Tuesday, November 30, 2010

This morning, The Kid struck out for the great beyond.

No, he hasn't wised up and run away from home, he was off to science camp/outdoor school/6th grade camp* until Friday.

And he's never been away from home/parents for more than a night before. And I've never been away from my munchkin for this long before and I already miss him**.

Of course, this does mean that I don't have to wake up to get him to school in the morning, so woo-hoo!


*I went to 6th grade camp when I was a kid living in LA County, but when we moved South to Orange County, my sister never went - so maybe it's only LA County and a bit North that does this?

** I'm such a dork.

Labels: adventures in shitty parenting, pointless whining

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Note to self -

Your landlord is a former olympic athlete.

You are not.

He hikes mountains all over the world.

You do not.

When he suggests a hike to you and says it's "kind of steep", but promises that it's "an easy 15-minute hike", you might want to factor in his fitness level (extremely high) and yours (as of late - similar to that of a foot stool).

Because, as it turns out, his interpretation of "kind of steep" is roughly equal to your interpretation of "vertical".

And neither "easy" nor "15-minute" were anywhere near your vocabulary at any time during it.

And the end of the hike that was supposed to be an "amazing view", was pretty, but there are 90 kajillion places around that are just as pretty or prettier and don't make necessitate an oxygen tank.

Stop listening to your landlord, he's a kook!

Labels: I take pictures, note to self

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Thanksgiving day is like the Super Bowl of Cooking for me - I plan out the meal weeks in advance, deciding on side dishes and when they will be served and which of my vintage Pyrex dishes each one will be served in*.

It's my favorite meal of the year - always has been. Even when I was a vegetarian, I made a whole meal of my favorite side dishes.

I try to do as much of the stuff as I can from scratch - including cranberry apple sauce and Hawaiian sweet rolls, but there are some things it's easier for me to prepare instead of make - like, I'm incapable of making gravy, so I use a packet. And I think boxed stuffing tastes the same as homemade (although I do add onions, celery, apples and bacon). And I use a frozen pie crust for the pie.

This year, though, is noteworthy because this day and pms have come together in a perfect storm of cravings and too much food in the house. I fully expect to be motoring around the grocery store in one of those fat-people scooters by Monday.



It will be so worth it, though - I mean, did I not mention the Hawaiian sweet rolls? From scratch!



*not really, I only have a couple of those, but I'd like to start collecting them so I can have a big old mis-matched set by next Thanksgiving

Labels: suzy fucking homemaker

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

In a Venn Diagram of music, The Kid and I would have a bit of overlap in some places. One of those places is Kanye West - sometimes this is a great set up for awesome jokes shitty parenting.

The Kid: how come the dentist is called doctor if he's just a dentist?

Me: he's a doctor of dental surgery, that's the DDS after his name. Or he could have a Ph. D.

The Kid snickers in that way specific to 11-year-old boys when they think something is dirty and I know his first thought is a line from Kanye West's song "Breathe In, Breathe Out", in which he says "even though I went to college and dropped out pretty quick, I always had a Ph. D: a Pretty Huge Dick"

Me (in a scolding parental tone): Not the same way Kanye West has a Ph. D

The Kid snickers again, then his face turns serious: How do you know?

I raise my eyebrows at him and I see his mind race to Kanye's last single, "Runaway"* which has the line "I sent this girl a picture of my dick" as a look of horror takes over.

Me: Kidding. I have received no such email from Mr. West**



also, no, I don't police The Kid's musical choices all that much - that's another of those pick-your-battles things, you know?

* also, in case you were wondering, the new Kanye cd is brilliant. About 90 bajillion times better than the last one.

** although, thanks to the internet, I have seen it and... dude wasn't lying, okay? Still, when the hell will celebrities (and everyone else) learn to stop sending n00d pix to people? There is at least a 62% chance it's going to be seen by someone other than the person to whom you're intending to show your goodies - why take the chance?

