Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Dee Alter

my wonderful friend Dee is a such a little blessing in my life. A retired flight attendant from when the requirements included french twists, personal weight control, pearls and an impeccable uniform, Dee is full of stories that are pushing me to write a whole book. she married a successful US Ambassador in Hollywood, and moved to South Africa, where they lived in a beautiful mansion with a full butler, maid and grounds service. she was a very glamorous lady, but never had any children.

Dee and i often talk about tap dancing. we can both do the double time step, and when no one is around on the weekends, she pulls me out from behind my desk to dance with her. she is so young at heart, and an absolute riot. she is partially blind, and every morning i work, has me check her makeup because more than once has switched her lipliner and eyeliner pencils. she once told me a story of when she and her husband, Mel (rest his soul), were at the grocery store. Dee ran in to grab something, and when she came out, she got into the car, only to discover it was not Mel who was in it! she sat down and started talking, and the strange man in the driver's seat had to explain the problem! she laughs and laughs at her own little mistakes, and she is so full of joy, even though her sense of sight is disappearing. she says she wants to adopt me as her grandchild. she gave me a beautiful beaded ivory purse to have for my wedding, that she herself wore to Richard Nixon's inauguration ball. she also gave me a silk chiffon vintage robe. she is just fantastic!

yesterday after lunch, she came to my desk to chat with me like always, and she had her sunglasses hanging around her neck. i noticed that laying on one of the lens was a nacho cheese dorito. i pointed this out to her and she said, "i'm saving it for later!" we cracked up laughing. the she said, "i make a point of wearing my sunglasses around my neck when i eat, they catch any food that would normally land on my pants." she is such a delight. then she invited me over at 4:30 yesterday to have wine in her apartment. she loves red wine like me. i went of course, and she had a few other lady friends over and served pretzels with peanut butter on the inside. my glass of wine was almost full to the top. either she likes to drink or she couldn't see how much she poured.

we sat around and they told stories about run-ins with Bing Crosby, the amazing dancing of Fred Astaire, and Martha even spoke about how she didn't know she was going to have twins until one more popped out. they lived in such a simpler time. they also talked about the comedians of their generation. how foul language or sexual content were absent. they were raised by their parents to have proper manners.

i looked at Dee over my glass of wine, and i suddenly got so terribly sad. we connect as great friends, and i love spending time with her. she was invited to my wedding but she can't see well enough to attend. i just wish i could have known her when she was young. i wish we could have grown old together. it's so sad that i found such a wonderful friend so late in her life. i have made it my mission to spend as much time with Dee as i can. she has her friends at the retirement community, but no living family aside from a niece that lives on the eastcoast. she is lonely. but so full of love and happiness. i want to share it with her, and i will! she is such a special gem in my life.

also, she photographs about 30 times better than me.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

the way it really goes.

2 months ago: my printer from freshman year in college broke. so i bashed it and threw it in the trash. it was sooooo liberating.

friday morning: my flat iron broke on one side. ONE SIDE was stone cold and the other hot as branding iron. so my "hair" was a combination of frizzy and stick straight.
friday morning: i realized i really really really need a printer.

friday at 11 am: head out the door with Cleo into town (sorry i call it "town" it's the country in me) to do 4 things:

1. go to staples. buy printer. buy paper for wedding programs.
2. go to the printers. hand over program information and newly purchased paper.
3. go to michaels (and/or craft warehouse). buy pink string to tie programs.
4. go to tj maxx. buy new flat iron.

how it really went:

1. went to staples. bought $70 printer! and ink. buy paper for wedding programs.

2. go to printers. decide i hate paper i bought at staples. momentarily think of going back to exchange, then change my mind, deciding i don't care. hand over program information. it's the wrong size. have to go home, redo it and bring it back in.

3. go to michaels. buy pink string to tie programs. buy one more can of Martha Stewart Sugar Sparkles. giggle at novelty 4th of July top hat for pets, then buy it for Cleo.

4. go to tj maxx. walk in door with resolve to grab flat iron and leave right away. however, see beautiful chair on display. look at price tag. $150 (originally $275). not bad. stare at chair for 5 more minutes. leave chair. walk over to flat irons. pick one out. walk back over to chair. stare at chair again. "i'll take this chair," i say to the salesperson. "would you like to open a tj maxx card and save 10% today?" says the salesperson. "why yes, yes i would," i say. open up credit card. save $20. not bad. plan to pay bill as soon as it comes and cancel credit card. realize they used my driver's license to get address. realize tj maxx creidt card statement is going to my parent's house. feel rush of excitement as salesperson loads my (beautiful, tall backed, linen and pink chenille flowered, with dark wood legs and silver studs all around) chair in my car. get in car. Cleo sits in chair the whole way home. think for a just a fleeting moment that this chair MAYYY not go over well with JJ when he gets home. call Crazylegs to make me feel better about my purchase. hey, if she can justify spending $1500 on a pair of knee-high Chanel boots while still in school, then she can justify anything.

