Kiss my ass, 2006.

What a year, no? And it's going out with a bang what with The Godfather of Soul, Gerald Ford, and Saddam all biting the dust within a week of one another. I am happy to say that I am actually going out to celebrate the close of this strange year, and I'm super excited. If you've read this blog for any length of time and/or know me personally, you know what a psychotic Xanadu fan I am. So it makes TOTAL sense that I wouldn't be able to pass this event up, right? I mean, come ON!! That shit was made for me!! Plus, I haven't been out for NYE in at least 5 years. I'm not a big New Year's kind of gal anymore. In my twenties, sure. But now it all seems sort of asinine. I'm sure after tonight it will probably be at least another five years before something comes along that's tempting enough to lure me out of the house on NYE. Now I just need to go figure out what the fuck I'm going to wear...

This year was filled with high highs (falling in love with Mr. Wonderful, my promotion at work, making it halfway through potty training The Geej, the Geej's wonderful new school, etc.) and very low lows (the whole hospital ordeal, putting Ellen to sleep). I want next year to bore my socks off. I hope that it is utterly uneventful, but with my track record, I don't see that really happening.

I haven't made any resolutions per se. However, I have figured out a kick ass tattoo I want to get, and I'd like to have it designed and ready to go by April 5th--the date that the Geej's adoption was finalized. And the area of my body where I want this thing to go could use some, uh, firming up. So I guess that's sort of a goal/resolution.

Speaking of The Geej, she did something hilarious yesterday. I was talking with Mr. Wonderful on the phone, and she was playing near by. I told him "shut up" in a playful way, and suddenly, she was walking around saying "Shut UP! Shut UP!" to everything. She walked up to Earl and said, "Shut UP, purring!" And then she continued her tirade by saying, "Shut UP, door!" "Shut UP, Christmas tree!" "Shut UP, window!" And on and on and on. Sigh... That's going to be a hard one to explain she she goes back to school.

I guess I'll finish up this post by doing a fun new meme that Jaye made up.

Open iTunes. Click the column header for "Play Count". What are the first five songs listed?
Independence Day--Elliot Smith
Crazy--Gnarls Barkley
Black Sweat--Prince
Yellow Sarong--Yo La Tengo
Pitseleh--Elliot Smith

Click the column header for Last Played. What are the first 5 songs?
I Won--The Sundays
Street Spirit (Fade Out)--Radiohead
A Prayer for England--Massive Attack
Going Down to Liverpool--The Bangles
Get Happy--The Bud Powell Trio

Click Party Shuffle. What are the first 5 songs?
Easter Song--A Man Called Adam
The Hollow--A Perfect Circle
Not Too Soon--Throwing Muses
Tears of God--Los Lobos
The Space Between--Zero 7

Click the column header Year. What are the first 5 songs from 1994?
The first five songs from The Beastie Boys, Ill Communication

Click the column header My Rating. What are the first 5 songs?
Um yeah...I haven't ever rated anything.

Finally, look at the bottom of your iTunes window. How many days of music do you have?
25.4 days

Happy New Year folks!!

Are you a troublemaker?

Watch this handy filmstrip to find out!



YouTube really DOES have everything on it.

I know this was a bad idea...

Today I ended up working from home because an el grande water main break at the major downtown intersection where my office is located meant that there'd be no peeing or pooing in our building all day long. My bladder is, more or less, the size of a grape, so that wasn't going to cut it for me. Anyway, I used the opportunity to run up to Petsmart around lunchtime and stock up on Earl provisions. He was just about out of everything, and clearly he's about to starve to death.Well, while I was back there in the kitty section, I had to swing by and glance at the potential feline adoptees, right? I always do that. You know, just cruise by and say hi. But this time, this very nice woman who volunteers for the rescue group where these cats come from started talking to me, and I told her about Ellen, and the next thing you know--boom--I'm meeting two of the kitties in the "getting to know you" room.

WTF?

First up was Sheila, a 4 year old female calico. So mellow and pudgy and sweet, with green, green eyes.

Second was Zoot, a 1 year old tuxedo male with a fun personality and lots of affection.

Damnit! They were both wonderful.

I left there and thought about them all afternoon. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore, and took The Geej up to meet the kitties to see if there was any kind of magical sign that one or the other of them should come home with us. When I got there, I learned that Zoot had ALREADY BEEN ADOPTED!! I guess that made part of the decision for us. But The Geej wasn't feeling all that hot today (she'd been running a fever earlier that I'd kept at bay by alternating ibuprofen and Tylenol), so she was a tad bit underwhelmed by the whole experience. Once again, Sheila was sweet and playful, and better yet, she was not at all afraid of the baby. My impulse was to scoop her up and take her home with us. But I didn't.

I decided to sleep on it, but now I can get that kitty out of my mind. I'm not sure how that big, fat mama's boy (pictured above) would deal with having a new little sister, but I can tell he's lonely without grumpy, old Ellen to torment.

God, what should I do?!

Merry merry, and all that jazz.

Well, Christmas 2006 has come and gone. The Geej was more than delighted with her haul of Santa-provided goodies. Per her very steady request, she did receive "a baby, and a blanket, and a house." Plus she got a lot of other stuff that she has been enjoying. I've probably heard the question, "Do you want to play with my new toys?" about 100 times in the past 24 hours.


For Christmas, I got gas logs installed in my fireplace and a pretty new fireplace screen. It was a cold and rainy weekend, so the fireplace got used a lot. I miss the pop and hiss of a real fire, but the convenience and lack-o-mess that these gas logs provide means that I'll get a lot more use out of the fireplace than I would've otherwise.


Tomorrow, it's back to work. Her school is closed for the next two weeks, so my DEAR mother is doing the bulk of daytime Geej-tending. God BLESS her! I'm just glad this year is coming to a damn close. It's been a bit schizophrenic--very high highs, and shitacular lows. Know what I want in 2007? Calm. I want it to be boring and uneventful, even. I'm sure that won't happen. I've got quite a penchant for drama in my little life, but calmness is what I'm wishing for just the same.

By the way, this is what you look like after you scarf down a gingerbread Santa cookie from Sweetish Hill:



Hope yours was a good one. Now 364 days until we get to do it all over again.

ARRRRRRRGH! Oh, I mean: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Do you feel it--the "joy" (a.k.a. insane stress) of the holidays? I drove past Target last night at around 9pm and the parking lot was full FULL, all the way out to MoPac. I was just in Whole Foods, and I'm pretty sure 2/3 of Austin was also in there with me. From where I currently am (on the 6th floor of my office building), I can see that traffic is backed up on 6th St. from Lamar to way past Guadalupe. I know most of this means nothing to those of you unfamiliar with the roadways of Austin, but it's all to say, PEOPLE ARE GOING NUTS because there are only a couple of days left before Christmas.

I've been busy as well, hence my lack of posting. So this one's probably going to be a long one because I have a lot to tell you fools. And besides, I know you've got all the time in the world to read my drivel.

Okay, first up: My kid. A couple of weeks ago, I had a talk with her because she'd been wandering into my room early each morning and wanting to get in bed with me. This in and of itself is not a bad thing at all. However, when you're sleep-challenged like me, and rarely--if ever--are able to get fully back to sleep after these encounters, then it does become an issue. Especially if the wandering times are getting earlier and earlier--5:30am, 4:50am, 3:20am, etc. So one night as I was putting her to bed, I told her how, if she woke up in the middle of the night, all she had to do was close her eyes, and she'd go back to sleep. That her waking up didn't mean she had to get out of bed and walk all the way across the house in the dark to get in Mommy's bed. Besides, it's not nice to wake people up when they're sleeping. Especially Mommy because she's very tired. Apparently, this one conversation was all it took, because from that night on, the midnight visits stopped, and my sleep was much better. Until Wednesday night, that is. I was sleeping (I sleep on the right side of the bed, close to the edge), and I reached my hand down to put it by my side, and I touched something that didn't feel like bed. It felt like a head. A little person's head. It was The Geej, and it scared the shit out of me. Normally, I hear her opening her door to come my way over the baby monitor, and I'm well awake before she even gets to my room. But I apparently slept through it on Wednesday night. So there she stood, leaning against the side of my bed, totally asleep. That's right people: she was asleep STANDING UP with her hed lying next to my hip. How freaky is this?! I feel like the worst mommy of all time. Apparently, she didn't want to wake me up, but wanted to be with me anyway... Or maybe she was just sleepwalking. Who knows? How long had she been there? God!! So I pulled her up into the bed with me an placed her head on the pillow next to mine. I lay back down with my heart racing from the shock of what had just happened. Suddenly, I heard the loudest purr imaginable, right next to my head. Apparently, Earl had been snoozing on the pillow next to mine, unbeknownst to me, and when I'd put The Geej over there, her head had ended up square in the middle of Earl's ample gut. She was wearing him like a helmet. And now GJ was steadily sucking on her pacifier like Maggy Simpson. So between the sucking and the purring and the racing heart, I pretty much knew my sleep for the night was done for. I was right.

