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?

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.

More Proof for the Commitment Hearing

I think about Beyonce sometimes. Not as much as I think about Tina Fey, but I spend a decent amount of brain energy on her. Energy that should be spent on job applications, saving baby seals and/or doing sit-ups. Don't try to understand it, because Lord knows I don't.

A few of my recent musings on the subject:

-Does anyone else find it weird that she has this alter ego named "Sasha Fierce?" Because "Beyonce" is just sooo commonplace that she needs something more exotic?

-Why is the hit single off her most recent album all about being single and not crying over her boyfriend? She's married now, right? He liked it, he put a ring on it, Beyonce-Sasha! Don't get me wrong, this song is playing on a continuous loop in my brain (although every time I hear the line "To infinity and beyond" I imagine that she broke up with Buzz Lightyear) and I may or may not have a little dance that I do when I hear it.

But really? Really?! I'm not getting what's going on with Ms. Knowles.

Maybe I am not meant to understand. Maybe these are questions for the ages. Maybe I should put down the wine.

Oh, and I've been watching this non-stop for about 45 minutes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5qx-MVrXfk&feature=PlayList&p=89FF437B85DBFC5D&playnext=1&index=16

Weirdly hynotic, no? The dance I choreographed is eerily similar to Andy Samberg's moves around :58.

Well, NOW What the Hell Am I Supposed to Name my Unborn Twins?

Because Gin and Juice? No more.

http://thesuperficial.com/2009/02/snoop_dogg_just_lost_all_his_s.php

It's either Sid and Nancy or Luke and Leia.

Snoop, how could you?

This Is a Crappy Excuse for a Post but I'm Taking All Kinds of Hell for My Hiatus

Hey Interweb...what's happening? (Say that like Bill in Office Space.) Apparently people actually read this thing because I have taken some crap for not updating the last couple of days. Um, sorry? Mama killed some brain cells this weekend and is planning to do an Afterschool Special/Very Special Episode-type of post COMPLETE WITH PHOTOS as soon as said pictures are procured. Hang in there - evidence of the full powers of my jackassery will be here soon.

In the meantime, here are some deep thoughts for you:

-I read this: http://www.whiskeymarie.com/2009/01/whats-wrong-with-me-part-7463.html and pretty much lost my shit because I play this same game ALL THE TIME. Meetings, the grocery store, coffee shop, random cocktail party: it's a sickness. But apparently someone else suffers from it so at least I'm not alone in the crazy. So, you know...good for me? I think? Anyone else out there want to cop to this kind of insanity?

-When did CSU Hayward become CSU East Bay? That's weird.

-It has come to my attention that after exhausting the armed forces I am now just collecting The Village People. The Indian Chief is going to be a challenge but I think I'm up for it.

-Don't you love those days when you kind of threw together an outfit and didn't really have time to do anything with your hair (which is an out of control mess anyway and probably beyond help) and yet people stop you in the hallway to say you look cute? Because I fucking love those days.

Remember That Time I Didn't Update for a Few Days and Then Finally Got Around to It After I Had Been Drinking? Yeah.

Hey there...didn't mean to leave the "Woohoo Obama" post up all week as some sort of statement or anything. (Although, OMG how much do I LOVE MICHELLE OBAMA? And how amazing is it that our president has just GOTTEN DOWN TO BUSINESS and is making shit happen?) Just been a wild and crazy week in the life of CKD. And not in the good way. News this week was of the "major job changes" and "serious health issues for family members" variety, which put me in a funk. Throw in a phone call from a certain three year-old informing me he misses me and has been waking up crying in the middle of the night and well...let's just say I have a carry-on packed for my guilt trip.

BUT! This week has not been all gloom-and-doom. I saw the San Francisco Symphony here in Chico! Next week I see Second City (former home of TINA FEY and Steve Carrell) which will be hilarious! I have plans to go to the wine country! And probably the most thrilling news of all: I got three new lip glosses for free! THREE ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY BUT TOTALLY ADORABLE AND DELICIOUS NEW LIP GLOSSES. God bless gift cards and the parents who put them in your stocking. Sure, the new glosses aren't that different from each other (truthfully, not that different from the 400 I already own) but I don't care. They are shiny and flavored and have disgustingly cute names and that makes me happy, OK?

I think some other stuff happened the last few days? I don't know. I am operating under the spell of Cabernet, which is a potent, magical thing. It's made my underwear disappear before. True story.

Being Sick is for Crap 2: Electric Boogaloo

Hey, remember when I could breathe out of my nose? And talk for more than two sentences without coughing uncontrollably? Ah, those were good times.

This is total bullshit, people. The timing really couldn't be worse. Today is my dear mother's birthday (I would do a birthday tribute, but there's no way I could sum up my mom in one post. Plus, she doesn't read this.) and Dave is whipping up a feast unlike any other. As of now it's uncertain if I will be a.) awake and able to partake and b.) able to taste anything should I be able to rally.

