Just so you know I was not nervous during the entire finale of Cheerleader Nation. And I did not cry a little. A shriek.
Just for the record that never happened.
Goddamn, how do their parents do it? I need a drink.
Friday, April 28, 2006
GODDAMN
Buster is SO VERY angry right now. Two children are out on the sidewalk playing with a large plastic truck and The Must Be STOPPED.
His pitiful little voice is all worn out from the yowling. And I am considering using duct tape to seal his mouth shut.
Oh not really.
I mean I am really considering doing it but I won't.
Probably.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Open Letter to LWWISDITEWFTFWHP
Dear Lovely Woman Who I See Daily In The Elevator Who Floods The Floor With Her Perfume,
Miss LWWISDITEWFTFWHP, I am sure you are so lovely, it is even in your name. You seem polite, you hold the door open when some one is sprinting for the elevator, you have a handbag I would spike my husband in the nuts for and you always look people in the eye. You seem like good egg.
Why do you insist on wearing layer upon layer of Michael Kors? Yes, Sephora calls it "warm and wearable," but I am fairly certain they did not mean the whole bottle. I love the strange little orange man too, he is a DELIGHT on Project Runway, but I think his empire is ok. You do not need to buy the lotion, the powder, the shower gel, the deodorant and the perfume and wear all at once.
I used to love that perfume. It struck me as sophisticated but still youthful, at least until Linda told me her mother wears it and now it is all Korean grandma all the time, but still you would have ruined it for me.
I can smells you whether we share the elevator or not. I can tell when you have been to the restroom. Sometimes I think I can tell if you have been to the employee cafeteria and those fuckers abuse cilantro in a serious way so you would think that would drown it out. But you cannot stop the Kors.
I am begging you to stop the Kors. Your assault on my sinuses has gone on long enough. I beg of you, please, try something new like SOAP.
You are so sweet, and really that handbag is GORGEOUS. Please do not make me bludgeon you with a hammer or spray you with faux skunk smell to get you to stop. I like to believe we above such things.
Don't test me.
Your loving not even a co-worker we just work on the same damn floor you would think that the square footage would fucking protect me,
AB
Miss LWWISDITEWFTFWHP, I am sure you are so lovely, it is even in your name. You seem polite, you hold the door open when some one is sprinting for the elevator, you have a handbag I would spike my husband in the nuts for and you always look people in the eye. You seem like good egg.
Why do you insist on wearing layer upon layer of Michael Kors? Yes, Sephora calls it "warm and wearable," but I am fairly certain they did not mean the whole bottle. I love the strange little orange man too, he is a DELIGHT on Project Runway, but I think his empire is ok. You do not need to buy the lotion, the powder, the shower gel, the deodorant and the perfume and wear all at once.
I used to love that perfume. It struck me as sophisticated but still youthful, at least until Linda told me her mother wears it and now it is all Korean grandma all the time, but still you would have ruined it for me.
I can smells you whether we share the elevator or not. I can tell when you have been to the restroom. Sometimes I think I can tell if you have been to the employee cafeteria and those fuckers abuse cilantro in a serious way so you would think that would drown it out. But you cannot stop the Kors.
I am begging you to stop the Kors. Your assault on my sinuses has gone on long enough. I beg of you, please, try something new like SOAP.
You are so sweet, and really that handbag is GORGEOUS. Please do not make me bludgeon you with a hammer or spray you with faux skunk smell to get you to stop. I like to believe we above such things.
Don't test me.
Your loving not even a co-worker we just work on the same damn floor you would think that the square footage would fucking protect me,
AB
Monday, April 24, 2006
Cubs Euphoria
My dogs are howling and the neighbors are boggling at the screaming in my house during the eighth inning of this. Jacque Jones I knew you had it in you. Matt Murton, you are making me reconsider my distaste for redheads.
It was the kind of gorgeous day in Seattle that makes people flee their office at noon--there are only like two such delightful days per years. The dogs and I spent a lovely hour in the back yard eating chili, peeing on blackberry bushes and taking photos of the train yard behind my house (I will let y'all guess who was doing what).
I truly had something to post here but for the life of me I can't recall what because I am all bubbleheaded from the Cubs coming from behind. I know they are just cockteasing me (is that possible as I don't have a cock? I doubt J would loan his for this purpose) and will be below .500 very soon but still. God bless them.
Somehow I will try to not flash my boobs at them when we are in San Francisco.
It was the kind of gorgeous day in Seattle that makes people flee their office at noon--there are only like two such delightful days per years. The dogs and I spent a lovely hour in the back yard eating chili, peeing on blackberry bushes and taking photos of the train yard behind my house (I will let y'all guess who was doing what).
I truly had something to post here but for the life of me I can't recall what because I am all bubbleheaded from the Cubs coming from behind. I know they are just cockteasing me (is that possible as I don't have a cock? I doubt J would loan his for this purpose) and will be below .500 very soon but still. God bless them.
Somehow I will try to not flash my boobs at them when we are in San Francisco.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Sunday Update
Softball re-started today and the AB household . . .had a rough night. I kept hitting line drives at people. J hit the crap out of the ball but took a line drive to the shin that has him walking around gimpy. He still managed to flirt with their hot first baseman (I have to give him credit, she was very purdy and here he was an injured hero) and cry out for attention so I expect he will be good as new (with an impressive bruise) within a couple of days. If not I will just amputate the leg with some nail scissors and fix him up right quick.
