Sunday, February 28, 2010

So I'm watching "Desperately Seeking Susan" this morning* and it's so funny to see how these actors have evolved and changed in the 25 (!!!!) years since this movie was released.

For instance:

Rosana Arquette - went on to have a sex change and marry Courtney Cox
Aidan Quinn - ... well, he just pretty much stayed hot
The guy who played Madonna's boyfriend, who wasn't nearly as hot as Aidan Quinn and I was always like "why is she with him when Aidan Quinn is around? Does she need corrective lenses?" - went on to clean himself up and become the coroner guy on "CSI: NY"
Madonna -... went on to become British

I remember when this movie came out, either VH1 or Mtv was selling those horrible pyramid jackets for $49.95 and I would have killed for one, but I was 11 and $50 might as well have been a trillion dollars.

And isn't it funny how so many of the wacky mis-communications in old(er) movies could have been cleared up instantly if they'd had cell phones or Twitters... or common sense.

Can you imagine if they redid this movie now? They'd take out ads on Craigslist and Madonna would probably want to play herself, so they'd have to change the name of the movie to "Desperately Seeking Skeletor"



*Because there's never anything on on Sunday mornings, I'm assuming it's Comcast's way of encouraging us Godless heathens to go to church instead of nursing coffee and nomming leftover cinnamon rolls

Friday, February 26, 2010

The yin and the yang of my kitchen skillz

Tonight, while The Kid was at basketball practice, I mixed and stirred and kneaded a spectacular batch of these cinnamon rolls (including cream cheese frosting with real vanilla beans) for tomorrow morning. These are not just pop open a can and toss then into a cake pan cinnamon rolls. These are seriously-amazing-no-really-I'm-not-fucking-around-here CINNAMON ROLLS - each and every one is a gooey, buttery, lick-your-fingers lump of heaven (don't believe me? Ask my bff - who doesn't even cook - and she will tell you how ridiculous these are - lots of work, but worth it).

As I'm tucking the raw rolls into the refrigerator (in the morning, they sit out for an hour, then get baked and smothered with the frosting and then everyone slips into a sugar and fat coma), the pan gets stuck - there's something blocking it from going all the way in. I pull out the pan to see what's in the way and see a ziploc baggie with a golden brown lump of something in it.

I pull out the bag and recognize one of my famous dinner rolls... After a second, I realize that the last time I made my famous dinner rolls was... Thanksgiving... and it's almost March.

Ew.

Also, this is why real chefs have sous chefs, so they don't have to clean up after themselves.



In other news, I kind of gumped my way into a part-time cooking gig - a mom of a kid on The Kid's basketball team doesn't have time to/doesn't like to cook and I'm always offering her super easy recipes, blah blah blah (I'm seriously like one of those religious weirdos with food), finally after a long chat about noms, she says "Why don't I just pay you to cook for me and I'll pick up the food after I pick up [her kid] at school?"

Wait... you want to pay me for something I already love love love to do? Um... yeah, I guess that would be okay... (OMG!!!!!!)

Labels: suzy fucking homemaker

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Thank you for being a friend...

It's such a great feeling to have a friend you can share absolutely anything with...

a friend who won't judge you not matter how embarrassing your confessions are...

a friend who will mercilessly mock you via IM and text for days because of what you revealed in an ill-advised vulnerable moment.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

OMG, BABIEEEEEEEEEEES!

Actually, just one baby.

Last night, 8.5 pounds of cuteness named Tucker with a head full of curly hair emerged from the belly of one of my favorite derby chicks.

Congrats to the Heather and her baby daddy for making a gorgeous bebe (and being able to update facebook in a timely manner), and to the late-but-worth-the-wait Tuck for finally getting here and getting a spectacular pair of parents.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Pretty sure I just lost every ounce of street cred I've ever had

I'm the #1 Google result for "the unpredictable adventures of stay at home momhood".

Gross.

Just so we're clear, I've never really officially considered myself a Stay-at-Home-Mom - it's sort of happened by default, when people ask what I do, I always say I'm an unemployed loser. If anyone could explain why I feel that's more valid than SAHM, I'd really appreciate it.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Dear Ambien,

I was excited when the sleep specialist doctor dude decided that I don't have sleep apnea, just insomnia and prescribed me a bottle of your adorable little pills, I'd heard so many fun and interesting things about you. And since I didn't really experiment with drugs in high school like a normal person, I was pretty excited to try you out.

After a couple warnings from friends (and the internet, and the pharmacy), I tucked my phone away prior to popping the pill, because I did not want to be held responsible for any calls or texts I might be inspired to send.

Little did I remember that I was still connected to the outside world by my precious little iBook.

So instead of taking the pill and going to bed like a normal person, I just had to stay awake for a full three hours to see how many poor decisions I could make in that time frame. Turns out, quite a few.

