Sunday, July 31, 2005

Just Breathing

This weekend didn't feel like a weekend at all. Between the parade through the house yesterday and us having to go away for the day today for an open house I hardly feel rested. We have had offers. Nothing we love. Nothing we are taking so far.

It is a sad time honestly. It is very stressful to go round and round with the seller of the house we are buying and then turn around and start the same dance with the buyers for this one. It is stressful trying to live with the house perfect every second of the day. It is just hard to sell the house where you really began your marriage. The one that was your first home together.

The seller of our new house did finally agree to fix the major stuff--you know, the SAFETY VIOLATIONS. Which is fine. We are not going to get a pissing match over something that we could fix ourselves without too much effort or expense. And at least one of these offers should pan out into something decent. And then maybe we can breathe. I shouldn't complain, we are doing fine. It is just a strange time. We are in the moments before things start to happen.

And the waiting is wearing me out.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Still Thought That New York Might Find A Way To Draft Him

Y'all don't even want to know the squeals of joy and dorkiness that this caused in the AB house.

There was much glee and plans to buy a new jersey and maybe try to go up to Vancouver if the schedule works out to see a game.

J was excited too.

I Guess I Do Have a Big Ass Too

It is so hot here today. I mean I know it is 85, which is like 50 to those of you in the Midwest or South but to those of in Seattle that is like a sauna. Keep in mind no one here has air conditioning.

While J was getting a haircut I was finishing steam cleaning the carpets which made our house go from oven-like conditions to humid jungle marsh conditions in 60 seconds flat. I was sweating and running when another agent called and asking if she could come and show the house.

Uh sure. CRAP. Run run run finish the carpets, find some clothes and J gets home just in time for us to bolt from the house.

We went shopping and to lunch and anywhere we could go to and kill time. I was walking on a side walk and it was so hot that the calking between slabs had softened a bit. And my heel sunk into it and got stuck.

You can imagine the grace of that maneuver. I actually fell out of the shoe and had to dig it out of the sidewalk with my hands. I was drawing a crowd and I realized I was living a stupid scene from the fucking Wedding Planner. Oh the humanity of living through being Jennifer Lopez-like in any way. And let me assure you that the guy who stopped to help me looked nothing like Matthew McConaughey.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Tomorrow The Paper Will Report That Bellevue Is Closing All Wendys'

If yesterday was a shit day today more than made up for it. For personal reasons that I cannot talk about yet. But! Soon! And because approximately 84,000 people have been to see our house and it has been on the market for 24 hours.

That is a slight exaggeration but only a small one. We came home to a half dozen messages on the machine and agent cards on the table. We had to leave so people could come tonight and came home to more messages and more cards.

I know our agent only left cards in houses that we liked so I think we are doing pretty well so far.

Was taking the bus to the train home tonight when a very polite homeless woman who smelled like eggs sat next to the yuppie man from expensive schmancy suburb behind me. He was nice enough to her, moving his stuff and looking her in the eye when she asked to sit down. But I couldn't help myself I had to giggle when she started talking to him.

"Where are you going?"

"Bellevue" (this is a totally yuppie suburb and you could almost hear him think SHIT when he answered her)

"Do they have a Wendy's?"

"Uh I think so. Sure." (Shit shit shit, does some one like me eat at WENDY'S?)

"Do you like Wendy's?"

"No" (Why did I answer her? We are like married in crazy homeless land now)

"Do you like Red Robin" (this is when I full on laughed because she was so sincere, they are friends now, totally going to get a beer and he is ready to leap out the window--this shit is funny when it happens to OTHER PEOPLE)

I couldn't feel sorry for him, the very nice and polite homeless gentleman sitting next to me was cleaning his teeth with a bottle cap. However, he didn't smell like eggs. He showed me the cologne samples he takes from magazines in drug stores. He told me I could pick one.

I mean my husband doesn't even let me pick his cologne.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Just Ignore Me--Am Pissed Off

Our house is on the market!

Am panting and freaking out slightly.

God bless our agent which made our house look so big and shiny and new on the website.

And fuck the fucking neighbors who were bitching as we put the sign up, "You guys are pricing it too low, you are ruining the market for everybody else."

First, I do not fucking care.

Second, we are selling it at a very large profit and even though I have my greedy moments (where I imagine a bloody bidding war) it is a good price and should sell quickly.

Third, butt out asshole.

Fourth, I do not fucking care.

I am so tired of people butting into stuff that is none of their business.

Things that have been harped on by others to me this week that make me re-think my views on automatic weapons:

1. People who question how we can afford a different house.

2. People who wonder why we won't just pay more and live closer to the city.

3. Do people just not fucking know that it is rude to ask personal questions about finances?

4. People who ask why I took a day off to go to my house inspection.

5. People who ask when we are having kids.

6. People who cannot believe that we even got an inspection--don't we trust people!?

So actually I pretty much hate the world. Am a big girl and my husband is a big boy and we really do know what we are doing (well not really, but we know as much as anyone else). We do not need to know your opinions about our finances, our careers, our house or are reproductive organs. We have managed to live all of these years tying our own shoes and everything. I can eat red meat, drive an SUV and curse indiscriminately if I want to--it is the wonderful freedom of adulthood. I can also tell you to go fuck yourself--GOD BLESS AMERICA.

If you are so worried that our house is going to sell for too little, spruce up the front of yours and be friendly during the open house--help us drive the damn price up.

Other than that? Shut it. I am not interested.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

House On Fire

Well. I shouldn't have jinxed us last night.

We had the inspection today and it wasn't good. It wasn't bad, I mean the house is eighty years old you know that it is not going to be in like-new condition. But there were some serious things that have to be fixed in order for us to move forward. And we don't really know whether or not the seller will agree to fix.

And if he doesn't we have to figure some things out. Walk away? Live with it? Lay down and cry? All options.

I mean this is why you pay for the inspection, so that there aren't any surprises later on. But still sucks.

I mean the fucking smoke detector didn't work for crying out loud. The inspector accidentally almost set fire to the place and not a peep from that little sucker. I FEEL SO SAFE.

And then more drama. Just drama that is stupid and upsetting and GOD I JUST HATE THE WORLD RIGHT NOW.