Labels: adventures in shitty parenting, random pop culture reference

Monday, November 22, 2010

helpful suggestion

If I get 3 separate emails from 3 different online retailers within one week, advising me that you, someone I don't know, are "inviting" me to "special sales" and I finally email you to politely request that you stop spamming me because I don't know you, the correct response is not to tell me that I "could note the 'unsubscribe' link that comes along with the special mailer, it would eliminate the need for you to get yourself in a twit about things" (especially if you sign all of your emails "Sparkling Thoughts, Linda")

Because I will advise you that:

1) I don't think I should have to unsubscribe from things to which I didn't subscribe
2) I want you to know how annoying it is to get "invitations" under the guise of friendship when I don't even know you.
3) The phrase is "in a snit", not in a twit.
4) Your email font (comic sans) is obnoxious

And in case I haven't been jackasanine enough, I'll end the email with "Sparkle that, Linda"

Don't play with your food

Unless you work in the meat section of the grocery store and can do things like this that make me immeasurably happy.


seriously, could anything be cuter?

Labels: I take pictures

Sunday, November 21, 2010

me: did you see [some kid on The Kid's basketball team]'s mom's boyfriend?

him: the guy with the dreadlocks?

me: and the neck tattoo, don't forget the neck tattoo*.

him: um...yeah

me: he's... interesting

him: if by interesting you mean kind of creepy.

me: yeah, a little bit. He seemed nice though.

him: yeah, but she's....

me: pregnant?

him: no... She's...

me: a little older than him?

him: you think so? I thought she was younger than you.

me: thanks a heap, but no, her oldest is 17, unless she started when she was in junior high, she's definitely older than me. And you can't tell from far away, but she wears a lot of makeup.

him: Oh. Well, anyway, she's...

me: oh, geez, just say it, she's ridiculously hot. It's not like I hadn't noticed. In France, she'd be called la renard, hunted with only her cunning to protect her... If she were president, she'd be Babraham Lincoln...

him: I get it. And she totally is.



* obviously, I like tattoos, but once you make that decision to get a design permanently marked on your neck (or face)... well, you can't really uncross that line

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Nothing here looks comfortable


Okay, girls of the world, can we agree on a few things?


1) None of us are defined by that little number on that little tag inside our clothes... okay, supermodels are, but they're compensated for it, so whatever.

2) When we're wearing out clothes, no one can see that little number on that little tag, so it doesn't really matter what that number says.

3) Just because you can squeeze into a particular size doesn't mean that particular size is the correct one for you - if all of your clothes leave you with angry red indentations on your skin for hours after you take them off, you might want to consider a different size - just so you can breathe.

4) I don't care how cute the outfit looks when you're posing for five seconds in front of your mirror at home, if you have to hold that pose all day or spend the entire day tugging and smoothing the outfit, it's no longer cute.

and, perhaps most importantly

5) Boobs are great, the least you can do for them is put them in the correct size bra.

Let me be clear when I say this isn't a criticism of body sizes - I'm in no position to call anyone chubby - I read some quote from Kate Moss about how nothing tastes as good as thin feels, but I'm guessing her taste buds have been killed by years of smoking or she's never eaten anything made with real butter, because come on - I just don't understand why someone would want to look like this:


when there are other options available.

Labels: just sayin', letter to, random pop culture reference

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Dear Phone-Using Vehicle Drivers in California,

2) While I kind of understand the thought behind slamming on your brakes in the middle of a street or parking lot to take a call - IT DOESN'T COUNT (it's also as annoying and confusing as fuck to the drivers behind you)

3) If you choose to ignore the law by taking calls or texting while driving, I will choose to flip you off andor assign you as colorful a nickname as I can come up with off the top of my head. Especially if I'm behind you at a red light and you're too busy chatting to go when the light turns green. Or if you're swerving all over, especially into my lane.

Admittedly, I'm not a big phone-talker or texter, but I have a hard time seeing what the fuck is that important.

Please remove your head from your butt and acknowledge that you're not more important than everyone else.

xxoo,

me

Labels: letter to

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I love cover songs. Love them. Usually more than the original version of the song.

This, however, is the exception -

I love the original - it's a perfect song



but then a cover version comes along and... I'm in love all over again - I could put these two versions of this song on repeat and listen to them all day



Also, in case you were wondering - Cee-Lo's album is... wonderful.

