Nepetalactone Haze

I just watched my cat get high. It was her first time, and I don't know who was more amused, me or her.

I tried catnip on my previous cat, but she was one of the many who are immune to its effects. Moon, however, is currently chillin' next to her Santa Frog who has a velcroed belly stuffed with a large catnip tea bag.

When I set it down next to her, she imediately tried to find the source of the dope. It was like she couldn't believe the frog was the yummy smelling object of desire. She smelled everywhere around it, even my hand for a second or two. Finally she settled on the fact that the frog was riding dirty and she was all over it. She nuzzled, marked, and rubbed it, buried her face in it, and even did the Flehman thing every once in a while (mouth slightly open, as if smelling with her taste buds). This took about twenty minutes, with me lying next to her, giggling the whole time, basically getting a contact high.

Then she mellowed out and has been half-sitting half-lying on the bed upstairs with what I think is a kitty smile. I'm pretty sure I have a new role in life from this day forward. I have become the Pablo Escobar of catnip.

Adapted from the movie Blow

George: "El padrino is Lollie. And for those of you living on the moon for the last twenty years, she is it, the boss of it all, El mahico."

Why?

Why is it that the afternoon I decide to rock out and listen to some seriously bass-y music with my windows rolled down (because it is a beautifully chilly day here in Florida) I have to be followed by a cop motioning to me in my rearview mirror to turn it down?

Dude just ruined my buzz. Meh.

How annoying is this flashing gif?

Had About Enough

Oy. What moron goes to the mall the day after the day after Christmas? Oh right...that would be me. After spending countless hours, meals and drinks with my family (who I love dearly) and battling the crowds in Nordies, Bloomies, Saks, and Costco (yes, I said Costco), I'm about ready for a whole lot of nothing tonight. All I want to do is not have a heavy meal, a drink of wine, or conversation while I am vegging out in front of the tube, indulging in the Top Chef marathon on Bravo tonight.

I am partied out and I need to rest before New Year's Eve rolls around...that eating, drinking and conversing schedule is going to be heavy.

Holiday Highlights

Ooooh, where to start? Maybe the best way to convey my holiday thus far would be in the ever-loved bullet form.

• Had a hangover Friday morning (2 glasses of wine..WTF?!) so I threw up, went in late and then left early to start the holiday drinking with Ray's work crowd at 3:30.
• Rum and coked at Prime 707, rum and coked at The Cottage, rum and coked at Suite 225. The first two were with the whole gang, the last with just Di and Steve before we went out to dinner at the new Italian place on Manalapan...where we polished off the Opus One they bought for us. I had a plate filled to the edges with steak, mushrooms and bleu cheese. I was overwhelmed and had to make myself stop lest I chuck for the second time that day. We laughed our asses off in a sea of grey (we saw the Early Bird crowd come and go and we basically closed the place. Maybe it was all the drunken f-bombs we were dropping...it was awesome. ps - I didn't have a hangover the next morning - go figure.
• Saturday morning was anomalous - Ray popped out of bed ready to tackle the day and I stayed tucked under the covers reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. He kept asking me why I wasn't up and doing shit at 6:45, like I usually (annoyingly) do on the weekend. I said, "'Cause I don't have shit to do...you do!" He was making lasagna for our dinner with Captain Ron and the 'Rents. Then it was,"Can you get up and help me? You have to cook the sausage, I always burn it." The sheer threat of having the house smell like smoke and burned meat for the dinner party kicked my ass out of bed. Sleep-in over.
• The dinner was really fun. Haven't seen Ron in a while and he looked great - had lost 30 pounds and was looking for 20 more. We laughed and drank a great wine, Silver Oak, that Ron had brought. He must've been psychic that day as it was the same wine we had bought to start the evening out. Ray's lasagna really is outstanding and we all had seconds of it , as well as Mom's Caesar Salad. Ron may need to tack on another 5 to the 20 he wants to lose - nobody left that room lighter than they came in!
• Sunday was a lazy morning, but we did get out of bed earlyish. We both needed to do some very last minute Christmas shopping. I thought I was going to have to break out my machete for the predicted mayhem at Best Buy, but it turned out to be fairly quiet and a pretty pleasant experience. Went home and wrapped gifts and got ready for Ballet Florida's Nutcracker. Kiefer's first time. Thought the experience could have gone one of two ways...either he loved it or hated it. Turns out there was a third way. After we had lunch at the fountains with E and Tricia, we headed off to the theatre. Kiefer proceeded to be fascinated by Act I. Between enjoying the music and straining to see every little thing happening on stage, he was asking questions like, "Who is she?" when Uncle Drosselmeyer appeared. "Why is he dancing like a girl?" when Fritz started out. He thought differently of the Tin Soldier and the Nutcracker Prince as he was battling the Mouse King. Then all love was lost in Act II. He was more interested in the gummy bears in his Mom's purse than he was in the "candies" that were dancing for him on stage. The phrase of the hour was, "No, Mom, I want to go home. Right. Now."
• Cassady was sick, and the family Christmas Eve Seafood Rip 'n Tear get-together was split into two factions so that Ryder wouldn't catch it. We did Lex and Jen's from 4 to 7 (great hollandaise Mom) and then went to Sash and E's from 7:30 to 10:00 (Ray's second pan of lasagna made an appearance there). Grandpa Santa made an appearance for Coleen, but he was too hot to do it again at Kiefer's - he didn't mind, his focus was on the presents. Orielle was the wine winner of the night. Good stuff, never had it before.
• Today is Monday - Merry Christmas! Ray and I have had a lovely morning (besides his back being out). I brought up a tray with our stockings, tea, cherries, clementines and cookies. Well, if you can't have cookies for breakfast on Christmas day, when can you? We opened our stocking stuffers and then ventured downstairs. We turned on the Christmas music channel and started the party. I gave Ray a boxing timer, a shirt and the Firefly series box set. He gave me every kind of Cosabella underwear known to god and man, a watercolour set and paper, brushes and a brush carrier. For both of us he bought another docking station (small and very portable) for my iPod. Now we can workout to music without having to boot up the computer.