I am at a loss as of what to do I guess. Bashing some one's face in seems like a great option.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005


Y'all, our realtor gave us a three page list of things to do before we put our house on the market. He said that people usually do about a third of them. I am proud to say that we (thanks to J taking one for the team and taking a vacation day to finish some things) have done nearly every single one.

This is even more impressive because it is not like we started three weeks ago when he gave us the list. Or even before last week. No, in procrastination champ form we waited until we actually bought another house and had like four days to get our house on the market to even start.

But y'all, our house looks fucking fabulous. Parts of it don't even look lived in--quite a feat for two people who are totally fucking pigs. I don't mean that we are dirty. But we have to dogs and bang into walls and hang pictures and sometimes sometimes one of us MIGHT SMEAR GRAPE JELLY ON THE WALL. But that person has totally made up for that with his mad kitchen cleaning skillz.

Our house is bargain priced and gorgeous and some lucky sucker is going to snatch it up.

Hopefully this weekend.

Meanwhile I am eating ice cream and watching my Cubbies. Who are, mysteriously enough, playing well?

God I hope I didn't jinx it.

Monday, July 25, 2005

When Exactly Are We Going to Grow Up

I feel overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed by all that we have to do. Overwhelmed with the idea that we might be almost done. Overwhelmed that the house might not sell. Overwhelmed with my dear friends horrible shit storm marital problems. Overwhelmed with sadness for Monica.

I am tired just thinking about that.

It keeps taking me by surprise that we are all old enough to be dealing with this--friends dying, marriages breaking, possible terminal illnesses . . .I guess we aren't eighteen anymore.

A few years ago I used to get really upset about what my co-workers were up to. As a workaholic I would get so frustrated that people didn't work as hard or as fast or as well as I thought they should. I would waste so much time and energy worrying about that. Finally I realized that "eyes on your own paper" was the best policy. It is none of my business or concern what other people do with their time at work. That policy has served me well--I get more done, have less rage and behave like less of an asshole.

Now the people who harp on other people's work habits send me into a rage. Guess I never will grow up will I?

Funny how we can have adult problems and kid problems at the same damn time isn't it?

***This post has been heavily edited, which I never do, because I am an asshole. Long story short and all.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Can't Hardly Wait

So Operation Get This Fucking House Sold is getting closer to being underway. The outside of the house looks fabulous and about half of the inside is ready to go. We are both tired but feeling better.

I can't really get excited about it yet. Am freaking out that for some reason the real estate market, which has been red hot, will somehow go cold and no one will even come at look at our place.

J keeps reminding me that there were great reasons that we bought the place in the first place. The school system is excellent. We have the best lot in the neighborhood. My closet is the size of my first apartment. The floor plan is bright and open and very livable. He is right and I need to chill. But I just can't, am waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I just want us to get the house on the market before the weekend, and have some one make a full price offer the first day. I know that is ridiculous. But that is what I want.

As soon as the house sells I will become obsessed with new furniture and fencing and blah blah boring house shit. And I just can't wait.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

It Could Be, It Might Be, Maybe, Ours


Well supposedly and with our luck he will change his mind as some one will call and offer him cash tonight. But for the moment, it will be ours.

Things learned in the past 24 hours:

1. Getting a mortgage the second time is totally fucking easier. The first time it involved weeks of freak outs, the selling of our souls and some rubber-gloved exams up our asses. This time it took a couple of hours after two phone calls.

2. My dad is supportive when you think he will not be. When the guy was dicking with us (multiple times all day) my dad was like eh offer him a couple thousand more, he will shut up. This is an effective tactic.

3. You can actually make your yard look nice for less than a hundred bucks and it an about an hour. The project we thought would take all weekend was done before noon this morning. Looks fabulous, now we are down to 84,012 things to do over the next couple of days.

4. Buying another house makes you highly motivated to sell the one you own already. We had planned to put it up on 8/15, now we are shooting for Friday. We may have just bullied this guy into giving us until September but we could move tomorrow if the fucker sold.

5. People do not clean their houses. We went through half a dozen yesterday and some of these houses were so cluttered you couldn't breathe. I always thought some of the shit they tell you to do was sort of stupid, but once you have seen some one who has their daughter sleeping in the dining room you understand the shit that turns off buyers.

6. We actually just spend even more on a house than we did three years ago when we spent an amount that nearly gave us a stroke when we saw it spelled out. For those of you who do not own a house yet, DO NOT LOOK AT THE TOTAL ON THE LAST PAGE. Sign it blind or you will probably need medical attention.

7. I am a mental case who dreams about furniture now that the dreaming about a new house is over. When did I become the white trash Martha Stewart?

8. J and I get along famously when we like the same things and spend shit loads of money.

Friday, July 22, 2005

There Is Someplace Like Home

So y'all. House hunting.

We were so cute with the we-are-just-looking-the-market-up-north-isn't-so-hot-that-we-have-to-rush-into-anything talk.

So our realtor took us out. Just to look.

And we found it. The House. The house that I want. That we want. That we LOVE AND MUST HAVE OR WE WILL JUST DIE AND DIE.

Deep breaths.

This place is just a hair bigger than my house now. Our bedroom is double the size of the master in that place. It doesn't have a big giant closets. The living room is the same size I think, with a tiny dining room attached. A dining room that you will have to be careful about table size in or you will not be able to get up the stairs.

But it has a claw foot bathtub. And original moldings. A brand new kitchen. Gorgeous slate. A front porch. And we fell in love.

I know this is not a good idea.

We made an offer. An offer that will be rejected or accepted tomorrow morning.

Of course we haven't sold our place yet. Or even put it on the market and we cannot afford the house without selling this one.

But somehow I do not care. That house felt like home. I will survive if the deal falls through. I mean these things happen and other houses will come along.

I am just hoping that another place won't have to.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Oh God I Am A Jennifer Love Hewitt Movie

A house in my neighborhood, the exact same model but on a crappy lot (we have the best in the division) sold in one week for full price. Full price that was much higher than we had planned on selling ours.


Is it wrong that this brings out my lazy streak? I am like lets just clean the house and put it up. Don't bother fixing a thing.

But I know it will sell for more if we take care of a few things so we will.


