Monday, August 31, 2009

Ernie Pantusso

Really. He's just so beautiful. And his feet are exquisite. It's like he's Shaun Cassidy and I'm one of my sisters circa 1977.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

It Is What It Is

I'm very good at not talking about what's really going on. In fact, if you ever read any of my older posts you'll see that I mostly expound on frivolous things and the only time I ever come close to laying it all out on the line is when I'm high on Vicodin or rolling with the Xanax. Usually I'd rather talk about something else. Anything else. It doesn't even have to be something happy or positive so long as it's not momentous. John, on the other hand, is a blabber. John will tell anyone and everyone anything. No really. He will. Just ask him he'll be happy to tell you. Now don't get me wrong, I think it's great. In the beginning of our relationship it irritated the piss out of me and was the source of many a tantrum. But I've come to realize that his way is the healthier way. It's cathartic for him. Not so great for the person who has to listen to it, but it makes him feel better. We've also come to the understanding that he's the one who tells my parents everything and with the caveat that they are to ask me no questions. This makes them feel in the loop and releases me from any parental guilt. And what is guilt, people? Why, it's anger in disguise. And that is so not me. I'm more of an "anger standing on a bar stool flashing her tits" kind of gal. I like my anger obvious and unconfused.

So what is this all about? Why the blog-vomit?

This summer some pretty crazy shit's been going down. I've been seeing shadow people and our neighbor hung himself 100 feet from our front door and the weather has got me all discombobulated and now John's at the hospital because his nephew dropped a 365 pound dumbbell on his throat and very nearly died. And the only reason I'm posting any of this is to let everyone know that I just don't want to talk about it.

This stuff is happening, it's going on, but it's not mine and I don't own it and it's not my place. And for me to tell tales, no matter how fact laden my account may be... I'm sorry, it just still feels like gossip. Somehow blurting it all out lessens the severity and the emotional toll it's taken on those who actually live it.

Hey, I'm no martyr. I'm just a chick who knows precisely how shitty sadness and fear feel.

Friday, August 28, 2009

You Is A Lie

At some point in the future I'm pretty certain I'm going to deny I ever posted this... but here goes.

I want to run the Savannah Enmark bridge run. The 10k one. Considering that I haven't run more than a mile all damn summer long and I'm carrying around a whole shit-pot full of excess weight, I'm probably setting myself up for a most unfortunate failure. But I feel like this could be the motivation I need. And if I start "training" (I can't even just type a word like "training", it has to be in quotations or italicized or something) now I should have plenty of time to get myself prepared for a 10k by December 5th. Right? Good Lord, girl. What is you thinking?

Splendid Boy-O

I know I'm not the only person in the world whose emotions and psyche are so driven by the weather. After weeks of 90 degree temps it's finally beginning to feel like fall. And I don't care that it's only August and still technically summer. I. don't. care. I want sweater wearing, apple eating, hayride and Halloween and Sam Adams October Fest drinking times. It's raining now and it's only 66 degrees. I'm so happy I could shit.

What I'm reading now: "Silent on the Moor" by Deanna Raybourne. Third in a historical mystery series. It appeals to my romantic, gothic side.

Generally I'm not one to mythologize politicians. Now I love me some Jimmy Carter. And I think Bill was a buttload of fun while he was in office. But since that asshat John Edwards made me look like a fuckin' fool, I've tried to keep my mouth shut about the whole mess. So I'm just gonna say this: The death of Ted Kennedy has saddened me a great deal. As an American I've come to depend on the Kennedys to be beautiful and shiny and important and philanthropic. Millionaire do-gooders. Which is the only kind of millionaire I'm loathe to hate. But Teddy's gone. The baby brother. And I can't help but feel sorry for myself. For all the folks younger than me that won't grow up knowing the present power of at least one of that glorious trinity.

The History Place

Monday, August 24, 2009

According to this article on Yahoo.
"5. Earlobe crease
Linear wrinkles in one or both lobes may predict future cardiovascular events (heart attack, bypass surgery, or cardiac death). A crease on one lobe raises the risk by 33%; a crease on both lobes increases it by 77%, even after adjusting for other known risk factors. Though experts aren’t exactly sure, they suspect a loss of elastic fibers may cause both the crease and the hardening of arteries."

John thrust his Blackberry into my face and made me read the above passage. All the while moaning, "See! See I told you!".

A few minutes later when I dared to complain about my stomach aching he said, "I don't know why you're bitching. I'm the one walking around with these death sentence earlobes."

Friday, August 21, 2009

When I was 12, there was nothing more important in the world to me than having hair exactly like Sammy Hagar's.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

If you wanna hear a couple of fab covers head on over to Blog Meridian. He's posted Paul Anka doing "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Dolly doing "Stairway to Heaven". No, really. It works.