We did win though so the leg would not be lost in vain. And I didn't have to play second, which is important.
***
My hair is still enormous so that post is coming. Am trying very hard not to cut it off. But so tempting. I miss my short messy hair.
***
I made some seriously excellent chili (inspired my Miss Linda) on Saturday and we have been eating that for every meal. Breakfast of chili with cheese and crackers is GOOD. Not the classiest I suppose. I am only worried that we are going to run out soon and SADLY that means I am going to have to cook something else.
Perhaps waffles.
We did win though so the leg would not be lost in vain. And I didn't have to play second, which is important.
***
My hair is still enormous so that post is coming. Am trying very hard not to cut it off. But so tempting. I miss my short messy hair.
***
I made some seriously excellent chili (inspired my Miss Linda) on Saturday and we have been eating that for every meal. Breakfast of chili with cheese and crackers is GOOD. Not the classiest I suppose. I am only worried that we are going to run out soon and SADLY that means I am going to have to cook something else.
Perhaps waffles.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Mixed Bag
Sometimes I get all obsessive because my mom irritates me. And then sometimes I just want to write her a serious love poem about why she is the awesomest. Those times include today, because I just talked to her an hour about all the crazy books I read growing up in that house and how she really needs new shoes in the right shade of coral and why we as a family are fucking failures at networking and how I am going to buy my dad a big pizza cutter for Father's Day so he can open all the windows in my house that are painted shut since he keeps bragging it is so easy.
In other words my mom is as erratic and exhausting as me.
We sat here and talked and I ate chips and salsa just like I have been all evening while J cleans the whole house. I mean the kitchen is just fabulous. I don't know what possessed him or how I resisted the urge to pitch in. Actually I do know, I had a real shitter of a day--one where I alternated between wild-eyed optimism and stoned faced certainty about the doom that is about to unfold. And my period is late and I have very weird looking acne on my chin and I really need a haircut (hold on Frank, I feel a hair entry coming!). It just was not my best day and My Role clearly was to watch What Not To Wear and then talk to my mother while eating most of a jar of Pace picante and also a grapefruit.
Just the thing for some one who belongs on the bland diet.
So all my Zen early in the week about how it sucked to our friend and how lucky I am is still sort of true except many of the good things I had allowed myself to believe would happen probably are not going to and I am Sad About That. And possibly Angry. Do you see the capitals? And the situation with our friend is worse even though he probably thinks it is better I know differently. That noise you hear in the background is the whistle of the train that is going to take his ass down in a month or two if we can't pull him off the tracks.
Did I put that in vague enough terms?
So yeah, shitty day, but my mother is frankly delightful. And my husband is trying desperately to put out and well, I will leave it at that.
In other words my mom is as erratic and exhausting as me.
We sat here and talked and I ate chips and salsa just like I have been all evening while J cleans the whole house. I mean the kitchen is just fabulous. I don't know what possessed him or how I resisted the urge to pitch in. Actually I do know, I had a real shitter of a day--one where I alternated between wild-eyed optimism and stoned faced certainty about the doom that is about to unfold. And my period is late and I have very weird looking acne on my chin and I really need a haircut (hold on Frank, I feel a hair entry coming!). It just was not my best day and My Role clearly was to watch What Not To Wear and then talk to my mother while eating most of a jar of Pace picante and also a grapefruit.
Just the thing for some one who belongs on the bland diet.
So all my Zen early in the week about how it sucked to our friend and how lucky I am is still sort of true except many of the good things I had allowed myself to believe would happen probably are not going to and I am Sad About That. And possibly Angry. Do you see the capitals? And the situation with our friend is worse even though he probably thinks it is better I know differently. That noise you hear in the background is the whistle of the train that is going to take his ass down in a month or two if we can't pull him off the tracks.
Did I put that in vague enough terms?
So yeah, shitty day, but my mother is frankly delightful. And my husband is trying desperately to put out and well, I will leave it at that.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Not Worth Anything
Sometimes I have these spasms of guilt. I think about things that I have done or said--usually years ago--that I wish I could take back. I either didn't mean it or was just an asshole, but it has been so long that I know that the other person probably doesn't even remember it. I am not talking about "I am sorry I ran over your dog" (which NO) but more of "I'm sorry I said that the mascara made you look like a hooker and hurt your feelings, I mean we were twelve but STILL." I guarantee you that girl doesn't remember me saying that fifteen years ago but I remember it. And I feel badly.
I don't know where this comes from. In some ways I think it is a good thing, it is good to worry about others. It is good to feel an obligation to be a good person. But in other ways it is like an oppressive weight. I worry too much about what other people think, how they will feel. And my remorse for the little things later isn't even about this other person any more. It is just arrogant and self-absorbed. It isn't that I want them to forgive me, I just want to feel like a good person.
Which doesn't actually make any of that worth a shit.
I don't know where this comes from. In some ways I think it is a good thing, it is good to worry about others. It is good to feel an obligation to be a good person. But in other ways it is like an oppressive weight. I worry too much about what other people think, how they will feel. And my remorse for the little things later isn't even about this other person any more. It is just arrogant and self-absorbed. It isn't that I want them to forgive me, I just want to feel like a good person.
Which doesn't actually make any of that worth a shit.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Magic Food
Every day I make decisions. How to spend large amounts of money. What is important and what is not.
But my toughest decision happens at lunch.
As in what to eat for it.