I guess shopping for a house tomorrow isn't premature at all.

Can't hardly wait.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

I Will Roll Them On The Floor

We are planning to sell our house in two weeks. DEAR GOD THAT IS SOON. In our neighborhood houses are selling for full price in about a week so we have already started looking for a place. Getting the timing right is super tricky and I am sure we will mess it up. Everyone messes it up I bet.

Looking for the house is the fun part for me. I hate moving. HATE MOVING. Hate finding my new grocery store, hate packing, hate how my dogs act like maniacs because WHERE ARE YOU TAKING OUR STUFF! But I love looking at houses, at neighborhoods, at imagining what our lives could be like in a place.

J hates looking at houses.

He does alright at open houses, he is enthusiastic even. I have to give him credit for that, he is a trooper and almost always falls in love with what I want.

But he hates the process, the shopping part. He doesn't want to talk about streets, or how many bedrooms we want, he will not get into gory detail over and over with me. Thank GOD I have Monica or what would I do?

I try to respect his wishes. I really do. But he seems intent on spoiling this for me. He keeps saying that I am worrying too much that I am making things stressful. Somehow he has lost sight of the fact that while I am not out to torture him, I do not have to suppress my enjoyment of everything just to avoid rocking his boat.

He admitted that he is worried. Worried that what happened to us last time will happen again. When we bought this house I was hospitalized with kidney problems the week before. He had to pack our stuff, deal with my mother wigging on him, and dogsit for a friend of ours all by himself.

He really did earn the purple heart of moving.

To top it off our closing went as badly as it is possible to go--incompetent lenders, papers being lost, the whole gamut.

In his mind he dealt with it alone and you know he did have to do a lot more than his share. I mean I was the hysterical harpy that practically stalked our underwriter but he had to deal with me being a hysterical harpy so . . .

I can't guarantee it, but I really don't think that will happen again. Yes, things could go wrong. But not EVERY SINGLE THING. Not twice. At least I hope not.

And as much as he thinks he suffered, I am the one who had a fever of 104 and vomited uncontrollably for three days while taking extremely gross drugs and damaging my liver. Believe me, I hate packing but not enough to do that.

So we argued again about this shit. Which makes me crazy because we do not usually argue. And I know he is stressed about work and money and blah blah blah. So am I. But I swear, he hears everything I say cranked up about ten drama notches. When I ask, "Do you think we will have any problem getting a mortgage?" I do not mean OH MY GOD WE ARE NOT GOING TO GET A MORTGAGE ACK ACK ACK! I mean, last time really sucked, should we start now and try to make it easier on ourselves.

When I say, damn I am starting to worry we won't find a place, I am not actually worried about being homeless--I am just bummed because a house I wanted to see sold before we got there.

And I know I am being sensitive. I can't help it. He rolls his eyes at everything I say. This is a man who used to think I was smart and level headed and his equal. And now he acts like I am stupid and dramatic and not worthy of talking to.

I can already hear his response to this if he should ever read it (When did I SAY you were stupid and not my equal? IS THAT EXACTLY WHAT I SAID?). No dear, you never said that. But you know, it is hard not to feel that way when you dismiss my concerns and tell me I am just a drama queen. I am tired of you saying that. Do I get upset about things? YES. Am I neurotic? YES. But I do not try to create problems, I am a practical person and if you want to talk about some one being dramatic I would just like my dear husband to remember how he behaves every single time the Yankees lose a game to Boston. THE WORLD IS ENDING, THE DEVIL WEARS RED SOX!

It is a hard thing and I honestly do not know how to cope with it. I don't think it is an issue of our marriage really having problems, I think it is an issue where we are both being assholes but cannot seem to help ourselves.

But if everything goes right this will be the last time I buy a house for a long time. I want to savor the process--even though it is crazy and stressful. I want to find the right place, a place where I will be happy. My house now is lovely and fine and if J thinks it is his home than I am happy for him. But for me I was always thinking about our next stop. I know this attitude makes him nuts (which is pretty much why I am pissed at him--I am allowed to feel differently than you dear, that doesn't make you wrong, if you want you can just think it makes me wacko) but it is what it is.

He will stop rolling his eyes at me though. Or I will wack the back of his head hard enough to make them pop out.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Come Through For Me Google

God bless the internet. The sweet sweet internet that allows me to fool people into thinking I have a memory at all. The internet that answers all of the burning questions that pop into my head at least a dozen times a day. Who carries that Nivea deodorant I like? Who won the batting title in 1991? Should I panic if my shit is BLACK? (Total side note: but I remember being assigned a paper in high school that had to have one internet source in the bibliography, but it could only be from ENCARTA--for whippersnappers out there this was a stupid, out-of-date online encyclopedia--access to the internet to collect information from the seventies! PROGRESS IN EDUCATION).

But the internet is failing me. Because I have a very important question.

Can you hide something in the sale of your house? Like that people who purchase your home HAVE TO KEEP YOUR DOGS?

Because mine? Are totally available? You need a belly warmer, some one to part uselessly and incessantly? Just want to throw them into a pot with noodles?

They can be YOURS.

I was up in the middle of the night with stomach cramps that made me want to cut my intestines out with a knife. And my dogs swore on their surely innocent little souls that they HAD TO PEE AND WOULD BURST IF THEY WERE NOT ALLOWED OUT RIGHT THIS SECOND.

I took them out and they bolted for play time in the designated open space behind our house. This means that I had to find pants, find shoes and go out with a fucking flashlight to find them. And then Darla tried to steal my spot in the bed.

Maybe I will try the google phrase "dog abandonment--you too can pawn of your worthless dogs."

Monday, July 18, 2005

I Never Have Been, But I COULD BE

A very good friend of mine is having marital problems. Not of the I Hate My Husband Because He Leaves His Socks On The Floor And I Think I Am Going To Have To Suffocate Him For It variety but of the serious oh-shit kind.

She is my best friend in the world. And I am heartbroken for her. Whether they make it through this or not things are irreparably different from now on.

I also feel guilty. Because I didn't want her to marry him. And I didn't tell her.