Second, my mom. Ya'll: Cheryl's got a boyfriend!! She met this guy named Paul, who just happens to be the exact age of my deceased step-father, which means he's 12 YEARS OLDER than my mom. My mom's a very youthful 60, and she's going after a guy who's 72, just had cataract surgery and wears 2 hearing aids? Um, okay. Anyway, I'm FINALLY getting to meet this guy tonight as we're all hooking up for dinner. Should be interesting.

Work has been absolutely nuts this week. Just lots of stuff to be done in a very short period of time. But thankfully, today was payday. Speaking of, I had a message from a collections agency on my voicemail at home last night. I automatically assumed that--FUCK--some of my medical billing had gotten screwed up (as it has done in the past), and that now I was going to have some big, awful smear on my credit report. I called them back today, and thankfully, they had the wrong number. But Jim Price, whoever you are, sounds like you're fucked.

Remember when I told ya'll a few posts back about how cool I am? Well, I may have entered an entirely new realm of coolness today. I had to wear a skirt/tights to work today because all of my jeans were dirty. I put the tights on, and they seemed fine. But by the time I'd made it to work, I realized that the elastic around the hips/waist part was shot, and that they were steadily heading southward and taking my underwear with them. I sent out a panicked e-mail to my female coworkers asking for safety pins to secure said tights to the waistband of my skirt, but then discovered that to be a major issue when I had to pee. So I came up with this ingenious solution:
See? I had three of these suckers holding my drawers up: one on each side, and one in the back. I'm a genius. And a fashion plate!! God, you're lucky to know me...

I went and picked up Ellen's ashes from the vet's office this morning. I don't know what I was expecting, but they did a really nice job. There's a little clay paw print and a certificate of cremation. The ashes themselves are contained in a little wooden chest with a gold lock and a nameplate. So sweet... I can't believe she's already been gone a week.

Mr. Wonderful got snowed in in the big blizzard that just hit Colorado. He sent me some crazy ass pictures of the snow. I got cold just looking at them. I do NOT miss weather like that. I remember dealing with a couple of those suckers when I lived in Chicago--when it would get so damn cold that even our Siberian Husky had better sense than to go outside--and it was no fun at all.

Speaking of Mr. Wonderful, today is the 1-year anniversary of the day that he sent me that fateful e-mail out of the blue. It's funny to look back at what I thought back then. A lot's happened in a year...

Okay, that's it for now. Whew. I'll leave you with a Christmasy photo to hopefully instill some cheer into your busy day. Ho ho ho!!

You know what's NOT a good idea?

Reading the book "Cat Heaven" to your 2 year old who keeps asking, "Where's Ellen?" every 5 minutes after an exhausting day at work plus an after-work trip to the damn grocery store to stock up on stuff to make snacks for an entire Montessori class full of 2 and 3 year olds all week on a miserable, drizzly day that just happens to be the four-year anniversary of your father's death right after you've begun taking some new hormones and are running on only 5 hour of sleep.

Not a good idea at all.

Oh, I wanted ya'll to know that this dog is up for adoption at Town Lake Animal Shelter:

He's the funniest looking, most adorable dog ever, and I would go get him right this second if I thought I had the energy or time to give him the kind of home he deserves. Did I mention Town Lake is a kill shelter? Yeah, his days are numbered. Why was I looking at this website? Good fucking question.

God, I just want to crawl under the covers and not come out until March.

And now, a message from The Geej...

Dear Summer,

Please go away. It's a week until Christmas, and I would like it to feel like winter. Or at least like fall. My mom has pretty much packed away my warm weather clothes and/or I've outgrown them, so for real, please just leave. Today it was 80 degrees, and I really think that's just stupid. If it stays this hot, how am I supposed to wear all my bitchin' cold weather hats? I look adorable in hats, by the way.

Right now, our air conditioner is running. How ridiculous is that?

So in conclusion, I'd just like to say: Go suck it, summer.

Love,

The Geej

In somewhat less depressing news...

Look who has taken up permanent residence under the Christmas tree: I guess this looks better than the total lack of presents under there.

Rest in peace, Ellen Melon.

June-ish, 1990 - December 15, 2006

She lived with me through 3 cross-country moves (9 different residences overall), 3 roommates, and one ex-husband. At different points, she also endured cohabitation with a Siberian Husky, a kitten named Dottie, another kitten named Earl, and a very curious baby named The Geej.

She lost the tip of her tail in a cat fight. She chased chipmunks when I lived in Birmingham. She rid our townhouse of mice during my first winter in Chicago. She flew on an airplane once. She used to put the Siberian Husky in his place even though he outweighed her by about 55 lbs. She liked corn and green beans and lunchmeat. She seriously dug catnip and sunspots. She was elegant and aloof, unless you really knew her. She had the greenest eyes I've ever seen.

In the 16 plus years that I had her with me, she stuck by me through so much. She was present for some of the best--and the worst--moments in my life. She was steady and calming.

I will always remember her. I will miss her. I love her.

Goodbye, sweet girl.

Grrrrrrrrroooowwwwl.

You know that low, threatening growl that cats make right before they fucking kick your ass? If I could physically make that sound, I would've been making it all day long today. All kinds of shit was fucked up--work shit, home shit, money shit. All of it. Fucked. Simultaneously. I'll spare you the whiny ass details, but just trust me.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooowl.

I forced a friend to come over and have martinis with me while we watched the Wanda Sykes HBO special just to (hopefully) end my night on a happy note. It helped, but I'm still growling inside.

And ironically it's simply gorgeous outside, complete with a meteor shower tonight. (By the way, "meteor" is a weird looking word, no? It looks like it's spelled wrong when it isn't.)

As Wanda said tonight, "The older I get, the less I care. The words 'I don't give a fuck' just fly outta my mouth."

Etc.

Yep. It's that time again: One of my famous random brain dump posts. When I neglect you, I pay you back with scary glimpses into my life and psyche. Aren't you lucky?!

Okay...where to begin.

OH! Yeah. I've been meaning to write about this for a while. To those of you whose blogs I normally comment on, if you haven't transferred to this damn "Blogger Beta" nonsense, then I can't comment on your blog. It's like when you travel into the future and you can't connect with the past because it will fuck up the entire world and shit. Did you ever see "Somewhere In Time?" It's like when Christopher Reeve pulls out that 1980s penny. I can't communicate directly with you Past-ians. But trust me, I'm still reading, cuz I love yer asses.

This weekend, several things happened that I'd like to share with you:

1) The Geej crossed a major potty-training threshold. Sorry to bore you with this, but this is major shit (pun intended) around our hacienda. I bribed her with some sparkly Santa stickers from Walgreen's and --boom!-- that little turkey is pretty much peeing in the potty full time now. Amazing. In like 3 days, she went from 5% to 100% success. Rumor has it that she went poop today at school, so now if I can just get her to do it at home. Santa's bringing her some big girl panties, and she's totally jazzed. God, she's getting so damn big.

2) We attended Bookhart's youngest's 3rd birthday extravaganza on Saturday evening. Can I just say: thank GOD for birthday gatherings that feature activities for the kiddos and adult beverages for the old folks. We had a blast.
In addition to covering the dining room table with paper and a gagillion stickers for the kiddos to go nuts with, Bookhart had covered the living room floor with paper and had colors for artistic expression. Brilliant!!
It's always helpful when there's a little girl's room FILLED with toys to explore. Annie O, Her Majesty, and The Geej played well together. You'll notice that The Geej has already claimed a babydoll. The girl is OBSESSED!! Also, please notice the relative cleanliness of the room itself. Because, at the END of the night, after The Geej and Anderson (a.k.a., The Wrecking Crew) had their way with things, it looked like this:

Um...sorry Bookhart.