5. go to taco bell. get chalupa and XL mountain dew. look in the backseat at Cleo. look at myself in mirror. "self, it's fine. you'll just close the account after you pay off the chair (and flat iron) in one easy payment. and JJ will like the chair. that is that."

6. get home. Cleo is sleeping on chair. remove sleeping dog from chair. put chair inside. realize chair won't fit with current living room arrangement. remember JJ complaining about living room arrangement. re-arrange living room brilliantly so that JJ is so excited by the new couch position that offers prime game-watching status, he won't notice pink chair.

7. go to work.

8. get text at work "lovin the new arrangement" (yessss!)

9. get home. "so, uh, JJ, how do you, uh, likemynewchair?" he looks at me and says, "i actually love it. it's mobile enough that i can move it into the center of the room when i'm playing NHL on my xbox." (hey, if that's his reason for liking the chair, i'll take it!!!!!)

isn't it funny how you go into town with a list of things to do and buy, and something happens to change your whole day? i love that feeling. when it's just going to be a mundane, boring, errand-running kind of a day, then all of a sudden you happen upon something fabulous like my beautiful chair. i sat in it wearing my wedding veil (it came in the mail yesterday) all evening, thinking to myself how this chair and JJ are going to be in my life from now until forever. and i got all warm and giggly inside.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

becoming a woman

disclaimer: MEN, this blog may make you feel uncomfortable.

i will never forget the time Brean Mills started her period in the 8th grade. LJ, KitKat and i were in LJ's mom's white jeep, at the stoplight by the 7-11. we told LJ's mother the "big news" and she bursted into tears. we were all concerned, "what's wrong Leanne?" "you girls are just growing up so fast! you're becoming women." we giggled in the backseat, oblivious to how that moment would remain with all of us--including Brean--forever. (Brean is also currently pregnant, and when Leanne saw her at my wedding shower, she almost cried again! LJ said, "Brean's always the first, i guess").

we were all well rehearsed on the ways of "becoming a woman." we would get cramps, have to deal with the horrors of night pads, find the brand of tampon that would become our favorite, headaches, fatigue, backaches, PMS, etc.

it was nothing to look forward to. however, i was a late bloomer, so when Aunt Flow finally came to my toilet, i was delighted. "YES!" i screamed, "i'm a woman!" and ran around the house doing a victory dance. of course now i now how horrid periods are. (i know i know mom, without them we wouldn't be able to experience "the gift of life" aka babies)

well, my period got the best of me last week, and i totally became Leanne. Sam called me and told me about her new boyfriend, and i started weeping. real weeping. tears rolling down my cheeks. i was so happy for her. i even had to get a tissue. i felt like such an idiot.

am i getting old?


so last year (when i say "last year" i mean senior year in college...it hurts to say "2 years ago" i hate that college is getting further away) JJ, Nebular, Rah and i decided to go ice skating. we arrived downtown, clad in scarves and mittens and hats, and there is a line out the door. impatience got the best of my comrades, so we bagged the whole idea. i was pouting like mad because i wanted to wait in line and go, so JJ and Nebular suggested dinner. at this bar/grill in Spoke called Steelhead. it's winter! so what do i order? a mai tai. duh. THEY ARE THE BEST MAI TAIS EVER (chill out MIMI, the ones from Buzz's ((restuarant in Hawaii)) are kick-ass. and i mean that literally. you can only have one without passing out) no one else orders a drink. losers. then i order bleu cheese french fries. let me tell you, bleu cheese french fries and mai tais does not equal anything good.

that was the first night JJ witnessed what things like mai tais and bleu cheese fries do to my stomach. and i was so embarrassed because JJ shared a bathroom with his friend/roommate P Lou.


yesterday who came into town? none other than P Lou himself. it was his birthday, so we all went out to celebrate. where do they choose to go? EFFING STEELHEAD. and i mean, you can't go there and NOT order a mai tai. so i ordered 2.

then Rah and i split an order of the salmon artichoke jalepeno dip.

and since it was P Lou's birthday, Rah and i took a blow job shot with him as well.

lets just say i was 15 minutes late to work this morning.

damn you, steelhead!

