Sunday, September 28, 2008
Not interested in rotisserie-ing herself at every opportunity? Something must be up. So I blithely picked up the box to see what the fuss was about. A cricket proceeded to drop out and land with a *THUD* right next to my foot.
From Jiminy Cricket to Mulan, Disney has long-fostered a love for crickets in my little heart. They are wholesome and helpful and good luck charms and often sing catchy little tunes in bitty little hats. Who does not love an opportunity for bitty little hats? What those perverse imagineers forgot to mention, though, is that those bugs are FUCKING ENORMOUS and also very BLACK AND SCARY.
So I stood there, horrified, as Sugar proceeded to maim our little home's creepy good luck charm. I finally tore off a bit of toilet paper and scooped up the very large and heavy insect and squealed all the way down the stairs as I carried him outside, sure that he was probably a very venomous cricket and was about to sting and bite and maim me in retribution for my idiotic cat through the very flimsy bit of tissue that separated his bulky exoskeleton from my delicate little fingers.
I flung him out the door perhaps less gently than I could have, but you have to understand I had worked myself into quite a frenzy at that point. He landed with a loud cracking sound on the pavement, and I did not wait to see if he was smushed. I just slammed the door quickly, lest the dizzy, injured bug find made a superheroic effort to squirm its way quickly back into my house.
Happily he was gone by the time I went for a run, so I am assuming he was able to hop off, perhaps into my rose bush, to at least get away from us crazies and go on to lead a very happy, if hatless, life.
Equally exciting but less fun to write about, I found my book! The one that I thought disappeared months ago! I know you must have been wasting away in anguish not knowing where its whereabouts, as I was. We can all sleep better tonight. Phew.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
My parents deep froze the thing for us, and took it out a couple days ago to start the thawing process. When it arrived at our door on Tuesday, the cake was moist, the frosting was ooey-gooey, and I ate so much I get that little chestache thing that happens when you cram an entire week’s worth of sugar into one serving. Never fear, I am hard core, I drank some water and pushed through the heart palpitations and had another large slice.
I was sad to cut into it, this last, gorgeously detailed vestige of our wedding.
Then I tasted it and got over the whole nostalgic crap quite quickly. There are now only crumbs left.
Meanwhile I’m very excited for the new season of The Office to start. I’ve realized I’ve officially become Old, because I find myself thinking things like, “When I was young, there were so many more good shows on…” and also because I hurt my butt by sitting on a hard bench at a local elementary school this morning. I need cushions! Also: my husband tweaked his back by reaching for floss this morning.
(Sorry, baby, I’m not sure I was supposed to share that, but you didn’t specifically say I couldn’t, and it added to my point….)
I may go cane shopping this weekend. Damn kids.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Today I am a jaded old married woman, and shall now snark. Snark about the DCPA, where we saw Avenue Q. The show was, as advertised yesterday, amazing. What was less amazing was their fucking ticket seller who apparently is hating on anyone in love. (Obviously, it was personal and not at all a honest mistake by a minimum-wage-making teenager hired to answer phones in the box office on weekends from 2:00-4:00.) When we called to buy the tickets, we asked where the best seats were that were left. (This was a bit of a last-minute idea.) He found two, but they were at opposite ends of the theater. We explained that it was our anniversary, and so, ha ha, we might like to sit together. He found two at the very far right edge of the mezzanine, sold them to us for quite a lot of money considering you mainly only get to see the back of puppets’ heads or their left profile.
We showed up in the theater, dressed nicely and cuddling as we walked. Until we were shown our seats. At which time we could no longer cuddle because although row FF seat 203 and 204 might sound like they are next to each other, but in fact there is actually a BIG FUCKING METAL POST between the two seats. I understand that it probably serves some structural purpose, but let me tell you just how NOT ROMANTIC AT ALL it is.
Haters. I am in the process of composing a Very Angry letter and trying not to use the word “fuck” in any of its variations… more than four times.
