember how much fun Billy Idol was? I bet this will provide as many, if not MORE, laughs.

So, I think I need to start watching Rock of Love or something to get my outfit just so. Anyone know where I can get a leather fringe halter top? Cappa has already suggested leopard-print leggings and maybe a neck tat. At this point anything is possible. Seems like I should also have some daddy issues and smeared lipstick and/or eyeliner. Thank goodness I have time to prep.

And here I thought knowing all the words to "Unskinny Bop" would never help me later in life.

For Future Reference

Here are some things you may not want to be doing while the Accreditation Committee is touring your department:

1.) Singing along to .38 Special

2.) Shaking and kicking the vending machine when your snack get stuck

3.) Eating Pop-Tarts while getting crumbs all over your top

4.) Dancing in your chair while "I Love the Nightlife" is on the radio

5.) Spilling water in your lap

6.) Inspecting your head for gray hairs

7.) Daydreaming about Mark Harmon

The more you know...

Hypochondria: Not Just for Crazy Old Ladies

You know that person who gets a headache and immediately Googles "brain tumor" only to have the headache subside by the time she has convinced herself that she totally has all the symptoms?

Hi there.

My lips have been really dry and chapped and peeling and even bleeding a little (I know - eww) and I have no idea what prompted this. And nothing seems to work. The only thing I can think of is that I am dehydrated, but stepping up the water intake (thanks for the suggestion Habesha Child - I have been hydrating) hasn't really made a difference one way or the other. On the bright side, my lips are a little darker and pinker so I don't need to apply gloss or anything. Um...Yay?

I feel like a tool for looking up this kind of stuff on WebMD, but what if I am ignoring a common symptom of malaria or Avian bone syndrome or the Ebola virus? I have an English degree and I watch House so clearly I should be diagnosing this stuff with info cribbed from Wikipedia.

When I hear about women who don't realize they are pregnant until they are giving birth into a toilet, I am absolutely shocked someone could be so disconnected from her body because the slightest change and BLAMMO! my ass is consulting websites and frantically emailing doctor friends for free advice and reassurance.

For now, I am placing a bit of the blame on one of my parents who shall remain Dave because he is the king of the Worst Case Scenario. Allergic reaction to some funky peanut sauce? It's probably West Nile. Bump on my neck? Unborn twin tumor baby. No wonder I'm a mess.

UPDATE: Guess what is all better? Yeah. Turns out constant application of Kiehl's and Aquaphor AND drinking a shit-ton of water (shout out Habesha Child!) did work. Oh, and some patience.

Frakin' A

File this one under: "Nerd Porn" or something.

So, I stumbled upon this: http://io9.com/5165920/the-men-who-make-battlestar-galactica-feminist while checking out Jezebel and was like, "Great, let's read all about the feminist theories involved in Battlestar Galactica!" I was all kinds of detached intellectual about the whole thing, pushed my glasses up on my nose and nodded and shook my head as I agreed and disagreed with the author. Really, it was all very scholarly and I was feeling so smug for being able to apply various literary theories to a television show.

And then I saw this:

And I freaked the fuck out. As my friend Judi said, "My gods that man can wear a towel." Indeed. Once I got my lady parts to chill out I finished the article, but I don't really remember much of it. Don't look at me like that.

This Springing Forward Stuff Has Messed Up My Sleep

So, I apologize in advance for this potentially disjointed, rambling post.

1.) It seems my weekends have two speeds: GOGOGOALLTHETIMEDON'TSTOP or sit on my ass with no plans. But this weekend? I think CKD found this thing called "balance" and oh man. It's sweet, y'all. The perfect mix of lazy mornings sitting around drinking coffee and socializing on the town. Perfect, really.

2.) Life in a college town just isn't for me. Yes, there are things to love (cheap drinks and such) but my patience with the general population is wearing thin. I mean, did that guy really think that wooing me with the promise of "a lot of fun" on his buddy's pull-out sofa ("I'm not from here, dude") was going to work on a grown woman? Because it wasn't. If you want a classy broad like me, you're going to have to do better than that. Get a futon. The best part of this exchange was how the guy went from all kind of charming (if you find smarmy to be charming, that is) to downright pissed off when I turned down his gracious offer, like I had wasted ten minutes of his time and now he was going to have to find some other girl and start all over again. The humanity. People are a fucking mystery to me.

2a.) When describing this scene to a friend she asked if the guy was cute. Yes, he was, but I explained he also kind of had "date rape face" and she didn't know what that was. Am I the only one who has ever heard of this? Basically, this guy could play Frat Dick #2 in any variety of college movies. If he had approached anyone I knew, I would cockblock because he just had THAT LOOK. I'm crazy, right? OK...

3.) My lips are really super chapped and it's annoying. I cannot figure out why this is, and my usual remedies (Kiehl's balm and Aquaphor) are not working. WTF?