Friday, June 26, 2009

children and poop

on wednesday i was babysitting, and i brought Cleo over to play in the big backyard. M, S and i were outside playing cards, and i muttered under my breath, "c'mon Cleo, take a dump," i was willing her to empty her bowels whilst outside, rather than at home inside. well, M hears me say this and says "what does 'take a dump' mean?" oh good Lord, i thought....and said, "well....it just means take a poo-poo. i just want Cleo to go potty while we are outside." she ponders this, and says, "well then, i need to take a dump myself."

yesterday M and S had a friend over and we were at the park climbing "the web" (they were climbing, i was not. short dress) the children dubbed me the black widow (thanks) and they were brown recluses. M asked why i wasn't climbing and i said "because i don't want anyone on the ground to see my hiney." the friend asks, "what's a hiney?" and very kindly, S replies, "it's the thing you squirt poop and hot air from." i couldn't have said it better myself.

the thing about kids is that they are not bashful about poop. as adults, we never excuse ourselves from the dinner table like this: "pardon, i have to take a gigantic shit right this minute or i will explode," we say, "excuse me," and leave it at that.

kids will tell ya exactly what they're doing when they're doing it. S's latest favorite thing to do is fart and say, "L smell it! smell it!" poop is a totally shameless topic of conversation for children, and i seem to prompt many of them unknowingly. i can only use my blog as an apology outlet to their mother. sorry, C.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

5 vs. 1

my dad has an uncanny way of "remembering" things. like, he gets one part right, but completely blows the rest. for instance, Dumbledore from Harry Potter is Dumbledorf. having a wife and four daughters, bless his heart, has given him his fair share of sitting on mall benches and holding shopping bags. "5 vs. 1," we used to say on vacations, or mini-trips to Seattle, "we all want to go shopping but you!"growing up, the Bon Marche was "The Bonnie March" (and he still calls Macys The Bonnie March) as we got older, Wet Seal became "The Slippery Seal," and just yesterday, Betsey Johnson was renamed "Betsey Taylor, the store with ugly dresses."

but one he always seemed to get right was abercrombie. so right, in fact, that he once decided to do a little shopping for himself there while us girls and mom were browsing the racks. when we all walked out with our bags filled with $9.90 lace tank tops and screen printed tees (you know), we see dad sitting on the mall bench, with an abercrombie bag of his own. my mom says "what's that?" and dad smiles triumphantly and says, "i bought some stuff!" he pulls out camo cargo shorts and 2 abercrombie t-shirts. not just any t-shirts. the ones that are tight, even in XL, with ABERCRMOBIE EST. 1892 printed on the front. and he wore the camo cargo shorts. with the t-shirts. he looked like a guy from jersey.

i think my dad was just so used to going into stores like abercrombie that he instinctually felt the need to just buy something for himself. and buy something for himself he did. but it was the first and last time.

the t-shirts are long gone now, i think my mom tossed them in the goodwill pile, but he still wears those camo cargo shorts loudly and proudly to this day.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

"swimsuit season"

So for Easter we always get a swimsuit. (just for the record, i hate the word "bathingsuit" it's so gross. like, you don't bathe in it, you swim in it) Well since JJ is (not legit yet) in the family now, he got one too. After he opened the swimsuit i said "perf! for the honeymoon! try it on!" and my (seriously menstrual old woman) fiance says, "my body is not quite ready for swimsuit season." of course this statement gives me a lifetime's worth of jokes, so i die laughing.

he has been working out incredibly hard and very dilligently, i have been quite impressed. all winter he has been wearing a size 36 (winter bear fat, you know), and Easter Swimsuit is a size 34. well, these past few months i have been ordering VS swimsuits like they're free. i want a different new swimsuit for morning and afternoon for each of the 8 days we are cruising. obviously this isn't happening, but basically i'm using a separate suitcase for the suits. Well, as the swimsuits ordered on VS.com have been arriving, i have been trying them on and asking JJ's opinion. some he likes, some he hates, but i don't really listen to him because he knows nothing of fashion. for instance, he seriously recoiled like a snake when i asked him his opinion on my adorable Elizabeth Hurley coral, almost backless once-piece from Europe. i (kindly) reminded him that someday, after i have had children and get fat, a one-piece may be my only option. he shuddered and looked away from me. what a gem.

