Thursday, November 20, 2008

Love her

Mom: So have you heard that really catchy song about McDonalds?
Me: Huh?
Mom: You know, dadadada-da-da-da-da, if you catch me at Mcdonalds I got visa's in my name....
Me: Mom. Thats not what she says.
Mom: What do you mean? She even talks about cheeseburgers after that.
Me: Are we even talking about the same song? Do they play a different version up there? [My mom lives in the pacific northwest]
Mom: No! She says, "If you come around here I make 'em all day, I'll get some done in a second if you wait". You see? She'll make you a cheeseburger!
Me: Mom, I think that song is about dealing drugs.
Mom: NO! No! Are you serious?
Me: How do you even hear "cheeseburgers"? What she really says is, "If you catch me at the border I got visas in my name". And when she says, "I'll get some done in a second if you wait" she's talking about packing some drugs for you. How did you not know this? Did you not hear the gunshots?
Mom: I guess my virgin ears just substitute words for things I dont want to hear! And furthermore, missy, how do you know all this druggy lingo? Hmm?
Me: Um, I watch intervention?
Mom: Thats all you'd better be doing.
Me: Of course. So you still like the song?
Mom: I dont care what you say, I still think it's about McDonalds.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Snuggled in a warm, floral embrace


Suburbia ROCKS.


Whoa, sorry guys. I've been here for like, 3 days and I think I've already been brainwashed, but it's cool. Did I mention Fazoli's? And Garden Ridge? I could spend hours in craft stores, then add a few bread sticks to the mix and I'm in salty, wrapping paper heaven. There is this one retail center behind my house and - I'm not joking - I could spend a whole day there.

9am - Put the kid in scary strip center daycare called Little Comforts and thank God she is resilient and has all her shots.
10am - Walk across the parking lot to Bally's, work out.
12pm - Hit up Chipotle and undue all good work I did with massive burrito bigger than my head.
1pm - Walk 4 steps next door to Starbucks for post lunch coffee.
1:30pm - Mosey across the median to Target, need laundry detergent and toilet paper.
3pm - Leave Target with said items, plus picture frame, new shirt, goldfish bowl, 16 rolls of wrapping paper, batteries, new shade of nail polish, Lysol Wipes, 3 greeting cards, a new shower curtain, 3 CDs, 2 DVDs and some breath mints.
3:30pm - Cross 1/2 mile of parking lot to make a deposit at Wells Fargo after massive shopping spree.
4:00pm - Pick child up from daycare.
4:30pm - Navigate through 20 parking spaces to The Little Gym with child to find new friends for both of us.
6pm - Leave, exhausted and frazzled after an hour and a half of listening to screeching brats and conversating with other mothers who hate you for wearing jean cut offs and flip flops to the Little Gym.
6:30pm - Walk across the massive parking lot once more and find that you conveniently parked in front of a liquor store. Debate internally whether or not it is appropriate to bring a 4 year old inside, figure no one you know will see you anyway.
6:45pm - Leave liquor store clutching brown paper sack. Cringe with horror when you see Jacqueline, one of the Alpha Moms at the Little Gym, has parked three cars down and is scowling disapprovingly at you, your bag of vodka and beat up 1996 Saturn.
6:50pm - Arrive home. Cry.

Oh well. At least I still have Garden Ridge.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Proud member of the itty bitty booty committee

So here I am. Posting from our new place. And it hurts, ya'll. Not emotionally, I mean it literally fucking hurts - our chair is too short for the built in "office center" aka a desk with some shelves, and my wrists are elevated and resting on the hard wood molding of the desk. We need a new chair before I have the bruised wrists of an emo chick.

So many things are different here. We moved from an older place, built in the 50's, with exposed brick and other charming little details, to new construction with beautiful accents like brushed nickle hardware and chair rails. The benefits of the new place far outweigh the old - we have a massive walk in closet, an extra bedroom, a bathtub that could double as a wading pool and a lovely kitchen big enough for all of us to fit in. The one thing though, that doesn't sit well with me, is the design of the toilet. Or the toilet seat, to be more exact.