Mom and Dad are coming over tonight for a fondue. Emmenthaler and Gruyere with French bread and Granny Smiths, vegetable broth for the filet, chicken and shrimp, finishing with semi-sweet chocolate and sherry and assorted fruit with poundcake. The wine? Girard, Provenance or Silver Oak...or all three. What?! It's a long meal!

The Best Night

We weren't going to go - but I'm so glad we did. Sash and E had their annual kid's gift exchange with the neighbours. We have no kids and we don't live in the neighbourhood, but we went over anyway. It turned out to be a terrific evening of food (we carved the roast beast), wine (Twomey is outstanding), and laughter (Gina's 40th next October was decided to be an 80s come as your favourite rock star).

We reminisced about our youth - how pathetic that we can even say that! Bad songs, bad hair, bad neon clothing...the 80s had it all. We can't wait for the party! Joe has even engaged an AC/DC cover band for those about to rock.

I need to figure out who I'm going to go as.

ck? Any suggestions?

Makes You Go Hmmm

Why do people sign off with a "~" before their name, as in:

...Blah, blah, blah.
~ Todd

Todd, are you not quite feeling like yourself? Are you approximately Todd today?

Found It!

So I was cleaning up under the stairs after we pulled it to pieces trying to locate all the Christmas ornaments. I happened upon 4 boxes of unused wedding crackers - like the kind you snap open at Christmas dinner - only they are silver, not red and green. One of the boxes was open and curiously, there was one missing...

Then later in the week (today) I was browsing around on the Internet in a moment of boredom. Guess what I found? My missing Christmas cracker!

The New Zoloft

Forget Lexapro and Cymbalta. Flush your Prozac, your St. John's Wort and your Rozerem down the can...I have the new anti-depressant.

Gingerbread cookies.

Yes, that's right. Gingerbread cookies. I mixed me some dough last night, waited in anticipation as it chilled for an hour in the fridge, rolled it out with an old-fashioned wooden rolling pin (none of this space age neon coloured plastic for me - screw you Bed, Bath and Beyond), and used 4 of my 32 brand new "occasion" cookie cutters (thanks Bed, Bath and Beyond)!

They cooled, I racked 'em, shifted them to the living room in front of the TV set, and decorated to my hearts desire. Even though it made my hand really sore to continually squeeze that tube of icing, I custom did every one of them - I even have a Groucho Marx Gingerbread man.

Result? I am happy today. Even the fact that my new Greencard arrived yesterday morning with my old unmarried name on it doesn't irk me so much. Oh well, it'll be another year before all that gets settled, but at least I have my cookies.

Note to Self: Make This Again!

Pizza Crust:
1 package yeast dissolved in 1/4 cup warm water and 1/4 tsp sugar (set aside)
Mix:
2 cups white flour
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup oil
1/2 tsp salt
Add yeast mixture, knead and spread in a frying pan.
Bake for ten in a 400 degree oven.

Microwave:
1 ear of corn, cut off niblets (set aside)

Stirfry:
eggplant tapanade
onions
garlic
Add:
red pepper
corn

Spread:
2 Tablespoons eggplant tapanade on pizza dough
Stirfry mix

Sprinkle:
Meunster
Havarti
Pecorino Romano

Top with:
halved cherry tomatoes

Bake:
20 minutes at 350 degrees

Holy Crap good!

Little Angels

So I just heard the best story about my adorable nephew #1. Kiefer and his playmate Sydney (both 3) were doing arts and crafts in S and E's very secular home. They were making an enormous mess - glitter was everywhere and they were covered in paint. E turns the corner and looks at the two of them with her hands on her hips, "Oh my goodness - look at the two of you! What a mess!

"Kiefer looks up at his Mom and says, "Praise the Lord, Mom! We're washable!"

Aside:
In looking for an angel picture to go with this blog, I Googled "halo" and a whole page of this came up:


So then I thought smartly, I'll just Google "angelic"... here's what I got:



I'm conflicted to report that religion is officially dead, and violent video games and Victoria's Secret have taken over the world.

Bigfoot Lives

At some time during the day, he crept into the ladies in our building and laid some Bigfoot pipe in the third stall. I expect the remains of the day to be documented in a future publication of The Guinness Book of World Records.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

Carrie!

And I don't mean of the Stephen King sort. The polkadot beauty was the winner yesterday. One more whoo-hoo for the ladies at the mall. You are my party dress store forever more. Screw you BCBG - you make me feel fugly. Meh.

Hopefully I am not setting myself up for a six-story fall. Getting this excited about one evening usually has disasterous results (and have you noticed that the New Years anticipation implodes in a gargantuan let-down about eleven seconds after the ball drops?). I'm thrilled about the dress, the company, the venue, the city and the promise of the shoe shopping. Honestly, I'm not normally this girly - I don't know what's come over me...

Shopping for Self Esteem

I shopped last weekend looking for a fab dress for my New Year's party in NY (now THAT's a carrot!). I was ceremoniously defeated by Max Azria and the BCBG. What the hell? Every "fun" looking party dress in there looked like curtains when they were draped on me - pardon the pun. Maria made nicer looking duds for the von Trapp children. And I tried on a lot. In fact, the whole lot. To make matters worse, E, my brother and Ray were all in the store watching the runway show, simultaneously making the poo face and shaking their heads at each turn. I was instantly thrown into a deep depression. It's amazing how a bad experience in a badly lit dressing room can ruin your soul from the inside out.