so since i have been trying on MY swimsuits, JJ decided he was in the mood/"ready for swimsuit season" to try on his suit last night. he goes in the other room to do it, and i cannot describe his response any other way than squealing. SQUEALING. he was so thrilled to fit into his swimsuit. he started bolting about the house (most severe case of undiagnosed/untreated A.D.D. ever in life) because he is so excited. then he stands in front of the mirror for about 20 minutes staring at himself. and he is especially excited because it's a size 34. he was very proud of himself.

well today i was at TJ Maxx spending my latest paycheck on glorious things, and i found a pair of swim trunks ("swim trunks" OK, "bathingsuit" still NOT OK) that i knew he would love. so i bought them. he tried them on when he got home from work and declared he loved them even more than the Easter Swimsuit. then asked me the size. i said "36....." and he got all huffy.



Monday, June 22, 2009


all my blogs are about my dog. does that make me a loser?

so this whole time whenever anyone asks if i am stressed about the wedding i'm like "no. my mom does everything. it's great." WELL NOW IT'S CRUNCH TIME. 26 days. i make phone calls on my lunch break like a loony and i'm rushing around trying to get things done. it's like as soon as i finish one thing, i remember that i have to do another. and me and JJ have to go to idaho (ew) to get our marriage license, so our "seal it with a kiss and a bishop" is legit.

anyway, my most current (and prideworthy) project had to do with sparkles and rubber cement. (the greatest thing about rubber cement: if it gets stuck on your fingers, you just roll it off and it looks like a booger!) and i'm not talking about big, round thick craft sparkles that you used in kindergarten to make a Valentine for Jeremy Harvey. i'm talking about Martha Stewart, $10 per can, fine grain sparkles. this shiz is finer than sugar. needless to say, i have had sparkles in my eyes, sparkles in my hair, sparkles in my ears, basically everywhere covering my entire body. i looked like a teenager in my L.E.I jeans and unionbay t-shirt, ready to rock out to YMCA at the 8th grade school dance. sparkles are so not cool to have on your face/chest anymore. (note: glimmer and/or shimmer is still OK).

everywhere in our M.H. there is a thin layer of Martha Stewart Sugar Sparkles. i. mean. everywhere. and after i was finished with my project, JJ and i carried the finished product into the spare bedroom (which we have dubbed The Wedding Room. it is filled with all things wedding), thus trailing another layer of thin Martha Stewart Sugar Sparkles. The Wedding Room door is to be shut at all times. ALL TIMES. i have to remind JJ of this every time i leave the house. because, i swear to Jesus, if Cleo gets in there and ruins ANYTHING WEDDING, so help me i will take her to the pound, never to return. so far so good. knock on wood for my sanity please.

well, i finally got around to vacuuming the sparkles just last night, a mere 5 days after i finished the project. (i worked a 60-hour week last week) then this morning, when i took Cleo out for her morning dump..........what does she poo? NONE OTHER THAN THE MARTHA STEWART SUGAR SPARKLES! i mean it's the prettiest shit i have ever seen. i almost just want to leave it for our landlord to see. maybe i will.

also, the M.H. is still sparkling. i hope the M.H. might always have a sheen of Martha Stewart Sugar Sparkle, even after we are long gone.

Friday, June 19, 2009

dirty dogs

so i was babysitting yesterday, and sometimes i bring Cleo. they have a fenced-in backyard, so i just kick the dog outside and let her run around and be a happy animal. there are also 2 mini male poodles (Buster and Willie) that live there too. they all romp around and play out there and just have a jolly time.

well yesterday M (age 5) and S (age almost-4) and i were all playing the game trouble (you know, with the popper dice in the middle??) when S exclaims "WHAT IS THAT?!?!?!" i am torn away from the extremely riveting trouble game going on to look at what he is so passionately screaming about.

and there they are: Willie, looking like an overly-satisfied steed, mounting Cleo. full on animal-planet style. and i am just beside myself stifling laughter. i do not want to have to explain what exactly is going on here. so i play along like they were "wrestling." then M gets this very worried look on her face and says "he could have killed her!" then i just can't keep it together any longer. i just laugh and laugh and laugh. i just say "no, they are just playing, it's ok."

so now i just say Cleo is Willie's girlfriend.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The Sleeping Ruthie

every morning on my coffee break in the library, along with Daphne (room 436) the farting Wall Street Journal reader, i see Ruth (room 638) asleep in one of the chairs, with the front page of the Spokesman-Review dangling between her fingers. this never really bothers me because the best part of the Spokesman is the Today section. that's where Heloise's Hints and the comics and The Slice and the celebrity birthdays and Dear Annie are.

