Wednesday, January 30, 2008
My husband told me about an application on Facebook for playing Blackjack. I loooove playing Blackjack, so naturally I was all about it.
I picked an empty table to practice and see how all the bells and whistles worked. I had a few games under my belt when someone else joined me.
She didn't do anything at first. I continued to play.
Suddenly there was a message from her down on the chat function in the corner.
All it said was:
My name is a slight bastardization of a Hebrew word. My father happens to have been raised a Jew before converting to Christianity as a young adult. When I was young, my family would sometimes light the menorah next to the Christmas tree (well, not right next to it--didn't want to burn the house down.) But my Mother is not Jewish, so none of this makes me "officially" Jewish.
More like Jew-ish.
"yeah," I typed back to my nosy table mate, "no one usually gets that from the name."
And as soon as she read it, she was gone.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
This weekend I went up to Chicago with my friend Travis to see a "band" named Girl Talk at the Metro. What a clusterfuck that was.
Don't get me wrong. I had a fabulous time. We stayed with one of his oldest friends and her husband and I couldn't have asked for better hosts. The evening was a late celebration of the husband half of our boarders.
They had a little get together before the show, and hired a limo to take our tipsy asses into the city.
Travis did my hair and makeup and the end product was stripperific. I loved it.
The show wasn't slated to start until 11pm, so I was leery that I was even going to make it there without falling asleep. When we got to the Metro, the line was wrapped around the block so we hit a nearby bar to kill some time.
Sometime after midnight I looked up at one of the television screens to see that Obama took South Carolina with 55 percent. Suddenly I caught my second wind. How amazing is that? I was positively giddy.
I was so excited that I nearly forgot that we still a show to attend.
At close to 1:30 in the motherfucking morning, we stepped foot into the show. I didn't really know what to expect. I'd never even heard of this "band" before, but it was a free ticket and a weekend getaway so who am I to complain?
That was a joke. I'm totally going to complain.
The show was basically a dude on stage with a DJ setup, playing his CD and pretending to spin records. I think.
I was so confused.
The music was fun. It was basically "mash ups" of intertwined riffs and samples of everything from Elton John and James Taylor to Britney Spears and--I swear to the babyjesus--a snippet of a Tones on Tail song. Crazy.
Travis and I agreed that the whole ordeal made us feel elderly, or "oldsters" as we lovingly referred to our posse for the night.
The people watching was amazing though. I am such a stare queen in situations like that, and I was not left hanging for a moment.
I will say that while I joke about feeling old, I know I'm not. I am however too old to deal with the shitastic bathroom situation at the Metro. It was gross the last time I was there (13 years ago. Mazzy Star.). The full magnitude of its gut wrenching nastiness is even more apparent now without a cloud of smoke to cover it up.
We didn't get back to our hosts' house until almost 4 in the morning. Christ, who do I think I am?
The whole night can pretty much be summed up by the mental image I have burned into my retinas of a girl and her friend parting the crowd just fast enough to puke at my feet.
But seriously, I had a great time. Next time though, I think I'll go to the early show.
Monday, January 21, 2008
No, fuck that. I did deserve it. And my wonderful friends deserved a night of drunken revelrie as well.
Photographic proof of our night. LOTS o' pictures.
Flowers from my husband before he got the hell outta' Dodge.
I made some pretty cupcakes:
It started off innocently enough:
"Hmmm...do I start with bourbon or wine?"
Present from Travis. He thought I needed a new gym bag. Inside the gym bag were colorful cigarettes and vaginal wipes. I love him.
My husband HATES celery. Hates it with a burning passion. This one is for him.
Who's a Pretty Barbie Birthday Princess? I AM! Thanks to Meghan.
Things went downhill (in a good way) quickly. Soon we were drunk.
Apparently I thought something we really fucking hilarious. I wish I could remember what it was.
No pillow fights, but Rachel got smoochy.
Phil is mysterious.
My dogs wanted us to shut the fuck up and go to bed.
But I made Ichabod play some Wii.
Full contact Wii.
Me. 3AM drunk in three parts.
34 is gonna' be a good year.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I try to avoid crying in front of people at all costs. I don't know why. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've shed tears (during my adult life) in front of anyone else. I'm not a robot. I do cry. I just don't like company when I do.
The first time I had sex was so awful and disappointing that I didn't do it again for another three years. Then I made up for lost time.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I read somewhere that some women poop while pushing the baby out. I told Jim about it and we laughed and laughed. He said that if I pooped, he was going to start dancing around the room singing, "YOU POOPED! YOU POOPED!". We laughed some more.