I am also so over True Blood. Gah, I know, how dare I. But this is my opinion. I’m actually totally fine with the vampire thing (although I’m still a little surprised that we are clinging so desperately to a Victorian metaphor for sex. Really? Is this not the 21st century where we can talk about sex openly?) it the violence that goes with it. Not the virginal blood-sucking thing so much as the rape, the gory images of corpses, and the abuse. It’s not appealing at any level to me. I think Stephenie Meyer (author of the Twilight series) was ingenious in using the vampire-thing as a vehicle for promoting abstinence in pop culture. I think HBO is just abusing it’s ability to be graphic. But I realize I am in the minority.
Also, I think they kind of overdo the foreshadowing with the protective Sam character. I think it’s enough that his dog turns up at all the wrong times, like before Sookie gets in trouble or people get murdered. I don’t think he also needs to have a picture of a watchdog looking over a little girl while she sleeps in his office AND bark in his sleep. A bit much.
Um. The sun is shining and it’s a beautiful day. I shall now try to be pleasant.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
If you have not seen Avenue Q, you absolutely must. Go get tickets now, they are probably coming to a theater near you. It was funny, the songs were catchy, “Why Can’t I Go Back to College?” and “The Internet Is for Porn” probably being my two favorites, and the puppeteering was amazing. As the Funasaurus said, it’s dirty Muppets. How is that NOT going to be my favoritest thing ever?
(And trust me, folks, I’ve seen my fair share of musical theater in my lifetime.)
And as of today, The Funasaurus and I have officially been married one full year. I am not sure where that year went, as I am pretty sure I spent many lifetimes planning that darn wedding and it was over so quickly I might have missed it if I had yawned. Which I did not. (Yawn, I mean.) I was too hopped up on adrenaline, cabernet, and spanikopita. And of course, good good Funasaurus love. If the first year really is the hardest, I think we are set. Seeing as how we spent most of it cuddling and making googly eyes at each other. When we weren’t busy trying to keep up with our chaotic social life.
It was a little telling at The Funasaurus’ sister’s wedding two weeks ago when we were taking pictures, and we had just taken several of the bridal party. (I was the matron-of-honor. Could we not find a name for that position that makes it sound a little less like I should be wearing a long frock with a high-neck lace collar?) Then the photographer said, “O.K., bridal party sit down, bride’s family, please come up.” Then The Funasaurus had to yank me back up as I started to go sit down.
“Remember that deal we made about a year ago?” he muttered. Guess what has become the most-quoted line from that evening.
Oopsie. It all still feels so new. But I get kind of giddy when I remember all over again that we did it. We’re married. He’s now stuck getting my freezing toes shoved in between his legs at all random hours of the night for the rest of his life. Happily, he enjoys musical theater, too. So I anticipate many more dirty singing puppet shows in our future. What could be more romantic than that?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Less happily, it was so epic that it went into overtime. Couple that with the fact that West Virginia was determined to piss everyone off and play their remaining two seconds at every quarter even though exactly nothing could happen, and it added up to be an extraordinarily long football game. Which meant we got to bed extraordinarily late.
Thus making it, naturally, the night Tatum chooses to get sick all over our carpet. About nine times. Let me tell you that 3:45 AM is exactly NOT the ideal time to realize you need to put Resolve Carpet Cleaner on your grocery list.
I have also searched far and wide on Google for The Funasaurus’ new ring tone, which is very brown chicken brown cow, but I can’t find it. But if you ever happen to stumble across a Rumor phone, it’s tone six.
Also and most importantly, today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, landlubbers! Shiver me timbers! ARRRRG. And Yar.
But here’s my favorite pirate joke:
Q: What kind of socks do pirates wear?
What are your favorites? I need to build a better repertoire, here.