well i waltzed quietly (as to keep from disturbing The Sleeping Ruthie) into the library during my coffee break, and went to reach for the Today section. but i only see the sports section. i mean come on. sports. i hate. i look up at Ruth and she has BOTH the front page and the Today section wedged between her hands. and i think she was having a pretty intense dream because she was clenching the paper and had a furrow in her brow. so there was no way i was getting the Today section.

so i went back to look at the other reading selections "Arthritis and You" "Reader's Digest" "Aging" "Guideposts Large Print" and i just got real annoyed. so i huffed and sat back down and attempted to read the the boring boring sports section.

then a miracle happend. The Sleeping Ruthie did a little jerk in her slumber and dropped one of the sections. i held my breath, hoping, longing, waiting....and YES! it was the Today section! so i stealthily snatched Today and slid back into my seat. i was just giggling at the Family Circus comic when i looked up to see The Sleeping Ruthie's eyes open just a slight slant, staring at me and my Today. she looked like a dragon ready to torch me. she startled me so i jumped up, yelled to Daphne "SEEYALATERDAPHGOTTAGOBACKTOWORK" and ran outta there......

i barely escaped.

Soiled Marriage Gifts

this is what happened while i was away at my bachelorette party:

Cleo had locked herself in the bathroom whilee JJ was at work on Friday and taken 4 small pisses on our brand new pottery barn rug we got from my shower.

after being washed about 8 times to get the yellow out, the rug just doesn't have quite the lustre or pillowy soft feel under your feet as it once did.

this is how i awoke today at 5am:

Chanel running her fat self around, running into the blinds on purpose. this is her way of saying "feed me bitches." so JJ got up and went to feed her. and i stirred around in bed, only to have gently dipped my toe in a Liquid Substance. i sat straight up, while JJ was standing over me. and together we peered at the Liquid Substance.

it was bile. as in dog bile. there was also 2 harder objects covered in the bile: 2 industrial strength rubberbands. my stupid stupid dog swallowed 2 rubberbands then barfed them up on the brand new calvin klein comforter we got for my wedding shower. and what did JJ say? as usual, when Cleo does a naughty deed, he said "look what your dog did." like it was all my fault.

i glared at the dog. but she just looked at me with the sweet eyes so i patted her head and told her it was ok.

why does she choose to destroy the new presents!? why can't she just stick to taking dumps/pees/barfs on the old big white rug in the living room we have deemed "Cleo's Toilet" ??


i can't wait to see what other wonderful marriage gift will be soiled this afternoon when i get home.

Monday, June 15, 2009

last. night. out. butnotreally.

my bachelorette party: The Edited, Family-kindof-Friendly Version:

on friday i worked my nanny job and the mom gave me The Best Gift Ever: a miniature videocamera! we documented the entire weekend, and sorry to burst your bubble but we will NEVER post them on youtube. 

so friday around 4 Rah and i drove to Whistlin Jack Lodge and met Sam, LJ, KKiss and KitKat for a weekend of pure bliss.

we checked into our cabin, unloaded the penis-themed things. and got crackin on a 30 bomb of good ol American BUSCH LIGHT. the night ended well. we stayed in and chilled in the hottub (pun intended) and we drank all day, drank all night, drank til the morning light. 

the next day at 9 am we sunbathed in a meadow and dipped our toes in the river and drank peach bellinis with strawberries! 

then it poured rain and we went inside and just had a great day boozin and chattin it up.

then i crashed for 2 hours to regain my strength for the evening festivities. 

that night we went to a fancy dinner and everyone paid for me which was great. then we went to the bar. it was quite the establishment, let me tell you. deer head on wall. cowboys in bar. guitarist/singer with blonde mullet, hostess from dinner dancin like a ho, etc. etc. we did fun things at the bar. . . and i had to do certain things on a list such as: i danced with an old man who looked like JJ's dad, i got a piggyback ride from a guy wearing an ankle bracelet, got said ankle bracelet-wearing man to moon my bachelorette party and we all discovered he just had to shave his ass because no one's ass is that smooth,....and some other fun (appropriate but not for the worldwide web to know) things. 

we got home from the bar and i may or may not have run around the cabin naked. 

we declared tequila a legit drug.

the next morning we arose and said our goodbyes, but not before LJ spilled a shaken 7up in KKiss' car. KitKat puked on her own shoe and i had to stop at the Super1 in ellensburg to poo. 

it was an awesome weekend. 

