Some Good Can Come Of Being Unemployed

For instance having the time to read and write blog posts. Today, to my delight, Some Guy tagged me. I visit his blog often because he too lives in Michigan, he posts a lot and I like to catch up on the comments, and I think he's funny. I'm quite flattered, as any lady should be, to be noticed by someone I admire.

TO DO: List 5 things you do, did or like that some may consider “totally lame,” but that you are totally proud of. Tag 5 others:

1. This one is easy and so totally lame - I play the Sims 2 and own 10 expansion packs. One of the highlights of my summer was the release of Bon Voyage, so that my Sims could go on vacation. There I've said it. I'm a 40 year old grown up woman who plays with virtual dolls. I have made Sim characters of all my friends and try desperately to keep them alive. Last year my Dan Sim was killed by a meteorite and I had to bring him back to life as a Sim Zombie. It was devastating. Also my Dan Sim's wife Stephanie Sim accidentally fell in love with my Brian Sim (it can happen if you don't pay attention) and now she rings her hands with guilt every 15 minutes or so.

2. I've had the same hairstyle for about 20 years. A short, tidy, blond highlighted bob. Through the years I've mixed it up a bit, the length goes up and down, the highlights may be more brown or red, but it's all just a variation of the blond bob theme.

3. I have an unconscious and magical knack for walking or standing in front of the television at exactly the moment that an amazing sports play is being made. I could be gone all day from the room, but somehow as the amazing pass is being made, or the winning corner kick or slide into the home plate is happening that is when I tend to show up to ask MDH if he wants marinara or clam sauce on his pasta, or complain that he didn't notice my new earrings. The year that the Red Sox ended up winning the World Series I was forbidden to enter or leave the den from the living room entrance. I had to walk to the back of the room and enter and exit from the kitchen on the other side of the room from the TV. It's not so tragic now that we have Tivo.

3. I have a subscription to New York magazine. In fact I heart New York magazine. That's probably not so lame until you know this: I have never been to New York and haven't any plans to visit in the near or distant future. I have been to New York once, but it doesn't really count because I was 16 and riding a bus from Newark Airport to JFK. Regardless, I enjoy knowing about all the hot new restaurants where I will most likely never eat and the price of condos in Chelsea. Each week when the magazine arrives I immediately flip towards the back to check out the Approval Matrix and then do the crossword in the back with a pen (and finish it).

4. I have a teapot collection. Very few know about it because #1, it's lame, and #2, I don't want the people I love to give me unattractive teapots as gifts. I'll keep them, of course, but they will go directly into storage in the basement. The collection is very specific, only usable pots with no decoration or cheap slogans on them. My mother has been the most guilty of buying these for me so I lied several years ago and told her that I don't collect them anymore. I'm not only lame, but a lying ingrate.

5. I am an excellent public speaker and have spent the last five years in a career that requires me to lasso large crowds of people and be the center of their attention for days at a time. Being good at this came as a huge surprise to me as I spent my high school years as a shy, chubby Daria-like girl who barely spoke to anyone. Back then a good day for me was when nobody noticed me.


The 5 people I will tag:
Playtah, Rachel, The Guv'ner, Dmarks, & Laaw-yuhr

I'm not sure if all of these folks are regular enough readers of mine to know they are tagged, so we'll see what happens. It's not like a chain letter is it? I wouldn't want to wish bad luck on them for not responding.

OH - and HAPPY BIRTHDAY RACHEL!

Potato Chip Pancreas

A post I saw this morning at Adventures in Self-Loathing reminded me of this story that MDH sent to me awhile back. A Colorado man lost 50% of his lung capacity from inhaling the chemical fumes coming off of microwave popcorn. Granted, this man was consuming 72 bags of the stuff each month, but still.

Although I'm sorry the man had to suffer breathlessness during choir practice I can't help but smirk just a little at the term "Popcorn Lung". Is that wrong? I already knew how harmful fatty, salty snacks can be, but I was thinking more of heart disease and high cholesterol. Popcorn Lung kind of hit me with a no-seem-um. It's the words together, the snack and the disfunctioning organ. So here's my own list of snacks and body parts mixed together to create new scary diseases. Feel free to send me yours too.

• Dorito Rectum


• Ring-Ding Liver


• Corn Chip Kidney


• Ruffles - by itself could be a disease of the skin, like shingles. Seriously, call in sick from work tomorrow with a bad case of Ruffles.