Monday, September 15, 2008
The big news is that my sister-in-law got married over the weekend. The wedding was beautiful, the bride was beautiful, I was… drunk. And then forced to sober up because they needed someone to drive the groom’s parents home. So I started out strong, and then switched to water for the last four courses, which was hard. Because there was so much free wine flowing. But the groom’s parents got home safely, so I’m hoping I can karmically cash in on some of the cases of wine the newlyweds got to bring home. (As they brought their own alcohol, and since I was not drinking, they did not end up needing nearly as much as they had expected.)
Then today I was supposed to take the tuxes back to the rental place, and they had to be back by noon, so I raced over there around 10:30 only to discover they don’t open until 11:00. That’s quite the scam, giving hungover wedding attendees an hour window to return rentals. Happily (or, not so much, really) as we have discussed, I was not hungover. So I was quick-witted enough to see a cell phone store across the street, and decided to go shopping. Because, if you remember, my phone is only working when it sees fit. Much like the French. (I kid, my one and only French reader.)
So I am the proud new owner of one of these
and so is The Funasaurus because there was a buy one get one free thing going on. It’s not an iPhone, but since it’s pretty snazzy and only a fraction of the price, I am content. And so is The Funasaurus who gleefully discovered a porn-like ringtone pre-programmed onto his. Luckily for me, The Funasaurus does not get many phone calls.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
But tonight I can’t help it. I’ve had a glass of wine with too many people’s extended families and I am just about to wretch. People are in town for the wedding. They’re small town. They’re Republican. I get it. That’s fine. What's not fine is just saying random shit like, “The Muslims are trying to take over America.”
Did anyone else just throw up a little in their mouth? I’m actually fine if our president practices Muslim. Or atheism, Catholicism, or Wiccan. Just as long as they don’t try to prevent my right to practice the solemn religion of meh. Or my right to say that. Or the press’ right to question meh as an actual religion.
I cannot believe they actually think there’s a doubt about Obama’s intentions. They went on and on about him being Muslim, and questioning whether he was actually even born in the U.S. He was. It’s been proven. He wouldn’t be allowed to run for the office of president, otherwise.
WTF, people. I believe in your right to question a candidate. But once your argument has been proved FALSE, it’s time to move on. You just sound ignorant.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
That’ll teach you to put me in your wedding. “Um, thanks for the party. You guys are awesome. Cheers.”
Meanwhile, my days are filled with hair appointments, dress fittings, tying itty-bitty bows on bits of paper, and occasionally work. When I can squeeze it in. (Kidding, boss, if you happen to read this. I am so busy right now. I have been up very late working every night. Well, except for Monday. When I went out for ice cream with my book group, instead.)
My camera went to my parents’ house, since my dad is acting as photographer for the Big Day. I miss my camera. More than I should. It’s not like I was even taking pictures every day. I just miss its presence. Apparently I have formed my first co-dependent relationship with a piece of electronics. I feel like I can finally be accepted as part of my generation.
Also, in the world of Very Sad News, I had to retire my favorite pair of jeans this morning. The butt has been paper-thin for a while now, and I was being careful to wash them gently (or just not wash them at all, jeans are so soft when they’re dirty) to preserve them. But this morning I realized that at some point they had taken a slight shift and gone from “paper-thin” to “non-existent” and, well, I’m not sure how well that’d go over with the in-laws at the rehearsal dinner. Thanks for the party. You guys are awesome. Also: marrying into white trash. Cheers.
In better news, my book club has decided to go with an international theme this year. We are reading books that have something to do with other countries, thus leaving the genre very vague and very wide. The suggestions that have come up so far have been fascinating, there are so many books out there that I want to read, now! No way are we going to cram them all into one year. That said, I am still curious if there are more. If you have a suggestion for a book about another culture, or that takes place in another country, or is written by a non-American author, let me know!
Friday, September 05, 2008
It is now: FALL.