Friday, June 12, 2009

mold sux

i haven't worked my normal schedule in 5 weeks. i have had 5 weekends in a row, off. now that i have had the luxury of having weekends off, i do not want to go back to work. in fact, i may perhaps go back in sweatpants and crocs. i'll get fired for sure!

yesterday i cleaned my house. we need room for wedding gifts. i found: a giant light-up pumpkin, a picture of my old dog jack taking a dump (courtesy of MM), a bottlecap to a hornsby, (Crazylegs and my drink of choice), 3 packets of unopened lifesavers, christmas wrapping paper, Chanel's hairbrush, an opened tampon, etc.

i put away: our new popcorn machine, the magic bullet, my kitchenaid, oil and vinegar set, new chandelier, and much much more. i had to leave stuff at my parents house because it won't all fit in the mobile home (you see, i think i have discovered it's only funny when me and JJ call it a mobile home....no one else).

well, the thing about cleaning house is that triumphant feeling when the job is complete. like, you seriously don't rest until every pillow is fluffed and in place. and you have no idea how the time has passed. and you get sidetracked, looking at things you otherwise would have forgotten. well i worked all morning from 9 am until 2:30. at 2:30 i realized i was still in my t-shirt (sans undies) that i had worn to bed. and i had to be at work at 3. yiiiiiikes!!!

so i quickly got dressed, imaging the whole time, how delish a cheese sandie on white bread sounded. i was salivating when i finally reached the cupboard, and i pulled out the bread.....and.....my heart sank. for there, right in the middle of my perfectly decadent loaf of country potato bread, was a purplish-greenish mold spot. and you know, when this happens and you are really crunched for time, you just take the first 2 slices and toss them, sometimes finding a non-moldy, or molded-slightly-so-you-can-just-peel-off-the-moldy-parts slice. but NO, not this time, folks. this time the mold went through the entire loaf. the entireeeeee loaf!!!! i was so angry. so i ate a bag of movie theater butter popcorn for lunch. (knowing how bad it is to the intestines)

then at work (did you all know i'm a nanny/babysitter as well as receptionist extraordinaire?) around 5, the baby was crying and not happy with life, and a wave of the Big D hit. now you tell me: when is the worst time to get the Big D besides on your wedding day in a white dress?? (Pray God this will not happen to me. i will eat nothing but rice and water on my wedding day) when a baby is screaming and needs your attention, while a 5-year-old and 3-year-old are wanting to play, and the children are not your own, (and neither is the toilet). THAT'S WHEN. 

Monday, June 8, 2009


until today, the economy hasn't really affected my life. sure, the $3.00 i had in my retirement fund is gone, but hey, i'm not cryin. i work two jobs: one for a non-profit organization, and they haven't even made one lay-off or wage-cut; and the other for a lovely family, who pays me with cash and personal checks....no tax! so i'm sittin pretty. i'm even bringing home the bacon in my household, because it's no longer hockey season for JJ. pat myself on the back for that one! no matter where we are in 10 years, i will always be able to say "hey, remember that time when we were just starting out in our mobile home* and i was the money maker?"

*mobile home: that's what i call our cottage now. when we were first moving in, my dad pulled up in our driveway and said "you live in a mobile home, L!" and i glared at him and said, "get out. you are not welcome in my house." now i have eased up and it's become a little joke. the cottage is longish, and shaped much like a mobile home, but it has a "garagette" attatched and we even have one strip of grass. so it's not really a mobile home, but it is just a bit funny to us to call it the mobile home now.

anyway, back to the economy. the retirement community is trying to cut costs (i.e. no personal e-mails, no personal use of printer ink, etc.) but now they are taking it a few steps further. so the first thing they did was take away the styrafoam cups, which i totally agreed with. but now there is now a shelf in the employee break room with everyone's own personal cup. and they don't get washed ever. so it's just a bunch of mouth germs flying around in there. barrrffff. (you act like i have a cup in there. NOT NOW. NOT EVER.)

the next thing work did was cancel out employee use of the milk machine in the employee break room. no big deal. i hate milk.

the next thing they did was break my heart. they discontinued employee use of BOTH the popcorn and the fro yo machine. AHHHHHHHHRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH i'm soooooo sad. i look forward to my bag o popcorn every monday morning at 9:30, it's the highlight of my day! and i feel that since i don't eat my "free employee meal" at work everyday, that i should be entitled to free popcorn for life. for life.

the economy has finally affected me in a very negative way, and i am not happy about it. not happy at all.

