Friday, July 30, 2010

Netflix recommended I add Lovely and Amazing to my queue, which reminded me how much I enjoy looking at Catherine Keener. I think it's her big beautiful nose that does it for me. And maybe her slightly gapped teeth. She's very arresting and stare-worthy. She's also 51 if you can believe it.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

John and I are Netflix-ing it again for the sole purpose of finally catching up with MadMen. I'm so infatuated with Don and Joan and Peggy that I can't even tell you. Everyone is so dreamy and delicious and I don't envy them one little bit. It's like watching a train wreck. Or like watching your out of control best friend make a shambles out of her life despite your repeated warnings. Only a lot more fun because there's minimal emotional investment. All you gotta invest is a netflix membership.

Anyway, we just watched an episode that closed with a Peter, Paul and Mary song and I do so love Mary Travers. She was a hotchie-totchie and damn-sam could she wail.
Judy gave us a jar of bread and butter pickles that she canned and I was all, hey, that's cool, because even though I'm not really jiggy with pickles of the bread and butter persuasion I'm always jiggy with anything that someone has canned themselves. So I tried them. Half an hour later the entire jar was gone. They're like candy. Like juicy, onion-ey, sweet and sour candy. Yesterday she sent over two more jars and I made it half way through one of them before I realized that my love for the pickles was about to turn into a full-fledged intestinal nightmare. I'm talking to' up from the flo' up. Like bent over double in agony because no matter how vehemently I deny it - I am allergic to onions. And I was slurping those bad boys down like there's no tomorrow. So that's the pickle story. The sickest part is that I'm still not 100 percent certain I'm going to be able to stay away from them. That's how flippin' good they are. Alright, maybe that's not the sickest part... but it's the sickest part I'm most comfortable sharing. You know, before I cross that line and this becomes one of those blogs.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Me and Molly. Yeah, I'm down with canines too.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

More of my favorite youtube chick.

Still haven't made it out of the house. Have however shampooed all of the rugs and carpeting in this tiny, tiny home of ours. I'm pretending like it smells better for John's sake. "Doesn't it smell a hundred times better?" he asks me, dripping with sweat, his bald head covered in errant cat fur and lint balls. "Like a fucking rose garden, sugar-boog." I answer emphatically.
I'm trying to talk John into seeing Despicable Me today. It's not the movie he's opposed to so much as it is the leaving the house part. It's about 9,000 degrees here and John hates hot. I'm not crazy about it either, but having lived the first 24 years of my life in the ol' dirty-dirty, I'm a tad more accustomed to it. Last Monday we saw Inception and have spent the rest of the week discussing how much we hated it and also reading about how much everyone else loved it. John says it's very telling when a movies good reviews are mostly comprised of comparisons to other "great" movies. Particularly if the other "great" movies also sucked ass. Of course, this opinion is coming from a couple of moes who text one another Step-Brothers quotes on a daily basis.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

I'd really like to be able to add something new to the conversation but truly this is what I do most of the time. I hold sweet-ass babies whose breaths smell worse than the county dump. Sometimes I read - Changeless by Gail Carriger - sometimes I watch something decent on tv - P!nk's Funhouse Tour on the Palladium Channel - sometimes I browse Etsy and thank sweetbabyjeezus that I don't have a lot of money or else I'd be up to my eye sockets in feminized men's button-down shirts and hipster nerd t-shirts and steampunk jewelry.

Monday, July 19, 2010


I love my stankin' Tubeflops.

It's stormed on my birthday every year since I've lived up here. Big storms with tornadoes and lightening and power outages. It probably means something, only it's too damn hot to figure out what that something is.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

I hit the mother load at the Salvation Army Friday afternoon. But you're gonna have to take my word for it because I'm too damn tired to take pictures. I did find a nice-ass dresser that I'm now using as a buffet in the kitchen. It came with hideous drawer knobs but that's okay because now I'm scouring etsy for cool ones. I like these:


I think John thinks I tack the word "ass" onto way too many of my words because the other day he texted me a picture of Tyler with the caption, "Smiling-assed baby".

I have cleaned so much in the past four days, what with moving the treadmill out and John's parent's old divan in and the old fridge out and the new fridge in and mopping a gozillion times and vacuuming up twenty-teen pounds of cat fur that I'm teetering on the brink of stupidity. And not my normal goofy stupidity, but like, down-right genuine stupidity. Like, five IQ points away from having to wear a helmet stupidity.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

I love you, Frigidaire!