So, Ambien, it may have seemed like fun at the time, but I'm not quite sure if you're worth the morning after mortification. Because, really.

If you need me, I'll be googling to see if I can find an effective way to bleach my brain.

Thanks anyway, I guess.

Labels: letter to

Thursday, February 11, 2010

So, the prozac didn't seem to be working for me, even after having my dosage doubled it did nothing but make me vacillate between sad and irritated. A couple weeks ago, my doctor switched me over to Cymbalta (instead of an SSRI, like Vitamin P, it's an SSNRI and bonus letters are always good, right?).

Of course I was excited to get home and check out the possible side effects, which were the usual stuff with the addition of "vivid nightmares" - which, COOL! I'm so sick of those sepia-toned nightmares I usually have, you know?

So I started taking it and, aside from making me insanely tired if I take it during the day, I haven't noticed too many side effects (I haven't noticed all that many benefits either, but... whatever), but within the last couple of days, I've noticed some changes in my dreams.

They're not vivid nightmares, though, they're actually the most boring dreams imaginable. I have dreams about stuff like watching tv, doing the dishes, cooking dinner and texting people. These dreams are seriously so mundane that sometimes I have a hard time remembering if it was something that had actually happened or not. Last night, for instance, I dreamed that I'd spent all kinds of time cleaning up the spare bedroom (aka: the room where we put all the shit we have nowhere else to put) and it was actually organized and tidy and not scary.

Imagine my dismay when I woke up this morning and found this...


Stupid dream.

Friday, February 05, 2010

Shit I don't fucking care about right now

• The fucking Super Bowl
• The fucking Winter Olympics
• Taylor fucking Swift
• Your fucking virtual farm on Facebook
• Your fucking quiz scores for anything on Facebook
• Any fucking facebook group you think I need to be invited to (pro tip: I DON'T)
  
• Jersey fucking Shore (the show, I've got nothing against the place)
• That my fucking Christmas tree is still up
• Anyone who fucking thinks he or she NEEDS to twitter/facebook his or her EVERY FUCKING MOVE - do you know who needs to know what you want for dinner? Your waiter, that's the only person. Do you know who needs to know that you're "shutting down and going to bed"? No one. No one fucking cares about that shit, if it's 2AM and you haven't tweeted in an hour, people will figure it out, no one is going to get the FBI involved.

This post was brought to you by Cymbalta, making me tired, a little dizzy and, apparently, prone to swearing for almost two weeks now.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Accidentally appropriate t-shirt is appropriate

For The Kid's birthday (the reason for the ugly cake), he decided he wanted to go out to dinner at one of those completely gross All-You-Can-Eat buffet restaurants.

As The Kid and I are filling up our plates with healthy options like macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes and fried chicken, we both stop dead in our tracks.

Lumbering towards us is one of the 1,200 pregnant women who were dining there that evening.

Now let me stop here and say that, having been a pregnant woman at one point in time (10 years, 364 days ago to be exact) I am well aware of how uncomfortable pregnancy can be and I will generally give any expectant mother the benefit of the doubt. I'm not gonna pretend that I took care of any bikini-area grooming once I couldn't see that area anymore, and I won't act like I didn't have my days when I wore pajama bottoms to work, but...

She's wearing pink Birkenstocks, black knee socks, white jeans cut into shorts so short that the bottoms of the pockets are showing and a giant black t-shirt that says "Unforgiveable".

Okay, the shoes and socks we can let slide - this far pregnant, she probably hasn't seen her feet in three months. But the shorts!!!! She's a tall girl, and was probably built like a linebacker prior to impregnation, so these shorts were never appropriate for her (or anyone who isn't Britney Spears in 2001). Factoring in how she's approximately 43 months pregnant and these shorts haven't fit her well since about month 2 - I can't assume that muffin-toppage is comfortable, or healthy for the baby.

I'd like to think that wearing that particular shirt was her way of acknowledging, but somehow... I doubt it.

Who can fuck up a boxed cake mix?

Me, that's who.

Me, the girl who is capable of making 10 different flavors of cheesecake without a recipe. The girl who makes her own damn cheese. The girl who can make any kind of bread you've ever imagined. I fucked up a damn cake.

Don't believe me? Check it -


Yeah, so it wouldn't come out of the pan in one piece and I had to glue it together with the frosting - then I was worried about not having enough frosting, so I mixed up some Dream Whip and whipped it into the store-bought frosting. Clearly, this turned out well.

Fine, whatever, it's kind of like pizza, right? Even when it's bad it's good, right?

One other thing at which I fail? Sleeping.

Yep, sleeping.

A while ago, I went to the doctor and he decided he wanted me to take a sleep test - and apparently, I failed because I've been referred to a "sleep specialist". What, praytell, does a "sleep specialist" do? Will he come over every night, make me warm milk and tell me fairy tales until I fall asleep?

Maybe next week I can get referred to a "walking specialist".