You guys, its huge. I cant even sit back fully or else I'll fall in. If I wasn't already insecure enough about my tiny butt, a stupid toilet seat has to come along and engulf my whole ass. I know big butts are back and I am envious mine isn't more bootylicious, but this is insane. I cant fill out jeans anymore, I am the only one who doesnt complain about airline seats being too small, and now a stupid toilet seat has made me begin to consider butt implants. What do you think?

Uh, I think I'll just buy a new toilet seat.

Monday, November 10, 2008

The joys of suburbia

So, we finally did it. We scoured the 'burbs, we cased the neighborhoods, we checked, and finally signed a lease. Signed our life away to suburban hell. Goodbye, skyline, hello outlet mall.

Half our house is in boxes, which makes living here for the next 6 days like a maddening scavenger hunt, and bubblewrap is fun to play with, so theres that. I know that moving to the suburbs have some benefits, though. I cant think of what they are, but I know it does. I just cant find the silver lining. This is how I envision our first year:

Month one: Move into neighborhood, find amenities near by, restaurants, shopping, marvel how close we are to every retail chain ever built.
Month two: Complain that everyone else is close to all that stuff, too.
Month three: Meet neighbors, plan game night, introduce our kids, tentative excitement towards meeting new people begins to grow.
Month four: Attempt to enroll daughter into good school. Good school will not accept application because of "over crowding" (aka we be poor folk) and place us on the never ending waiting list, settle for zoned public school.
Month five: Shunned by neighbors after declining the invitation to neighbor's wife's tupperware party.
Month six: Nearby lot gets bought for new hospital, commence construction till 2013.
Month seven: Lanes on the main road get widened, commence construction till 2020.
Month eight: Daughter gets shunned by children for not speaking French, Latin, Russian or Mandarin.
Month nine: Car gets keyed with cryptic message, "Should've gone plastic!"
Month ten: Patio furniture mysteriously goes missing, lawn gets TP'd.
Month eleven: Start to understand why everyone is on drugs, get a prescription for Xanax and instate nightly cocktail hour
Month twelve: Full on drug and alcohol addiction, admit self into rehab, find neighbor in as well, bond over horror stories of nearly burning down the house with lit cigarette while passed out from too many Cosmo's and re-pledge friendship.
Month thirteen: Backstabbed by newly sober neighbor, start process all over again.

You can see why I'm so excited. Suburbia or bust!

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Did you?

Happy Election Day, peeps! Exercise your right!

Monday, November 3, 2008

The best part of the year

You know those people who do the whole, "Birthday Month" thing? Stretch their birthday out through the entire month they were born, demanding special attention and living hedonistically, eschewing common sense and practicality?

So obviously you can see where this is going - IT'S MY BIRTHDAY MONTH!

I am not one of those people who get depressed on their birthdays. I LOVE celebrating my birthday, and while I am not exactly thrilled with aging, I like to enjoy knowing that I lived another year without getting arrested, breaking my arm, rolling my vehicle, losing another friend, or getting run over by a car - all of which has happened to me before. Damn right I should celebrate!

I'll turn 26 on the 8th. I'm having some issues deciding what to do, though. How lame is it to make all my friends show up in pink? Should we do a pub crawl? Rent a pink limo? Karaoke Spice Girls song's all night? Video scavenger hunt? Help me out, interwebz!

A nice perk to kicking off birthday month is partying the night before on Halloween:

Meet Abe Lincoln and his European mistress - stickers have been added to protect the innocent and mortified. Even though we're pretty sure Abe never made it Europe, who cares! As I predicted, Halloween was filled with sluts and d-bags, but oddly enough the most ubiquitous costume for females was a flapper. Really? Huh. Most of the men just glued devil horns to their forheads - LAME!! Unfortunately I have no pic's of said slutty women because I was too busy drinking cape cods and shaking my ass on the dance floor. Please accept my apologies and visit all 4 parts of this NSFW website, instead. You're welcome.