The News Roundup

Pardon me won't you while I cram about 15 days worth of blog posts into one. I'm all economical and shit like that these days.

1. I don't want to intrude on Some Guy's blog topic turf because, of all of the people in my particular section of blogland, he is the resident expert on documentary films, but I'm piping in with my 2 cents because in the past 10 days or so I've seen 2 terrific documentaries. I haven't noticed that he has mentioned them, so I feel compelled to step up. I figure since he didn't mention them that perhaps he hasn't seen them and they are both worth watching.

Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten (2006) - An intensive biography of Joe Strummer, narrated by Joe Strummer himself via old interviews and recordings from his radio show. Even if you are a only a marginal fan of Joe Strummer and/or The Clash it's a must see.

I Like Killing Flies (2004) - An unfortunately titled little film about a tiny hole-in-the-wall Greenwich Village diner called Shopsins. The diner, it's quirky owner and his family are a neighborhood institution. The title really turned me off and I almost didn't watch it (except I have that weird obsession with all things New York, so I decided to give it a shot), but I'm glad I did because the film is delightful. I loved this film, but I will never set foot in that restaurant man, no way. Kenny Shopsin can be one scary motherfucker. I'm from Ohio and far too delicate for that big city bullshit.

Both films are available on Netflix.

2. My contract has been extended until the end of July, after which time it can be extended no further and I shall be let go due to a corporate policy limiting contracts to a year and a half.

If I don't find permanent work soon come July I will be cast out like a bad penny. Wait, that sounds wrong. I've got some phrases mixed up. Cast out like a bad apple? No. I'm definitely a good apple, but I'll be cast out like... um...oh whatever - it sucks donkey dongs because I really like my job. So put that in your hat and smoke it.

3. I have applied for another position that has recently opened in my department. I know more about the competition this time so although I'm going to pull out all the stops I'm not going to get my hopes up quite so much as I did last time. It is very early in the process and I don't know yet if I will even be asked to interview, but I have begun campaigning. Hard. I need a new suit and all the trimmings (yeah shoes!).

4. I have informed the co-worker friend who bugged me every day and drove me so crazy when I applied for the other position a few months ago that I referred to her on this blog as a "nosy twat", that if she so much as lifts an eyebrow in my direction that seems remotely as though she wants to ask me if I've heard anything about the job that I will punch her right in the throat and never speak to her again.

OK. Not really.

Punching her in the throat is Plan B, but I did inform her of the new situation (figuring she'd hear about it from someone else and turns out she already knew that I applied. How? How?), reminded her of how much she upset me previously, told her that I did not wish to discuss it with her ever and asked her (nicely) not to attempt to bring up the subject with me. Ever.

5. MDH is in Indianapolis for the weekend for the college basketball thingy. I'm naturally beside myself with glee to have the house to myself for a few days. Here's a quick rundown of how I've spent my weekend so far.

Friday Night - total TV fest. I watched all the vagina shows that MDH hates so very much including a new series called Running In Heels, and a French subtitled movie called Toi et Moi (2006) about two sisters living in Paris and the all trials and tribulations of their vaginas. I had cold cereal for dinner. It was fabulous.

Saturday - Awoke at the crack of dawn, showered and tarted myself up for a successful day of serious suit shopping. The last mall of the day has a little take out Thai place that cooks the food from scratch while you wait. There are no heat lamps or sweating metal trays filled with simmering goop. No. They cook that shit right in front of you on a big Vulcan stove top with real pots and pans and utensils and everything.

I ordered a Green Chicken Curry and it was fantastique! Mwah! (Imagine I have just gathered all of the fingers on my right hand together into a point, brought them to my lips and blew a big kiss, a la cartoon chef.)

In the evening I talked to my best friend Amy on the phone for a very long time and afterwards blissfully played the Sims 2 without interruption until the wee hours of the morning. It was the kind of day that my dreams are made of.

Sunday - It's still happening so I really can't say for certain, but I envision something similiar to Friday except interspersed with laundry, bathroom cleaning activities and a Lindt chocolate bunny. Good times.

and then I'm 'appy for the rest of the day...

My iPod is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

How could anybody on earth possibly have a bad day when your morning drive to the office includes the following 3 songs?

Parklife - Blur

Sexy Motherfucker - Prince

Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

In exact order.

Hey, I just noticed as I'm typing this that all 3 artists have a one word, one syllable moniker. What's the significance? Ordinarily I would have said "uh, none", with disdain while I rolled my eyes, except that the fourth song, the one that I didn't even include in the list because technically I didn't get to listen to the whole thing, only like the first couple of seconds, was by Ween.