My digestive system is . . .errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr temperamental. And food is just an adventure to me. I could go on the bland diet, which is recommended for Crohn's, but I actually like eating and bland diet is a soul-sucking thing I would like to avoid until my entrails are about to squirt out my ass. I like food. But sometimes it doesn't like me.
Finding the magical combination that will not make me cramp up in agony is an adventure. There doesn't seem to be a pattern to it. Sometimes Mexican seems like the worst idea possible but chili is ok. I have to pay incredible attention to how my body is feeling at that moment to make a guess about how to feed it.
There are certain magic foods, like saltines with butter and apples with peanut butter and a certain raisin vanilla toast, that always work. No matter what I can eat them and be assured that I will not DIE. The problem is I have learned through experience that foods lose their magic if I eat them too often.
My best lunch option right now is this veggie soup that is full of vegetables that I wouldn't normally eat but love in this soup. It has no fat and is full of vitamins. It never kills me and makes me feel virtuously healthy. It is perfection in a paper bowl.
Sadly, I have to ration it out to myself like diamonds. You never know how long the magic will last.
But my toughest decision happens at lunch.
As in what to eat for it.
My digestive system is . . .errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr temperamental. And food is just an adventure to me. I could go on the bland diet, which is recommended for Crohn's, but I actually like eating and bland diet is a soul-sucking thing I would like to avoid until my entrails are about to squirt out my ass. I like food. But sometimes it doesn't like me.
Finding the magical combination that will not make me cramp up in agony is an adventure. There doesn't seem to be a pattern to it. Sometimes Mexican seems like the worst idea possible but chili is ok. I have to pay incredible attention to how my body is feeling at that moment to make a guess about how to feed it.
There are certain magic foods, like saltines with butter and apples with peanut butter and a certain raisin vanilla toast, that always work. No matter what I can eat them and be assured that I will not DIE. The problem is I have learned through experience that foods lose their magic if I eat them too often.
My best lunch option right now is this veggie soup that is full of vegetables that I wouldn't normally eat but love in this soup. It has no fat and is full of vitamins. It never kills me and makes me feel virtuously healthy. It is perfection in a paper bowl.
Sadly, I have to ration it out to myself like diamonds. You never know how long the magic will last.
Meme
A meme from a tag from Linda:
20 years ago I:
1. Had several pairs of legwarmers, including ones that had matching sweaters.
2. Had a violent and unusual allergic reaction to penicillin which means DAMNIT there are nude photos of me somewhere. Except I am in seven in them. And covered in weird purple sores.
3. Ate popsicles for breakfast. Whenever my mom would let me which was pretty often because she really wanted me to eat breakfast.
10 years ago I:
1. Was in shock after two classmates were decapitated in a car accident.
2. Was already mentally packing up to leave for college that summer.
3. Dyed a purple stripe in my hair to match my prom dress.
5 years ago I:
1. Was still a newlywed.
2. Quit my job, that we really needed, because my boss stood on my desk and urinated.
3. Took out my tongue ring for good.
3 years ago I:
1. Started blogging.
2. Was the sole support of our little family (and was being crushed under the weight of it).
3. Decided to become Jewish.
1 year ago I:
1. Was panicking about finding a new job.
2. Was mourning the death of a friend.
3. Switched to Blogger.
Yesterday I:
1. Bought a cute new jacket that made me feel Springy.
2. Read The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green.
3. Got 4 100% scores on the crossword.
Today I:
1. Wore my cute new Springy jacket.
2. Freaked out about my job because I am a big old worrier.
3. Sat silently as a drunk on the bus called us all "honky bitch cunts who should have your throats slit" instead of punching him in the face.
Tomorrow I:
1. Will email the bus company and complain that the driver didn't throw him off, even after he started puking on himself.
2. Try to not worry so much.
3. Finish a class on Aish that I have been putting off.
In the next year I:
1. Will read fifty books.
2. Go on a vacation.
3. Finally finish my conversion.
In the next minute I will tag:
Tara
Tonya
20 years ago I:
1. Had several pairs of legwarmers, including ones that had matching sweaters.
2. Had a violent and unusual allergic reaction to penicillin which means DAMNIT there are nude photos of me somewhere. Except I am in seven in them. And covered in weird purple sores.
3. Ate popsicles for breakfast. Whenever my mom would let me which was pretty often because she really wanted me to eat breakfast.
10 years ago I:
1. Was in shock after two classmates were decapitated in a car accident.
2. Was already mentally packing up to leave for college that summer.
3. Dyed a purple stripe in my hair to match my prom dress.
5 years ago I:
1. Was still a newlywed.
2. Quit my job, that we really needed, because my boss stood on my desk and urinated.
3. Took out my tongue ring for good.
3 years ago I:
1. Started blogging.
2. Was the sole support of our little family (and was being crushed under the weight of it).
3. Decided to become Jewish.
1 year ago I:
1. Was panicking about finding a new job.
2. Was mourning the death of a friend.
3. Switched to Blogger.
Yesterday I:
1. Bought a cute new jacket that made me feel Springy.
2. Read The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green.
3. Got 4 100% scores on the crossword.
Today I:
1. Wore my cute new Springy jacket.
2. Freaked out about my job because I am a big old worrier.
3. Sat silently as a drunk on the bus called us all "honky bitch cunts who should have your throats slit" instead of punching him in the face.
Tomorrow I:
1. Will email the bus company and complain that the driver didn't throw him off, even after he started puking on himself.