In between the devastation of The Wrecking Crew, there was one helluva bed jumping session that happened in Bookhart and Pod's bedroom (God bless 'em).

Malcontent Mama and I were spotters. It's more of a workout than you might imagine...

WHEEEEEEEEEE! God, to be 6 for an afternoon...

3) After nearly 2 weeks, I'm happy to say, my behemoth Christmas tree is finally decorated. I'm no Martha Stewart, but it looks pretty good despite it's severely bizarre and unmatched assortment of ornaments. There aren't any presents under it, so Earl has taken up semi-permanent residence under there. (Photos to come, of course.)

4) I finally FINALLY planned my next rendezvous with Mr. Wonderful. Mid-January. I hope the snow gods are with me, and actually allow this trip to happen. You never know with Colorado in January...

Okay. That's all I got. When I sat down and started writing this muthuh, I could've sworn I had more, but alas--my mind runs dry.

Until next time, go kiss an elf.

500th Post!

This is number 500, folks! Yay!! So why not celebrate with a meme? I'm pretty sure La Turista was referring to me when she talked about her weird friends. So, here goes.

6 Weird Things About Karla May

1. When I fill my car up with gas, I always ALWAYS have to make sure the dollar amount ends in either a "5" or a "0." As in, $12.32? Not okay. $12.30 or $12.35, perfect.

2. I love peanuts. I love Snickers bars. I love peanut butter on saltine crackers. But I will NOT eat any kind of peanut flavored food or anything else that has peanuts/peanut butter in or on it.

3. When I laugh really hard, my knees buckle. I literally fall down laughing, and there's nothing I can do about it. I am a total freakin' spaz.

4. There are certain words that I hate the sound of so much that they can make me gag if I hear them.

5. I haven't eaten anything with hooves or fur since 1994. And it's not because I'm some big animal rights person. (Although I have many friends who are, and I respect the hell out of their opinions.) Here's why I made this choice: I figure, if I eat something, I should be willing to kill it. I could never, ever kill a cow, lamb, deer, rabbit, or pig. But I've fished, and would do so again. And if it came down to me and a chicken or turkey, and we were on a desert island? I could take that fowl down.

6. I hope to one day own a goat as a pet.

Fancy Pants.

One of the many charming things about the Pine Curtain Refugee is that I never EVER have it quite together. Especially when it comes to getting dressed up.

Case in point: Last night, I had a hoity-toity work banquet thingie at this swanky joint. Since the event venue was downtown at 6pm (and I work downtown), I just brought my outfit, shoes, etc. I wanted to wear to work with me so I could just change and primp prior to party time without worrying about fighting rush hour traffic to and from my house. Sounds like a good plan, yes? Well, I hadn't really thought my outfit through. I wore a red sweater, black skirt, and some black "super hero" boots that I thought would look hot with the black fishnet hose I brought. And the fishnets would've been fine if I'd bothered to shave my legs in the past month. Yeah. Nice visual, huh?

Another example: Today I decided to dress a bit more nicely than usual because Jaye was taking me to lunch at a nice place called Cafe Jezebel. So I actually fixed my hair (those who know me know what a rare event that is) put on some nice pants, decent shoes, a cashmere sweater twinset, and my pearls. PEARLS, people! I get to work and realize--OOPS--not one, but two moth holes in the sweater.

I should just give up and wear my pajamas and houseshoes to work every day.

On a TOTALLY unrelated note, I was reading a website today that called Paris Hilton a "celebutard." Fucking brilliant!!

Be careful what you ask for.

As I've mentioned before, last Christmas was VERY low-key for The Geej. We got her just a few gifts (most of which she still plays with) and didn't really decorate. I'd just moved into my house, and so my Christmas stuff was all packed away. And we went to Mom's house, who has never really been one to "do it up" on Christmas.


Well, this year is different. The Geej is TOTALLY into this whole Christmas thing, and my mom and I have been buying stuff for her for a couple of months now. Obnoxious, I know, but come on: the little kiddos are what it's all about, right? Anyhoo, I mentioned to my mom that The Geej might enjoy a Little People doll house kind of a thing. I've already purchased the Pre-School set (which I think The Geej will absolutely LOVE since she loves school so much), but I figured the doll house set would be a good thing to have at my mom's so that little bit could play with it when she's out there.

What I was thinking about was something along these lines:

What Mom bought her was this:

Holy HELL people! This thing is HUGE. You can't really tell because there's not kiddo pictured with it to give a sense of the scale, but trust me. Apparently, it came with twin babies and other "accessories," so yeah. What's funny is that doll house looks EXACTLY like the house Geej and I live in. Right down to the window boxes and pink roof. Strange.

The Geej Report

I am happy to report that The Geej's reign of terror at her school appears to be over. For now.

I had my first parent/teacher conference last week, and they used words like "amazing," "brave," "empathetic," "wise," and "joyful" to describe my child. And then this weekend, she was an absolute angel from heaven--as perfect as a 2 year old can be.

She's totally into the whole idea of Christmas now that the tree is up and she sees houses all lit up and whatnot. She's telling me that she wants Santa to bring her "a baby and a house and a blanket." Um...okay. I'll let him know. She's also recently taken up streaking. At any opportunity, she runs around the house in her birthday suit yelling, "I'm NEKKID!!" Hilarious. To top that, she smacks herself on the ass and says, "I'm patting my peaches, Mommy!" I gotta get that on video to show her prom date someday.

I wish I had more news, but I'm fighting back a chest cold and sore throat, which is fun. So for now, I'll leave you with this piece of preciousness:

Say it with me now people: Awwwwwwww!

Worst. Retail. Experience. Ever.

Okay, maybe I'm spoiled. I'm going to own up to that right now. I work for a retail company that's known for its customer service, and I shop in our flagship store almost every single day and have become very accustomed to, oh I don't know, being treated like a human being who they're happy is spending their hard-earned dollar with them. So when I go somewhere with less-than-stellar customer service, I'm pretty forgiving. I mean, not every place can bear the standard, right? But when it sucks, it sucks, and Karla May gets fucking pissed.

Case in point: Mother Fucking Garden Ridge. Today. Noonish.

First of all, I never would've gone to this damn place if it hadn't been recommended to me. I think I've been there a grand total of 3 times in the past 7 years, so it's not one of my favorite places. However, I was in the market for a Christmas tree, and I was given a tip about their selection and prices. And I went today during my lunch hour. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

Let me 'splain:

I am a shopper who generally knows what she wants. I am a commando. I go in. I get it. I leave. Rarely am I in the mood to just mill around. It happens, but as I said, rarely.

Today, I was in commando mode. I knew I wanted one of those tall, skinny trees. My living room has a vaulted ceiling, but not much floor space, so I wanted to work within these parameters. It took me all of 2 minutes to find the tree I wanted. But it was in a HUGE heavy box on top of a shelf on top of a bunch other boxes, so I needed help. Sigh. I looked around for some orange-shirted helper-elf, but had to trot all the way across the 200-yard wide store to find a lost looking cashier type person to ask for assistance. Her answer? "It'll be a while. He's doing a carryout." So they had ONE doofus working the CHRISTMAS TREE department (where they've merchandised everything in a way that pretty much guarantees everyone's going to need help tree wrangling) on a very chilly, Christmas-like December 1st. Brilliant.

I finally get my tree into my cart and guide the unweildy beast through the aisles that are so crowded with asinine merchandising it's like guiding Noah's ark through a cocktail straw. And guess what: only 4 of the 16 lanes were open. And two of those had their "Manager! Please help me!! I need a price check on a Sponge Bob pinata!!" lights blinking. It was a total clusterfuck.

See? Good GOD! So I got in line behind two carts. And, as always happens everytime I'm anywhere that requires a line up (the airport, the bank, etc.), I got in the slowest line of all time. Yes, I got two carts, but actually, one of the carts was filled with three grandmas buying all sorts of nutcrackers and witty Christmas-themed throw pillows for their condos, and of course they were checking out separately. And writing checks while talking on their goddamned cellphones to their Boniva dealers. I'm surprised they weren't in more of a hurry to get to Applebee's to try the new Tyler Florence menu offerings. He's adorable!!The only thing I had to relieve me from wanting to disembowel the old bitches in front of me was looking at the retail clogfest that was Garden Ridge's awesome attempt at merchandising. Need some dried, shitty chives? Some Italian Seasoning perhaps? You're in luck! 'Cause Garden Ridge has about a 652,000 of them right here at the checkout line. Talk about your "impulse" purchase! I mean, minced onions ranks right up there with "People Magazine," batteries, and gum! And it's displayed so beautifully, how could anyone resist its allure? The spices were to my left. To my right was this work of art:
That's right, bitches: Bucket Drink Fixins, now with their own spigots!! Woooooooooooo!!! Well I guess I can't say that Garden Ridge doesn't know who its regular customers are.

