Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Bad Acid Trip
When I was in college I would make periodic weekend trips home to visit my parents (aka steal groceries and do laundry for free). On these trips I would spend much of my time chit chatting with momma over cocktails or ditching my p.o.s. for one of their much nicer cars to head into town to visit friends that still lived back home. My dad was always a bit of ghost during these trips and almost immediately as I pulled in he would head out to the driveway and lift the hood of my car to 'tinker', or at least that's what momma called it.
Today I realized my dad probably wasn't 'tinkering' so much as he was doing regular vehicle maintenance. Now I am not so delusional to believe that the magic car fairy just came and made sure things were in tip top shape at night while I rested my pretty little head on my pillow but at the risk of setting back the feminist movement a few years I will say that the only time I have opened the hood of my car since I've owned it was when something was wrong, and I have been known to turn up the radio to drown out unfamiliar noises my different cars have made over the years. Is it so wrong to think that they people who change my oil might point out other visible problems such as low break fluid or battery corrosion so that they can charge me $46.95 to do something that I could do myself in 2 minutes for under $10? Apparently it was wrong. Lets start from the beginning...
Last April, SLBDJT and I were at Relay for Life setting up our tent while listening to some jams on Bruce's radio. I guess it took a little longer to set up the tent than we imagined it would because when I went to start Bruce up he just made a sad click click click noise. No problem, SLBDJT gave me a jump and recommended that I get my battery checked because I had owned Bruce for 3 years and told me that once you let a battery go dead like that it can happen easier in the future. Well, it is now January, nine whole months later and that little bit of wisdom just slipped my mind and why wouldn't it, he's started like a champ each and every time I've turned his key since that day....until Friday. It was camping weekend and there I was out in the sticks going in to register us and not five minutes later I came out and Bruce's battery was flat lined. Lucky for us SPBDJT was only about 5 minutes away and once again he came to Bruce's rescue. After this little incident I promised myself and SLBDJT I would get a new battery this week.
Being that I have never changed my battery before I enlisted the help of a few manly co-workers, and by help I mean I watched while they worked, and took some abuse to my intelligence level due to the large amount of corrosion that my battery had on it. Three hours, a trip to napa auto parts, a trip to advanced auto, some battery acid in the eye, a new battery, and a new battery terminal (I think that's what they said it was called) later and Bruce is up and running as good as new. All it cost me was $100, and a good amount of guilt should steve-o end up going blind.
I feel like I should thank my dad for all the 'tinkering' and also encourage all my friends who are currently dads to show their little girls how to do some of this stuff so they don't depend on the magic car fairy to take care of things when they get out on their own. Good talk, now off to bake steve-o some "sorry I blinded you" cookies.
Today I realized my dad probably wasn't 'tinkering' so much as he was doing regular vehicle maintenance. Now I am not so delusional to believe that the magic car fairy just came and made sure things were in tip top shape at night while I rested my pretty little head on my pillow but at the risk of setting back the feminist movement a few years I will say that the only time I have opened the hood of my car since I've owned it was when something was wrong, and I have been known to turn up the radio to drown out unfamiliar noises my different cars have made over the years. Is it so wrong to think that they people who change my oil might point out other visible problems such as low break fluid or battery corrosion so that they can charge me $46.95 to do something that I could do myself in 2 minutes for under $10? Apparently it was wrong. Lets start from the beginning...
Last April, SLBDJT and I were at Relay for Life setting up our tent while listening to some jams on Bruce's radio. I guess it took a little longer to set up the tent than we imagined it would because when I went to start Bruce up he just made a sad click click click noise. No problem, SLBDJT gave me a jump and recommended that I get my battery checked because I had owned Bruce for 3 years and told me that once you let a battery go dead like that it can happen easier in the future. Well, it is now January, nine whole months later and that little bit of wisdom just slipped my mind and why wouldn't it, he's started like a champ each and every time I've turned his key since that day....until Friday. It was camping weekend and there I was out in the sticks going in to register us and not five minutes later I came out and Bruce's battery was flat lined. Lucky for us SPBDJT was only about 5 minutes away and once again he came to Bruce's rescue. After this little incident I promised myself and SLBDJT I would get a new battery this week.