2. Try to not worry so much.
3. Finish a class on Aish that I have been putting off.
In the next year I:
1. Will read fifty books.
2. Go on a vacation.
3. Finally finish my conversion.
In the next minute I will tag:
Tara
Tonya
Monday, April 17, 2006
You Know Everyone Is Going To Be Fussing Over Pedro But The Old Guy Is More Than Getting It Done
Did you see my boy Greggie? Less than a two hour game. Forty is the new thirty.
DAMN.
Total sidenote but if I were a Dodger fan I would be pissed because the LA announcers were seriously sucking Maddux's cock through the whole game. I mean her deserves the adoration but my GOD men. Have some dignity.
DAMN.
Total sidenote but if I were a Dodger fan I would be pissed because the LA announcers were seriously sucking Maddux's cock through the whole game. I mean her deserves the adoration but my GOD men. Have some dignity.
I Still Can't Cheer For St. Louis
Have entirely too many Cardinals on my fantasy team and I am still rooting against them. Even Isringhausen who is my fucking CLOSER.
I never thought I would be cheering for the fucking PIRATES.
I never thought I would be cheering for the fucking PIRATES.
Starting Over
It is a gorgeous sunny day. I wore sandals to work today. I am eating a GIANT ham sandwich and watching Buster bang his head against the front window. The Cubs are on the west coast so their game starts in less than an hour.
Life is really good in other words.
As annoyed as I was with my mother yesterday I have to admit I am in a good place right now. I do hear the chimes of doom a bit in that statement but still . . .
Good things are happening. With my career. With my family. With J. Everyone seems to be doing so well.
Except. A friend. Who we love too much I think. Who is family. He is dealing with an ugly part of being an adult. That sometimes things don't work out. Sometimes you have your life planned and you know that it is going to work and then it just doesn't. And you are in pieces.
His has to start over today. And we will help him. Because we love him. Because he will be ok. But it does make me take a moment to enjoy being at the top of the roller coaster. I have definitely been in the drops enough to know that these are the times that count.
Life is really good in other words.
As annoyed as I was with my mother yesterday I have to admit I am in a good place right now. I do hear the chimes of doom a bit in that statement but still . . .
Good things are happening. With my career. With my family. With J. Everyone seems to be doing so well.
Except. A friend. Who we love too much I think. Who is family. He is dealing with an ugly part of being an adult. That sometimes things don't work out. Sometimes you have your life planned and you know that it is going to work and then it just doesn't. And you are in pieces.
His has to start over today. And we will help him. Because we love him. Because he will be ok. But it does make me take a moment to enjoy being at the top of the roller coaster. I have definitely been in the drops enough to know that these are the times that count.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Why I Hate It When People Talk To My Mother
Our being Jewish upsets my mother.
She is trying to cope and be supportive. And I do understand why she is upset. It is hard to watch your child reject what you believe, even if they do it in a kind way. She worries about hate violence against us. She worries about our children feeling different, being different, because she teaches school and knows how hard that can be.
And she really fucking worries about Easter.
A few weeks ago she was at a luncheon and found that many of the women there were Jewish. She got into a long discussion with one woman in particular, who I can tell is Orthodox which we are not, and who one level was very helpful in showing my mom that SEE THERE ARE JEWS EVERYWHERE and on another level scared the shit out of her.
The big thing about Judaism and actually all religions is that there is a broad spectrum of belief. Particularly in a group that is so small and has been historically persecuted it is tempting to paint with a broad brush . . a JEW IS WOODY ALLEN kind of thing. But Jews live everywhere, do all kinds of careers, they are poor and rich, and they believe many different things.
My experience with the Orthodox is limited. But they believe a more literal view of the Torah than Reform Jews do. So this woman told my mother that we couldn't become Jewish that when the Messiah comes he wouldn't have room for us. And well my mother freaked out a bit.
I am not even sure that view represents the whole of Orthodoxy. I know that I don't care. We are not culturally Jewish and there is nothing we can do about that. And some people are never going to like it. There are pricks everywhere is what I am saying. We are used to it.
I resent people telling my mother that though. But funnily enough I resent one of her other tidbits even more.
She told my mother celebrating Easter was fine.
Of course she means in the secular way with bunnies and eggs and chocolate. And my mother understood that. But I was SO ANGRY that my mother took her word at that. See, that is the thing about Judaism--I get to decide what is right for me. And for me, celebrating a holiday that has been used historically as an excuse to kill Jews is a problem. Did we go to dinner today? YES. Did I greedily accept a bunny from my dad (who buys me the best ones each year and GOOD GOD I love this one)? Absolutely. We are figuring this out. How to make these things work for everyone to feel comfortable. It is going to be a constant process.
And I resent the hell out of this woman, who doesn't believe that I am Jewish, who will NEVER accept that I am Jewish, declaring that the TORAH says bunnies are fine so I should just fucking celebrate Easter and make my mother happy.
I am actually tired of that comment, you should do this to make your mother happy. People have no idea the things that I do to make my mother happy. Making her happy is a joy to me. And she deserves it, she has done so much for me. I love my mother, I really do. But I don't have to give up everything, we can compromise.
I get so much shit for Christmas and Easter. Why can't you just do those holidays for your family? But why can't they do our holidays with us? Why can't we have a Passover seder instead?
We are sorting it out, as a family. It is hard. It will always be hard. There is no need for everyone to make it even harder.