I tried to look away from the grandmas and the bucket drinks and the dried spices, and here's all I had to comfort myself with:Hot, no?

Notice what's in his right hand. A shitty metal, wobbly flamingo. And tucked under his left arm?
Yep, he had a box containing 5 lighted flamingos. What I wish had been captured was his kick ASS mullet and baseball cap. Because I want ya'll to be able to recognize him when I post my wedding photos.

I finally said "fuck this line" after the cashier turned on the damn "Manager, help me!" light. I got in a line with a young Hispanic cashier who, seriously, acted/looked like she'd been lobotomized. I think you would pretty much have to be mentally altered to work there. I got the sense I was surrounded by zombies.

Fuck that place. This goddamned Christmas tree BETTER last for at LEAST 5 years, or I will seriously go fucking postal.

(Mad photo props to Jaye. That poor gal was with me during this ordeal, and happened to have her digital camera. Thank God.)

I have been to cake heaven...

...and it is the Gingerbread Cake w/Cream Cheese Frosting at Whole Foods Market. Holy effing crap, people. It was one of my Team Member's birthdays today, so I brought this cake for our team to pig out on and oh my GAWD. It was like we were all having orgasms. Everyone in the room was moaning and groaning as they ate it. Damn, it was good. I had a smallish piece, and I think I acheived my monthly allowance of sugar intake. Yowzah.

Also? My child has turned into a monster. After her insane spoiling at the hands of my relatives this past weekend, she went back to school with a vengeance. Monday she bit a classmate and left marks. Today, she and her little rocker-boy boyfriend Daschel conspired to rip up the a book that belonged to the school's director. She's had to "go to the office" twice this week, and it's only Wednesday. Damn, she's SO two...

Speaking of the little hellion, I think I pretty much finished Christmas shopping for her today online. Now I just need to figure out what to get my mom, my Secret Santa person at work, a few other friends and children in my life... And no, I didn't go get the Christmas tree tonight, but I have an excuse: I'm waiting for the cold front to roll in so I can get in the spirit. It's hard to get motivated to shop for holiday decor when it's 78 degrees outside.

And finally: What's UP with Britney showing her damn cooter to the world every other day now?! I mean, what the fuck is wrong with these skanky-ass young stars? I'm no prude, but surely, if you're Lindsay "Already Peaked" Lohan, Paris "What? Where AM I?" Hilton, or Britney "I love Cheetos, ya'll!" Spears, and the paparazzi follow you everywhere you go, then you a) know to wear underwear under your mini skirt and/or b) keep your damn legs closed when you're exiting the Porsche. I bet their mamas are so proud that photos their daughters' labia are being downloaded 1,000 times a minute right now.

I guess my daughter isn't such a monster after all...

It's 8:47...

...and I'm about to hit the hay. Yep, I'm that lame.

But I have an excuse. Really I do.

See, Sunday night/morning, The Geej woke me up at 4:14am coughing over the baby monitor. She coughed and coughed, and I finally got up and dosed her with some Tylenol Cough/Cold that primarily got in her hair and on her sheets because it was pitch black dark in her room. And I never went back to sleep.

Then last night, I didn't fall asleep until sometime after 12:30, then I woke up at 3:42 and, you guessed it, never went back to sleep until about 20 minutes before my alarm went off. Thanks hot flashes/night sweats!!

So by about 4:00 this afternoon, my arse was a-draggin' somethin' fierce.

Tomorrow I'm going to try and buy a Christmas tree with the hopes that the (promised) cold weather this weekend will shove me into the holiday spirit. Cuz right now this 82 degree shit isn't really making me think Santa Claus and stockings, you know?

Okay, off to brush the teeth and slide into bed. Nighty night, chilluns.

The Season of Snot and Sass

O Ye Goddes.

Wouldst thou help me in not throttling mynst childe withun my handes, as she has entered the season of snot and sass.

The snot, it cometh. Like the flood thou didst unleash upon Noah, her nostrils have runneth forward.

And the backtalketh. After but three fortnights with her most adoring kin during the Time of Giving Thanks, she hath become spoilt. Rotten, dearest Lord. And the words that do cometh from her tiny baby's mouth are only "NO!" and "Doest this!" and "Doest that!"

I fear dear Father that I may smacketh her peaches into next week if she doesn't abstain.

And please Lord, the snot. Make it stop if you feel me worthy. For you see, my child has become somewhat addicted to the Infant's Tylenol Cough/Cold and the Infant's Robitussin. She becometh like an Oklahoma meth addict in the field, pining for more pseudophedrine.

In Your name...

Will somebody please tell this cat that he's no longer the baby of the house?

I mean for Pete's sake.

BURRRRRRRRRRRRP!

Ah Thanksgiving...




It's like a race to see how much food you can actually ingest without barfing or passing out. At least that's the way it is with my family. We had a great time, aside from the couple of instances that I wanted to stab my mother with the carving knife. But other than that, good family fun.





Let's see, it was me, The Geej, my mom, my mom's sister Luanne and her sweet, French husband Jean-Paul and their sweeeeeeeeeet and very patient dog Missy, my mom's other sister Peggy and her lazy ass husband Mike and their obscenely humongous boat, my mom's brother Richard, and my friend Julie. It was noisy and there was lots o' booze consumed along with the buckets of food. The most surreal moment was when we were eating and Joy Division came on the random play of my iPod. Followed by Le Tigre. I must say, it made for interesting holiday muzak. But my LORD the food.

And I gotta say this: I love how after the big chow fest, the men think it's their God-given right to plop their asses down in front of the t.v. and not lift a chubby finger to help clean up simply because "the Cowboys are on." Does having a dick really mean that you get out of housework? Gosh, men are lucky...


Julie and I came back to Austin Thursday night because, even with the fold out couch being utilized, there weren't enough beds at my mom's house for all of us. The Geej stayed there because my aunts threatened me with my life if I were to take her from them. Here's what rock stars Julie and are: We were in our p.j.'s by 6:30 and in bed by 9:30, still full from eating seven hours previously.

Yesterday we went to a pub and watched the Longhorns pitifully lose to A&M. In Austin. Only the 9th time that's happened in 80 Austin match-ups between the two. Luckily, I'd had several bloody marys to kill the pain. Then last night we had to make Julie's required pilgrimage to Chuy's for a cheese chili relleno. Once again, we came home full and sleepy. She hit the road for Oklahoma early this morning, and I'm heading out to my mom's later today.

This year I gave thanks for my family, my friends, Mr. Wonderful and his family, my job, having had another year with my ancient cat Ellen, my first year in my own home, and my return to health. I am really a very lucky lady.


Hope ya'll had a Happy Thanksgiving too.

1 Word Meme

Stolen from Angry Pregnant Lawyer. That's right: It was the first time I ever went to her blog, and I stole something. What's she gonna do, sue me?

Oh, wait...

Yourself: Overwhelmed
Your partner: Away
Your hair: Dyed
Your Mother: Generous
Your Father: Gone
Your Favorite Item: Sanity
Your dream last night: Bizarre
Your Favorite Drink: Water
Your Dream Car: Paid
Your Dream Home: Mid-century
The Room You Are In: Office
Your Ex: Immature
Your fear: Hospitals
Where you Want to be in Ten Years? Healthy
Who you hung out with last night: Geej
What You're Not: Quiet
Muffins: Pumpkin
One of Your Wish List Items: Landscaping
The Last Thing You Did: Ate
What You Are Wearing: Jeans
Your favorite weather: Crisp
Your Favorite Book: Nonfiction
Last thing you ate: Indian
Your Life: Full
Your mood: Edgy
Your Best Friends: Amazing
What are you thinking about right now: Thanksgiving
Your car: Clean!
What are you doing at the moment: Typing
Your summer: Rough
Relationship status: Deep
What is on your TV: Off
What is the weather like: Autumnal
When is the last time you laughed: Sunday

In which my blogger guilt gets the best of me.