Chew on that until tomorrow when I will post some numbered points to get you caught up with what is going on in Ladyland lately. Get ready for lies and exaggerations.

Dishes Best Served Cold

When I started getting hungry at work this afternoon at around 3:30 or so all I could think about was eating a fork full of the leftover chicken and noodles I made this weekend - cold from the fridge.

Not that my chicken and noodles aren't dandy tasting when they are hot and fresh the day that I make them, but there is something quite satisfying to me about eating them cold from the fridge.

There are many other foods that are meant to be served hot but I don't always heat up the leftovers because I enjoy them so much cold. Some people (like ones that I'm married to) are grossed out by this so I usually keep this type of information to myself and reserve my cold food dining for moments when some people aren't around.

Like tonight for instance.

Some people have fancy important jobs and occasionally have to wine and dine certain big-wigs from out of town at fancy-schmancy restaurants on their expense accounts. While others of us are left home alone and don't mind a bit because they have looked forward for weeks to having an evening alone so a big dish full of cold chicken and noodles can be happily consumed in peace while guiltlessly watching last weeks episode of What Not to Wear on the DVR.

Tonight it's just the chicken and noodles, but here are some of my other favorite cold foods:

• Pepperoni (but not sausage) pizza
  
• Fried chicken
  
• Dressing (like the kind made from breadcrumbs left over from Thanksgiving) in a sandwich (wheat bread) with cold turkey gravy


• Mac and cheese (but only homemade because cold Kraft mac & cheese tastes like ass (not that I would know))


• Tuna noodle casserole


• Cherry pie

Hungry yet?

Please make me feel less freakish and tell me about your favorite cold foods.

Ear Canal Diary

You should listen to me and take my advice at all times because I am always right. Even when I make shit up nine times out of ten it turns out I was right about whatever it was.

I am so always right that during some times of lean blog fodder the only things preventing me from turning this blog into an advice column are my overwhelming apathy and fear of success.

The one person who doesn't like to take my advice is the one person I desire the most to take my advice, my husband. The man has no hesitation about constantly asking me what he should do, but never seems to appreciate my always right answers and often ends up not only blatantly ignoring my advice but brazenly doing the extreme opposite of what I have so wisely advised him to do. It is maddening.

Case in point:

MDH got a wee bit of sea water trapped in his ear after swimming in the ocean while we were vacationing a couple of weeks ago. What should I do? It's driving me crazy, he whined as he waved a q-tip dramatically in the air.

"Well, the first thing you should do is put that q-tip down, and the last thing you should do is stick it in your ear."

"Why not?" he asked, as he proceeded to plunge the swab so deeply into his ear canal that I'm pretty sure I could see it's ochre tip poking out the other side of his head and then waggle it all around.

Had he waited a few seconds longer before choosing to dig at his own brain tissue with a cotton swab, I would have advised and willingly performed a simple ear lavage, whereby I heat up a little mixture of warm water and peroxide to remove the blockage of wax and subsequently the trapped sea water. Simple. Easy. All he would have had to do was lay still for a few minutes and enjoy my loving ministrations. Ass.

"You realize that you have now pushed all the wax in your ear that the water was trapped behind further into your noggin, right?" Ass.

"No, no. It's fine. It'll be fine. I've just got a little headache."

"There's some pain reliever in the bathroom."

"No, no. It's fine."

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you an ear lavage? I really don't mind."

"No, no. It's fine."

Well it wasn't fine. Ass. He continued to complain about the water sloshing around in his head and the resulting earache and loss of hearing. Throughout the rest of our trip I had to listen to him bitch and constantly clock himself on the side of the head and say "What? what?".

When we got home he arranged to go to the doctor during walk-in hours, waited for 2 hours to be seen, paid a $20 co-payment only to be told that he created a blockage by ramming the q-tip into his ear and to go home, mix some warm water with peroxide and pour it into his ear until the wax loosened. Ass.

How to upset pefectly innocent and well meaning coworkers

I'm a terribly independent person and typically like to try to take care of things or figure stuff out on my own. Sometimes though I need a little help and it is difficult for me to ask for it.

Combine that with the fact that I'm also very literal and prone to dispense corny humor, responding to my question, can you help me?, with what can I do ya for?, it is all I can do to remain professional and not pretend to whip out an adding machine and start mumbling, let's see here... I'll give you the employee discount, but you are remarkably unattractive and that's gonna cost ya...carry the nine...factor in the rash... halitosis upcharge... that'll be... and then come up with a price that you can do me for and hilarity will ensue.