I had good reason not to tell her, and I still won't. She would have married him anyway and I would have damaged our friendship. I like to think that I know her as well as I know myself, but I do not know the inner workings of their relationship. Perhaps this is just a bump, and the behavior I see as domineering, cruel and dickish is really just being misinterpreted. Or maybe he is just a big cocksucker.

Problem is he is her cocksucker. For better or for worse. I know, I was a bridesmaid.

I have seen this relationship from the beginning and have never really understood it. But I know there are people who look at me and J and don't get it either.

I want to tell her things will be ok. That they will survive this and grow old together and she will get everything she wants. But I know that it would not be true. To keep their marriage she might have to give up a few things. And to let it go is giving up something else altogether.

I think that this is the hardest part of being a friend. To know where the friendship ends and the out of bounds begins. All I know is she is my friend. I will never judge her harshly (except for those really ugly tapered jeans I found in her closet the last time I was there--UNACCEPTABLE). I refuse to judge her at all. I love her no matter what just as I know she loves me.

I hope that is enough.

And, for once, I hope I am wrong.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Out By Fall

I drank half a bottle of wine last night. Not even on purpose but apparently my balloon wine glasses are rather . . . large.

So I was a tipsy girl as I finished Harry Potter.

Damn that was a good book.

J and I went to an open house today. For a house we liked. But the person who was in there with us was making an offer for the full price and we honestly thought the house was a little overpriced. Especially since it is in the middle of a remodel that looked like it was being rushed.

But my little eagle-eyed husband spotted another house on the street (which we loved) which looks just about perfect. We are hoping to get to see it this week.


So we have to get working on this house. Just the little fixes and cleaning that you have to do to sell. Houses in this neighborhood are selling crazily fast. So hopefully ours will be no different and we can get out of here by fall.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

That Is More Better

Today was much better. Mostly because I do not have to go to Work Event for another year! WHEEE.

And, my mom and dad bought me lunch. I always love a free meal.

Plus, my daddy is the MVP and brought me wine. So I am drinking way too much wine in front of a fan and reading Harry Potter.

That is what I call a weekend.

Friday, July 15, 2005


Today was a hard day. I didn't sleep at all last night. Got up and went to the work event which I cannot get into here but is a very important event. Which involves a lot of people in a small face, all excited and running around (heh which totally sounds like I work in porn which sadly is not the truth, but how awesome would that be--to be like a costume designer for porn? imagine your resume! imagine the back story you would have to come up with for your grandmother!) and for whatever reason they did not have the air conditioning on high enough. I was sweaty and flushed and just really never felt good after that.

Ended up puking twice. Yeah. Good times!

After that it was better, I got through the event without humiliating myself which is excellent.

My mother bought me a delightful lunch which was FABULOUS, so that helped.

Took me more than hour to get home--which doesn't sound horrifying until you realize that I was only fifteen miles from my house. By the time I got home my feet were killing me, I was sweaty and tired and I just wanted to lay down. Unfortunately, I had dogs to walk. Dogs who had vomited in their crate and then Darla ROLLED IN IT. Poor thing, it was all dry and crusty and itchy. So we walked. And then she had a bath (FUN! I couldn't get harness off, Buster was taunting her and they ran around and around in the bathroom until I considered just opening the front door and letting them run to Florida. Or in front of a truck. BOTH WOULD BE FINE.

Then I got to clean up puke in a crate. WHEEE!

J was avoiding Friday traffic and got drunk watching baseball. Poor guy had to sit around until he could drive and was worried I would be pissed. PLEASE. You didn't drive drunk, you had fun watching baseball and you are not being a pain in my ass. I am thrilled with you (that is if you get home in time to iron my jacket for Work Event 2 Electric Bugaloo tomorrow and go get my Harry Potter book). What? He isn't my lackey?

But I did get home in time to watch Raffy hit his 3000th hit (and bawl, I am such a damn girl). And eat cereal and now I am going to take a very large sleeping pill and try not to vomit in my mouth.


Thursday, July 14, 2005

We Need a Rally Monkey

We lost our second softball game of the week tonight. The good news is that we rallied in the last inning to tie it up before giving up the winning run.

If the guys on our team could fucking hit we might win games. But damn, other than J and one other guy they all suck.

I was hitting rockets again today. It is like I know what I am doing (which we all know cannot be true). And I make a kick ass play at the play (look at me!). I sweating like you would not believe. And not from aerobic complaining! Look how well I am faking being athletic. GO ME!

Am dragging ass tired and have to get up extra early for a work event tomorrow. Have to work SATURDAY TOO. Believe that there is no god.

So I am sore, tired and wound up so I cannot sleep.

I am sure 5:00 will feel GOOD.

If I Were Her This Would Already Be On The Internet

Lost in my tales of marital bliss was one of the most gloriously stupid things I have ever done on an athletic field. As you can imagine that list is long and distinguished. It includes tripping and falling THREE times while running the mile in junior high. What was I tripping over? The world may never know. This list also includes a stunning turn playing first base where I kept trying to catch the ball with the wrong hand--you know, the one without the glove. Am BRILLIANT.
This was not as embarrassing as those things, as very few people noticed, possibly no one accept the other person involved.

The person I felt up while on the basepaths.

I freely acknowledge that I am possibly the worst baserunner the game has ever seen. I am slower than an ice burg, more likely to trip than even Clumsy Smurf and it is not like I am the most agile of girls either. I do not know how to slide, which somehow was never a problem in all of the years I have played on this team but has been a problem in nearly every game this year.

I was on second base the other night, a little tired because damn I was on the bases A LOT that game. And some one hit a blooper into left field. I went gunning to third--which is all relative so I am sure the fielders thought I was just strolling--and they throw it to their third baseman. Who is a very nice, friendly young women who is about to be molested for reasons that are still not clear.

She makes the force and sees me coming and normally to avoid a collision the runner should slide, but I CAN'T SLIDE AND MY HUSBAND CANNOT OR WILL NOT TEACH ME. So I run into her, not hard mind you because A) I do not run that hard--see above and B) I was trying to slow down. Problem is that for some reason I still do not know and could not explain for all of the chocolate ice cream in the world I had my arm stretched out.

And I totally grabbed her boob.