I shouldn't be posting. I have nothing interesting to say (so what else is new, right?), and I'm dog tired. But alas, I haven't posted since Friday, and that one was one of those "hey check this link out" posts that's really no better than a mass e-mail so here you have it: a lame-a-licious post covered in guilt.

Friday night was a blast. Thanks to all of youse blogging bitches for the gathering. I wish we could do that more often, because really, seeing ya'll face-to-face was a treat. What was it that drunk-ass Puerto Rican/Norwegian guy said at the Carousel? "You're like 'Sex in the City', Austin style...but older." Oh, and something I learned: Do not, under ANY circumstances think you're tough enough to follow Finlandia from Opal's with bad Chardonnay at the Carousel. Because you're not tough enough. No one is.

Saturday I experienced the bliss that is the shrimp chili relleno at Matt's. Don't let anyone tell you that a sauce featuring walnuts and raisins isn't tasty, cuz it is. Very much so. That lunch was pretty much all I accomplished on Saturday, so I'd say the day was a whopping success.

Sunday, ran errands and did laundry like a mad woman, trying to make up for my slacker-ness on Saturday.

And today? Stayed home from work with a sick toddler. She wasn't running a fever or anything but my GOD the snot. It was endless. There were two raging rivers of it, one out of each nostril. And she was coughing like an old trucker. And then there were the weepy eyes. I tried like hell to participate in a 10am conference call I'd scheduled, but when she came waltzing into the room while I was on the phone trying to be all business-like and presented me with a tower of Legos while loudly singing "Happy Birthday," I knew I should throw in the towel. Malcontent Mama met us for nourishment at Luby's, and later The Geej and I went on a nice walk to enjoy the afternoon, but other than that, we stuck close to home.

So tomorrow's the only day I'm actually going into the office this week (The Geej's school is closed on Wednesday), then heading out to my mom's on Wednesday afternoon/evening for Thanksgiving. My mom's two sisters, brother, their respective spouses and a couple of cousins will be there, so it'll be a houseful. One Aunt/Uncle combo is bringing their boat so we can go explore Lake LBJ. Another Aunt/Uncle combo is bringing their kick ass dog Missy, with whom The Geej has a major infatuation. I'll be bringing the items from the ever-expanding shopping list my mom keeps e-mailing me. And the Xanax. I'll be bringing some of that too.

Booze and burglary just don't mix.

A word of advice from your good buddy Karla May:

Next time you're liquored up, and you're hankering for more hooch but the stores are already closed, I don't recommend that you do this. I really, really don't.

Bed Head.

When I was five, I had long, blonde hair. My mom would tell me to go to the bathroom and brush it. It was always a rat's nest, and I'd go through a bottle of "No More Tangles" every month. Anyway, I'd go to the bathroom and brush the front and sides, but never the back. My mom would get so frustruated with me.

Her: Why didn't you brush your hair like I asked you?

Me: I did!

Her: No, the back of it is a mess.

Me: I know! I couldn't get the brush to go through it.

Her solution? She cut all my hair off. Well, actually, she took me to the BARBER shop up the street where my dad went, and had them cut it off. I think I was the first little girl who'd ever walked through the door of this place. Naturally, they gave me a chili bowl haircut. It was devastating. I made sure to wear a dress to school every day during the first week of first grade so that people would know I was a girl.

And now, this is what awaits me most every morning:

And another view:

Hey, at least she comes by it honestly...

The Skank Who Dares Not Speak Its Name and other stuff

And so I dare to ask--When did this become "pretty"?
I mean, God knows, I'm no fashionista. And yes, I'd love to be able wear some of the size 4, $2,000 frocks she goes out in on a daily basis. But really: what is it about this woman that is so compelling? Will someone enlighten me? Does she have some gifts or talents or otherwise noteworthy characteristics beyond being blonde, skinny, and rich? Is this the woman that 12 year old girls are aspiring to be? Her very existence makes me shudder. Remember when we were 13/14 and the "Like a Virgin" era Madonna was considered the fall of all womankind? I'm now thinking that she was just a horseman for this apocalypse.

Also, you know what annoys the fuck out of me? Shop spelled "shoppe." Old spelled "Olde" and anything that should be spelled with a "C" being spelled with a "K," e.g. "Krazy," "Kountry," or "Kupboard." That shit just drives me nuts.

What was up with that wicked wind blowing today? My lord! I felt like an extra from the original Broadway cast of "Oklahoma." It was bizarre. But at least it feels like fall again now. I mean, at least for now. I'm sure it'll be back up in the 90s before too long.

I had a dream last night that I was seated in my house on Woodhollow back in Longview (haven't lived there since 1984, by the way) enjoying an enormous helping of pork chops (which I haven't eaten since 1994, by the way). God, they were good. All day today I was thinking about eating pork. Which I will never (knowingly) do. Ever again. But damn if I wasn't thinking about it...

I don't know if ya'll know this, but next week is Thanksgiving. Um. WHAT?! Where did this year go. This time last year, I'd just closed on my house and was in the throws of preparing to move. Damn. I'm a bit bewildered by it all.

Can I tell you how excited I am about Friday night? I'm going to be hanging with the Texpatriate, Bookhart, La Turista, Mama Malcontent, Mrs. Fantasy, Badger, Secretly Evil, Amamgets, (possibly) The Jellomonster Strikes! [see links to the right], and a colorful cast of other lay-deez as we drink and bond ourselves into oblivion. Watch the fuck out Austin, is all I have to say. When a coven like this gets together, strange and wonderful things are liable to happen...

"Sunny day, everything's A-OK..."

The Geej is at the Elmo stage. Which is fine. She only has one Elmo item, and it lives at her grandmother's house because it talks, and I don't likes no noisy toys. Anyway, I started TiFaux-ing Sesame Street every day a while back, and as part of our end-of-day wind down, I fast forward past most of the rest of the show to get to "Elmo's World," which is always in the last 20 or so minutes. She hasn't really shown much interest in the rest of the show until last week.

Last week's shows featured a running storyline of the street's Veterinarian, Gina, going off to Guatemala to adopt a 10 mo. old baby named Marco. Gina's single, like me, and all of Gina's friends on Sesame Street were super excited about this whole event. I'd be fast-forwarding past anything having to do with the baby in order to get us to "Elmo's World", and The Geej would protest, "I wanna watch this. I wanna see the baby!" So we did. And I've got to hand it to Sesame Street--they did a nice job of handling this. I found myself getting all weepy and shit during one of the segments. They also showed some videos throughout the week that featured "non-traditional" families--mixed race, same-sex parents, single parents, grandparents as parents, etc. I'm sure it's stuff like this that gets the right wingers out there all up in arms and has them wanting to yank CPB funding for this show. However, as someone who is in a non-traditional family by choice, I applaud them showing families of all stripes.

Then, as if that weren't enough, on Friday's "Elmo's World," Elmo was thinking about babies. It was all babies, all the time. I don't think The Geej will ever allow me to erase this episode.

Live blogging from 1:36 in the 4th qtr.

Ya'll,

I loves me some Texas football.

I could give a crap about any other sports ever, but U. Texas football? Fuggetiaboutit.

Anyway, this one has been heart breaking and exciting all at the same time.

Truthfully, we deserved to lose the Texas Tech game. Although they're a one note team, their one note is an amazing quarterback with a golden arm. And it was smokin' that night. But by hook or crook, we came up on top.

But now, our number is up.

Colt McCoy got injured, and then everything went to hell. Who knew he was so important?! Anyway, we're about to lose this mofo unless we can force a turnover and push it back down into field goal range. Not going to happen.

I know this post is disjointed, but I'm trying to watch the game. And I'm going to log off before we lose.

So anyway...

Now you know my semi-secret: I love Longhorn football. And I'm teaching The Geej how to do "Hook 'Em Horns." So sue me.

NyQuil* Rules!

*Or in my case, the less expensive CVS store brand NyQuil knock-off.

It started with that damn tickle in the back of my throat on Tuesday.
By yesterday, I'd started coughing up strange looking globs of gunk and feeling run down.
This morning, I woke up and felt sort of like I'd been run over by a Mini Cooper.
Tonight, it feels like I've been run over and then backed up on and run over again by a dump truck.

I'm sick, hence the lack o' posts.

Hack.

Cough.

Could this sickness be caused by the fact that our FUCKING WEATHER can not figure itself out?

This time last week, it was getting down into the 40s at night and was totally, wonderfully fall.
Today, it was 89 degrees with, literally, 85 percent humidity. Tomorrow, the high's supposed to be 90. Global warming much?