Then...

I hit Luxe Cache last night at the mall - alone. I was totally having a Sex and the City moment. Every cocktail dress and gown I tried made me look like a million bucks. I could actually feel my self esteem crawling back up my legs, over my stomach and up my throat to explode with a "Hey! I'm BACK!" (beam of light shoots out the top of my head). The flirty polkadot poufy skirted number made me feel like Carrie, the rouched red body skimmer screamed Samantha and the demure, yet sexy, black swishy thing had Charlotte all over it. There were plenty of Mirandas in the store, but I was not into dress pants and a belted jacket for the big night.

So thank you ladies at the mall - you made my week. Now I just have to go back tonight with the crew (Ray, Mom and E) and make some serious decisions. I'm rooting for Carrie...

Back to the Weather

Scene:
Post Nutcracker performance, outside on the FAU campus theatre patio at the Gingerbread Ball where children gorge on candy canes, donuts, cookies and punch while meeting, taking pictures with, and getting autographs from the dancers in costume.

Build up to Holiday Spirit Ruining Moment:
I was holding my three year old niece who was clad in a slippery crushed velvet number. Me? I was wearing an easy breezy cotton dress and high heels, juggling the kid, her donut, the program we were having signed, and a bottle of water.

HSRM:
Sweat runnels from my serious case of swamp-ass started pouring down the back of my legs.

People, it is too hot here for Christmas trees and holiday lights. Hello, Canada? I need a cold front.

Really, Really Cold

Like, 45 degrees cold...I love it! It's putting me in the holiday mood, and I get to wear my sweaters and boots. I have my chocolate high heeled boots underneath my bootcut jeans, topped with a long sleeved T and a brown squishy hoodie! I'm even wearing a scarf!

Unfortunately, the weather is supposed to "improve" before Thanksgiving, thus ruining my holiday spirit and dashing my yearning to decorate the house.

*sigh*

It's Cold in Florida

I know...all you Northerners are like, hating me right now. But it is! It's cold here. Ray - missing the fall/winter in NY - decided unanimously amongst himself that we were going to sleep with the windows open and we can snuggle under the blankets won't it be fun?!

At 4 in the morning, also referred to as dark o'clock, I woke up from a dream that my head was encased in a block of ice and someone was blowing on my face to melt it. In reality, the cat, tired of her own extreme freezing, had snugged up on my side of the bed, under the covers, and laid her own face on mine and was breathing cold snorts on my nose. I was torn between it being kinda cute and feeling that my lips were about 4 mm away from committing beastiality - eww - disturbing.

I craned my neck away at that point and got into a really uncomfortable position for the next hour, as I lay there wondering why I couldn't get back to sleep. Oh yeah. Because it's too friggin' cold! Ray stirred at about 5:05, and I took the opportunity to ask him if he was awake (I know he's a light sleeper and even if he hadn't been awake, the question would have woken him up - hee hee!). Being the sweetheart that he is, he ran his ass out of bed when I told him I was freezing my ass off, got an extra blanket, closed the windows and apologized for keeping them open through the night.

When I pointed out to him how sweet he had been to do that for me in the middle of the night when I was the one who was cold he said, "Um yeah...why didn't you just get out of bed?"

I think I may have ruined the balance of our marriage. Crap.

Starf_cks

This is a little more than frustrating. Starbucks’ wireless is not working because of a new oven they put in yesterday. Umm, if you know the oven is going to knock out your system, you need to do one of two things Mr. Manager. 1) Put a sign on the door that says your wireless is out or b) upgrade your effing system. On top of that, I thought it was my connection to T-mobile, so now I have four day passes that I will never use in the 120 days I’m “allowed” to keep them.

I can’t believe I have to let go of my primo space (I’ve hogged the entire outlet for the laptop and the phone charger) and haul everything to 40^th and Lex.

Grrr.

Even my Tarragon Chicken Salad sandwich is not making me happy this morning.

Not for the Upper Crust

A delightful surprise, of either my husband’s or Julie’s doing (our travel agent), I found myself in Delta’s First Class on the flight to New York. We were delayed by an hour getting onto the plane, and then another 20 minutes on the runway. To appease the masses, they started the in-flight movie to whittle away the time while we waited to takeoff.

This was not to First Class’ approval. Why you ask?

The movie was Talledega Nights.

Will Farrell and the Nascar culture apparently don’t appeal to the jet-set crowd. They were upset that they had to endure the preview. A palpable disapproval blanketed the 16 seat curtained section. An audible murmur rippled through the Medallion Members when they realized they could hear the movie even when the PA system was turned off (the earphone system volume was so loud, you could actually hear it through the armrests). They were assured by the flight attendant that they wouldn’t be able to hear it once the engines got to max cap. A brief snort came from the seat behind me at this guarantee. “Nice choice of movie, Delta,” he said just loud enough for us (and her) to hear.

There was a smattering of applause when the movie was discontinued for takeoff.

I wonder if Farrell knows how unpopular he is with Buffy and Chad (said with clenched teeth and a slight underbite).

I felt alone in rows one though four. I kind of liked the movie when I saw it in the theatre. Every once and in a while, I glanced up at the monitor in secret and chuckled at what I knew to be the funny parts – silently of course. I didn’t want to shoulder the disdain of my seatmate Thurston for the next two hours.

Yay from a Canadian!

Thank you Americans! Senate is still up for grabs at the point of publication, but the House is ours (well, yours really, but ours in spirit).