She is trying to cope and be supportive. And I do understand why she is upset. It is hard to watch your child reject what you believe, even if they do it in a kind way. She worries about hate violence against us. She worries about our children feeling different, being different, because she teaches school and knows how hard that can be.
And she really fucking worries about Easter.
A few weeks ago she was at a luncheon and found that many of the women there were Jewish. She got into a long discussion with one woman in particular, who I can tell is Orthodox which we are not, and who one level was very helpful in showing my mom that SEE THERE ARE JEWS EVERYWHERE and on another level scared the shit out of her.
The big thing about Judaism and actually all religions is that there is a broad spectrum of belief. Particularly in a group that is so small and has been historically persecuted it is tempting to paint with a broad brush . . a JEW IS WOODY ALLEN kind of thing. But Jews live everywhere, do all kinds of careers, they are poor and rich, and they believe many different things.
My experience with the Orthodox is limited. But they believe a more literal view of the Torah than Reform Jews do. So this woman told my mother that we couldn't become Jewish that when the Messiah comes he wouldn't have room for us. And well my mother freaked out a bit.
I am not even sure that view represents the whole of Orthodoxy. I know that I don't care. We are not culturally Jewish and there is nothing we can do about that. And some people are never going to like it. There are pricks everywhere is what I am saying. We are used to it.
I resent people telling my mother that though. But funnily enough I resent one of her other tidbits even more.
She told my mother celebrating Easter was fine.
Of course she means in the secular way with bunnies and eggs and chocolate. And my mother understood that. But I was SO ANGRY that my mother took her word at that. See, that is the thing about Judaism--I get to decide what is right for me. And for me, celebrating a holiday that has been used historically as an excuse to kill Jews is a problem. Did we go to dinner today? YES. Did I greedily accept a bunny from my dad (who buys me the best ones each year and GOOD GOD I love this one)? Absolutely. We are figuring this out. How to make these things work for everyone to feel comfortable. It is going to be a constant process.
And I resent the hell out of this woman, who doesn't believe that I am Jewish, who will NEVER accept that I am Jewish, declaring that the TORAH says bunnies are fine so I should just fucking celebrate Easter and make my mother happy.
I am actually tired of that comment, you should do this to make your mother happy. People have no idea the things that I do to make my mother happy. Making her happy is a joy to me. And she deserves it, she has done so much for me. I love my mother, I really do. But I don't have to give up everything, we can compromise.
I get so much shit for Christmas and Easter. Why can't you just do those holidays for your family? But why can't they do our holidays with us? Why can't we have a Passover seder instead?
We are sorting it out, as a family. It is hard. It will always be hard. There is no need for everyone to make it even harder.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Somehow I Am Positive The Rabbi Would Be Appalled
I was multi-tasking on the bus, commuting and doing a little Torah study through Aish Audio (as I love to do) and honestly, I was a little troubled by the class I had just listened to. Some of the classes on that site are more Orthodox than my beliefs and while I think there is value in learning that way it still can make me so frustrated. And I was just pissed off when I got in my car.
And this song was on the stereo.
Please go click and read the lyrics. Now imagine that sung in the same Kermit the Frog monotone that little kids use to sing their ABC's. Now imagine that with your best Boss Hogg accent. That is exactly how that song sounds.
It is just so awesome.
People just do not understand how awesomely bad country music can be. This song just warms the cockles of my heart. I mean this guy finds out his girl is doing some one else by driving by her house and he is brilliant enough to know "well GOSH, that sure ain't my truck in front of that there house." And a SONG IS BORN.
I own this cd and most of the rest of it is shit, just bad not awesomely bad, though it does have a brilliant example of that tried and true country standard--the idea that true love is born in high school and then your grow old and die together.* Sadly, it does not have an example of true love born in high school but Daddy thinks he is a bad guy and Mama says well he is just like you setting up the girl for a lifetime of bad dating choices.
I mean none of these touch the GENIUS of Islands in the Stream, which is not awesomely bad but just blame fucking awesome and anyone who does not appreciate the brilliance of Kenny and Dolly can just suck it, but still they are a good way to move on from some troubling Torah.
A sentence that I am pretty sure has never been said or typed before in the history of the goddamn WORLD.
*How fantastic is it that there are two fucking cheesy country songs with that title?
And this song was on the stereo.
Please go click and read the lyrics. Now imagine that sung in the same Kermit the Frog monotone that little kids use to sing their ABC's. Now imagine that with your best Boss Hogg accent. That is exactly how that song sounds.
It is just so awesome.
People just do not understand how awesomely bad country music can be. This song just warms the cockles of my heart. I mean this guy finds out his girl is doing some one else by driving by her house and he is brilliant enough to know "well GOSH, that sure ain't my truck in front of that there house." And a SONG IS BORN.
I own this cd and most of the rest of it is shit, just bad not awesomely bad, though it does have a brilliant example of that tried and true country standard--the idea that true love is born in high school and then your grow old and die together.* Sadly, it does not have an example of true love born in high school but Daddy thinks he is a bad guy and Mama says well he is just like you setting up the girl for a lifetime of bad dating choices.
I mean none of these touch the GENIUS of Islands in the Stream, which is not awesomely bad but just blame fucking awesome and anyone who does not appreciate the brilliance of Kenny and Dolly can just suck it, but still they are a good way to move on from some troubling Torah.
A sentence that I am pretty sure has never been said or typed before in the history of the goddamn WORLD.
*How fantastic is it that there are two fucking cheesy country songs with that title?