4.) I finally caught this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus from Louis CK and realized I am a total asshole. Sure, I try to enjoy the moment and be zen about shit, but I've done a fair amount of bitching this last week over minor inconveniences and it's such a waste of energy. Trying to breathe in more. Feel free to remind me.

Pop Quiz, Hot Shot

Guess which of these things I DID NOT do over the course of the last week:

-Told a bouncer "You're fucking joking, right?" when asked for my ID at a 21 and over establishment.

-Honestly forgot it was Lent and ordered a Pepsi when going through the Taco Bell drive-thru.

-Got exceedingly, embarrassingly excited when some high school boy gave me the "Hey Now!" nod and up-and-down.

-Felt superior to those around me when I knew Freddy Washington's nickname was "Boom Boom."

-Wished my nickname was "Boom Boom."

-Pointed and laughed at Katie when she stumbled in public.

-Drank too much sake.

-Acted my goddamn age.

What to Wear Wednesday: Purse Splurge

This week Kristle has a question about one of my very favorite things: purses.

"I need some help with a decision. I need a new purse and I love this one:

You think it is too much? I usually buy $50 purses. It will be my daily purse. I have seen it in stores so it is a good size and black works with all."

Let me start off here by saying that my first thought when I saw a picture of this lovely bag was, "I want to take this behind a middle school and get it pregnant." Holy mother of accessories! We have a winner!

It's such a stereotype of the Typical Woman, isn't it? We're just mad for bags and shoes and we'll take out a second mortgage to finance these addictions, right? No. Most of us are reasonable and will not sell organs in the name of a pretty bag.

That said, I say go for it. You are planning to get this bag on eBay for a relative steal. You have seen it in person, liked it, and knew it was your style. You don't own upwards of 10 bags (unlike someone who shall remain CKD) and would like to upgrade your accessory wardrobe. You plan to use it daily, which would break down the cost-per-use to mere pennies, really.

I know that purchasing a purse for roughly double what you would normally pay sounds insane. You have a functional day-to-day bag, there's not an urgent "need" for this, and who the hell is spluring on things like this NOW? THE ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES! QUICK, PUT THE MONEY UNDER THE MATTRESS!!!! But hear me out: if you have budgeted for such a purchase, and are maybe willing to sacrifice some other fun things that may pop up for a bit, there's no harm really. This is generally a good way to roll, regardless of the economic climate or threat of layoffs. If this will not make-or-break your ability to eat or pay bills you shouldn't feel awful. Another way to make sure you won't regret a big impulse buy is to sleep on it; if you are still thinking about the item the next day, you know it wasn't temporary insanity. If waiting isn't an option, keep the tags, keep the receipt and know the return policy BEFORE you hand over your money.

And I can totally borrow this bag when I come visit right?

UPDATE: Kristle bid on the purse and won it! All is happy in Accessory Land. PS: I had a lot of sake tonight.

Babies, Black Clothes, Bubba and Blondie

It usually takes me a week or so to get back into the swing of Chico life after a great weekend in the Bay Area. Add quality time with Lili and Juno to the mix and my post-weekend blues increase exponentially.

I was originally going to do this as a Grace in Small Things post, but there's nothing small about the amount of grace my friends and family bring to my life. So, you get some pictures instead.

Cocktail hour at The Club (say this like Thurston Howell for maximum effect). CKD threw on her pashmina since she seemed to pack only black clothing and looked like Morticia Fucking Addams. Seriously, it can't be good when your father, who owns 836 plaid button down shirts, stages a little intervention about the amount of black in your wardrobe.

Juno being hilarious. We should have cut her off after the second drink, but she was all, "DUDE! I can handle it! I'm on vacation...back down."

Holding this kid sets my ovaries to "function mode" or something. She never fusses, loves my dancing (I mean, who DOESN'T, right? But she is clearly advanced.) and even when she spit up on me she leaned over so most of it hit the floor. Where do I get one?

And speaking of the famous DeFazio Dance Moves: Evan rocks out with his toy pager. Don't ask. I think he's expecting a call from 1987 or something.

No, Dad, I DID NOT make the baby sing "All the Single Ladies" and we DID NOT do the dance routine from the video and I most certainly DID NOT swear in front of him. Why do you ask?

A few people have asked about the Blondie concert and all I can say is that the bitch kicks some ASS. I want to be like her when I grow up. And I think the entire gay population of Butte County was at the show; it was nice to meet the six of you. I wasn't great about taking pictures, and the ones I do have are just scary. CKD may have gone a little crazy with the Maybelline Superstay and may have looked a little crazy with her new dark hair, pasty-ass skin and RED lips. Just trust me on this one, OK?

He's at the Top of MY List

The other night Judy asked Evan if he understood what it meant to be thankful, and she gave him some examples of things for which she is grateful. Then she asked him what he is thankful for.

"My big boy bed. No more crib."

Pause.

"And the love in our house."

Yes, there is some serious love in this house.