Saturday, November 27, 2010
So I finally got a featured interview over at Studio30+, courtesy of my awesome fly-eyed friend Vic. It's pretty much amazing awesomes. We talk about diahrrea and Carlos Spicy Weiner and my new theme song "Total Eclipse Of The Heart". It's as confusing as it sounds.
Please go read it, and then become a member. But only if you are over 30. If you are under 30, then shut up and go listen to some Justin Bieber or whatever you stupid kids are into to these days.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
But the last couple of years I’ve been longing to be up north for Christmas again. Last year, the Dallas area got a huge (by southern standards) winter storm on Christmas Eve. It would have been perfect, except that we went to New Orleans for Christmas and missed it. Not that I’m complaining. I was drinking hurricanes and eating gumbo, who the hell cares about snow? But still, my northern roots are calling to me.
My parents are usually in Arizona by this time of year. They are retired snowbirds and can hardly wait to get to Mesa by the end of October. But my dad has been sick this year. He has leukemia and needed to stay close to his doctor in MN for chemo, so they aren’t heading to AZ until after Thanksgiving (he's doing great, by the way. This post isn't about that, but I didn't want to leave you hanging). So I was all “This year is my chance! I should totally go home for Thanksgiving so my parents won’t be alone on the holiday! I’m booking a flight right now!” to Captain Carl. And all three of my sisters agreed with me and booked tickets too.
So I’m flying up on Thursday morning. Because we are poor white trash, we could only afford one ticket so the Captain is staying home to host his side of the family’s Thanksgiving at our house. Which is weird, but whatever because there is already snow on the ground up there! Hooray! It’ll be almost like Christmas! I’m totally building a snowman and making snow angels!
And then I checked the weather channel. The high temp on Thursday up there is going to be 15 degrees. 15 DEGREES. My sister that still lives up there emailed to tell me it’s going to be the coldest Thanksgiving in 20 years.
I mean, I want snow. Snow. Not freezing nostrils. Not temps too cold for my wimpy southern version of a winter jacket to handle. And certainly not so cold that, holy hell, my whole family has to stay inside for 4 days straight. My whole two parent, four sisters and two nieces in a 3 bedroom house family. We’ll kill each other. You may think I’m exaggerating. Rest assured, I am not. Not even a little bit. This is how it will go down:
Me: Hey, let’s go outside!
Sister #1: It’s too cold.
Me: Oh come on! It’ll be fun! We can build a snow fort!
Sister #2: No way.
Sister #3: Let’s play a game.
Sisters #1 and #2: Yeah, let’s!
Me: Oh shit.
Because that is how the murders always start in my family. With a game.
It always starts out with optimism. This time will be different. This time we’ll have fun. This time we’ll all get along. This time no one will accuse anyone else of cheating. This time no one will overturn the table in a fit of rage over coming in second place. But the conclusion is almost always the same. Everyone not talking to everyone. At least one sister crying. At least one other sister calling their husband/boyfriend to tell them she is coming home early. My mom shutting herself up in her room for the rest of the day. And my dad reading the paper, pretending he can’t hear what is happening.
But I’ve decided to be optimistic. This will be a good visit. Only 3.5 days. Just long enough for everyone to stop missing each other and just short enough to keep everyone from getting on each other’s nerves.
Unfortunately, I’ve been recruited by one of my sisters. To go Black Friday shopping. At 4am. In 15 degree weather. I mean, I just….I don’t even……
The thing is, I could have just said no, as the Captain pointed out last night. I could have said no and slept until 10am on my air mattress on the living room floor and pretended not to notice my sister's hurt feelings. But I said yes. Because I know how much it will mean to her. And I’ll play every game anyone wants to play. Because it’s family. And it’s going to be awesome and it’s going to be a blood bath and it’s going to be exhausting and I’m going to love every minute of it.
Because there’s no place like home.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
But this blog is different. I’m pretty much required by my wedding vows to pimp this blog. It belongs to Captain Carl. He started a blog to chronicle his efforts to lose weight, get fit and run a 5K in March. I know, right??? I mean, a 5K is pretty much my version of hell. It’s a nightmare filled with running shoes, short shorts and wheezing. But I totally support it, because he’s awesome and it’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time and I’m so very very proud of him for doing this.
So I’m here, asking my readers to go over there and read and become a follower and maybe leave a comment or two. But only nice, supportive comments because I am not afraid to cut a bitch, okay?
I am amazed by this man. He’s determined and focused and I’m freaking out because omg I’m totally going to be fatter than my husband if I don’t keep up. So his determination has got me determined to keep up as best I can. This is new territory for me. I try to eat better and maybe exercise sometimes but if anyone pushes me to do more? Hells no. You think I'm killing myself slowly by eating badly? You think I'd feel better if I pushed my workout to a higher level? Oh yeah? Well...