I did end up pooping on the delivery table. He did not sing.
Monday, January 14, 2008
You are not special.
I'm looking at you BMW Bitch.
If you are driving a gaggle of children home from school--presumably other people's children in addition to your own--have enough seat belts and/or car seats for all of them.
Seeing a seven year with a toddler on her lap in the back seat makes me want to see how you'd like being thrown through a windshield face first.
Smoking on school property while waiting for your kid to come out is trashy.
...as is swearing into your cell phone in front of little kids.
That sign that says "Buses and Daycare Vans Only"? It applies to everyone--even you, Mr. Jesusfish Minivan.
Generally, and I'm just guessing here, it's not recommended to blast your stereo at full spleen-shattering volume with kids in the car.
That is all.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
3. I regret not cutting poisonous people out of my life sooner. Whether it was a bitchy friend who never had anything positive to say or a loser boyfriend who couldn't tell the truth to save his life, I regret not having the balls to tell them where to go. I always seemed to fall into that trap of not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings even when the situation made me miserable. I know better now.
4. I regret not standing up for myself when I should have. I spent way too much time in my young adulthood not asking for what I wanted and/or needed. As hard and tough as I thought I was back then, that girl in her twenties would cower in front of the woman I have turned out to be.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
(NOTE: A friend and I started a "Blog Challenge" blog here to make each other write something every day this year. I'm cross posting this here because I liked it...and I'm being lazy. I'm sorry. I won't make a habit of it...or maybe I will. Get off my back.)
For my 8th graduation gift, my parents bought me my very own "stereo system". It was basically just a glorified boom box with detachable speakers. I was elated.
Growing up with super religious parents, I rarely got to hear much of the rock and or roll, save for slumber parties and noisy neighbors. My very own radio/tape deck/record player was my chance to venture into the land of music not signing the accolades of ourlordandsaviour.
The very first thing I did was beg for a ride to the mall to pick out a record of my very own. And the choice was obvious.
The summer between my 7th and 8th grade years was a tumultuous one. For reasons better discussed at a later date, my family moved from southern California to northwest Indiana to live with my Grandparents.
The only saving grace was that my cousin, a year older than me, lived there. Thankfully we got along famously.
She introduced me around to all her friends, reveling in the fact that I was her "cousin from California" as if I possessed some kind of magical power. I enjoyed to attention I got, especially when it came to a certain boy.
This kid was a grade A delinquent, and I was smitten. Like most stories in the treasure trove of my personal life, this one didn't end well. That didn't stop me from pining away for the rest of the summer and even after we moved to the Chicago suburbs that August.
When I first heard the song on the radio, it broke my fragile little 13 year old heart into a million pieces. In my mind, this was "our song", and I pretended that when he heard it, he thought the same thing.
After setting up my shiny new audio system and convincing my Mom I had to go buy a record right that minute, I used what was left of my graduation money to buy a 45 of "Angel" by Aerosmith.
I heard that song on the radio the other day and immediately cringed with embarrassment. The whole summer came flooding back in a wave of nauseated nostalgia.
The boy that I thought I was just dying to be with really was a juvenile delinquent, with a record to prove it. After I moved away, he was arrested for throwing a hammer at the conductor in a passing train.
I don't know what happened to the 45, but that boom box came with me when I went away to college.
Unfortunately, so did my taste for delinquents.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
My car sat out all night on New Year's Eve so we would have room in the garage for the smokers in attendance. We got a good bit of snow that night, so last night I asked him to bring the car back into the garage. I assumed he would get all the snow off first. Nope.
This is how it looked last night:
When I went to back my car out of the garage this morning to warm it up, I couldn't see out the back window and failed to remember that I had only opened the door halfway when I went out there to smoke a cigarette earlier.
I hate when I do stupid shit like that.
It's not just that I dented the bottom of the door (it's not even that bad). It's more about the fact that Jim now has free reign to give me shit, and there's not a goddamned thing I can do about it...except wait until he does something equally as stupid.
For Your Scrapbook
- Oy vey is right
- Playing Catchup
- I haven't written much this week...
- Seven things you don't know about me (a few a whic...
- A Friendly Reminder to the Fucktard Parents at Aft...
- File this under: Bad Choice of Wording
- The Salty Meat Family Gets Guitar Hero: Hilarity E...
- Regret meme
- Had to do it
- One time I could have gone to jail
- Well, it's pretty damn convenient for me
- Dream on
- Happy New Year!
- ▼ January (18)