I do not know why. Why would I do such a thing? I mean, she was a nice looking girl but I manage to resist grabbing other boobs all day long so that cannot be it. I do not know why perhaps it is the revenge of the Softball Gods as they are getting revenge for me insulting their game by continuing to play despite overwhelming evidence that I shouldn't.
Of course I apologized. Over and over. I felt so bad I mean the girl must have thought I was a maniac.

As soon as we get into the car I turn to J and say, "I need to blog that."


"Shit, if she has a blog she is totally blogging that."

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

All The King Of Crying On Reality TV

Look! Now you too can buy the products of a drama queen blow hard!

Y'all, this man is the biggest cry baby wacko ever. On Sephora they talk about his products being the result of years of research--on his show the big drama is that they only have a few months. He cries at the drop of a hat. Some one buys his stuff and he cries. A celebrity gets their hair done and he cries. Some one kisses ass (which is constant, apparently he bursts into FLAMES if some one is not kissing his ass every fucking second) and he CRIES.

And he abuses the phrase "dream come true" more than even the girls on the Bachelor. I swear if he said something about this being a fairy tale I would think he was Trista for crying out loud.

He repeatedly abuses people who are trying to help him. He belittles the professionals who are trying to help him launch his products and then is SHOCKED when they manage to produce the results he was looking for. He is like that boss that everyone has had--the one that thinks he knows everything but really only knows that ONE THING. That one thing has made him a success so leave the bottle design to the pros honey. The drama is mostly fabricated and stupid. He throws a tantrum because some one touches his shoulder. In. His. Salon! He is scheduled to style two celebrities at the same time! His absolutely adorable (and I assume patient girlfriend) needs a haircut! He has never loved some one like this! For six weeks!

He is charming in a toolish way. I just wish he would stop bawling, seriously hairdressers around the country are clucking their tongues and saying, "Honey, did you have to make us look like such pussies?"

But, and I feel a lot of shame about this, he rocks the haircuts. I just love his medium "babe hair" and I have this crazy urge to grow mine out a bit, go to West Hollywood and pay an obscene amount of money for him to cut my hair and pronounce it "HOOOOOOOOOOT."

Bravo your subliminal messages have broken me! I bow down to Jonathan Anton!

And I want to try his products.

I know.

I know. But I am powerless again the allure of Better Hair. I own and use the Bible and it is has been very successful in breaking me of my stupid waste of money on skin care and makeup. But I am always looking for something new for my hair. Always wanting to try something new that will make it better, shinier, HOOOTTTTTERRRR.

I feel some shame about it, believe me, but I want to try his shit.

Oh Whatever J

Y'all take a moment to notice that my husband, who never fucking reads this page, has commented on the post below. I am assuming that his co-workers went running to him to tell him that I was mad, this has happened before and it is no big deal. It is funny, because my husband is sometimes too absorbed in his own little world to notice that I am trying to suffocate him with a pillow.

He, of course, sees the events of last night differently than I do. Whatever (clearly he is WRONG because if he wasn't than I would be WRONG and THAT JUST CANNOT BE TRUE). Anyone who thinks what I write here is completely unbiased and totally fair is just kidding themselves. I consider myself a fair person but damn, honestly baby, I tried to make you look good. Because you were an ass last night. I was Angel and Light and all that is GOOD.

Anyway, if J every gets his fucking panties out of a wad maybe we will kiss and make up. I can wait.

As bitchy as he is I probably will have to.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Enjoying the Silence

For those who don't come here for baseball induced rage I apologize for my little tantrum. I would like to take the easy way out and blame PMS or Problems At Home but really I think it is just unadulterated HATE for La Russa.

Though the whole anti-depressant angle is worth exploring since they have completely destroyed my appetite. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing except I can't really eat and it is not like I am dropping down to a size six here. Last night we went to Dick's and y'all know I love their burgers. And I couldn't finish mine. I COULDN'T FINISH. There is a sad sad country song in there somewhere which I hope some one with more talent and vision than me writes one day so I can stop living it.

The Problems At Home thing is happening as we are currently in what I like to call Biopolar Marriagefest 2005. We have just gotten into this stage where we just love love love each other and cannot get enough of each other's company or we want to rip each other's faces off.

Normally when we get into a tiff it is my role to go in and smooth things over. I usually do this gladly, as I do not mind and he cannot bring himself to do it. But today, after a very stupid shouting match where he got mad because I was just generally enraged (not at him at all mind you) and he decided to drive like a madman because he was so pissed I become So Very Tired Of This. My darling husband is a very passive aggressive person. I recognize this as his coping mechanism for dealing with his temper and there are times when I am grateful for it. But we are in the four month of his sullen, pissy, no-really-DO-WHATEVER-YOU-WANT-I-WILL-JUST-BE-UP-HERE-ANOTHER-JEW-NAILED-TO-A-CROSS mood at I am welcoming his silent treatment. Just walk the dogs and leave my ass alone, I have online poker to play and Vitamin A to put in my ears*.

Y'all do not worry your pretty heads about the AB marriage, we are solid little customers. We are both just too evil to be happy all the damn time and right now we are each imagining our lives as glamorous window(er)s. Tomorrow we will probably be writing love notes because of our gratitude of having found each other.

Bipolar Marriagefest is tiring y'all.

*My ears have continued to be all clogged and hurty and the internets tell me to put Vitamin A and cotton balls in my ears every night for a week. So far it has really made a difference, plus I totally cannot hear the dogs fight in bed at night. All Hail The Internets!

Monday, July 11, 2005

All Star

As a Cub's fan I am required by law to hate the Cardinals. They are our fiercest rivals, their city has an inferiority complex, and their mascot is really stupid and annoying. . the reasons are endless. But the biggest reason, one not dictated by Cubs Nation, but which I revel in, is Tony La Russa.

I hate Tony La Russa.

I would run him over with a bus gladly. Actually no, that is too fast, no time to enjoy that. Would rather just strap him to the lamp post in my yard and let my dogs pee on him for a few weeks. Extra treats if you can splash it up by his eyes BUSTER!