• Bugle Neck


• Pretzel Colon - hot mustard pretzel colon is what they would call a severe case


• Crudité Ear


• Triscuit Finger

Darling, You & I Are Through

Last night I hosted a sleep over with my new GR girlfriends Rachel, Playtah and Aria. I haven't had a sleep over since I was about 6 and even then my mother wouldn't ever let me have more than one friend over at a time, so this was quite exciting for me. As my guests arrived I answered the door in my PJ's and slippers - something I have never done.

The evening was relaxed and laid back. I chilled some chardonnay and made my special prosecco and pomegranate juice cocktails, but Aria and I were the only ones partaking of the alcohol. Rachel and Playtah drank sodas. I laid out a spread of nibbly things mostly and made a small dish of tandoori chicken bites and as we sat around nibbling the girl talk ensued.

Aria and Playtah are both 25. Since I too was once 25 I can easily relate to many of their woes and struggles. I remember my 20's as a time of much fumbling and somewhat disastrous decision making, especially in the dating department. Not that I didn't have fun and I certainly wouldn't take back a minute of my youth as I firmly believe such fumblings and mistakes were formative in the happiness and security I now enjoy.

The years between ages 25 and 30 were difficult for me. It seemed like I was standing still, watching as most of my friends paired off, got married, started families and solid careers. All I wanted was for someone to fall madly in love with me and rescue me from my stagnation. I was so sure that being in love was the answer to all my real and imagined problems that I was willing to tolerate some crazy and/or annoying behaviour, although for the most part, not for very long.

Thankfully somehow in all instances I was able to slam on the breaks and, although many times heartbroken and disappointed, come to my senses before I did anything rash like move in with someone or get married. I was always the primary breaker-upper in these ridiculous match-ups. What were the tell tales signs that things just weren't right? Some of them were easy to identify and the situation was terminated immediately. Others were hidden from my sight depending upon the temperature of the spark and factor of chemistry, therefore crazy and annoying behaviour was sometimes tolerated for longer than necessary.

Here are some of the deal breakers in no particular order:

• One man told me with no remorse or embarrassment that he didn't have car insurance. He thought it was a scam.


• One man spit on the ground several times as we walked to and from the car, restaurant, etc.


• One man got sloppy drunk, drove to my house to "see" me even though I asked him not to. The deal breaker came when he showed up anyway and then he yelled at me when I admonished him for driving drunk after I'd asked him not to. Don't ever yell at me.


• One man apparently obsessed with wolves, wore a t-shirt with an airbrushed wolf on it to my birthday party where people I knew could see him. That should have been the deal breaker right there, but I really liked him (thought he was very bright and funny). Another deal breaker should have been when he actually bought a pet wolf pup (cub?). But alas, I was temporarily won over when he told me I could have the honor of naming the wolf pup. I chose the name Ivan. The deal breaker came when he overruled my choice and named it Smokey. The pup was gray and brown and this man clearly had no imagination.


• One man bought me a plunger for my birthday. Just a plunger. I kept waiting for something else, a pair of earrings, a bottle of cologne, a single red rose, but no, that was it. Just a plunger.


• One was simply the dumbest person I have ever met. At first I chalked it up to the fact that he was 6 years younger than me and I continued to date him for a couple of months. He was also possibly the sweetest person I have ever met. The deal breaker came when he told me that he there was no more room in his brain for new information and that whenever he learned something new he worried (seriously) that some of the older knowledge was getting pushed out.


• One man, I realized after several months of dating had never introduced me to any of his friends or family even though many of these people lived very nearby. He also told me that he owned a coal mine in another state and had been captain of his college football team. Neither of these facts could be verified.


• One man was a terrible father who constantly bitched about paying child support and on the rare occasions that he could be bothered to spend time with his child would lie to him about why he didn't spend very much time with him. He always said he had to work. The deal breaker came when I realized this man had also been lying to me about such things as having graduated from college and not having sex with other women.


• One man had decorated his living room with framed pictures of kittens. Not in an ironic, kitchy way or because he merely had poor taste. He really liked kittens. A lot.

What's the point of this post Lady?

Well I guess to make my young friends feel better about some of the more unpleasant aspects of dating and relationships. Also to say that once I stopped pinning all my hopes on whether or not some shithead would fall in love with me and started planning my life around the experiences that made me feel fulfilled I actually became fulfilled.