Since my last post, it appears if people have woken up and started to smell the proverbial coffee. First, Britney dumps K-fed, then both houses of Congress were snatched from the arrogant-as-fuck Republiccans. As someone who lives on a liberal island surrounded by the rest of my ultra conserative state, it does my heart good to know that the American people have finally used the voting booth to tell that choade Karl Rove and his monkey-puppet GWB that maybe, just maybe, they're not infallible. (If only this could've happened 2 years ago...) And to have that dickwad Rumsfeld gone too? If I weren't so damn sick, I might dance a little jig in my undies right on the lawn of the Capitol. But not tonight.

Tonight, I've got a date with my NyQuil wannabe.

Further proof that my mother has no idea who I am:

These socks that she purchased for me for Halloween. This year. My THIRTY-SEVENTH year. Thinking that I might actually wear them. You know, to be wacky: What this photo (taken with my ever-increasingly-obsolete 3.2 megapixel piece o'shite digital camera) fails to do justice to is the little pom-pom balls around the ankle area. They are covered in gold mylar that sticks out like the hairs from a mole.

Hot.

Things.

So I guess it's clear that I have fallen way short of achieving my NoBloPoMo goal. Oh well. I knew that November was going to start out busy what with Mr. Wonderful's visit and all, so maybe I shouldn't have tried to make the committment in the first place. I'm clearly feeling some guilt about the whole thing, but I'll try and survive.

This weekend was great. We had a fabulous time. We hung out with my friends on Friday night, his friends on Saturday night, Borat on Sunday afternoon (OMG, the wrestling scene?!), and The Geej on Sunday night. He had to leave at 4 freakin' 30 this morning to catch an airport shuttle for an obscenely early departing flight. I already miss him so much it's silly. And yes, I'll be going to sleep at 9:00pm tonight since I woke up at 3:00am this morning.

It's back in the 80s here. The MUGGY 80s. And there are people outside the store where I work putting Christmas lights on the trees that line the sidewalk. They're sweating their asses off. Ho! Ho! Ho!

Speaking of holidays, my mother is driving me NUTS with her hyper-excitement over the fact that she's hosting Thanksgiving at her house. Every single day I get an e-mail from her with the Thanksgiving-related info or questions or updates. God, I'm going to have to stay so liquored up just so I can deal with her that weekend. Before you call CPS, please know that there'll be lots of other adults there to help oversee The Geej.

Day 3 post of shame.

Well, I guess I'm out of the running for any NoBloPoMo prizes. Damnit. See, yesterday was a little nuts, and try as I may going back over it in my mind, I can't find a time when I could've posted:

• Woke at 6:15
• Got The Geej ready for school; made her lunch; got myself ready; picked up after her morning messes
• Took the Geej to school
• Came back to the house for about 40 minutes to vacuum, take out the trash, and dump the diaper genie
• Got back in the car and went to the airport to pick up Mr. Wonderful (his flight arrived at 10am)
• M.W. and I went to breakfast and stuffed ourselves silly on migas and homefries
• Came back to my house; Packed the Geej's bag for the weekend
• Needed a nap (M.W. had woken up at 3am to catch his flight; me? I'm always tired); Took nap
• Woken up at 3pm by my cellphone ringing (it was my mom, of course)
• Roused our groggy asses and went and got The Geej at school
• Fought traffic heading out to HWY 71 and westward to meet my mom at the halfway point to her house (apparently, on top of the already horrendous "I gotta get this Excursion out to Steiner Ranch/Lakeway" traffic that happens in the 71/2244/620 area on any given afternoon, there was a show at the Backyard AND it's the beginning of deer season, so lots of hunters heading west; You should've seen it--backed up from 620 to Southwest Pkwy.)
• Got back to town and squeaked in reservations for dinner at one my favorite places
• Watched the hilariously distrubing "Hand Banana" episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force
• Got dressed up; went to dinner
• After dinner, went and met some of my friends at Donn's Depot for the unofficial, but official "Let's Meet Mr. Wonderful" gathering
• Had several vodka tonics and lots of good conversation
• Got sleepy and cold (we were sitting outside, which now that I think about it, is pretty stupid since all of the REAL Donn's action goes on INside, but anyway)
• Went home

So other than maybe not watching that 15 minutes of t.v., I can't see a timeslot when I could've fit in a post. I suck. Day 3, and I'm already out of the running.

It's kind of like the time I tried to give up cussing for Lent, and I only lasted an afternoon. I should know myself better.

L-A-M-E-O

(Sung to the tune of "B-I-N-G-O")

There was a blogger, had a blog
and Lame-o was her name-0
L - A - M - E - O
L - A - M - E - O
L - A - M - E - O
And Lame-o was her name-o!

Proof that I'm lame #1:
I fell asleep while talking to Mr. Wonderful on the phone last night. Twice. TOTALLY not his fault. All mine. Lame. SO lame.

Proof that I'm lame #2:
I have a list of about 12 things I need to do to get my house/self in decent shape for Mr. Wonderful's visit tomorrow. Number of things on that list I think I might actually do? Maybe 3. Lame and lazy.

Proof that I'm lame #3:
So I was gonna cash in a few stock options to help me pay back my savings account for all the money I've had to take from it for the 6 weeks I wasn't getting paid + the medical bills. I got on E*Trade, and I got greedy. Decided to put in an order for my options to trade ONLY if it hit a price that was about $.50 above where it was trading at the time. I was only trading in a few options, so it would've netted me about $30 more than if I'd cashed them in on the spot. Not only did my stock never hit the limit price, it PLUNGED through the floor after our earnings release today. Greedy, lame, and poor.

In other non-lame news, I bought The Geej a new hat and mittens today. She couldn't wait to try them on when we got home from school. Is it just me, or is this photo screaming, "Hey!! I gotta new hat! And-a some new mittens! Fuggetaboutit!" For some reason, I hear her sounding like some bad Italian caricature. (Check out the remnants of her school playground on her pants. Sweet.) Get your spicy new hats here! New hats-a for EVERYbody. Mangia!!

Random thoughts to kick off NaBloPoMo.

In no particular order...

How come, right after my younger cat takes a dump in the litterbox, he runs around the house like a mad man? Sort of like his ass is on fire. Wait. I think I just answered my own question.

No matter what kind of pissy mood I'm in, if i see a dog sticking its head out of a car window, I smile.

I used to have a RAGING crush on my cat's vet, and I'd make up excuses to stop by the vet's office in the (highly unlikely) event that I'd see him. Now I make up excuses to stop by there so I can love on the stray kittens they have up for adoption.

I have limited the number to 5 of how many times in a row The Geej can ask the same question. Her capacity for repetition is mind-boggling.

Speaking of The Geej, she went trick-or-treating last night for the first time, and took to it like a fish to water. She went with La Turista's Peach and Olive, so I think seeing the older girls do it was helpful. But soon, she was going at it on her own. I had to keep her from just walking into people's houses when they answered the door. She was dressed as a princess--simple, predictable, and totally adorable. If La Turista would send me a photo (hint, hint), I'd try and post.

Before I die, I want to drive a car in a demolition derby. I am dead serious. Demolition derbys (derbies?) are the BOMB, and I used to go see them all the time in the late summer/early fall when I lived in Chicago, and they were generally associated with some nearby county's fair, so I also got to see livestock judging, eat funnel cakes, ride the ferris wheel, and check out the local "art" that was being judged in the county fair contest. I have no idea why demo derbies (derbys?) aren't as popular in Texas as they are in the Midwest. Seems sort of counter-intuitive, no? Anyway, one of these days I'm gonna drive one of those damn cars, and I'm going to smash it to bits. TO BITS!!

So get this: I'm STILL having horrible flashbacks of being in the hospital. I'll be doing something totally mundane--like going down the elevator at work--and BOOM, I'm back in my hospital room at 3am in horrible pain with no one answering my call button. All of the sudden, I've broken out in a cold sweat, my heart is racing, and everything starts to go grey. I launch into a panic attack at the sheer memory of it. And the nightmares are horrible and happen almost every night. I think I'm having PTSD. Or something. Whatever it is, I want it to fucking stop.

Let's think happy thoughts, shall we?

Here's one: MR. WONDERFUL IS COMING TO VISIT ON FRIDAY!!