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
My Problem
There are times when I just feel like the biggest middle class white asshole. Actually, I am guaranteed to feel that at least twice every weekday while I am at work. Because my office has a black cleaning woman who's entire job is to clean the bathrooms and office spaces on two floors of our building. She cleans these spaces over and over (which honestly makes me wonder if we are animals or does some one have OCD that the bathrooms are cleaned literally six times a day) every single day and it kills me.
She is a nice woman. She actually likes her job unless she is totally lying to me (which is possible of course). I can see why. For a cleaning job it is a score. Weekday schedule, she gets the same medical/dental/401K/benefit package as the rest of the employees and even the worst of the messes we make are not as bad as a custodian at like a school or restaurant would have to deal with.
She smiles and laughs while she works. And wears the most gorgeous earrings. And while I am sure she doesn't imagine this as her life's work she seems to enjoy her work.
But something about it brings out all my fears about race and class and all of the ugliness of how our society operates.
I know they pay her well. I know she is appreciated. This is my problem, which makes it worse.
She is a nice woman. She actually likes her job unless she is totally lying to me (which is possible of course). I can see why. For a cleaning job it is a score. Weekday schedule, she gets the same medical/dental/401K/benefit package as the rest of the employees and even the worst of the messes we make are not as bad as a custodian at like a school or restaurant would have to deal with.
She smiles and laughs while she works. And wears the most gorgeous earrings. And while I am sure she doesn't imagine this as her life's work she seems to enjoy her work.
But something about it brings out all my fears about race and class and all of the ugliness of how our society operates.
I know they pay her well. I know she is appreciated. This is my problem, which makes it worse.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Even Steven
I admit, this caused me to squeal with JOY.
Between that and their sweep of the Cardinals this weekend that ALMOST made up for the extremely smelly woman I had to sit by on the way home on the bus tonight. I hate to sound like a judgmental bitch but of course I am totally a judgmental bitch and you now how some older people or overweight people smell a little "plaquey"? You know sort of sour and dirty and like they haven't bathed recently? Like something is moldering between the ER . . .folds?
That was a long fucking fifty minutes is what I am saying.
So the universe and I better be EVEN.
Between that and their sweep of the Cardinals this weekend that ALMOST made up for the extremely smelly woman I had to sit by on the way home on the bus tonight. I hate to sound like a judgmental bitch but of course I am totally a judgmental bitch and you now how some older people or overweight people smell a little "plaquey"? You know sort of sour and dirty and like they haven't bathed recently? Like something is moldering between the ER . . .folds?
That was a long fucking fifty minutes is what I am saying.
So the universe and I better be EVEN.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Softball Start
We had our first softball game today and it did . . .not go well. This was a team that I was not planning on playing for--we only know one person on it and J sort of volunteered me without asking--and I am not sure I want to play on it again.
I will though, because like most co-ed teams they need more women.
I had to play second base. Which I have not played since I played in a coach pitch league where you rotated positions and I believe that was almost twenty years ago.
It went about as well as you could imagine. It didn't help that the guy playing shortstop was not helpful. Running after flyballs only to say YOURS at the last second. I did my best but you know.
I didn't play well.
As a bright spot we only lost by like ten runs.
Wooo HOOO
I will though, because like most co-ed teams they need more women.
I had to play second base. Which I have not played since I played in a coach pitch league where you rotated positions and I believe that was almost twenty years ago.
It went about as well as you could imagine. It didn't help that the guy playing shortstop was not helpful. Running after flyballs only to say YOURS at the last second. I did my best but you know.
I didn't play well.
As a bright spot we only lost by like ten runs.
Wooo HOOO
I Hate You Safeway, OH YES I DO
Oh Safeway. I have such a bone to pick with you.
I hate you, Safeway. I understand from others that you have nice stores in other places but your stores here are dark and dirty. Your cashiers are uniformly rude and snap their gum a little too stridently. Your bag boys bag meat with household cleaners. Your bakers have rivers of snot leaking down their faces.
I could forgive that, SAFEWAY, if at least you had the good prices you claim you have. But sadly, that is your worst flaw of all.
I live in a neighborhood that is transition. There are those like my husband and I, who have cars and can visit the slightly farther away QFC. And there are those who are poorer and have less access to personal transportation and also have totally bought your marketing plan for this area. To feed these people the line that your stores are dirty and nasty because you are keeping prices low.
I call BULLSHIT, Safeway.
Because your fucking prices suck. Your produce is half rotted and the meat looks grey even in the shrinkwrap. You know why poor Americans are fat? Because you fucking make it impossible for them to buy healthy foods but somehow all the junky crap is cheap.
Though it is still cheaper at the FUCKING QFC.
Safeway, I hate you. I hate your filthy stores and your smug ass cheerful logo. And I hate more and more that you are the closest grocery to me. Because sometimes I forget the hate and just bop in for chips and soda. Run in because I need a damn gallon of milk.
I hope I remember how much I hate you this time. Because shitty half-stale bread should not be THREE DOLLARS A LOAF.
I hate you, Safeway. I understand from others that you have nice stores in other places but your stores here are dark and dirty. Your cashiers are uniformly rude and snap their gum a little too stridently. Your bag boys bag meat with household cleaners. Your bakers have rivers of snot leaking down their faces.
I could forgive that, SAFEWAY, if at least you had the good prices you claim you have. But sadly, that is your worst flaw of all.