You're lucky to be alive! Have fun! Think about all the other experiences in life that bring you joy and focus on getting more of that.

Lady Slings The Booze

We've returned safely from Las Vegas. Well, I have anyhow. MDH is still wandering about the country and on his way to Boston for his high school reunion. Party animal. He actually packed two separate suitcases and left one in the car, switched them out when the red eye landed and got right back on another plane and kept right on going. He has the stamina for such things. I on the other hand drove an hour back to GR, picked up the cat from boarding and plonked my dragging ass right into bed where I have been languishing (conked completely out) for the last 6 hours with a homesick cat purring insanely on my head.


I had been awake for nearly 30 hours, unless you want to count the 3 or so hours during the flight when I dozed in and out between the sounds of crying babies (who brings a baby on a red eye?), the inane overly loud conversations of strangers and the yanking of my seat by the elderly man sitting behind me who used my headrest for leverage every time he stood up which seemed like every 5 minutes.

I have consumed more alcohol on this adventure than I have since my early 20's. Good alcohol. The bulk of which included an amazing Caesar's Palace Diamond Club exclusive champagne cocktail. I don't remember the name but it had champagne (duh), Ketel One vodka, Chambord, and a secret ingredient the bartender would not reveal but I suspected to be either grapefruit juice or peyote, served in a sugar rimmed martini glass. They were free, dee-lish and pretty to look at. The combination of these three things caused me to drink about 12 of these over the course of 3 nights.

MDH's brother, a Boston mail carrier who recently moved to Las Vegas, joined us for many of our excursions. Brother is very old school Vegas in an East Coast transplant kind of way, slicked back hair, leathery tan. He has a Cambridge accent so thick that at times I don't understand what he's saying, but once I've had a second to decipher his words I'm smiling.

Sawks - The Red Sox
Shawts - Shorts
Shayt - Shirt
Hoff Tame - Half Time
Foy-ly-age - Foliage
Hosses - Horses
Ey-Pot - Airport
Pey-Dah - his son Peter

Brother treated us to an evening of comedy where we got to see Jon Fisch
who made me laugh out loud for his entire set. Alan liked him so much he bought a CD.

We had dinner one night as Mesa Grill where the food was good, the wine was superb, and the service was kind of a let down.

Gambling and gaming? I hang my head in shame when I tell you this; I believe we have been bumped from Diamond to Seven Stars status.

Our room on the 39th floor overlooked the beautiful fountains of Bellagio so every 15 minutes or so we were treated to booming music and prancing waters (wah-dah). We were treated as well to the cacophony of construction noise which began remarkably every morning at 7:30AM sharp (shahp) with some kind of crane that bleeps with exactly the same sound as my alarm clock (al-ham clahk) at home.

The camera along with all the pictures we took is traveling with Alan still. So to give you an overall feel of my experience I have put up a picture of me during our family trip to Disney World for my 6th birthday. I was sober then, but equally pampered and spoiled.

PS - dig those crooked bangs on my rockin shag haircut man

UPDATE 10/15/2007 - Because my friend Stephanie thought I came up with the title Lady Slings the Booze all by myself I need to let you know that I did not. It's the title of a science fiction novel by Spider Robinson. I didn't want to take credit for being so clever. Here's a link if you want to check it out.

Up With Thumbs

I will be stepping away from my blog for the next several days to go on a big swanky 5th wedding anniversary trip to Las Vegas.

As we recently seem to have turned into gambling addicts the trip is all comped. For you casino gambling virgins out there comped stands for complimentary, meaning we (my darling) have (has) blown so much money on video poker at Harrah's properties that most of our expenses are on the house.


We will be whisked to our free Augustus Tower junior suite via free limo from the airport. We will dine for free and spa for free. They offered to entertain us for free with tickets to see Tony Danza starring in The Producers, but we declined as we both believe Tony Danza to be an unwatchable buffoon.


Meanwhile in a lame effort to keep you entertained in my absence I found this fun little thing on someone else's blog and now I don't remember who or where as I have lost the link. Sorry! Whoever you were, but thanks for the idea!

Turns out I'm a Thumb

You Are the Thumb

You're unique and flexible. And you defy any category. Mentally strong and agile, you do things your own way. And you do them well. You are a natural leader... but also truly a loner. You inspire many but connect with few. You get along well with: The Middle Finger Stay away from: The Pinky

What Finger Are You?