That's a happy thought indeed. Last time I saw him, I was in a dilaudid-induced stupor and was having one of my worst weekends in the hospital. His visit is a total blur. I have no recollection of it other than the fact that I know he was there because I remember seeing him and holding his hand. And I also let him touch my insanely hairy ankles as he rubbed my feet. (I was weak!!)But other than that? Zilcho. So I look forward to seeing him now that I have what's left of my wits about me and I'm not hooked up to any machinery or tubing.

La Turista posted some photos from our roadtrip to Graceland many moons ago. I'm not sure why or how those masks ended up coming with us, but we decided that we'd get our pictures taken with them pretty much everywhere. They ended up playing an inexplicably significant part in our trip. I'll never forget riding on the little shuttle bus from the Graceland visitors' center across the street to the house with those damn masks on. There is simply no telling what the Japanese and Australian tourists thought of us. And then there was us getting hammered in the lobby of the Peabody waiting on those damn ducks to waddle by. And my drunk ass having an allergic reaction to raw tuna and whelting up like a sideshow freak. And then us hooking up with the doorman at some lame-o bar who squired our drunk asses around and showed us the REAL Memphis. And then there's the very vivid memory of La Turista busting her ass as she descended out of our horse drawn carriage. And us getting pulled over by that hard-assed Arkansas highway patrol dude on the way to Dallas. And getting Taco Bell and much beer and rocking out to Pearl Jam when we got back to Erwina's apartment that night. Damn that was a good trip. If you can go to Graceland and see it gussied up for Christmas, do it. It's a truly American experience. But be sure and check to see if they're open before you go. I'm just saying... I just love Memphis, period. When I was living in Birmingham, it was close enough where you could do a long weekend there. One spring, I went to the "Memphis in May" music festival, and it was awesome because it reminded me of how SXSW used to be in the mid-90s. Ah...the carefree days of yore when you could just take off and pull a weekender.

Sigh.

Okay, was that random enough for you?

Tomorrow is ninja house-cleaning night in preparation for Mr. Wonderful's arrival. And also, just because it needs to be done. So I'm sure my post will be something riveting about the wonders of Soft Scrub or something. Until then...

30 Days, 30 Ways

I'm doing it. Only because it's what all the cool kids are doing this November and because I've got so much free time on my hands and gallons of creative juices I need to funnel somewhere.

But seriously, I'm challenging myself to do this for real because let's just say, my blog postings have been a wee bit less than inspired as of late.

So Happy Halloween, and yay NaBloPoMo!!

Best Halloween Costume Ever.

It's called, "Has somebody got a case of the Mondays?" and The Geej came up with it all by herself.

Fierce.

Tyra Banks makes me wanna punch a bitch. In the throat. But I will hand it to her in 2 respects:
Girlfriend is curvy, which makes the rest of us with T and A feel okay about life.

and

She popularized the term "fierce' when describing a certain type of beautiful. A beautiful that is totally your own. Commanded by you.

Yesterday I went and spent $100+ that I do NOT have on my hair. I know it's superficial as hell, but fuck it: I was in the godforsaken hostpital for nearly a month, and my hair hasn't been tended to since mid-August. So I deserve it.

And I did something radical.

I cut it all off. And dyed it dark cranberry.

Witness: Fierce, Karla May style (i.e., I have on no make-up and I'm wearing my pajamas).

I know I will never EVER be able to replicate this look (Hell, I haven't put a blow dryer to my own hair in about 4 years), but still...

This was TOTALLY worth $100+ bucks.

I know, I know...,

I owe you a real post. Not some link-type thing or just a bunch a photos (that Blogger won't ever let me post anyway), but I'm busy doing the Saturday-domestic-o-rama with The Geej. So for now, I'll leave you with this:

A pole dancing kit. Complete with instructional video.

Fucking sweeeeeeeeeet.

My Christmas list for The Geej is now complete.

I really don't know what to say.

My mom has a subscription to "The National Enquirer". She's had one since the early 80s. (Of course she has. It makes such perfect sense it's almost ridiculous.) She brings them to Austin whenever she comes for a visit, and before throwing them in the recycle pile, I thumb through them of course. I am always, ALWAYS delighted by the ads. "Magic Blue Dot" anyone?

Anyway, I was sort of stunned speechless by two ads I saw in recent issues, and I had to share. (Sorry for the poor image qualilty. I don't have a scanner. So deal.)

I love the artist's rendering of the Teddy cutting one loose at a party. What a gas! Bwah ha ha!! I'm so taking this to the next fancy party I attend (because I attend so many...).

And then there was this:

Court room artists renderings of celebrity trials. You can get the real scoop on this waste of trees here. Yep. I now know what everyone in my family is getting from me for Christmas.

The end.

So I thought the Internet was done when I found this. But no. Because later I found this. I mean, why else could there possibly be a reason for the Internet to exist after these 2 sites, right?

And then today...

[Cue the harps and the angels singing as heaven opens up sound.]

This. (I should set up a damn PayPal account so you can tip me for the wonderful joy you will receive when you click that link. I mean damn. I give and I give...)

Okay. The Internet is officially closed for business. So sayeth Miss Wendy.

The Geej's Halloween Costume.

Because I just LOVE clowns AND Tie-dye, this is what my baby girl will be sporting this upcoming Hallow's Eve. Plus, I'm going to have her carry a "John 3:16" sign made out of posterboard to complete the ensemble. We're so going to bank with candy...

Out, out damn clothes!

Along with shopping for a new bathing suit and performing a pre-surgery bowel prep on myself, cleaning out/organizing my closets is one of my least favorite activities. When I moved into this house last November, I was too busy with the baby to do any pre-moving purging of stuff I don't wear/don't need. And that not only goes for my clothes, shoes, etc. I mean, I didn't throw anything away. I just moved it all, and I still have 1/2 a garage full of shit I need to get rid of because of it. But I digress...

So, the closets. When I moved in, I just threw everything I own into the two closets that are in the master bath and said, "Fuck it. I'll deal with it later." So this weekend, 11 months later, I finally did just that. Mom had The Geej yesterday, so I took advantage of it to do the closet purge/seasonal clothes switcheroo.

Here were my rules:
1) If it's a size 8 (or smaller), get rid of it. There's no way that my pushing-forty ass is ever going to see Size 8 again unless I get thrown back into the hospital for a month and drop another 20 lbs.
2) If it was purchased prior to 1995, it's gone.
3) If it looks like something Elaine would've worn on Seinfeld, bye-bye.
4) If it's got a hole in it--due to moths or something else--or some sort of other rip and you know your lazy ass is never going to get it fixed, adios.
5) If the store you purchased it from went out of business some time in the last millennium, consider tossing it.
6) Pit stains = automatic toss out.
7) No one needs more than 3 pairs of khaki shorts.

It took me hours. HOURS. I started at around 11am (yes, I had the Texas game on the bedroom television. Go Horns!!), and wasn't 100% finished until about 5:30. It wasn't just my closets though: I also cleaned out my armoire (good bye pantyhose drawer!!), my chest of drawers, and the two under bed storage thingies I had stashed under my bed. In the end, I had 4 bags of stuff for Goodwill and a pile of cute, tiny things set aside for my skinniest friend, Thelma Jane.

During my cleaning extravaganza, I ran across several things that are pretty fantastic:

This skeezy little number is from my Backroom/Black Cat/Steamboat days, when my hair was really long, and so was the hair of all the guys I dated. La Turista, do you remember this one? This thing has a low, scooped neckline that featured my boobs nicely, and it was form fitting, which was okay when my form was, ahem, more fit.

(I have photos of all of the following stuff too, but Blogger isn't letting me post them.)

I also found an aDORable short-sleeved, button-down sweater with embroidered flowers all over it!! It's SO me!! I'd wear this EVERY DAY if I could get away with it. It would go well with my lobotomy and my Botox injections. Too bad it doesn't really need a scarf to accesorize it because...

I found several scarves that were clearly from my as chair of the Texas Women's Republican Caucus and sold Mary Kay. Oh GOD! Not only can't I believe that I owned these ghastly things, I also can't believe I ever had--and wore--outfits that I thought they accessorized nicely. Ugh.

I also discovered 5 pieces of clothing that still had the tags on them from when they were purchased...well over a year ago. I'm so ashamed...