Labels: random pop culture reference

Why I'll never be a food blogger or a real restaurant chef

The requested dessert for Thanksgiving is "chocolate pie" - which is kind of ambiguous, as requests go, since there are only about 75 million kinds of chocolate pie, so this afternoon, I decided to make one.

Instead of googling like a normal person, I decided to just see what I had in the cupboards.

graham cracker crust - good start for a pie
chocolate chips - okay
eggs - sure
evaporated milk - why not?
flour? - I guess so

I melted down the chips, mixed in some evaporate milk - less than half the can, I suppose, tossed in 3 eggs (because that's how many were left in the carton), sprinkled in some flour (no idea how much) and a splash of vanilla. It seemed a smidge watery, so I put in some more flour (again, no idea how much). I considered throwing in some sugar, but I was planning on topping it with either whipped cream or powdered sugar, so I didn't want it to be too sweet.

I scraped it into the crust, tossed it into the oven at 350 and cooked it until I could smell it and it wasn't jiggly in the middle.

That's not a recipe, that's playing duck-duck-goose with ingredients. And even if it's the best thing ever, I'll never be able to replicate it

Labels: suzy fucking homemaker

Monday, November 15, 2010

Clearly, some of Shannon's awesomeness seeped into me yesterday because tonight, I made this:


it was based on this -


Admittedly, it's not as awesome as Shannon's awesome-osity, but it's vaguely recognizable as The Kid, and doesn't look like an Asian llama version of Eddie Munster so... OMG YAY.

Also, noteworthy, I will clearly do anything to avoid housework and/or writing.

Labels: suzy fucking homemaker

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Abra abra cadabra

Marvel at my amazing prestidigitation skills as I make 2 boys disappear into thin air with a mere three words:

What? No one wants to go with me? I'm SHOCKED!

And normally, I'm not a craft fair-y person, but my embroidery expert friend had her own table, so I had to go check it out in hopes of her getting some of her needle-wizardry to rub off on me - and to get out of the house and pawn off some of my ooey-gooey, buttery homemade cinnamon rolls *now featuring apples!* (for some reason, I am incapable of making less than a full pan of them and if I don't get some of them out of the house, I'll eat them all).

The craft fair was the typical craft fair - beads and bracelets, paintings you wouldn't want to hang in a motel room, stuff that smells like patchouli, expensive handmade soaps and one booth that I stopped at to check out these hippy oils but had to leave when I heard the vendor extolling the virtues of an oil she called "Floodgates" to help with "heavy menstrual flow".

Still it was a lovely way to spend an afternoon; people-watching, talking about nothing, and mercilessly mocking the weirdos walking around playing music -

in case you can't tell, he's wearing a pink Halloween costume pimp hat, satin smoking jacket and purple silk pajama bottoms. Hi, welcome to California!

Labels: what about your friends

Friday, November 12, 2010

So... we always go out to dinner on Fridays - always have (except for a brief time when I was pregnant and couldn't handle the smells of restaurants) and, for the first time in a really long time, The Kid didn't have some basketball practice or game or social event so we could actually eat somewhere that was further than a few minutes from the house.

The Kid requested Pea Soup Andersen's and he never eats vegetables*, and I'm a sucker for "diner" food, so I agreed - checking out the menu, I was super excited to see a monte cristo sandwich - I mean, hello - the unholy love child of French Toast and a turkey and ham sandwich. Dipped in egg. Grilled to perfection. Dusted with powdered sugar. Served with a side of raspberry jam. Sweet. Savory. Gooey. Crunchy. Shut up. It's like a perfect food. How many food groups are represented there? All the good ones.

In spite of Americans' love of insanely unhealthy food, they aren't very popular - you won't find them on the menu at Chili's or Applebee's. It's one of those foods that doesn't occur to me often, I've maybe eaten five or six in my whole life, but every time I have one, I wonder why I don't have them more often.

Maybe I've finally found a cause I can get behind - bringing back the monte cristo. I wonder what color I should assign to its magnetic ribbon...

* I know, I know, peas are actually legumes, but whatever

Labels: and I'm not even on Ambien

Thursday, November 11, 2010

There are literally no movie rental stores in this city, so I've reluctantly turned to those kiosk things and... I'm hooked.