Friday, June 5, 2009

the unplanned fart

my bridal shower #2 is sunday. but i'm sharing the weekend with my sister CA because she graduates high school on saturday. so i'm home for the week. and therefore am my mother's slave. anyway, CA and two friends are performing at the commencement ceremony, so they were practicing at our house on wednesday. i always find ways to embarrass my sisters without even trying.

the singer in CA's little performance group, collin, came driving down the driveway and Cleo (who is bald. again. when does the word "trim" EVER mean "shave all all her curls and make her look like a hideous unlovable rat" ?????) ran after his truck so i ran after her. i said hello and met the nice boy, and we went inside. my dad and sisters CA and MM were standing in the front entryway and we were just chatting about graduation and "the good times" and college and such, when a totally unplanned fart made its way to the surface. now, stop for a moment and think of the last time you let forth an unplanned fart. these occurences always end in embarrassment. but you can't deny them, or else you'll just look guilty as the dickens. you know the feeling: hot face, sweaty palms, a sheepish half-grin. yes, we all know it was you that farted, so stand up and be a man. take credit for your flatulence. throw in the towel and half-heartedly raise your hand with a triumphant yet a bit smug look on your face. it was your fart, just say "yes, indeed, that was me."

that's the thing about farts. no one wants to talk about them. why why why? everyone farts. when was the last time you farted? just now while reading this blog, don't you lie to me. and was it loud? did you giggle at your own fart? you did, didn't you? we need to stop being bashful of a simple fart. STAND UP FOR YOUR FARTS PEOPLE!!!

anyway, back to the story. after i accidentally farted....."shit," i thought in my head, "i really hope no one heard that." collin kept talking and CA proclaims, "L did you just fart?" damn. "yes, yes that was me. i'm so sorry collin, i'm such an embarrassing sister." he says, "it's ok, it's ok." and my stupid self says, "and we aren't even that good of friends yet." FRIENDS?! he's just graduating high school, i just met him. we will not ever be friends. CA just gives me a look as if to say, "just please. get out of here." i say one more awkward "sorry" to the poor boy and go into my parents' room where my mom is wrapping graduation presents. "oh mom, i'm such a fool, did you hear that?" she did. my dad and MM come in laughing. "L, why did you do that?" "I DIDN'T MEAN TO! I SWEAR I REALLY DIDN'T EVEN FEEL THAT ONE COMING!!!!!!" i really didn't. but whatevs.

another day. another dollar. another fart.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


i came into work today wearing what i call slack-jeans. basically denim, but really dark and with a thicker waistband. they fit like a pair of slacks and look like a pair of slacks. well, today, my boss decides to say "are those jeans?" i say, "they are slack-jeans." she says, "that is borderline." i say "oh," while i am staring at her too-short cap sleeved T-SHIRT, black jeans and platform sandals circa 1999.

then i sit back down at my desk and start getting all huffy. yes, i am technically wearing jeans (-ish), yes it was my own fault for coming into work wearing them, but i mean, the nurses get to wear scrubs, the maintenance men get to wear blue dickies, AND THE OTHER FAT RECEPTIONISTS GET TO WEAR SWEATPANTS. what the shiz? totally not ok OR fair. but my boss can't say anything to them, because they are fat. fat people receive a "get out of jail free" card for every wardrobe situation. flashback to May 2004. senior in high school. i was wearing an adorable abercrombie pink flouncy skirt....and got called to the principal's office and was sent home to change because it was too short. THE NEXT DAY: Big Girl wearing SAME skirt. nothing is said. she wears skirt all day. you want to know why? because nobody wants to make the Big Girl cry.

back to present day: even if i was wearing blue jeans and a simple white tee to work, i would still trump these fools. dressing "nice" for work has become something completely distorted. any pair of pants that aren't jeans are "ok," and t-shirts are apparently just fine. what ever happened to a nice pair of slacks, a button down and a tie for men?? (JJ still does this and so does my dad, and the CEO of the company i work for) and LORD IN HEAVEN what EVER HAPPENED to the pencil skirt??? huh? huh? i wear them to work all the time, and i look extremely overdressed. so to tone it down, i wear slack-jeans. oh, sorry it didn't meet your "dress horrible at work" standards. where i can i buy the same pants you're wearing? no really, where would i find a pair of hideous high waisted, too-short black jeans? because apparently denim is fine if it's black.

jeans aren't ok to wear to work, even if they are slack-jeans. it was my mistake to wear them. but that's not my point. i deserved to get in trouble for wearing slack-jeans. i am just frustrated that the other receptionists wear sweatpants, a t-shirt and crocs (NOT EVEN JOKING) to work and no one bats an eyelash.

the residents like my clothes. they are always commenting on the way i dress. marilyn in 707 came to my desk just today and said "you are so much nicer to look at than the other receptionists." if rules are to be enforced, then they should be enforced on everyone, fat favoritism is getting old.

when have you gotten in trouble for your wardrobe?