Eat it Bush. Eat. It.

Donkey says, "Oh yeah."

Heart Disease to the Front, Obesity to the Back

Mmmkay. I went to Wal-Mart this evening to buy tights for NY.

I know it's election day, but I'm going to tell you what's really wrong with this country. Food.

Heart Disease personified was in line in front of me; a woman with two lovely, albeit grossly overweight, children. She was killing them (and herself) with preservatives and saturated fat. I swear to you, she bought boxed EVERYTHING, and fresh NOTHING - save a lonely bag of valencia oranges. Included in this melange of death were three, count 'em , THREE containers of iodized salt. What was she seasoning?! Everything was already prepared and laden with salt! I don't even want to go into the number of sausages she was purchasing. Okay, maybe I will. Bagged sausage, boxed sausage, even canned Vienna sausage, for real...Vienna sausage - who buys canned Vienna sausage anymore? Did I trip back into the 70s without noticing? I was looking hard for dried sausage, but alas, there was none. Maybe Wal-Mart ran out. And what is with the run on syrup in Southern Florida? She had three, again, count 'em, THREE squeezy bottles of syrup. (No, not real maple syrup - the cornsyrup kind of fake syrup.)

Segue to Obesity behind me in line.

Again, a woman with one lovely, albeit highly hyperactive, child. She also was participating in the run on fake syrup. Was Wal-Mart running a three fer? She has three bottles to compliment her seven (yep), seven boxes of assorted Aunt Jemima pancake products. Waffles, silver dollar, short stacks - I wanted to wring her sugary neck. I wanted to throw her ten pound bag of white refined sugar on the floor, but I would have had to reach over the mountain of bacon she was piling on the rolling countertop. Actually, I could've reached for the other ten pound bag of sugar in Heart Disease's pile - it was closer.

People, these children have no chance. They will either be left orphaned by their morbidly obese parents, or like the Surgeon General's report said (and I didn't believe at the time, but I do now), "Because of the increasing rates of obesity, unhealthy eating habits, and physical inactivity, we may see the first generation that will be less healthy and have a shorter life expectancy than their parents."

Chuh, I Hate the Blonde Ones

SO. This morning I found myself up on my couch, suppressing a squeal - no reason for a full fledged scream - it was just a lizard. A blonde one. I'm not sure why, but the blondies skeeve me out. No reptile should be that pale, unflavoured gelatin colour. The fact that they are trying to melt into the object they are planted on makes me distrust them.

And they skitter.

I tried to will it to morph through the front door. The door was only six paces away, but alas it was closed. No dice. So I sat and tried to burn a hole in it's back with my x-ray vision. Move! Move towards the door. Nada. Courage washed over me and I leaned over to it. I blew on in to see if it would get a move on.

Nothing.

I got closer and blew harder. It's tail just swung in the direction of the breeze. At this point, I'm thinking it encountered the cat, froze in fear (it did look like it was mid-stride), became apoplectic, and died of starvation in it's blonde, you-can't-see-me-on-this-tile state. I shrugged my shoulders, left it there and went to work this morning, vowing to get brave and remove it tonight if it was still there after work. Then I would be assured that it was most definitely dead, and would not skeeve me to death (in my own apopletic, brunette, I-can't-believe-a-lizard-is-threatening-my-life state) if it skittered.

I haven't checked it yet, and I'm going to do so now...

F_ck. It's gone. This means I was blowing on a live lizard, it could have moved and freaked me out, and worst of all, it is still skittering around my house! Can lizards climb carpeted stairs? I'm not sleeping tonight.

My Comment From Another Blog

[About the flick The Departed]

Oooh, we saw this last week and loved it. We walked away from the movie with almost no negative comments. I won't ruin it for those who haven't seen it, but it didn't end the normal "Hollywood" way - and I appreciated the shock.

The best bit for me was the vitriolic banter between Mark Wahlberg and Alec Baldwin. On the edge of forced, but just on the edge - I actually believed the conversations between the two characters were truly mean spirited, but on the cusp of playing, where a real fight could break out and someone's teeth were going to get broken. After which they'd go for a beer.

(aside: cK, Rays says to read Black Mass, an account of Whitey Bulger - that's who Nicholson was based on.)

Saw Running with Scissors last night. Recommended to all. Bening is just incredible; her drug-induced speech is some of the best slur ever.

The Queen was also just amazing - a must see. Helen Mirren can do no wrong (much like Judy Dench - she didn't even suck in The Chronicles of Riddick where she was surrounded by mediocrity and absurdity).

Testing

Something screwy going on here - I think I lost some stuff, but let's see if this works...

My Random Soundtrack

A blatant steal from the ck, who did the same thing to Mips.

Opening Credits: “Serenade For Strings, Op. 6 In E Flat Major: III. Adagio - Piu andante - Tempo I” - Joseph Suk

Waking Up: “Big Time” – Peter Gabriel

First Day At School: “Cry” – James Blunt

Falling In Love: “Well, Well” – Nelly Furtado

Fight Song: “That Lucky Old Sun (Just Rolls Around Heaven All Day)” – Ray Charles (I guess I fight slowtime)

Breaking Up: “Re-Introduction” – Wiseguys

Prom: “Remember the Tinman” - Tracy Chapman (Well, the guy I went with was tall, skinny and sensitive - he didn't cry though...or rust)

Life: “With Arms Wide Open” – Creed (I'll take that as a motto)

Mental Breakdown: “Clocks” – Coldplay (NO!!! This should have been the last one - in fact I think I'm one off on a few of these...)