I live in a neighborhood that is transition. There are those like my husband and I, who have cars and can visit the slightly farther away QFC. And there are those who are poorer and have less access to personal transportation and also have totally bought your marketing plan for this area. To feed these people the line that your stores are dirty and nasty because you are keeping prices low.
I call BULLSHIT, Safeway.
Because your fucking prices suck. Your produce is half rotted and the meat looks grey even in the shrinkwrap. You know why poor Americans are fat? Because you fucking make it impossible for them to buy healthy foods but somehow all the junky crap is cheap.
Though it is still cheaper at the FUCKING QFC.
Safeway, I hate you. I hate your filthy stores and your smug ass cheerful logo. And I hate more and more that you are the closest grocery to me. Because sometimes I forget the hate and just bop in for chips and soda. Run in because I need a damn gallon of milk.
I hope I remember how much I hate you this time. Because shitty half-stale bread should not be THREE DOLLARS A LOAF.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Needing a Money Tree--One Without The Weird Caterpillars
My sister emailed me about this this morning. She said that our de-humidifier was also a humidifier and to stop being such a weirdo (I might be paraphrasing as she is the nice one in the family).
HA!
I had lunch with our father who was all your sister is a crackhead (again, possible paraphrase).
Apparently, we had a humidifier and a de-humidifier and now I have spent way too much time thinking about this and I just need to buy the damn penguin damn it.
Also I need new sneakers for softball.
And a BIKE.
And apparently a money tree to pay for it all.
HA!
I had lunch with our father who was all your sister is a crackhead (again, possible paraphrase).
Apparently, we had a humidifier and a de-humidifier and now I have spent way too much time thinking about this and I just need to buy the damn penguin damn it.
Also I need new sneakers for softball.
And a BIKE.
And apparently a money tree to pay for it all.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Humidi-WHA?
You know why I love blogging? Because people support your stupid obsessions and tell you to get a damn bike.
I'm thinking about it. Will probably make J nuts about it until he just puts a gun to my head and makes me buy one. Lovingly of course.
I am also sort of obsessed with humidifiers. My fucking sinuses are still all crazy. They are clogged and yet bleed like a motherfucker when I blow my nose. I keep getting sinus headaches and my face swells every night. Dr. Google tells me to keep my head elevated and the sinus cavity moist.
Humidifiers come highly recommended and they are not terribly expensive. Look. You can get one shaped like a PENGUIN.
I just have a sort of intellectual problem with humidifiers. Since growing up in the midwest we had a GIGANTIC de-humidifier that was pretty much a piece of furniture. All summer long we cursed the humidity and adults bitched about how it wasn't the heat it was the HUMIDITY. All that bitchy taught we to hate moisture. And now I am supposed to pay money for an appliance that will bring it into the air of my home?
Of course all my pillows have bloodstains on them. If I don't do this soon J is going to have a hell of a time convincing people he doesn't beat the shit out of me in my sleep.
I'm thinking about it. Will probably make J nuts about it until he just puts a gun to my head and makes me buy one. Lovingly of course.
I am also sort of obsessed with humidifiers. My fucking sinuses are still all crazy. They are clogged and yet bleed like a motherfucker when I blow my nose. I keep getting sinus headaches and my face swells every night. Dr. Google tells me to keep my head elevated and the sinus cavity moist.
Humidifiers come highly recommended and they are not terribly expensive. Look. You can get one shaped like a PENGUIN.
I just have a sort of intellectual problem with humidifiers. Since growing up in the midwest we had a GIGANTIC de-humidifier that was pretty much a piece of furniture. All summer long we cursed the humidity and adults bitched about how it wasn't the heat it was the HUMIDITY. All that bitchy taught we to hate moisture. And now I am supposed to pay money for an appliance that will bring it into the air of my home?
Of course all my pillows have bloodstains on them. If I don't do this soon J is going to have a hell of a time convincing people he doesn't beat the shit out of me in my sleep.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Obsession
So. I am sort of obsessed with getting a bicycle.
I am not sure, exactly, I want one. Something about wanting to get some more exercise and stupidly romanticized notions of riding my bike to the fruit market and on errands and BLAH BLAH BLAH.
I have always liked riding bikes, even though I haven't owned one for a long time. One of my favorite summers was spent riding around to places that I was not exactly allowed to go--illicit places like friends' houses and the LIBRARY.
Anyway, I was having flashbacks the other day and thinking about how fun that way and how the park is close by and the beach and downtown and GOD then I looked online and now I totally really really want this.
It is so wild crazy being 27 and all old and shit.
I am not sure, exactly, I want one. Something about wanting to get some more exercise and stupidly romanticized notions of riding my bike to the fruit market and on errands and BLAH BLAH BLAH.
I have always liked riding bikes, even though I haven't owned one for a long time. One of my favorite summers was spent riding around to places that I was not exactly allowed to go--illicit places like friends' houses and the LIBRARY.
Anyway, I was having flashbacks the other day and thinking about how fun that way and how the park is close by and the beach and downtown and GOD then I looked online and now I totally really really want this.
It is so wild crazy being 27 and all old and shit.
Monday, April 03, 2006
It Won't Last
I cannot help but be thrilled by this.
Of course it would have been even better if MLB audio had actually WORKED today.
WHEEEEEEE indeed.
Of course it would have been even better if MLB audio had actually WORKED today.