Currently, John is sitting in his recliner, shaking his head and muttering, "Fab?".

During my last visit back home, Angie took Wendy and me cruising in her new red convertible. We drove the back roads of Vale and Cat Square and Hog Hill. Not that there are any freeways in these places, mind you. We moo-ed at cows and bah-ed at sheep and marveled over all of the prettily renovated houses and barns and churches. We rode past Union, the elementary school we all attended, which used to be grades first through twelfth and is where my Daddy graduated in 1957. We waved at the nuns at the Maryvale Convent who were out walking their dogs and we agreed that having nuns as neighbors way out in the middle of no where, surrounded by all those Southern Baptists and Methodists, is just about the most kick ass thing ever. We cranked the radio up on the classic rock station and used folks driveways for turning around and one of us said, "We're probably gonna get shot at.". To which Wendy replied, "Who'd wanna shoot at us? Who'd feel threatened by three middle aged chicks riding around in a convertible, listening to 'Incense and Peppermint'?".

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

6 o'clock this morning I woke up with a crier's headache and eyes that were nearly swollen shut. Stumbled down the hall and squinted out the window and there he sat. Pretty as a furry picture. No signs of distress. Purring like a tricked out Chevelle. I snatched him up and kissed all over him and John opened the bedroom door and we both broke into dry sobs because our tear ducts have turned into dust.

John wonders if there's a record for the most number of infarctions within a 36 hour period. Between us we've had at least 11.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Ernie's been missing since last night. We're distraught and beside ourselves with worry. We've knocked on neighbor's doors and checked the pound and even put an ad on Craigslist. We keep telling one another that it's the heat. That he's just laying low somewhere. That he'll be back tonight. But he's never been gone this long before. So for the time being we're keeping Lenny and Mae inside under lock and key. We're very quiet and very sad. Praying for the best... anticipating the worst.

Sunday, August 16, 2009


She's really quite special. I don't know how Chris and Shari did it, but they've managed to pull off the exact right thing at the exact right time.

I handed her off to John and everyone swarmed in with cameras. It was like he was Angelina walking through the airport.
As of late I've not felt a whole lot like blogging. All day at work I think of funny or interesting things to throw out, but the urge disappears once my ass crosses the trailer threshold. I've also been cutting back on the computer time and spending more time actually talking to John. Turns out we actually have a couple of things in common and find one another mildly interesting. Who knew?

A few pics from my recent visit back home:

Friday, August 14, 2009

Welcome to the World, Kendall!

The latest addition to our clan. I'm going to sniff her and snoodle her and hope she keeps the crying to a minimum.

Just look at those two, will ya? How can she not grow up to be a flippin' super model?

Bunny feet!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

the younguns

Pretty younguns who forced me to play laser tag and eat milkshakes and pizza. I loves them kids but it'll take me 2 weeks to recover.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Headed back to Lincoln County tomorrow for another vacation. There seems to be some debate as to who will pick me up. Angie called to offer to swing by the airport on her way to Mama and Daddy's since she'll be driving through Charlotte at that time. She told me it was up to me. Let's see... my sister picking me up in her new snazzy red convertible or my parents picking me up in their 10 year old Accord. Hmmm...

John will be living the bachelor life while I'm away. That means All Baseball, All The Time. There will be large sweaty men in my living room, sitting on my furniture, swearing and farting. It makes me queasy just picturing it.

I did really well with the not snacking this weekend. Ate lots of veggies and very little fat. Took John out for Mexican this evening. Ate a shrimp chimichanga. It was un-freaking-believably good and I don't regret it for a second. Came home and worked out for 50 minutes so somehow it's all gotta even out.

Things I loved about today:

1- Eating a shrimp chimichanga
2- Getting the following text message from my sister Wendy:
"I am holding the new Pat Conroy as I text you."
To which I responded:
"You bitch!"

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Four Letter Word Starts With S

Just realized that it's Sunday and there's no Miss Marple tonight. How depressing. I even had John watching it over the top of his Blackberry. What ever shall we do?

So I've made the plunge and have decided to lose weight. This is prompted by my general all around feeling of shite. I know I've made this pledge to myself before and that I promised I wouldn't flood my blog with "o, woe is me and my fat ass" trite, but I've changed my mind. Been reading other folk's blogs and have been inspired and motivated. Really, my first step is cutting out the extra non-meal shit. I'm thinking the title to this post should've been "Shit". I haven't had any sugary/salty goodness since Thursday. Yesterday I did an hour of Turbo Jam. It's that simple isn't it? Stop eating so much shit -see what I mean- and shake my booty a little more.

What I'm reading: "Nightshade" by Susan Wittig Albert

While I don't advocate diet pills I sure do love those Slim Quick commercials.