Monday, June 1, 2009

New Yorkin

ok everyone has been texting/calling/bbming/screaming in my ear to write a new blog. TO THE PEOPLE: i will continue to write blogs, but if you love them so much, SAY SO! comment on them. give me a little encouragement...give me feedback...mention some of your stories that crop into your head from reading my blogs...tell a poop/fart joke. i don't care. sheesh. i have to do all the work all the time!
there we are @ Coney.

so i arrive in NYC 9:30 PM to vist Crazylegs and the one rule she gives me is: "do not get into an unmarked cab" simple enough eh? well, i grabbed my suitcase and waltzed outside. the first person i see is a man. he says "cab?" i say "YES!" and he takes my suitcase and rolls it to his car (felt like a queen!) i asked "can you break $100?" he said "yes." then we get to the car. an unmarked cab. damn. ......oh well! it's fine. so i text Crazylegs "oops broke your rule. sorry. see ya soon" she starts to panic and get a little crazy. i just giggle in my head thinking pish posh, it's FINE. then the "cab driver" says to me, "i don't have change for $100, we will stop for gas." thanks, liar. you told me you had change. whaddajerk. at this point i start to panic just a little bit. so he pulls into a gas station with bars on the windows and doors. he says "you pay for $25 gas and then get change." so i walk solemnly up to the "window" because you can't actually go in. i had to put my money in this drawer and push it through to the man on the other side. i raced back to the car and jumped in. i texted monica "i hope i don't end up dead in a warehouse" then she reallllly freaked out. so i google mapped her address to make sure the guy was going the right way. i wanted to make sure i would be aware if he took a scary wrong turn or something. so i sat on the edge of my seat, clenching my fists and praying to the Virgin Mary for the duration of the ride. then, gloriously, i saw her. we rounded a corner and i saw Crazylegs. i jumped out, threw my money at the man, and ran away from him. phew. safe at last, safe. at. last.

Crazylegs lives in Brooklyn. her apartment is above a mexican restaurant and is on the third floor. that stairwell is what i honestly imagine hell is like. hard, physical labor trudging up those miserable steps, and the air is hot and thick with smoke and the stench of burning beans. and you really have to stop at the top and rest and heave until you've caught your breath again. once inside, you must collapse onto a piece of furniture to regain strength in your muscles and lungs.

some things i saw in NYC:

a man with a snake on the subway.
a man wearing "shoes" that were basically toe socks with rubber on the bottom.
a homeless man wearing orange Lacoste loafers.
a man playing in a jazz band wearing JNCO jeans.
someone playing "stand by me" via guitar. we sang along.
a young man wearing purple from head to toe. literally. allllll purple.

Crazylegs took me on a "fashion tour" which included the "seduction" exhibit at the museum of fashion, a trip to mood fabrics, and a stop by her school, Parsons, just like on project runway! what a treat. i'll tell ya what wasn't a treat: the stomach ache i got from eating gnocchi on our fashion tour.

we went to some Brooklyn bars, ate at some Brooklyn restaurants, saw some Brooklyn people. all in all Brooklyn was pret-ty neat.

we went to Coney Island and rode the INTENSELY scary roller coaster and it hurt my head because it was sooo rickety and i was scared so i leaned into Crazylegs and she said my sharp shoulders were digging into her ribs, making the ride a bit awkward and uncomfortable. ha ha ha...then later a crazy drunk Spaniard on the beach was obsessed with our blonde hair and took pictures of us. and we had beer and pizza on the boardwalk. it was fabulous! a little bit ghetto though....

this trip wasn't about seeing the sights or doing "New Yorkish Things," it was about visiting a wonderful friend and it didn't matter that we ate out every single meal, spending hello kitty and $$$ up the ying-yang, and it didn't matter that we watched Family Guy and American Dad all weekend, laying around laughing at memories and pictures on facebook. i didn't go to NY to see Lady Liberty--oh wait, actually i did. the Lady Liberty that is Crazylegs, not the green statue.
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