Driving: "Your Love is Mine" – Corinne Bailey Rae

Flashback: “My Love Grows Deeper, Pt. 1” – Nelly Furtado

Getting Back Together: “Perfect Kiss" - New Order (YEAH)

Wedding: “Levitate Me” - Pixies (Same group as the cK on this one...interesting...)

Birth of Child: “Digging in the Dirt" - Peter Gabriel (umm...gross?)

Final Battle: “Lessons Learned” – Carrie Underwood (kind of embarrassed by this one, good title, but a friend gave me this album)

Death Scene: “Trouble” - Coldplay (Ooo. Perfect.)

Funeral Song: “Época" - Gotan Project” (Slow, but sexy/sad, okay we're back on track)

End Credits: “Josie” – Blink 182 (Perfect! Going out loud with hard guitar)

Mmm, Mmm, Good

Honestly, it could not be raining harder here. The puddles have puddles.

But I don't care.

I am sitting here, in my office, looking out the window enjoying homemade ham and pea soup in my Labrador mug. Cozy!

Holy B.O.

Good Christ!! I just left a Seinfeld episode. I went to the can at work and the bathroom as a whole smelled fine (well as fine as a public bathroom with three stalls can smell). I went to the usual - the last stall - because it normally has the most t.p.

I must have been breathing out when I went in and locked the door, because the moment I breathed in, I was accosted by an OVERWHELMING odor of B.O. It was too late to leave so I had to endure. After a quick self-pit-check (not me) I spent the entire 20 seconds while I was in there trying to figure out how this smell arrived in the stall. Did some chic come in here and wipe her pits on the wall? Was her workout so intense this morning that her poo stinks of it? Did a construction worker misread the WOMEN sign on the door? It was all encompassing...I worried that I would smell of it when I left. I just might need a shower. No...I'm pretty sure I need one.

I'm sure the power of the smell is equal to its endurance - it is never leaving the stall walls. Seinfeld had to sell the car, and well, you just can't do that with the can...I'm never going in there again. Hello, handi-crapper!

Just Like a Six-Foot-Long Sub Sandwich

It is just as impossible to not make others smile when carrying a six-foot-long sub down the street as it is to not smile when you are offered shaped pancakes. With the aid of cookie cutters, Mom made stars, elves, hearts, gingerbread men and trees on the griddle this morning. It was for Coleen mostly, but I think everyone at the table thought it was a little bit for them...

I Was Late

Sunday
So, my period is officially late. This is day 29...and I don't usually make it to day 28. I keep checking to see if my math is just way off. But it isn't.

So on Saturday I bought a box with two sticks. Peed on it in the morning and I got one line: Not PG. Wasn't convinced when I didn't get my period during the day so I did it again this morning. One line, again. WTF? Where is my period? Did I stress myself out so much this week that I made it go away? Did Wednesday's meltdown scare it out of my body? Not sure. We'll see what happens.

Maybe I'm going through early menopause...

Wednesday
On Tuesday, I arranged a bloodtest for this afternoon because now I was way late. I knew the second I sat my ass on the exam table and extended my arm for the draw I'd start to feel crampy and boob-sensitive.

Bingo.

Got it Wednesday night. No resutlts from the doc yet, but really, do I need it?

Bloody NO!

Poor Poor Sujay

It was the eve of Sam's Christening. The '‘Rents were over for dinner with Sash, E, Kief and little pink-eyed Ryder. Suj was in town and everyone wanted to get together on Friday night, as Saturday day and evening was going to be reserved for the raucous party that was to follow the ceremony of Sam's entrance into the "Kingdom of Heaven." We had a great time but Suj wasn't paying attention to his bottle of Scotch. It was draining slowly but surely, and he was the only one drinking the 10-year-old McCallen single malt. A third of the bottle was gone by midnight.

So up we got in the am - not too early of course, though Ray and I were none the worse for the wear...Sujay rolled out at around noon. We had gone for bagels so he tried to placate his sour stomach with some bread and milk. Then his dehydration got the better of him when he saw me drinking a berry juice and Seven-up combo. He wanted one as well, so he made himself one to quench the thirst.

Bad move.

After driving very carefully, we got to the Christening (normally I'm hell on wheels, right Kelse?). I was kind because he was grading between green and sheet white - hard for an Indian. Suj said to the hosts in his lovely British accent, "Hello, nice to meet you, where is your bathroom please?" Apparently he had his own Christening to perform at the porcelain alter.

He managed to rally for the ceremony, but Ray had to drive him home shortly after the water touched Sam's forehead. Too bad. They had a bounce house. There were midnight races for the adults, and we missed them.

Segy Ugxy

I saw this commercial for Dawn of the Dead and I'm pretty sure I saw a clip of Iggy Pop as a zombie. This was while I was watching Daniel Day Lewis in Gangs of New York. "These guys are totally gross here," I thought to myself, "but in the right circumstances (lighting) I'd probably be okay with their advances..." These two men inspired me to create my own list of Sexy Ugly men. To this list of two, we can add:

• Mick Jagger - craggy cute
• Benicio Del Toro - greasy and finger lickin'good
• Jeff Goldblum - geeky but baby gives good voice
• Michael Wincott - The Crow? Sir Guy of Gisbourne? mmmm...
• Ron Perlman - Beauty was the Beast
• Tommy Lee Jones - want to touch his facial folds
• Jean Reno - born Don Juan Moreno y Jederique Jimenez, aka The Professional
• Alan Rickman - in anything
• Lambert Wilson - The French Guy in The Matrix Revolutions
• Marilyn Manson - sometimes, most of the time just creepy
• Billy Corgan - with eyeliner he reminds me of Powder, awww...
• Edward James Almos - super craggy
• Gabriel Byrne - barely ugly, but definitely sexy

I tried to explain to a friend what sexy ugly was, but my tongue got tied, hence the title.