I believe in my heart of hearts that Tony La Russa is everything that is wrong with baseball. He gets a lot of bootlicking from basically everyone in sports. Sportscenter practically genuflects when he comes on screen. Even Joe Morgan, my favorite baseball analyst (who is generally pretty fair if you can get past his clear preference for the NL and his general namedropping--but the guy played on the Big Red Machine, he is bound to be biased, I wear high heels and I think women who can't hack them are pussies so I can't fault him for griping about the designated hitter. Much) worships at the alter of La Russa. He practically gets down and sucks his cock whenever he can. All in the name of "he does things the Right Way."

I don't understand what he does that is so right. He wins a lot of games but I think that is more due to the amazing offenses that his executives have put in his hands. With his lineup you really should win a crapload of games. If you don't you should just change your name to Larry Bowa.

A lot of blather goes on about the strategy of NL games, how that is what is missing from AL games. And how La Russa is the Master of this All Important Strategy. Now I am not an expert, but in the games I have watched it does not seem like a strategy so much as a blind adherence to certain number games that may or may not make sense. If every announcer can accurately call ahead of time if you are going to pull a double switch you aren't being strategic you are following a pattern. One that doesn't always make sense. I have see La Russa do a double switch--pulling the bat out of the hands of a hot hitter--just to get the righty-on-righty/lefty-on-lefty combination. Never mind if the new hitter or pitcher is a good match up for that at-bat. He can't resist the tinkering just for tinkering sake.

I have seen him have Albert Pujols sacrifice bunt. ALBERT PUJOLS. I may argue angrily that people are not giving my boy Derek Lee enough credit for his amazing season but there is no getting around Albert Pujols being one of the best hitters in the game. And pulling the bat out of his hands just strikes me as stupid. Especially since he rarely strikes and is speedy enough to rarely get doubled off. You are giving away outs for no reason. Strategy is great if it wins ballgames--no matter what the dorks at Sportscenter says even the geekiest among us do not tune in to see strategy--but not just not for strategy's sake.

The man made Chris Carpenter the starting pitcher for the All Star game. With plans to pitch him five innings. CHRIS CARPENTER. Who has had a fine season, a great season even, and I know that the managers always take a couple of their own players that really don't deserve it. BUT MY GOD. You have Roger Clemens are your disposal, you have Dontrelle Willis, and you go with Chris Carpenter. That right there is what is wrong with him, this tunnel vision of what he thinks is correct that has no root in logic or numbers or performance. The I-Am-A-Baseball-God-Because-Sportscenter-Says-So complex that he wears like a badge of honor.

St. Louis' display in the World Series last fall should have been their biggest humiliation in that franchise's history. That team is one of the most storied in baseball. And they just LAYED DOWN in front of Boston. And I place that entirely at the feet of Tony La Russa. Before the Series had even begun he had started creating excuses why the Cardinals couldn't win: the Red Sox had momentum (never mind that St. Louis had just finished its own Battle Royale with Houston), no one watches the NL Championship (whatever) and they didn't have home field advantage (ditto). Once they lost the first game he spent the entire press conference saying that the Red Sox couldn't lose. Way to MOTIVATE YOUR TEAM JACKHOLE.

If the manager doesn't think the team can win why on earth would the players think they could? That Series should have been the clash of the two greatest offenses in baseball. The ultimate meeting of two different styles of play, what La Russa gave us was a anti-climatic snore of a Series that was only interesting to see the Sox win. And to see him look like he was going to puke as they celebrated on his field.

La Russa has won a lot of games in the Major Leagues. A LOT. Which I suppose should give him some cred. But as the anointed He Who Does Things Right I would like to point out something my dear dear husband mentioned to me. For a guy who acts outraged about modern influences like trainers and technologically advanced equipment and yes STEROIDS he certainly showed no qualms about managing teams full of players using those substances.

La Russa's big claims to fame came in Oakland during the 80's. Starring the Bash Brothers. And even if you only believe half of what Jose Conseco is selling you know that more than a couple of A's players were using. And if you think an anal-retentive, control freak nutjob like La Russa didn't know that his big bats were using than you are more naive than I can imagine. I personally think that we cannot indict players for drugs they may have used twenty-years ago, nor do I think we should discount records set in the last fifty years (like the big jerkoffs who whine about the sanctity of the game and think that no one who played after 1960 was worth anything--Babe Ruth abused alcohol and played in a diluted league, most of the league used amphetamines and other drugs and thought nothing of it, those have a proven affect on baseball unlike steroid use) but if Mister High And Mighty HOW DARE THEY MAKE A SINGLE CHANGE TO MY GAME WE SHOULD STILL BE WEARING WOOL FLANNEL UNIFORMS AND ONLY PLAY DURING THE DAY can sneer about Barry Bonds and those unproven charges than he needs to account for the Jose Consecos and the Mark McGuires and god knows who else. You built your reputation on their backs so just shut your hole.

I am glad that La Russa is pitching Carpenter. It proves my point and if he gets shelled (and I am not sure who wouldn't given the AL lineup) and the NL loses the game it suits me just fine. I don't think my Cubbies are going anywhere and I would prefer the Cardinals not be given any advantages in the post season. It is not like they would make any good use of them anyway.

We lost our softball game tonight, loosening our deathgrip on first place. I rocked the house going 4-4 and even blocking the plate for a play at home. J is now bragging about his mad coaching skills. I am thinking that maybe fucking La Russa might be calling me up.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Voices in My Head

God. Lindsay Lohan really looks like shit in her new video doesn't she? Also, her publicist should really convince her not to try and dance. She looks like CC from Poison.

Shit that went through my head while I was at the gas station yesterday that I am too lazy to write up in a funny or humorous way:

1. I really need to get my teeth fixed. The front one is all chipped and jacked up. I could wait until after Halloween though--I could be a witch, with my black clothes and fucked up teeth I would just need the hat. If Halloween is the week before my period I won't even need makeup.

2. Witches really do have the best accessories though. I mean the hat alone.

3. Gas is so fucking expensive, when I got my license it was like a dollar a gallon. Which made doing the math so easy. And seven bucks could get me through most of the week. Gas is $2.40 now, that makes the math SO HARD.

4. God I sound like my dad talking about when he learned to drive gas was a dime a nickel a gallon and milk was a dime a gallon and how crazy the world is now that if you could invent a car that ran on milk instead of gas it would totally be fucking cheaper.