WHEEEEEEE indeed.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Best Day
I know that today is technically Opening Day but for me the real Opening Day is tomorrow, when all the teams play and the season really starts. Plus, I really fucking hate the White Sox and don't like the Indians so much and the damn game is on rain delay so MEH to the whole thing.
Normally I take Opening Day off from work. J and I drink beers and make hot dogs and watch every game we can (sometimes with two TVs). To be honest, it isn't just Opening Day it is HAPPY NEW YEAR.
But the flu/virus/thing that ate my sinuses took that from me too because I can't take ANOTHER day off so I will miss it. FUCKING VIRUS. The only thing that helps me is that Harold is back on my TV screen. Looking fine in his suits. Like how it should be.
Think of me tomorrow, toiling in my fucking office while my Cubbies are playing. But here are my picks for the year. I will be 100% wrong but I am still going to do it.
American League:
West: Angels
Central: Cleveland
East: New York
Wild Card: Boston
National League:
West: San Francisco
Central: (this pains me) Cardinals (PLEASE GOD LET ME BE WRONG)
East: Atlanta (every year I think it will be some one else and then the Braves pull it off again so until further notice that banner stays with them)
Wild Card: Mets
AL Cy Young:
Bartolo Colon
NL Cy Young:
Carlos Zambrano
AL MVP:
Alex Rodriguez
NL MVP:
Derrek Lee
My fantasy team has entirely too fucking many Cardinals on it and my Cubs are going to suck it. But it is the best part of the year.
I wish it could be Opening Day every day.
Normally I take Opening Day off from work. J and I drink beers and make hot dogs and watch every game we can (sometimes with two TVs). To be honest, it isn't just Opening Day it is HAPPY NEW YEAR.
But the flu/virus/thing that ate my sinuses took that from me too because I can't take ANOTHER day off so I will miss it. FUCKING VIRUS. The only thing that helps me is that Harold is back on my TV screen. Looking fine in his suits. Like how it should be.
Think of me tomorrow, toiling in my fucking office while my Cubbies are playing. But here are my picks for the year. I will be 100% wrong but I am still going to do it.
American League:
West: Angels
Central: Cleveland
East: New York
Wild Card: Boston
National League:
West: San Francisco
Central: (this pains me) Cardinals (PLEASE GOD LET ME BE WRONG)
East: Atlanta (every year I think it will be some one else and then the Braves pull it off again so until further notice that banner stays with them)
Wild Card: Mets
AL Cy Young:
Bartolo Colon
NL Cy Young:
Carlos Zambrano
AL MVP:
Alex Rodriguez
NL MVP:
Derrek Lee
My fantasy team has entirely too fucking many Cardinals on it and my Cubs are going to suck it. But it is the best part of the year.
I wish it could be Opening Day every day.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Celebrating in Our Own Way
J and I have been trying to celebrate Shabbat every week. For those of you who are not Jewish, Shabbat is the Jewish Sabbath, celebrated from Friday at sundown until Saturday until a few minutes after sundown.
Shabbat is the not the same as Sunday church, something that my mother does not understand no matter how many times I try to explain it. I think because people always want to equate another religion with the one they believe in, instead of just accepting that the practices are different and separate and IT IS OK MOM MY GOD IS NOT SENDING ME TO HELL FOR NOT GOING TO TEMPLE EACH WEEK IN FACT THERE IS NO HELL.
And then she passes out.
Shabbat is about the day of rest. Spending time with your family. Eating together, drinking wine, separating the work week from this day, celebrating God but also taking pleasure in the world. Every person and family does it differently. People go to services, they bless the wine and eat challah and they might pray. But you can celebrate it at home too, by taking a nap in the afternoon, going for a walk, studying Torah, having sex (actually it is a COMMANDMENT to have sex on Shabbat which is J's favorite thing actually).
We try to eat dinner together. We make something special. We drink wine. We talk to each other in a way that we usual don't have time to do.
It has made such a difference. It is interesting because that sounds sort of lame and stupid and cheesy. And I suppose it is. But I feel more Jewish on Shabbat (even if our dinner is something like cheeseburgers) and feel like I have more purpose.
Last night we celebrated Shabbat by watching the Silvertips beat the Americans and move on to the next round of the playoffs.
It was just like going to the temple.
Shabbat is the not the same as Sunday church, something that my mother does not understand no matter how many times I try to explain it. I think because people always want to equate another religion with the one they believe in, instead of just accepting that the practices are different and separate and IT IS OK MOM MY GOD IS NOT SENDING ME TO HELL FOR NOT GOING TO TEMPLE EACH WEEK IN FACT THERE IS NO HELL.
And then she passes out.
Shabbat is about the day of rest. Spending time with your family. Eating together, drinking wine, separating the work week from this day, celebrating God but also taking pleasure in the world. Every person and family does it differently. People go to services, they bless the wine and eat challah and they might pray. But you can celebrate it at home too, by taking a nap in the afternoon, going for a walk, studying Torah, having sex (actually it is a COMMANDMENT to have sex on Shabbat which is J's favorite thing actually).
We try to eat dinner together. We make something special. We drink wine. We talk to each other in a way that we usual don't have time to do.
It has made such a difference. It is interesting because that sounds sort of lame and stupid and cheesy. And I suppose it is. But I feel more Jewish on Shabbat (even if our dinner is something like cheeseburgers) and feel like I have more purpose.
Last night we celebrated Shabbat by watching the Silvertips beat the Americans and move on to the next round of the playoffs.
It was just like going to the temple.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)