Blue 19? Blue 19!

Oh happy day. Today was Immigration and Naturalization day. Today I had my long awaited "biometrix" appointment to get the Married Name Change in the works for the Green Card. The promise of an appointment that may or may not be honoured, a long wait in line, a smelly neighbour, the issuing of a number.

I'm a bank account number, a Social Security number, a passport number, an Am Ex number, a Green Card number, a debit card number, a cell, home and fax number, a password number (the same one for everything, stupid, I know), I'm the 2nd child, the 1st girl (okay, the only girl), a Lot number, a Barnes and Noble number, Gap number Delta number and Target number.

And today, I was Blue 19.

Picture this: Three rows of chairs, eight wide, first two rows occupado, last row half full. Every time the person in the front row, first chair on the right, gets called as "NEXT!" we all have to snake down one chair. It is a little ridiculous dance much like doing a Canon in ballet.

Everyone!! Stand, stand stand, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, sit, sit, sit, cross legs, cross legs, cross legs. Pause for a minute and a quarter.

"NEXT!"

Una mas!

So after five sets of Canon...wait let me back up. Sash and E just went through this and they gave me the heads up that you can't have your cell phone with you and there is no reading material. I brought my teeny tiny miniature version of Much Ado About Nothing (it's red and looks like a bible complete with a red ribbon for marking where you left off). I felt a little weird with it but it kept me completely absorbed. Completely absorbed, so much so that I didn't register the three, count them, three people yelling my number.

BLUE 19? Blue 19! Blue. 19. Buh-lew 9 teen! After the five sets of Canon I was just mindlessly moving on automatic, reading my teeny tiny pages.

"There she is. Blue 19. Ma'am? They're calling your number."

Blue 19 got up and went the lady who needed a detailed explanation of maiden name, 1st married name and hoping to have second married name register before Death I Do Part. "Tanks," she says, "ju can go back to de chairsss and wait for dem to call ju for feengerpreenting." Right. Blue 19 gets up to go back to the chairs to find that she has missed out on four chair shuffles. Crap! Six musical chair sessions later, she calls me again.

"Jor Mohder's name? Jor Fahder's name? Addresssss? Okay. Ju can go back to de chairsss." A shuffle was taking place! And there was my chance. I went right back to the place I had been and squeezing in said to the chic next to me (meaning, the chic who needed to be behind me), "I'm just going to take the place where I was because they keep calling me out of line, and I'll pretty much be here forever if I have to keep going back to the end of the line." Big smile. "Thanks."

They didn't call Blue 19 out of line again. After they fingerprinted me (ooh, very Law & Order - I'm "in the system"), I reached the photograph portion of the deal. She was sweet and asked me if I wanted a "do-over" when my mug showed up on the computer screen. I looked like crap. Whatever. I gave her an unceremonious, "No."

I will look like crap until 2024 when I have to renew the pic.

No Pop, Just a Dull Throb

I think I hurt my foot.

I came in today after failing to fix the server problem yesterday (can I just tell you hard it was to get motivated enough to get out of bed with the "promise" of today?) , and went to the server to see if the backup had been somewhat successfull. Looks like maybe part of it had, but of course, something had to go wrong with it. The DVD got spit out but the backup did not continue...so I have to do it manually.

I went through the motions (and I say this with the enthusiasm of Steven Wright) but of course when it came to the critical point of inserting the DVD, the f_cking machine told me to enter the DVD in the drive.

I already had.

Redid the entire thing (again the motions, with the enthusiasm of Mr. Wright). Still wants me to put in a new DVD.

Again, I already had.

After the third try I kicked the file cabinet that the server was sitting on. Pretty sure it's not broken (my foot), but I'm sure glad I don't dance for a living anymore. Otherwise, I may have just taken myself out of a week of performing.

An Even Better List

In the spirit of the birthday list, I propose to you my outstanding list for Monday:

All The Shit That Broke Today

• my Outlook viewing pane, then the send and receive, then the entire program
• the server NOD updates
• server service package 3
• server drive E "bad mail folder"
• server mirrored hard drive (needs serious replacement)
• Adobe Acrobat (corrupted files - what else?)
• Access program on my laptop
• mail server on the web (apparently doesnt exist)
• had to write the above "doesnt" without the apostrophe - cause GUESS WHAT? I just found out that it is broken TOO!!! Holy Crap! Cant a girl get an effing break? It keeps taking me to "find." I dont want find!

Quite honestly, I want to get a blow torch and go Office Space on the server, or just beat the everlovingratshit out of it.


How good would this make me feel? Bueno, excellente.

Seriously, Im going home to drown myself in a rum runner, and yes cK, Im having the floater.

Happy Birthday To Me!

I just want to do a quick update on my birthday gifts so far:

• I woke up with a UTI
• I think I might be working on a yeast infection
• My car won't turn over (I need a new starter)

Yay! Happy Birthday to me!
37? Looks fabulous so far!

On Purpose or Bad Timing?

Finally caught the movie Deliverance. I had always heard about the squeal-like-a-pig scene and thought that I'd want to avoid it. But I found the movie on the TV from the beginning and quite honestly, I was riveted. I watched until the point where Mountain Man 1 assaults Ned Beatty and then Mountain Man 2 is about to go for Jon Voight. Burt Reynolds shoots an arrow through MM 1's chest, and we cut to a commercial.

For Cialis. Yes, Cialis...the other Viagra.

The tagline?

"When the moment is right, will you be ready?"

What I heard was:

"When the moment is right, will you be Ned Beatty?"

Money Doesn't Grow on Trees

But it does lie next to lawyers.