I took the liberty of answering the questions for MDH too because he thinks such things are bullshit and would never waste his time taking an idiotic bullshit finger quiz.

Turns out if I were MDH he'd be an Index Finger.

You Are the Index Finger

You are ambitious, driven, and capable. You aren't afraid to take responsibility for your actions - or place the blame on whoever deserves it. You are honest, free thinking, and objective. You see things in your own way - and you aren't afraid to let everyone know about it. You get along well with: The Thumb Stay away from: The Ring Finger

AKA OSU Beats Northwestern 27-16

Five years ago this very day, in the park down the street from our house, I wore an itchy white dress, 10 pounds of makeup and hairspray, stood in front of a rather large group of friends and family and held my darling MDH's hand while we recited lesbian inspired wedding vows (no mention of Jesus but lots of equal partnership kind of stuff) to each other with the aid of a Unitarian minister.

Yes. Today is my wedding anniversary.

Highlights of the day include:

• OSU Fans (which certainly don't include the Bride) RSVP'ing at the last minute until they know what time the game will be.
  
  


• When original hired musician backs out at last minute (like a fuckin' weasel), Groom's friend Jimmy and his big blond pompadour offer to play Hawaiian Wedding Song on ukulele.
  
  


• Hawaiian Wedding Song turns out a beautiful and unique choice, tearfully appreciated by Bride and Groom.
  
  


• Jimmy and his ukulele make Bride's uncle Paul laugh so loud it overpowers the music on the wedding video.
  



• Idiot cousin allows her 4 year old to run around like an animal and dig his filthy fingers into wedding cake.
  



• Bride's newly fused ankle swells to blimp-like proportions. Bride says "fuck it" and changes into white Nikes, photo op incites crowd.
  
  


• Father of bride get so choked up he forgets his beautiful speech and lovingly blubbers incoherently for 5 minutes.
  
  


• Father of Bride and Bride jitterbug together all afternoon.
  



• Idiot cousin who RSVP'd for 7 doesn't show up, leaves entire table empty.
  



• Professional pastry chefs and good friend couple mysteriously absent from festivities. Bride and Groom later discover wedding cake baker wife had severe allergic reaction to the lemon leaves used to mold cake decorations. Chef friends spend entire day in OSU ER.
  
  


• Idiot cousin's 4 year old unfortunately not allergic to lemon leaves.
  



• Groom gets hammered and invites 30 people to the newlywed's home after the wedding for "par-tay!!" on the wedding night.
  
  


• Bride becomes livid as couple set to leave for honeymoon the next day and has no food or libation.
  
  


• Bride orders 5 Sicilian style pizzas and 2 cases of beer from carry out down the street.
  
  


• Bride becomes pissy when par-tay guest asks why she is serving on good china and not paper plates. Replies snippily "Because I wasn't expecting to entertain guests on my wedding night".
  
  


• Bride becomes pissy when Grooms frat buddy makes fun of her for writing "Wedding Day" on kitchen calendar. She protests, "Go fuck yourself, I was excited!"
  
  


• Bride ends up having a great time in spite of herself, forgives Groom and all others. Remembers day as being one of the happiest in her life.

Icky Mouse

I got the little fucker that was rummaging around gnawing the wooden handles off the utensils in my gadget drawer.

We'd been living like wild animals for the past two weeks with the contents of the gadget drawer dumped temporarily in a paper shopping bag on the dining room table. Every time I needed a bottle opener, corkscrew or foil cutter I had to root around in that goddamn paper bag - can you imagine my anguish?

I replaced the contents of the drawer with a paper towel upon which I placed a brand new no see, no touch mousetrap baited with a generous wad of organic peanut butter.

The no see no touch trap is a thing of beauty.

The mousy goes into the holey and the trappy is immediately swiveled shutty. I don't even know how the trap kills the mousy and I frankly don't give a shit.

I get to live oblivious to the suffering of vermin, just how I like it.

The only way I know a mousy has been detained in the trap is because the little hole is closed and the paper towel has been ripped with little tiny claw marks. The paper towel was my idea. I'm just tidy and wasteful of paper products like that. That's how I roll. Get it? Paper towel? Roll?

Ahhh... Anyhoo...

I also noticed there were little tiny bits of black plastic mousetrap all over the drawer. And No it wasn't poop. I had MDH check. I think the mouse may have struggled and tried desperately to claw his miserable way out, leaving behind little mousy shavings of death. Not that I care.

Good.

Riddance.