Being that I have never changed my battery before I enlisted the help of a few manly co-workers, and by help I mean I watched while they worked, and took some abuse to my intelligence level due to the large amount of corrosion that my battery had on it. Three hours, a trip to napa auto parts, a trip to advanced auto, some battery acid in the eye, a new battery, and a new battery terminal (I think that's what they said it was called) later and Bruce is up and running as good as new. All it cost me was $100, and a good amount of guilt should steve-o end up going blind.
I feel like I should thank my dad for all the 'tinkering' and also encourage all my friends who are currently dads to show their little girls how to do some of this stuff so they don't depend on the magic car fairy to take care of things when they get out on their own. Good talk, now off to bake steve-o some "sorry I blinded you" cookies.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Stupid wobbly earth
My world is in shambles. For my entire life I have been identifying with the astrological sign of cancer, now come to find out some astronomer from Minnesota tweeted or some shit that due to our earth being wobbly while its spinning that I've been living a lie and I'm actually a gemini. I'm forecasting some significant changes in my personality....and potentially my pickup lines....time for some research.
Turns out my element is now Air and not Water, or even Honda for that matter. This is looking bad already, I have the word water tattooed on my body, granted it had nothing to do with my astrological sign but thinking now I am now foreseeing a lot more people suffering from tattoo regret and joining those who thought they were getting 'trust' tattooed on them in Japanese and ending up with something like 'taco' instead.
On top of that it turns out I need to change my life's pursuit from reassurance and intimacy to just a little bit of everything. Essentially, I need to be flighty. Not sure how that is going to work out for a planner like me but if the stars say so, I guess it must be. Basically, look out for a mischievous, sporadic, financially irresponsible person with an interest in foreign languages, that apparently other people like to talk about. Far stretch from the compassionate, charming, fiscally responsible person I was yesterday.
I knew nothing good could ever come out of Minnesota.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Sunny with a Chance of Awesome
Or at least that was the forecast in my head for the New Year and of course it's Eve. My new year's eve was about as normal as anyone's: spent time with good friends, cocktails, ate good food, got stuck in a tree, cocktails, slipped on my velvet tuxedo, cocktails, dancing, saw the clock tick down and the fireworks go off, cocktails, dancing, and of course a midnight snack.
While there's plenty to discuss there such as the getting stuck in a tree (thanks My BMF who clumsily came to my rescue), donning a velvet tuxedo (met some British guys who told me that Americans dress like rubbish and they liked my 'style', yeah they had a few cocktails), I will just talk a bit more about my midnight snack.
After all the fun to be had at the watering holes was had we made the trek to the only open eatery, Bobby's Roast Beef. After arriving we fought our way through the crowd and ordered the roast beef....which they were out of. Seriously? Your restaurant is called Bobby's ROAST BEEF. We should have stopped when they told us they were out of roast beef, but we didn't' we said "Well, what do you have?" that's like saying- "Give me what no one else has ordered tonight, give me what no one else will eat." We ended up with what was called pulled pork bbq but what I assure you did not taste like pulled pork bbq, and consequently I woke up not feeling so wonderful in the tummy area. Bobby's Roast Beef reminds me of a place in college we used to eat at called Taco Don Chueys, which loosely translates to Jesus's Tacos. They seemed so very delicious at 3am but when you woke up you cursed Jesus and his deceptively delicious tacos and monterey jack queso dipping sauce. Once I was so excited to eat the "deliciousness" that was a Jesus's taco that I ate half of it before I realized it was still wrapped in the grease soaked wax paper. Shouldn't this say something? Granted i was a wee bit intoxicated, but I could NOT tell the difference between a taco and a taco wrapped in wax paper. One apparently tasted as good as the other.
Happy New Year! Perhaps I should resolve to avoid eateries that stay open until 4am....hmmmm....nah.
While there's plenty to discuss there such as the getting stuck in a tree (thanks My BMF who clumsily came to my rescue), donning a velvet tuxedo (met some British guys who told me that Americans dress like rubbish and they liked my 'style', yeah they had a few cocktails), I will just talk a bit more about my midnight snack.