I had (note the tense) an open Workers Comp claim for my busted up left knee - two surgeries as many of you know. After a four year lull (during which I had basically forgotten that I had an open claim) I got a call from my lawyer (who I now love dearly - all you lawyer-haters: Suck It). He proceeds to tell me that my case is being settled at a very pleasing amount, 4/5ths of which I will be receiving via cheque very shortly.

Whoo-ahh!

THEN!

I get a call from him a few days later saying that the State of Cali wants me to go away, as in, never bother them again about my knee. This means they'd like to "buy me out" for another grand sum.

WHAT?

"Do you want to take what I consider to be their very generous offer?" said lawyer says to me.

Fighting back the urge to say "Chuh!" I say politely, "Well, if you think it's a good offer, then I'll take it." He wants $4,700 for the five years of representing me - I say "You bet." This is how happy I am...I want him to have the money. He deserves it. Anyone who can get me a nice tidy little windfall such as this one without any fuss and bother on my part is fee-worthy to me.

ps - It's all tax-free!!! Christmas came early to my household. Champagne and truffles for everyone.

Holy 37

It's my birthday tomorrow. We're having a small family get-together at our house, chili and lasagna courtesy of my husband. Ray makes three wicked dishes and these are two of them (the other is chicken masala, but he hasn't made that since he was trying to impress me when we were dating).

Presents received thus far:

• two pairs of shorts and a pair of coulottes from Old Navy (Mom)
• a Sheryl Crow long-sleeved T from the concert last night (Jen)
• the concert last night (unknowingly given by Tom - it was just fortuitous timing)
• two pairs of kickin' boots from Nine West (me)
• yesterday afternoon off (also me)
  

Looking forward to stretching the celebration into the weekend...maybe I can finally drag Ray to the Norton Museum for a day of art-strolling. Maybe I can even convince him to get up early on Saturday morning and go to the Farmer's Green Market with me. Okay, so that might be pushing it.

Just a Preview

I want to write more about this experience (when I am not at work, or when I am supposed to be working), but I wanted to share a small snippet to give you a taste of what's to come.

I was at the Keylime House with Ray and Steve. It is a tiki bar, waterside haven for happy hour Salty Dogs and Harley Women.

A beaut from Ray:

"Man, there are a lot of old women in here under really young hair."

Happy Hairy's Treasure Chest

This is truly a golden moment in the annals of sibling stupidity.

Lexi, my younger by three years, father of two beautiful girls, got rip roarin' drunk this past weekend. He weaved his way upstairs and proceeded to dig out a pimple on his chest. In his stupor, he decided that there was too much hair in the way. (My brother is a hairy bastard.) Here's what happened next...he grabbed a razor. He felt that the hair just had to be removed so he could get better purchase on the offending blemish. So he started to shave the area.

You know that Seinfeld episode? The Muffin Tops was the title. The one where Jerry starts shaving his chest and can't stop? Well, that's Lexi. Except on the way to Baresville, he stops briefly in HappyFace Town. Shaved cirles around the nipples and a smiley face. Um-hmm. Like the 40-year old Virgin, but with less pain.

That was three days ago. Now he's just an itchy bastard.

In Sheep's Clothing

Was looking for an image for the post below when I came across this:



Does anyone have an explanation?

Here's What I Missed

Okay, so I'm home from Japan now. Fully ensconced in the American lifestyle again. Had a McDonald's Big and Nasty with cheese, fries and a coke the moment I got home. So much for the maybe-I-can-keep-up-the-healthy-seafood-diet-thing-when-I-get-home crap. In a word? No.

I've already, this week, indulged in fast food, burgers at home, 3 poached eggs and 4 strips of bacon (in one breakfast sitting), beef stroganoff, chili, and turtles (just one a night though). My colon should be crying.

Besides intestinally devious food, here's what else I missed in Japan - and didn't realize it until today (7 days later): Music.

I asked Ray what we should do this weekend, and he surprised me by saying, "Umm, I don't know...maybe get some colour?" So while he napped off the rest of his cold, I went out to the chaise in the backyard by the pool and I did just that. I got some colour. A little too much of it actually, I'm a little hot under this quilt - could be due to the redness of my skin.

Anyway. I sat out there with my iPod on shuffle. For at least an hour and a half, I was pleased by the surprise of the next song, never knowing what was coming around the corner. The earbuds afforded a better, more accurate quality of sound...I discovered new aural images during the beginnings and fade-outs of well-known songs. There were things I'd never heard before. Little laughs before the drummer set the intro pace, or last words in the fade that were undetectable on the radio or in my kitchen iPod docking station.

It's obvious that they were always there, but why hadn't I heard them before? Was it really the lack of definition in the car or kitchen speakers, or was it the fact that I haven't sat down, in a very long time, and done nothing but really listened to the music? Am I too often multi-tasking, taking the sound for granted, as just background noise to carry me from one errand to the other? I'm thinking yes.

Today I sank into the music. I let it transport me, as music is wont to do, much like smell takes one back to a certain time or place. I felt the political overtones of Peter Gabriel. Alanis took me back to appreciating how Ray pulled me out of the dumps. Philip Glass sent me to the stage performing Betsy's Beneath the Wake. I rode on A1A with Coldplay, the Caldecott Tunnel with John Mayer, cross country with Gotan Project. I felt Ray Charles' drug addiction and the romance of Mansfield Park's soundtrack. I heard Black Francis' manic wail and James Iha's sweet contretemps guitar.

But mostly I just listened.
I really listened.

Corporate Punishment

I have to give the Non-English speaking people at this conference props - but MAN! Am I ever uncomfortable listening to some of these guys struggle through their presentations - GAH!