More likely I think I'd get a blank stare, talked about in the break room behind my back and loss of all hope of ever attaining permanent employment with this company. So yeah, I'm basically restraining myself from pretending to be some mutant type of nerdy hooker.

(I'd never really thought much about it before writing this post but should the word "hooker" be capitalized? It's a job title, right?)

Floats Like a Butterfly, Stings When I Pee

I was going to use that title several months ago for a riveting post I wrote while recovering from a raging bladder infection. Aren't you glad I never published that post? (The answer is yes. Yes you are.) I deleted the unpublished post because it was crappy and not just a little bit personal and disgusting, but thinking perhaps I might later be able to craft another more amusing post around the catchy title.

I'm not that clever and have decided to use the title today for this very special post in which I inform you that I have returned from a fabulous vacation, after realizing I have been sitting here for a very long time, staring at my monitor, unable to come up with any more clever title than "I'm Back!" How dull. Stinging pee is far more engaging.

So there you go. I'm back. We had a fabulous 12 days in Kauai during which time I only had 2 or 3 small snits and one full blown irrational tantrum. Otherwise all was grand. What kind of dumbass vacation condo time-share thingy doesn't allow you to use an open flame barbecue?

Anyhoo... some serious and relevant things occurred while we were away:

1. MDH's grandma Nanny died last Friday. She was 101 and ready to leave us, so there's nothing to be sad about other than that we will all miss her very much. MDH felt a little funny about not going home to Cambridge, but realized that Nanny would have hit him with her shoe if he shortened his vacation. She did that. She would literally remove the shoe from her tiny (wicked small) Azorean foot and beat misbehaving grandsons with it. Oh Nanny.

As an interesting side note, my brother in law Knucklehead was allowed to attend the funeral in shackles, accompanied by a prison guard. I wish I was joking. Perhaps if Nanny had beaten him with her shoe more aggressively...

2. MDH has a job interview tomorrow in Cincinnati. So that's kind of difficult. Come home jet lagged after travelling for 16 hours only to leave again 36 hours later. Also should mention that he had been in Dallas for several days before we left, came home at 2pm and we left for Kauai at 5am the next morning. So basically the poor man has been home a little more than 1 day for the whole month of February. Weird.

Anyhoo... because of weird event number two I've got to close up shop on my blogging tonight. MDH needs the office to get ready for his big interview tomorrow. I have been trying to write this while he's away running errands.

Because I haven't had a chance to do anything with our vacation pictures except for the one at the top of the post, which is a view of the taro fields in Hanalei (and I'm quite pleased with myself about how it came out), and the one below sent in an email to my best friend Amy last week and like the title of this post has nothing whatsoever to do with the subject of this post. Perhaps some of you have seen it already or maybe Skyler's Dad has already included it as part of his bizarre tats series. Anyway... here you go:

That's It I'm Outta Here

Michigan winter can suck my dick. That's right. Suck. My. Dick. I'm so fed up with snow, ice, sub zero temperatures and skin so dry that I'm starting to look like someone carved me out of an apple, that I have resorted to speaking like a 13 year old boy in juvenile detention.

The Hawaiian vacation that MDH and I have been planning for well over a year has finally arrived. We are ditching the road salt and snow shovels for a couple of weeks and trading them in for warm black sand and snorkel gear. Fuck yes.

I'm so excited that I don't even care that I'm still carrying around the 50 lbs I vowed to lose last January when we booked our flights. Fuck it. So yes, in addition to having a shriveled dried apple doll complexion, I'm fat, but I'll be shriveled and fat in Hawaii. Anyway, the humid tropical air will smooth out my craggy skin in no time, and all the hotel sex and fresh fruit I can tolerate (quite a lot) will have me trimmed down before you know it.

I don't even care that it's the "rainy season" and when anyone mentions that it probably won't get any warmer than 75 I laugh right in their face (ha ha!), which frankly hasn't done much to win me any friends, but who cares? Rain? Bah! At least it wont' be snowing every freaking day and when I walk around outside I won't have to worry about whether or not my eyeballs will freeze solid and crack into a million pieces.

To be fair to all the people I know and love that live here in the Tundra, I promise to bring back as much sunshine and warmth as is humanly possible. I also promise that when I come back I won't bitch about winter any more. Until next year.

In my absence please enjoy some of the photos we took on our previous trips to Hawaii.