After all the fun to be had at the watering holes was had we made the trek to the only open eatery, Bobby's Roast Beef. After arriving we fought our way through the crowd and ordered the roast beef....which they were out of. Seriously? Your restaurant is called Bobby's ROAST BEEF. We should have stopped when they told us they were out of roast beef, but we didn't' we said "Well, what do you have?" that's like saying- "Give me what no one else has ordered tonight, give me what no one else will eat." We ended up with what was called pulled pork bbq but what I assure you did not taste like pulled pork bbq, and consequently I woke up not feeling so wonderful in the tummy area. Bobby's Roast Beef reminds me of a place in college we used to eat at called Taco Don Chueys, which loosely translates to Jesus's Tacos. They seemed so very delicious at 3am but when you woke up you cursed Jesus and his deceptively delicious tacos and monterey jack queso dipping sauce. Once I was so excited to eat the "deliciousness" that was a Jesus's taco that I ate half of it before I realized it was still wrapped in the grease soaked wax paper. Shouldn't this say something? Granted i was a wee bit intoxicated, but I could NOT tell the difference between a taco and a taco wrapped in wax paper. One apparently tasted as good as the other.
Happy New Year! Perhaps I should resolve to avoid eateries that stay open until 4am....hmmmm....nah.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Very Skype Christmas
The stockings were hung by the tv (its swfl, we don't really have chimneys) with care, we were all snuggled in our beds, with visions of waking up without hangovers in our heads. Christmas this year reminded me yet again why mine is a wonderful life. This year I stayed south to avoid the blizzard like conditions the yanks have been experiencing as of late. I was invited over to a friend's house to celebrate the holiday and quickly accepted the invitation after learning that their Irish lineage was not taken lightly and that Christmas Eve would be much like the Christmas Eve of my developmental years.
Over the years I've learned that its quite a gamble to partake in other family's Holiday celebrations. Several years ago we got the call that Christmas was canceled due to a snow storm that blew in just two days before Christmas. This left The Gray Lining and I over an hour from my parents house with no plans for the holiday. This was the first time I accepted an invite from a friend, and what I swore would be my last. It may not seem that terrible, but being stuck in a snow storm with the an friend's extended family watching home movies for 6 hours was far from the Christmas I knew and loved...our kind of Christmas meant beer stayed cold outside on the porch, pool games were played, at least one person went to midnight mass with a buzz, and undoubtedly my dad (this only happens once a year) got poop faced and reminded me that the ability to drunkenly ramble about topics no normal person discusses was in fact hereditary.
Since that time I have went back on my pledge to avoid spending Christmas with another family out of lack of other options, always thinking that this time around it would be fantastic. Sometimes I despise my optimistic "the glass is half full of egg nog" attitude. After my last optimistic Christmas attempt (The year I call "A Very Jewish Christmas") you would think I would have turned down the invite as quickly as it was delivered, but alas I did not and for once it worked. Thank you to my adoptive family this Christmas, for making sure my glass was never half full but always full, for the laughter, for bearing with me even when I thought my mom had finally lost it and just wrapped stuff she found in the house to give me for Christmas, but mostly for inviting me into your home and making my 'home' feel not so far away.
After my very Irish Christmas I got home just a quick as holiday traffic would let Bruce drive to skype with the family as they opened presents. No one in my family had ever used skype before which made for an interesting experience...for the first 5 minutes they either did not have a microphone hooked up or they had it muted. I realized this, they did not. Once we finally got sound going Momma felt it was necessary to put her mouth directly on the microphone to speak to me, or if I could get her to back away from the computer she insisted on yelling. I tried to communicate to her that I could hear not only her if she spoke at a normal volume but also every person in the room whether they were 2 or 10 feet away. My attempts at communication were thwarted by my inability to talk over her. Over the course of the two hour skyping experience I got left alone to talk to the wall by everyone in my family twice, got taken on a walking tour of my childhood home (as if it were the first time I'd ever seen it decorated for Christmas), and sang a Christmas carol so my dad could do a sound check.
In the end, despite technical and Momma difficulties, I have a feeling skyping will become a regular thing at the homestead. In years past I have called the fam on Christmas as they've opened presents but there is little replacement for being able to see momma's eyes well up when she opened my gift, or see The Gray Lining stick her tongue out when Momma tells her to quiet down so she can talk to her favorite. My apologies to all that have asked for not video taping this skype experience, I'm sure it would have gone viral in seconds and momma could have been famous...but then again I'm not sure the world is ready for that.
I hope you and yours had as wonderful and merry Christmas as I did.
It's Santa!