But this time seems different for him, so I’m trying to make it different for me. This includes sharing his blog with everyone I know and all the bloggers that are awesome enough to come here and hang out with me. He’s using real names. He’s honest and completely factual. He’s told his whole family about his goal and his blog. All things I do not do here. And! He blog rolled me, which means I’m about to be discovered by my family. Not only am I running because of him (Have you ever seen a fat girl run? Boobs everywhere, people.) but my secret blog identity is about to be revealed.
But! I’m totally getting back at him for it.
Pssst. Come closer so I can tell y’all a secret.
He’s got pictures of himself over there without a shirt. He says it’s kind of humiliating and scary to do it, but it is keeping him motivated. I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit and he’s just trying to attract gay men who are into bears. Whichever. Just go follow him. His goal is to get 5 followers by the end of this month. Do me a favor and blow up his follower list. Leave an encouraging comment, like how sexy you think his man boobs are.
I feel like I should explain what is going on in this picture. I'm not gonna though.
p.s. I love you, Chad. You are totally gonna bend that 5K over and take it to brown town.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Me: Uh oh.
Me: The lady across the parking lot is taking her clothes into the dry cleaners and she dropped a shirt behind her car.
Him: That sucks.
Me: *knocking on window* Hey! Lady! Your shirt!
Him: Aren’t you on the second floor?
Him: And like, 50 yards away from the other side of the parking lot?
Me: So? Maybe she’d hear me banging and look back and notice her shirt.
Him: Did she?
Me: I hope she sees it when she comes out.
Him: She probably won’t if it’s behind her car.
Me: I suppose I could walk down there and take it into the dry cleaners if she doesn’t see it.
Him: That would be a very nice thing to do.
Me: *sigh* That’s a really long way to walk.
Him: Annnddd there we go.
Him: I was just waiting for that last part.
Me: What? It’s all the way across the parking lot!
Him: But you’d do it. Because it’s the right thing to do. Right?
Me: *sigh* Yeah. Stupid lady and her stupid shirt, making me help her.
Me: Ooh, here she comes. Come onnnn. Come onnnn! Look behind your car. Look! It’s right there! Don’t make me come down there! Oh thank God, she saw it.
Him: Yes, praise Jesus you didn’t have to walk across the parking lot to help someone.
Me: I know right? That was a close one. That lady didn’t even know how close she came to having me save her.
Me: No need to be in awe of me. I’m no hero or anything.
Him: You got that right.
Me: Shut up! I am sooo a hero!
Him: I’m pretty sure telling people that you’re hero doesn’t automatically make you one.
Me: Oh yeah? Well….your mom makes you one.
Boo ya. I showed him. I'm the queen of come backs. That's what she said.
Monday, November 8, 2010
So hiking is out for me. For, like, ever. Because I don’t know about you but fuck that shit. And the worst part is, it happened while he was walking. He wasn’t parachuting, he wasn’t bungee jumping, he wasn’t wrestling tigers. He was doing something fairly common that millions of people do. Maybe a more advanced type of walking, sure. But still. Walking. This is what scares me.
I mean, I’ve gone hiking before without incident. Mostly in flat places where the biggest rock is the size of my foot with maybe one or two big enough to stand on. But seriously, y’all. I really don’t like walking around as much as I like keeping my arm. So as of today, hiking is permanently banned from my life. Just the thought of doing something that could result in me having to cut off any of my body parts makes me want to buy a rascal and never walk anywhere again.
Oh shit. What if the rascal hits a rock and throws me off and I get trapped anyway?? It's a lose-lose situation, y'all.
Not to mention that this guy cut off his arm with his pocketknife. I never carry a pocketknife. Or any knife for that matter. Sometimes I carry a spoon in my purse (don’t ask) but no way would that cut through bone. Unless I could spend my 5 days sharpening the spoon on the rock that trapped me to a vicious point and therefore make it possible to cut off my arm. Then I could be all “Ha! Take that rock! How’s that for irony! I used the very thing that which trapped mine self’s arm to free thine self from thy perilous grasp!”. I figure I’d be so delirious by then that I would have slipped into a bad Shakespearean accent for some reason. I mean, I just cut off my own arm for fuck’s sake. Give me a break. You try cutting off your arm and see if whatever you say afterwards makes any sense, you big jerkface.
Honestly, I just don’t think I could do it. I told Captain Carl that very thing and he was all “You totally would if you had no other choice.” and I was all “No way, I’d rather die than cut part of myself off.” and he was all “You’d be surprised what you could do if you were faced with death.” and I was all “You know what I would do? I would call someone with my cell phone like any smart person would.” and he was all “You probably wouldn’t get any reception since you’d be in a remote location, which is why no one could find you in the first place.” and I was all “Since when is the IHOP parking lot a ‘remote location’?” and he was all “What?” and I was all “Because that’s as far as I’m hiking from now on. From our car to the IHOP.” and he was all “Don’t you want to live an adventurous, exciting life? See new places? Push the boundaries?” and I was all “When was the last time you saw someone cut their own arm off at an IHOP?” and he was all *blink* and I was all “I think I’ve made my point.”
I figure finally trying one of those weird fruit syrups they have at IHOP is adventure enough for me. Suck it, excitement.