I may have slipped it some tongue. I'm just sayin'.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

there's a dragon in your bathroom

I went to Michaels yesterday to pick up some of that hem bonding stuff because I needed to hem a couple of curtains and I don't own a sewing machine. Honestly, I don't even know how to use a sewing machine. I wish I did. Anyway, they have all of their kids hats for $2. It was a toss up between this one and the red aviator one. Clearly, I am more suited for the dinosaur/dragon.

In other news, we're on a search for a new refrigerator. Ours isn't dead or anything, but it's older than dirt and it's barely bigger than a dorm fridge. It has wire shelves for pete's sake. Nothing in this world will stand upright on a wire shelf. Every time I open the door I'm immediately pissed. I don't need that kind of anger in my life.

What I'm reading: Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson and Holly Blues by Susan Wittig Albert. What I'm doing, drinking a glass of sweet tea and contemplating which cat is more deserving of my affections.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

John's friend Dave lives in Tucson. Probably I've said that before. Anyway, Dave and his girlfriend Leslie are coming back east for a visit next week. This morning John was telling me how he and Dave met in a half-way house years and years ago and when John got kicked out of the half-way house he and Dave shared a really kick-ass apartment in Hartford. I asked him why he got bounced from the half-way house. He said the guy who ran it was a bit of a weird-o. The guy was single and had no children and he ran the program out of his own house, and that there were children's toys laying around. Like, tonka trucks and matchbox cars and mess like that. Real odd shit. So some other dude who was staying there made a comment like, "Huh, must be trophies". Which is admittedly wrong and funny as hell in a fucked up kind of way. So word got around that John was the "trophy" commenter and the weird-o immediately kicked him out. I asked John why he didn't just tell the weird-o that he wasn't the one who said it and John said that it wouldn't have mattered. That a nerve had obviously been struck.

the greatest

This is the best commercial of all time ever. We're watching Beetlejuice on abcfamily and it made us think about Mr. Goulet and John's all, "Robert Goulet's messing with your stuff." So I have to share this with anyone who never got to see it or who saw it and forgot how funny it is.

Lenny's taken to hanging out in the bathtub. He especially enjoys it after John or I shower. I guess it's cooler that way. There are 468 pictures currently on my camera. I estimate that 421 have either a or multiple cats in them. Lenny's the sort of boy that can make even the most loyal dog person into a cat tolerater. Begrudgingly perhaps. But still. The little bastard has magical properties.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

So I heard this song today and you know, it's pretty damn catchy. I borrowed John's iphone and used the soundhound app. The one that lets you sing or hum or whatever and it tells you what you're thinking and what you had for lunch and how old you were when you lost your virginity and then, as an afterthought, it lets you know the name and artist of the song.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Last night I had a dream that John and I saw Sean Penn at a convenience store while I was buying pineapple juice. He was scruffy looking and driving a beat-up old pick-up truck but he was still definitely Sean Penn. I wanted to tell him that I really loved him in "Milk" but I couldn't because even though we own "Milk" we haven't seen it yet. All I could think was Jeff Spicoli.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Four months. That's how long she's been living under the bed and behind the chair. Every week or two I corner her in the kitchen and inspect her. Make sure all of her orifices are clean and clear and brush her a little. She hisses and cringes. Makes me want to pinch her head off. I took this picture an hour ago after just such a bout of growling and shedding and all around ill-temperament. I don't know why she ran to the computer desk. Why she thought it was the best place to hide. Because obviously I was a foot away from her and Jesus knows I'm the anti-Christ and I eat kitty cats for breakfast.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

I'm slowly getting around to uploading more pictures from my trip. Probably I should just put them on facebook or something if I really want to share them. But I kind of like spacing them out. We were out and about for a few hours today. Made it to Trader Joes and the Olive Garden and then swung by Rite Aid so that I could pick up generic Aleve because I wake up every day in joint aching agony and I'm a little bit scared I'm gonna wind up addicted to either Vicodin or Sam Adams. Because those are the only two things that alleviate the pain. Afterwards, we dropped by Chris and Shari's to see their new condo and to get our Kendall fix. She's been feeling a little poorly lately. I think maybe she's been drinking out of Mae's mud puddle. She really is a superior baby. Even when she's sick and cranky she still smiles and dances and doesn't really cry. She's the sort of baby that makes people like me- people who have sworn off baby-making- reconsider their stances. But don't tell John I just said that cause he'll have himself an infarction.

Kendall's bad hair day.

more from kure

The Bellamy Mansion

Friday, July 2, 2010

show you what it's like

John and I are a couple of Seinfeld nerds. Most of our catch-phrases and nuances are either from Seinfeld or King of the Hill. This is one of my favorite scenes.