I also found this flippin' sweet t-shirt that said "I Love Soaps" on it, with a caricature of a pathetic looking Cathy-esque gal with a bow in her hair and big 80s Sally Jesse Raphael glasses. All in shades of neon yellow, pink and purple? I totally forgot I had it. I'm going to have to wear it to work tomorrow because it's true: I do LOVE my soaps. (But seriously, I wore this as part of my "Ugly American on Vacation" outfit I dreamed up for a white trash party some friends threw. I bedazzled it and went nuts with a glitter pen as well. It went nicely with my purple jogging pants, my "Puerto Rico" fanny pack, and my purple visor with a built in fan.)

With all of the crapola I DID find, I'm surprised I didn't find Jimmy Hoffa in my damn closet. I swear.

Here's how tired I am:

Yesterday was my 2 year blogiversary, and I didn't even realize it. So there was no self-congratulatory/reflective anniversary post which, I gotta say, is so unlike me.

I've been up since 3am, people. I'm having wicked insomnia these days. I haven't slept through the night but once in 2 weeks.

It's beginning to take its toll. The circles under my eyes are epic and I've got a headache 24/7.

I'll leave you with something clever The Geej said this morning during breakfast:
She was asking when she was going to get to see her beloved Dah again. My mom's actually coming for a Geej fix tomorrow, so I said, "Well, I think you'll get to see Dah tomorrow," to which The Geej replied, "Tomorning?" As in, "In the morning?" Brilliant. Tomorning should TOTALLY be a word.

That really hard meme that all my blogging buddies have been doing.

Now it's my turn, I suppose.

1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?
Karl Rove.

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?
Toby Keith. Duh.

3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?
Paris "Lazy Eye/Stinky Crotch" Hilton.

4. What is your favorite cheese?
GOD that’s a hard one. Um…a really good chevre, like Pure Luck Farms.

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind will you make?
Leftover smoked turkey breast from Thanksgiving, lots of avocado, German mustard, iceberg lettuce, thinly sliced perfectly ripe Roma tomatoes, and Swiss cheese on lightly toasted whole wheat bread.

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice?
Viggo Mortensen.

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who do you pick?
Howe Gelb. But I’d want strings attached.

8. Now that you've slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy crap, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?
An exquisite meal at a really nice restaurant.

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?
Denver (to see Mr. Wonderful). I know. It’s sappy, but it’s true.

10. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Now that you are in the new location, what are you gonna do?
Use it to supplement the rental of a really swanky hotel room for Mr. Wonderful and I for the night.

11. A demon rises out of Hell and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. It is...?
King Estate Pinot Gris

12. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?
1960s London. I’d become an English version of Chrissie Hynde—hailed as a music and fashion pioneer--and I’d somehow end up briefly married to David Bowie.

13. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?
Everyone gets to sleep as late as they fucking want. And if you’re a “morning person” who wakes up at the crack of dawn and wakes others who are trying to sleep up, you get sent out to sea on a rickety raft.

14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what's the premise?
It’s a show called, “You Want the Truth?” Really rich people who are surrounded by “yes men” all the time consult me and ask me the questions that they want to get a 100% honest, no strings attached answer to. The catch is, they HAVE to do whatever I advise.

15. What is your favorite curse word?
Fuck. So simple. So versatile. So perfect.

16. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do?
Ask them, “So…are we gonna party, or what?”

17. Your house is on fire! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what's the item?
I wish I had something really sentimental to say like, “My great grandmother’s wedding dress. She wore it as she entered Ellis Island.” But no. Sadly, it would probably be my computer hard drive. It’s got my entire iTunes library, every digital photo I’ve ever taken, and a lot of writing and personal documents on it.

18. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour?
First 20 minutes: Put on my favorite music—LOUDLY—and have crazy sex with Mr. Wonderful. Next 8 minutes, huddle up with The Geej, Mr. Wonderful and my Mom and tell them how much I love all of them. Last 2 minutes, smoke a righteous bowl of weed and eat some Frito's and bean dip.

19. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be?
Teletransportation.

20. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?
The first half hour I spent with The Geej. FINALLY meeting her—just the two of us in the orphanage director’s office on a horribly frigid December night in Russia. Holding her. Smelling her. Thinking to myself, “I can’t believe she’s real.”

21. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
Watching my father die.

22. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool stuff... you can move to anywhere else in the world! Bitchin'! What country are you going to live in now?
On a goat farm on the Cornwall coast of England.

23. This question still counts, even for those of you who are under age. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be?
Donn’s Depot.

24. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question.... If you did, then we'll just expand on that. Check it out... Suddenly, you have gained the ability to FLOAT!!! Whose house are you going to float to first, and be like "Dude, check it out... I can FLOAT!"?
Well, because he only lives about 10 houses away and would get a total kick out of it, I’d have to say my friend Chaz.

25. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous-person of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life?
Gilda Radner

26. The Gates of Hell have opened, and Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person, etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?
My dad.

27. What's your theme song?
“But I Did Not” by Howe Gelb

If I won the lottery right now...

...I would hire a suicidal hit man. Send that hit man to flying school so he could get his pilot's license. Charter a leer jet. Invite K-Fed, Paris, "Firecrotch" Lohan, the Olsen twins, Tara Reid, that guy who founded "Girls Gone Wild," Diddy, and Kate Moss to an exclusive all-night coke fest at Hugh Hefner's private island near St. Bart's (sponsored by Astroglide and Camel Lights). I'd load their stupid, self-obsesseed, no-talent asses on to the plane (with faux paparazzi there to make them happy and feed their insatiable egos), then I'd have that suicidal hit man ram that plane into the sea at about 600 mph.

I'm going to buy ten quick picks tomorrow.

Too tired. Can't post.

Holy crap, today wore me out.

First of all, morning traffic. I kinda forgot how much it can suck. And with the rain? Extra crapalicioius.

Second, work. It was GREAT being back, but I've got SO much to catch up on. I feel like I'm the last guy leaving the starting line at the Boston Marathon. I'm never going to catch up. Ever.

Third, I got by on Advil only today. I was too scared to take the REAL painkillers (even though I sort of needed them during the afternoon) because I was afraid I'd fall asleep standing up like a horse.

Fourth, I spent the last hour at work on a conference call with a teammate and 2 attorneys going over each paragraph of a 22 page contract that we're hoping to enter with a new vendor. We only got to page 5. We resume at 9:30 tomorrow morning.

Fifth, I left at exactly 5pm and it took me 35 minutes to go 4.5 miles.

Sixth, it's 9:25 and The Geej is snoozing, I'm bathed and the house isn't totally filthy. So I'm going to bed.

Night night, peeps.

Scenes from the weekend.

Whew!

This weekend was a doozie!

Yesterday, we had attended La Turista's Olive's Princess-themed birthday party at the Children's Museum at 1pm. Yay cake!!Then we went to a fund-raiser/Halloween carnival/Biscuit Brothers show at 3:30. The Geej only got about a 35 minute nap, so by the end of the day, she was running on fumes. But it was fun nonetheless.

Today was spent playing around the house, doing laundry, running errands, doing more laundry, picking up after Hurricaine Geej, and then doing this:

I've written before about how I'm blissfully at the end of a long hand-me-down clothes chain for little girl's stuff. (That's what you get for waiting to have kiddos until AFTER all your girlfriends are done.) So what I do when I receive these bags of bounty is go through them and put them in storage bins out in the garage until their time has come (seasonally and size-wise). So today I decided to pull out the 2T/fall/winter stuff just for grins (wishful thinking right? It was about 135 degrees here today with the humidity...grrr...). So my living room quickly became covered in Geej clothes as I pulled everything out and got it organized and ready to be transferred into her closet and dresser if it ever actually gets cool enough to wear any of it. Man, was there come cute stuff in there!! Little coats and sweaters, Christmas dresses, pajamas, shoes and boots. We are really blessed.

Also tonight...drum roll...THE GEEJ WENT TEE TEE IN THE POTTY!! I know this is the most mundane, boring factoid ever for those of you who've never gone through the joy of potty training a toddler, but seriously: It's a big fucking deal. She's been using the potty sporadically at her new school, but never ever at home. Sure, she'll sit on it and dink around till the cows come home, but there's never been any results. Until tonight. I literally got tears in my eyes when it happened. I'm praying that we'll be potty trained by Christmas so that Santa can bring her a year's supply of big girl panties. Not having to buy diapers/pull ups will be like getting a damn raise.

Okay, tomorrow's the first day back at the office. I'm hoping I don't fall asleep at my desk come 2:30. Adjusting to a life without afternoon naps is going to be a challenge.