5. I could just poke myself in the eyes for making myself like my dad in yet another way. I have his big giant head and tiny tiny hands. ISN'T THAT ENOUGH?

6. Why does J only drink two swallows of water out of a bottle and then leave the damn things in my car? Is he trying to prepare for us to be trapped in that car in some sort of apolcolyptical incident?

7. I really need a pedicure.

8. Fucking tanning booth has given me HIGHLIGHTS IN MY EYEBROWS.

9. If I win the lottery I think I would take a long vacation. After running around on the street screaming like a maniac.

10. And get my mom a Tivo. She really needs a Tivo so she can watch Perry Mason.

Maybe my anti-depressants are working a little too well?

Saturday, July 09, 2005

No Wedding Singer?

Things learned by attending a friend's wedding that I am too lazy to write in a funny and sensical manner:

1. If you were in a sorority in college and had a bunch of a girls you got drunk with all the time they will totally show up half drunk and needing to wear a bra.

2. Not that this is a bad thing at all.

3. Even if you are a bitchy cynic like myself you will cry when you watch your friend cry because she was is so happy. You will hate yourself a little but YOU ARE NOT MADE OF STONE.

4. If you always look plain and boring when you finally wear something cute everyone will act like you are a supermodel.

5. You need to keep your voice down if you and your husband are checking out the racks of all of the chicks at the wedding.

6. You will laugh at your friend who was wearing something made by JLo.

7. Personalized wine bottles are the best wedding favor EVER. And you will kick yourself the entire drive home for leaving yours on the table.

8. Bridesmaids everywhere are incredibly stupid when tanning before a wedding. If your dress is a strapless DO NOT WEAR A HALTER BIKINI TOP. You will look cheap, stupid and some horrible petty people who may or may not be me will make fun of you at the service, at the reception and on the way home.

9. Dads who are a little shell shocked that their little girl just got married should not make toasts. They will ramble on for HOURS and say many uncomfortable, bizarre and borderline offensive things. However, if you drink during the entire toast this will be funny--it is not your dad after all.

10. If you have to stop at a rest stop on your way home you will attract a lot of attention in your cocktail dress and gold heels. Especially if you are a hair tipsy. And if you flash part of the parking lot getting out of the car.

11. You won't care. You really had to pee.

12. You will be so happy for your friend that you could burst.

13. You will thank god that you married a man who will stop at a rest stop even though you should have totally peed before you left, will fight with you on the way to the reception and make out with you on the way out and who will notice all kinds of petty things so you can mock people all the way home.

14. You will be so grateful that you never have to get married again.

Friday, July 08, 2005


When we got home tonight J fell right to sleep on the couch. I ran errands and went tanning and came home and he was still asleep. We had planned to go to a movie but he hadn't been feeling well so I just let him sleep. I watched the Cubs game, played some WebBoggle and started to unwind.

Then he comes up after two hours and wants to leave RIGHT NOW for the movie. The movie was starting at 9:40. The man has been married to me for four years--he knows damn well that I barely even like movies and am not going anywhere at ten o'clock when I got up at six am for work. Because I Am Old.

But he starts screeching about this Revelry nonsense and PULLING MY COVERS AWAY like I am in the fucking navy. I am a civilian you MOTHERFUCKER I am not part of your CRAZY POST-COLD WAR MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX. I AM A PEACEFUL WOMAN WHO USES TO MANY FUCKING CAPITALS.

I went downstairs for a well-deserved popsicle and found. A. Disaster. The freezer door must have been left open slightly because everything in there was melted and defrosted and HORRIFYING. We had no delightful frozen treats. We are WITHOUT POPSICLES!!!

A quick trip down for a snack became a forty-five minute ordeal of chipping ice out of the freezer, throwing out food and mopping up a crapload of water. I made J come down and help me move the fridge because I was afraid there was standing water underneath. You know, we want to sell the house next month and maybe we should try to prevent any extensive water damage. He bitched and bitched that there wasn't any water and why did I have to be so dramatic and even after we pulled it out and there CLEARLY WAS STANDING WATER he stood there and denied it was there.

What is wrong with him? Brain damage? Blindness? I do not know. What I do know is that I wanted to throw him in the garbage can with my now melty popsicles.

Forty-five minutes later I had an empty freezer and no snack. And a husband standing there saying, "You know, if we had just gone to Fantastic Four like I wanted this never would have happened."

Future Hot Librarians of America

The college I went to was (and I imagine still is) a strange place. It is the kind of place where every girl attending was in the top 2% of her class. The kinds of girls who maybe stayed in and studied on Friday nights in high school but got to college in a small town where no one knew them? And made up for lost time.

People think that women who go to women's colleges are ugly--in my experience it is the opposite. In fact, there were so many pretty girls that we started calling ourselves the Future Hot Librarians of America.

So, as you might expect, every man within a thirty mile radius of the place spent a remarkable amount of time driving past it. A two lane highway runs right through the middle of campus, with a blinking light signal for the crosswalk. Men will always drive very slowly and stop at the crosswalk.

One sunny day a young high school crashed his truck onto the sidewalk in front of the theatre. A French girl had been sunbathing topless in front of her residence hall. The best part of all of this? His daddy was a minister. He was also in the passenger seat and staring so hard that he didn't even notice the kid veering off the road.

We did take advantage of the local boys--something that I do not feel bad about and imagine that they enjoyed. I was a receptionist in my hall and so I knew every single boy that came in and knew where all of the parties. I could also convince these guys to throw us parties and buy us all the liquor we wanted--I just had to guarantee that I could get at least ten girls to come.

My best friend T and I trashed half a dozen coffee tables that spring. We had a tradition of dancing on top of them during the parties--and making every girl there get up with us. We never gave a second thought to scratching them or the one that had the glass center we broke. I would feel bad about that except these were single guys in their twenties--the tables were probably worth about five bucks. And one guy (who hosted our most memorable party that involved us kissing the deer head hanging on his living room wall and an inspired dance to "I Will Survive) took the top off of his and made it into a wall hanging. Like a fucking trophy.