It's convenient as all hell, you know, since I'm at the grocery store all the time and it's $1 to rent a movie for one day - which is way better than spending $6 or $7 to have the damn thing for a whole week (of which, the movie would generally languish on top of the tv for 6 days, then be watched on the last day).

I get movies all the time - movies I want to see, movies I'm on the fence about, even stuff I would have normally waited for cable for - it's $1, who cares if I'm renting "Death at a Funeral"*. In all that time, I have only really really really regretted two of the movies I've rented.

"Killers" (with Ashton Fucking Kutcher - The Kid suggested it, he said it looked funny)

and

"Human Centipede" - go ahead and check the wikipedia entry for the synopsis of that one.


One of those two movies I had to turn off after fifteen minutes because it was absolutely stomach-turning-ly terrible. Oddly enough, it wasn't the movie about the crazy German doctor who sewed people's pieholes to other people's cornholes**.




* liked the British version better, but the new one was still funny. Also, there's a dwarf in it and I do have that unholy obsession with little people.

** don't get me wrong, that movie was gross as hell and never should have been made or even thought up, but I watched the whole thing

Labels: and I'm not even on Ambien, random pop culture reference

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

If at first you don't succeed...

take a picture of that shit and put it online...

so, my local friend, Shannon, is some kind of embroidery guru and every time I look at her work, it makes me want to embroider.

She does these ridiculously cool portraits that look deceptively simple and I decided that a portrait of The Kid would be a super cool Christmas present for his grandparents.

Instead of immediately emailing Shannon, I spent a couple days googling on how to turn photography into an embroidery pattern and got nowhere, so I broke down and emailed her. She explains it in less than 2 paragraphs and it seems like something I could do, so I head to the craft store and stock up on embroidery stuff.

Then I park myself on the couch and get to work... It went a lot quicker than I thought it would and turned out great... if my kid looked like a cross between a llama, Eddie Munster and Jackie Chan, that is.


In other completely unrelated news, guess what my sister is getting for her birthday...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of Eddie Munster/Jackie Chan, The Kid has the rest of the week off of school and I am absolutely incapable of planning anything kid-friendly to do, so I decided we'd observe Veterans Day by going to an R-rated movie, because that's the kind of parent I am.

Last night, he asks if he can bring one of his 40 best friends along. I tell him I'm not comfortably taking someone else's kid to an R-rated movie.

"But, Mooooooooooom! He's seen 'The Hangover' about a million times!"

Nope, sorry, not comfortable with that.

"What if he asks his parents and they say it's okay?"

No.

"Please! I'll do any chores you want me to."

Okay, fine, but you need to get permission from his parents. Or you both have to swear never to tell anyone about this*.



*kidding, we've got parental permission

Labels: adventures in shitty parenting, suzy fucking homemaker

cell phone picture dump

Labels: I take pictures

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Did the dish run away with the spoon?

For some reason, spoons disappear from my house - there are always enough forks, always enough knives, but every damn time I want cereal or yogurt, that damn spoon compartment is empty and I have to either wash one or use that weird long spoon that we only use for stirring chocolate milk.

Yesterday, I was forced to make a trip to Walmart (because it's the only damn place in town that sells the environmentally friendly cat litter my hippy ass insists upon using now) and when I came out to the parking lot, I found this next to my car:


I don't know if this was a defector from my house, or if it was trying to catch a ride home (but it was covered in some mystery substance AND it was the Walmart parking lot, so I left it).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also, since it's been nearly two years of living in the prettiest place on the planet, it looks like we might be on the road again - OMG YAY, MOVING AGAIN!!!! - except... bleh. But as long as it's not back to Texas, I can suck it up and deal - as long as I have the internet, cable and the occasional trip to Target, I could pretty much live anywhere - this time around, anywhere could be LA County (which wouldn't totally suck), Salt Lake City (eh, it's a big city and looks pretty), Seattle (it's beautiful and my sister lives there), and Phoenix (lowest on my list simply because I love sweater weather, but it's a big city and they have an Ikea and everywhere is air-conditioned).

Labels: pointless whining

Saturday, November 06, 2010

your 80s roots are showing...