Thus I spake. Thus also has been the weather. Hello, gloom and darkness and cool air! It’s kind of cozy. We’ve turned off all sorts of climate control for the past several days, no heating no AC. The temperature has been fluctuating around perfect. Well, perfect for us. Less perfect for Sugar, whose threshold for happy hovers around 86 degrees. Give or take half a degree.
Our house, and the fall weather have not been so… balmy. So there has been much Sadness and Despair and Moping on Sugar’s part. Tatum doesn’t seem to notice, as long as The Funasaurus continues to ply him with faux mice.
So because my heart was breaking for sad little Sugar, I broke out the heating pad and turned it on. I picked her up, which is kind of against Sugar Rules, but I knew it was worth invoking her temporary wrath, and placed her on the heating pad. It was like her little legs melted under her, and suddenly there was much rubbing and wiggling and I finally had to look away because it was almost kind of dirty.
I don’t believe she’s gotten up since, although she has adjusted her position just about every time I’ve gone in to look at her. Kind of like she’s rotisserie -ing herself.
Meanwhile, though, my rosebush is not such a pansy, and happily it is shooting out flowers all over the place. Look! Hopefully it just keeps right on doing this through the winter.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Given enough time, one can find treasures at King Soopers, did you know?
Like say: ORIGINAL ANIMAL CRACKERS.
I had no idea they were still around. And they are still so good! I have already eaten the whole box. I used to love these things as a kid. I remember swinging my box around on its little string, pretending it was a purse, until it inevitably broke. Twenty-five years later, the giraffe is still my favorite cookie due to its perfect blend of animal-exoticness and texture. Something about the giraffe spots really does it for my palate.
There is also now a koala in the mixture. It’s sleeping on a branch, and kind of teddy-bear-esque, compared to the other lumpy animal shapes. I’m not complaining, I’m a huge koala fan. But I do not remember it being part of the original zoo. It is certainly not displayed on the tiny train car cages on the outside of the box.
For what it’s worth, I think the zebra is my second-favorite cookie. The stripes being similar to giraffe spots to my ever-discerning tongue.
Speaking of zebra stripes, I recently tried teeth-whitening. I do not suggest this exercise in disfigurement to anyone. Some of my teeth are a bit whiter. In places. In, like, horizontal-stripe places across the front of a tooth or two. I have never smiled less in my life.
Now the question is, do I attempt it again tonight, to see if I can even out the damage? I am just a little tipsy right now, that seems like a viable option, even though a little corner of my brain is suggesting I should consult a dentist first. Pooh to the dentist! They’re the ones who hooked me up with the sexy saran-wrap version of my teeth in the first place, promising lighter shades and brighter smiles. It was apparently my own incorrect conclusion that the lighter shade would appear over the full surface of a whole tooth.
Princess Zebra Grin out.
Sorry for the radio silence. I was busy, blah blah blah. I spent the weekend in the mountains for my sister-in-law’s bachelorette party. We did manage to hike between consuming gallons of wine and an endless stream of chick-flicks.
Hiking up there was bittersweet, since it’s my old home. I know it so well, but there are a lot of memories linked to it. And it’s weird being back yet not being a local, anymore. It used to be that I couldn’t go on a hike, to the grocery store, or to a bar without knowing most of the people I’d run across. Yet I saw exactly one familiar face this whole weekend. That’s just the way in a community as transient as that place. I mean, I moved on, too. But it still made me nostalgic.
And the face of the actual flora is changing, too. Pine beetles are eating their way through the entire landscape. If you see red trees in the following pictures, it’s the pine beetles. It’s still beautiful:
But it will be a very different view in just a few years.
Not that it won’t still be beautiful. There will still be tons of wildflowers. (That’s a bee butt hanging out of that particular flower.)
And fauna. Such as beavers. Who are getting a little giddy from all the available timber these days.
And there will still be lakes, and camera-happy tourists. Here is a picture of me failing to outrun the timer on my camera. I am distinctly Not Fast.
And now I’m back home, working too much and missing the mountains, again.