Numbers mostly trip people up. Eventually, the glogs of numerical spit get swallowed and lay in wait somewhere between the esophagus and the gullet (do we have a gullet?).

I imagine Professor T_ng going home at the end of the conference and violently vomiting up about a gallon of glibbery numerical alphabet soup.

Double props to Manhaz for the wicked new word.

Pappa San

Pops can really come up with them...at dinner he said the lady's kimono (a guest, not a server) didn't look like a very fancy dress. It was cotton, not silk, striped, not flowered, grey, not brightly coloured.

"What's that company?" he says. "Peterson? No, Peterman. J. Peterman?"

"Huh?" I say.

"The outdoors company...you know, uhh... L.L. Bean! Her kimono looks like she got it at L.L. Bean."

Other stuff worth a note:
At dinner tonight, we were asked if we had any allergies after we ordered. Probably good practice in an International hotel chock full of seafood.
I saw a woman whose straight back rivaled Tamiyo Kusakari from the Japanese film, "Shall We Dance?"

Our beer has been Yebisu (remember it, try to find it in the States).
Saw the Japanese version of the Four Seasons purse-stool (Mom, you know what I'm talking about). A lacy cloth was placed over two purses sitting in an empty chair at the table next to us. Protection from falling food, or covering something not so beautiful as the food? You decide. They were both Louis Vuitton, so I'm leaning towards the latter.
Manners and afternoon tea appetites were stunted when a man took off his shoes and socks and put his feet up on the sofa he was occupying. Let me get this straight, it's rude to blow your nose at the table, but laying back and lounging sans footwear like you're at home potatoing on the couch in a public place where elegant teapots are tilted back on their hindlegs and pretty cakes are served passes for okay?
Lastly, Yokohama has a frosted sky. The light is different here...pearly.

Smoked Chipped Beef

I bought a book for cK just because of the title: Nobody Cares What You Had For Lunch. It's about blogging, the content is crap, but I just liked the title so much I made an impulse buy.

Since nobody cares what I had for lunch, let me tell you about my breakfast.
From the buffet:

• stewed plums and figs
• melon
• smoked salmon and capers
• steamed rice
• miso soup with fresh crunchy scallions
• tamago
• tofu
• seaweed and edamame (the best thing ever)
• Japanese boiled egg (hard to eat with chopsticks - had to revert to my coffee spoon)

Just seriously jiving off this food. It's so tasty and delicate.

After breakfast, Dad and I went to the business center to get cards made (communication is a sweaty ordeal here - I get nervous for the people who are trying so hard to understand, and who are so apologetic for not understanding). I love the people here, but I'm going to need three showers a day if I keep this up.

One more sweaty ordeal followed with Dad and I trying to ask the curator of the Yokohama Museum of Art if she knew Tomiya and was he famous, no we don't want to have his paintings shown here, we just want to know if you know him...in France? No, he justs paints France a lot, we have his paintings, please don't apologize, European art is the same as in Japan, Europe hasn't heard of him? No please, you do understand our question, you're English is very good! You have answered our question, you don't know of him. I guess we are not rich because of the paintings he gave to us...no, no, we don't want to buy his paintings. We want to know if you have heard of him. But, no. Thank you, arigato gozaimas...can we go back to the hotel, Dad? I need a shower. My pits smell like smoked chipped beef.

ps - I had tuna sashimi over rice for lunch. I know you don't care, but there it is.

I Am Thor, God of Thunder

So those last three strikes are OUT, man!

Who cares about watches...it's so cool here in Yokohama all I want to do is stop time and watch. Besides there are clocks everywhere - even a garganto digital one on the flippin' 30-story Ferris Wheel outside of our window.

Bags made it. To quote my good friend cK, "Whoo!"

E fixed the remote issue - I am all good on the internet. Even Skyped for the first time today. Ray laughed at me when I contacted him. "You're so pleased with yourself, aren't you? You aren't happy to be talking to me...you're happy with yourself that you made this thing work." I replied indignantly, "No, I'm not happy because I made this thing work!" (then sweetly) "....I'm happy because it's free!"

I'm such a tightwad.

Three Strikes, You're Out!

Strike One!
Put on my Princess Diana commemorative watch this morning so I can keep track of time at the conference. At the airport I realized the watch was motionless, as in dead, no battery. (Is this foreshadowing?)

Strike Two!
Foreshadowing? Yes. Time is going to be a problem for me on this trip, I can just feel it. The computers and printers were down at the Delta Medallion counter. After a 20 minute wait, Dad and I went to the International Check-in where the SLOWEST TYPER IN THE WORLD "helped" us. Seriously, it was getting down to the wire as to our bags making it onto the plane under the 30 minutes before takeoff rule. Then, the STITW proceeded to put me on the 7:15 flight (Dad was on the 6:00, which I, too, was supposed to be on). Now my bags are a whole flight behind me. It will be a miracle if they make it to Tokyo on time.

Strike Three!
Can't remote in to do any email downloading or grab some stuff to work on on the plane. This flight is going to take forever. For. Ever.

At least I got my three strikes out of the way. Now I know the plane won't crash.

Japan Tease

I'm actually nervous about this trip. Will I offend someone due to my boorish ways? Will I hand someone my business card improperly? Will my hand on someone's shoulder be a major faux pas?

And the language...ugh. I'm worried. Whenever I've traveled before, I've been able to get by reading bits of French or Spanish. Kanji? Not a clue.

20 hours on the plane. Never done that before - don't even know how crazy I'll go. Or how jumpy my legs are going to get.

Looking forward to the food though. I'm on a quest to find the lightest tempura possible. I could eat sushi everyday all day long. Maybe I will. Except when I am eating noodle soup!