I had a great time in high school and dated and had a normal social life. But until I got to college I had no idea what fucking fools men were. That you didn't have to be particularly pretty or interesting (though of course we were all gorgeous and fabulous), you just had to show up and bring a friend. I learned to just lean back, take another shot and enjoy myself.

And also how to do a killer table dance.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Voting Outrage

I am heartbroken over what has happened in London. I do not have anything special or profound to say about it. What is especially sad is that Londoners do not seem shocked, they have been prepared for this for a long time.

In the U.S we still like to pretend that these things can't happen, won't happen, despite evidence to the contrary.

I don't think that anyone who works in a city will feel safe for a while.

On a less depressing note, I am SO PISSED about Dancing With the Stars.

They fucking rigged that shit!

Was I the only one that thought Kelly's freestyle sucked eggs? She fucking fell over twice. I mean I know she has great boobs but the other couple was so much better.


How could they spoil such fabulous entertainment? I mean it was practically a perfect show. They kicked Trista I-Am-Such-a-Fucking-Attention-Whore 0ff the first episode (man, she was horrible last night, I mean you had another six weeks to practice, why don't you figure that shit out). And Evander Hollified was doing the JIVE! I mean, this is must see TV.

So why fuck it by rigging it so Miss Oops I Dropped My Top would win?

Who do they think they are? American Idol.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Is That A Gray Hair I See?

Sign #912 that I am just getting too "Damn those crazy kids!" for my own good: every time I go to the tanning booth I have to change the radio station.

And turn the damn thing down.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

No Show Motherfuckers

Dear Team That We Were Supposed To Play Tonight From A Company That rhymes With Meal Payer,

I hate you you dirty motherfuckers, oh I do.

I know that we kicked your ass around the field last year. I know that you were pitiful and sad and probably embarrassed. But that is no damn reason on earth for NO ONE from your team to show up for the game tonight. That is your whole team deciding not to show. We had the early game, which means that people left work early to get there on time and then you no-show us.

It is a six week season, and you fucked us out of a game.

We are totally going to egg your team during the playoffs.



We had practice in the rain though. I got two fly balls!! Look at me pretending I know how to play. And I hit the fucking shit out of the ball. But I did something fucked up to my hand, it is all bruised and swollen. My right hand, so of course it I am typing all gimpy.

But still blogging. Because I am tough. Or possibly stupid.

Monday, July 04, 2005

I Think I Can Name My Price

When my sister was in junior high she had a boyfriend that looked exactly like the lead singer of Def Leppard. Only with black hair.

At the time we all thought she was so lucky.

But when I watch the Behind the Music, I think she should be paying me to keep that shit quiet.

What I Learned Over My Summer Vacation

Things I learned this holiday weekend:

1. J and I can eat no watermelon or a whole watermelon, we are physically incapable of eating just part of a watermelon. Even though we know it will cause an ass explosion. We taunt the ass explosion, "BRING IT ON BITCH!"

2. Even when it is 80 degrees in my house my mother will keep on her jacket and talk about how cold she is.

3. J will burn the fuck out of his shoulders and though it will take more than one night to tan out, he will be darker from that one afternoon than I am from weeks of careful tanning booth attendance.

4. It is entirely possible for me to sleep eleven hours a day. It is a challenge that I will gladly take on. Even if I feel like a lazy trollop because J is working in the yard.

5. Men's underwear rib tanks are way cuter than the ones that cost double in the women's department. Those and cute jeans are all I ever want to wear.

6. My hair is long enough to put in a ponytail if I let it get dirty enough and use a hairband.

7. Do not look at the crap that J powerwashed off of the deck, it will make you sick.

8. Do not look at the pictures of my grandmother's award ceremony before bed--or you will dream about her oddly yellow wig attacking Grandpa.

9. Juice bars have three times as many calories and no additional nutritional value to popsicles, just eat the fucking popsicles.

10. It is not possible to watch enough baseball.

I love three day weekends.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Don't Send Me To Canada

I hesitate to admit this, but I really hate the Fourth of July.

Don't get me wrong, I love having a holiday from work, enjoy a good barbecue, adore the white sale at Target and can eat an entire watermelon all on my own. But I loathe, just loathe fireworks.

Since we live in a rural area, the popping started earlier this week. Firecrackers are illegal, of course, but since we live in an unincorporated part of the county, a sheriff would have to come out to enforce it--which is just not going to happen. We also live about ten feet off of an Indian reservation. You know they are selling crazy shit up there when the first question they ask you at any of those stands is, "You FBI?"

I don't enjoy fireworks at all. I mean, yes, some of the displays are pretty, but overall I find even the most elaborate shows pretty boring. And the noise and smoke and crowds just make the whole thing too much effort altogether. Darla and I are up in bed becoming more and more irritated with every fucking BOOM.

When I was younger my family would sometimes go to this giant family reunion over the Fourth of July. It is the kind of weekend that is incredibly fun when you are young and extremely boring as you get older. There were an alarming number of relatives--since my mother's family seems to have thousands of children each. It was held at a ranch so you never really felt like you got clean. But there was great food, lots of games and then a huge fireworks show.

The first couple of years it was nice enough Mostly professionally done, with a few people shooting off their own. But after a few years the ranch filled up with local people, so that everyone was elbow to elbow and people shot things off willy-nilly. Practically at each other.


Seriously. Was brought up to fear firecrackers which is why I am twenty-six and have all my fingers. And I just hated how scary that fireworks show got. And I really haven't enjoyed the Fourth since.

So I think I will spend tomorrow watching baseball, shopping for towels and then with big earphones to block the noise out.

Friday, July 01, 2005

My Little Pudding Pop

We played softball until almost eleven last night. I didn't get to sleep until after midnight.


Big headache and I would have sold my soul just to be able to roll into work in jeans and flip flops. Sadly the stupid dress code dictated that I had to get up and put on a blazer and heels.

Right now I am just happy to be home watching World Poker Tour and eating Oreos.

I have an almost unreasonable crush on Gus Hansen. I do not know if it is his bald head or his vaguely stupid poker name the Great Dane. Or that he is just such a bad ass. But I have had many a hormonally driven dream about playing strip poker with him. Sometimes, if it is a good night, there is pudding involved.

I cannot believe I just told the internets about wanting to lick pudding off of a poker player.