In addition to playing basketball, The Kid talks about basketball all the time - NBA, NCAA and local. Some kid on one of the local teams is named Blaine and EVERY SINGLE TIME The Kid mentions this kid, I have to say -

"Blaaaaaaine? His name is Blaine? Ugh, that's a major appliance, that's not a name!"

Labels: random pop culture reference

Thursday, November 04, 2010

Dear New Cat,

I know that cats don't like water, but I don't understand why you decided to wage a full scale war on H2O in the middle of the night - a battle which included knocking over a half-full glass of water on the kitchen counter and biting or clawing at least 10 holes in a full gallon of water (which turned it into a half-gallon of water surrounded by a big puddle on the floor).

Did water say something to you? Did it try to start shit? Or are you still mad about last week when you fell into the bathtub with The Kid?

If you could stick with cat toys (or your version of cat toys; buttons and pen caps) from now on, I'd appreciate it.

Thanks,

the person who feeds you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Marginally Scary Biker Guy,

Sorry I tried to steal your dog today. It's just that he's half-blind and was wandering down a marginally busy frontage road by himself. And I'm a sucker for strays.

I guess you're lucky you happened to step out of your garage in time to see me opening up my tailgate and him hopping in. Perhaps you should consider supervising your pets a little better.

Thanks


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Old Lady in Front of Me at the Grocery Store,

First of all, who the fuck still writes checks?

Second of all, I'm assuming you're writing a check because you're a thousand years old and set in your ways, but why the fuck did you have to act all put out when the cashier needed information like your address and drivers license number? You're probably been writing checks for at least five hundred years, how are you not familiar with the process by now?

Thanks,

The Person Behind You Who Aged Approximately Seven Years Waiting for You to Get Your Shit Together

Labels: letter to

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

worth a thousand words

the top 3, of course, being

what
the
fuck


I didn't stick around to ask what Frog Balls actually are for fear of being a jackass and suggesting the vendor see a doctor. (but I googled later and it's possible that they are dill pickled brussel sprouts, which... ew)

Labels: I take pictures

Monday, November 01, 2010

I can't go into the garage after dark because that's when the spiders have custody of the garage and they do their spider business.

Usually this isn't a problem, since I haven't yet set up that Hasbro Ez-Bake Meth Lab I got for my last birthday and I don't spend a whole lot of time in the garage.

The washer and dryer live in the garage, but I always either do the laundry during the day or leave it in there for the next day.

Tonight, however, I forgot the bed sheets and comforter cover in the dryer.

Fuck.

If I lived alone, I would have no problem sleeping on the bare mattress with a naked comforter, but since I don't live alone, I knew I'd never hear the end of it...

I tiptoed up to the garage door and cracked it open just enough to get my hand in there and turn on the lights to let the spiders know I was coming in, so I could tiptoe-run* to the dryer, retrieve the sheets and tiptoe-run back into the house.

I push open the door a bit to make sure I don't see any creepy crawlers and all of a sudden HOLY FUCK, THERE'S A SPIDER GALLOPING TOWARDS ME!!!!!!

Before I can girly-squeal and slam the door, IT GETS IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!!!!!

 Upon hearing my screams, the husband and The Kid yell, in unison "what now?"

"A giant freaking spider ran into the house before I could go get the sheets!" I scream, staring at the spider, who is now camped in front of the garage door daring me to do something (which, we both know, I'm not going to).

"What kind of spider?"

HOW DOES THIS MATTER? IT'S GOT A BUNCH OF LEGS AND A FURRY BODY AND NEEDS TO BE EXTERMINATED IF I AM EXPECTED TO SLEEP IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT.

And I'm the one who asks useless questions? I'm so sure.

~~~~~~~~~

Also, these things?


Are the bane of my existence. See, I like my house to smell nice, and these things are the laziest easiest way - but there are a bunch of different companies that make them and there is no standardized sizing on them, so I'm forced to either remember which brand I have at home or buy a whole new warmer and oil thing. Guess which one happens more often.


* tiptoe-running lessens the chance of me stepping on a crunchy exoskeleton and also makes me a smaller target at spider level

Labels: suzy fucking homemaker