Oh, and there's this thing called "Christmas" this week. Heard of it? The stores have been advertising it since August. Anyway, I had kick-ass plans in the Bay Area to see my dad and the fam, Elisabeth and HER family, and various other awesome friends who are in town. I have been looking forward to the gifts, eggnog (and Bushmills, oh the Bushmills!), wine, laughter, chubby baby hands, and time with loved ones. But I'm pretty sure no one really wants to be around me at the moment. It's like having Amy Winehouse over: I'm either drugged up and incoherent and passing out at random, OR I'm freaking out, looking for more drugs, anything to make me feel better. Just substiture "Alka Seltzer cold medicine" for "heroin" in my scenario, OK? Being in this state makes things like operating a car damn near impossible, what with the matter of needing to be not asleep.

Silver lining: my voice is starting to take on a sexy, smoky quality. So, I might start up a phone sex service for the next week to bring in some extra cash. We'll see how many people have a coughing fetish.

Being Sick is for Crap

Seriously.

For months co-workers have breathed on me and tried to get me sick and my mighty immune system has resisted. One flight without some Airborne and my ass is out for the count. I am seriously concerned that since I am getting worse rather than better with time (and rest and juice and soup and every other damn thing that is supposed to make it all better) that my Christmas plans will be derailed. So help me if I miss out on quality Evan or Juno time there will be HELL TO PAY.

My method of dealing with illness is relatively simple and foolproof. I generally just need some juice, drugs and rest. Maybe some movies. For the most part I just want to be left alone and sleep it off. But maybe if I shout my will to be breathe again from the rooftops (or, you know, this blog) good health will once again be mine.

If you'll excuse me now I'm going to cough into my pillow and watch Talladega Nights.

Pushed to the Limit

Tonight I will accompany my mom to Toys R Us.

Let me reiterate: I am going to Toys R Freaking Us during the holiday season. If I could just yank out a kidney and hand that to my mom instead, I would. I am googling "warning signs of a stroke" to see if I can fake one and be excused from this outing.

Yeah, yeah, it's for a good cause: we're picking up some things for a toy drive.

But so help me if some mothereffin' third grader in those godforsaken wheelie shoes knocks into me he best watch his ass because I WILL NOT HESITATE TO THROW DOWN, bitches.

Please, someone hold me.

UPDATE: I made it out of there alive, and we scored some awesome toys for kids who will surely enjoy and appreciate them. I managed to avoid any run-ins with children, but kept my keys in my hand at all times, much like I do when walking through a dark parking lot alone and I need to have a "weapon" on hand. So, who needs a babysitter?

Working on Our Listening Skills

This morning I found myself singing along to "Funky Cold Medina" on the radio and it hit me: this song is totally about roofies. A love potion for the ladies? Um, thanks Tone Loc for advocating the use of date rape drugs.

I loved this song when I was 11 and now it's a little disconcerting to realize I listened to it in the car on the way to school all the time. Were my parents that tuned out that they didn't catch on? Apparently.

If you'll excuse me I need to go listen to my old New Kids on the Block tapes and figure out what "Hangin' Tough" was really all about.

Can a Cowbell Cure This?

Continuing the theme of Talking About Stuff That Bores My Male Readers...Guess who has been gripped by a serious case of baby fever? I really have no idea where this came from or what's going on. I don't want to have my own child at the moment, but if someone walked in here right now and asked me to hold a baby, I would do it no questions asked. And I would smell that kid's head and rock him or her and probably nibble on some baby toes.

What is happening? Is this part of being 30 and childless, like my body is trying to tell me to get crack-a-lackin' on the baby making? Doesn't my body know I am in not in a place to be doing that? I'm thinking about grad school and where I want to live and oh my God...what the hell?

I have always liked children and babies, but usually ones that belong to someone I know. Lately I find myself fighting the urge to stare at random babies in public and walk by them with the hopes of catching some of that baby smell. Have you smelled a baby's head? It rivals cookies baking in the "things that smell amazing" department.

As I'm dealing with this, Lili sends me pictures from their family trip to Tahoe. I feel dizzy...tiny hands and toes and a smiley baby... Juno got to meet her Uncle Russell on this trip. Thanks for taking such great pictures of the Junebug, Pusser!

I love these happy girls.

You're smelling her head, aren't you? Aren't you?!

Auntie Molly came in for a visit! We love Molls - we bonded as bridesmaids in Lili's wedding and she stayed with me when she interviewed at UCSF. If this baby thing ever does pan out for me, she is totally delivering that kid.

I may book a flight to San Diego just so I can eat her toes.

There's No Section for This in My Dream Analysis Book

Last night I had a dream that it was the day of my First Holy Communion...only I was Present Me, not Eight Year-Old Me. And I knew this was weird. In fact, all of us "kids" were adults. Elisabeth was there and I remember looking at her and thinking, "Dude, you're married with a kid. What are we doing?" And then I looked around and the Bush twins were there, just chillin'. Of course.

I'm pretty sure the apocalypse is imminent.

Mostly this freaked me out because I frequently have dreams where Present Me is back in high school or whatever, but I (and the others around me) don't know that. But being all aware and shit? Man, that kinda messed me up.