SLBDJT telling Santa what he wants for Christmas
Over the years I've learned that its quite a gamble to partake in other family's Holiday celebrations. Several years ago we got the call that Christmas was canceled due to a snow storm that blew in just two days before Christmas. This left The Gray Lining and I over an hour from my parents house with no plans for the holiday. This was the first time I accepted an invite from a friend, and what I swore would be my last. It may not seem that terrible, but being stuck in a snow storm with the an friend's extended family watching home movies for 6 hours was far from the Christmas I knew and loved...our kind of Christmas meant beer stayed cold outside on the porch, pool games were played, at least one person went to midnight mass with a buzz, and undoubtedly my dad (this only happens once a year) got poop faced and reminded me that the ability to drunkenly ramble about topics no normal person discusses was in fact hereditary.
Since that time I have went back on my pledge to avoid spending Christmas with another family out of lack of other options, always thinking that this time around it would be fantastic. Sometimes I despise my optimistic "the glass is half full of egg nog" attitude. After my last optimistic Christmas attempt (The year I call "A Very Jewish Christmas") you would think I would have turned down the invite as quickly as it was delivered, but alas I did not and for once it worked. Thank you to my adoptive family this Christmas, for making sure my glass was never half full but always full, for the laughter, for bearing with me even when I thought my mom had finally lost it and just wrapped stuff she found in the house to give me for Christmas, but mostly for inviting me into your home and making my 'home' feel not so far away.
After my very Irish Christmas I got home just a quick as holiday traffic would let Bruce drive to skype with the family as they opened presents. No one in my family had ever used skype before which made for an interesting experience...for the first 5 minutes they either did not have a microphone hooked up or they had it muted. I realized this, they did not. Once we finally got sound going Momma felt it was necessary to put her mouth directly on the microphone to speak to me, or if I could get her to back away from the computer she insisted on yelling. I tried to communicate to her that I could hear not only her if she spoke at a normal volume but also every person in the room whether they were 2 or 10 feet away. My attempts at communication were thwarted by my inability to talk over her. Over the course of the two hour skyping experience I got left alone to talk to the wall by everyone in my family twice, got taken on a walking tour of my childhood home (as if it were the first time I'd ever seen it decorated for Christmas), and sang a Christmas carol so my dad could do a sound check.
In the end, despite technical and Momma difficulties, I have a feeling skyping will become a regular thing at the homestead. In years past I have called the fam on Christmas as they've opened presents but there is little replacement for being able to see momma's eyes well up when she opened my gift, or see The Gray Lining stick her tongue out when Momma tells her to quiet down so she can talk to her favorite. My apologies to all that have asked for not video taping this skype experience, I'm sure it would have gone viral in seconds and momma could have been famous...but then again I'm not sure the world is ready for that.
I hope you and yours had as wonderful and merry Christmas as I did.
It's Santa!
SLBDJT telling Santa what he wants for ChristmasThursday, December 23, 2010
All I want for Christmas is...
- Tuxedo to start covering up her dookies in the litter box
- the coordination to actually use my heeleys
- a waffle maker
- a white IU hat
- a Flowbee
- Taboo
- blue bamboo sheets, queen size
- extreme lipo dissolve
- a new domino set
- Easy E's balls in my mouth, I can't get enough of her delicious balls
- a Roomba
- the book "Seven Gothic Tales"
- a winning IU b-ball season
- Flavor Flav to learn how to use his claws
- someone to stain my entertainment center for me
- a merry day for those I love most
I'm not sure how my Christmas list will play out this year, pretty sure I'm not getting a flowbee, or a roomba but a girl can dream can't she? I am fairly sure that The Gray Lining got me a cat, which means that I need to find someone, fall in love, and get them to move in pronto according to my very own non-scientific, non-research based theory that the maximum allowable cat to person ratio is 2-1. You might be thinking, easier said than done- you would be correct, especially considering I have just recently warmed up to the idea of potentially dating. A year ago saying the word 'dating' would have been very quickly followed by just the tiniest bit of vom. I know, I had the same reaction to the thought of dating as most people have to two girls one cup. Don't judge. Typing the words "love", and "move in" just made me a little queasy, so to The Gray Lining, please take note that nowhere on my Christmas list will you find "another kitten", or "become a creepy cat lady".
Whatever is on your list this year, I hope it finds its way under your tree, and if you're like me and one of the boxes is meowing maybe forget to open that one. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good stiff cocktail. All of mine this wonderful holiday season :)
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