Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
After twenty years of being a loving and wonderful housecat, Silver Mercedes Adkins fell asleep in his La-Z-boy Recliner last Thursday and passed on to that Catnip Scented Cloud in the heavens. He will be missed...
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I banished him with a pain pill and closed my eyes by 10pm in hopes of a bright and cheerful morning. Instead I found myself lying awake at 4am with my head in the grips of a tug of war between the pain and the nausea.
It got the best of me.
I called in sick to work and wallowed in the blackness of my life for the majority of the day.
Until I decided to get up to get some food.
And then I locked myself out of my bedroom.
Yes, that's right.
I'm that good.
I can be miserable to the point that I'm sure no more misery exists and then I put a flimsy-yet-oddly-impervious door between me and my sanctuary.
A tiny screwdriver, a kitchen knife and enough curse words to damn us all to hell, and I was back in bed.
I'm doing better now, my head is starting to look more Holly-shaped again and my bedroom door is not fully pulled close so no danger of a repeat lockout.
And I managed to wrap and put another one of Harry's presents under the tree last night. that makes, er, uh, five for him and - zero for me.
I think Santa finally figured out that my inclusion on the "nice" list was an oopsie!
I better at least get coal! And fruitcake!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
So I vowed last January that the 2008 Christmas would be spectacular. With so many lights that my house could be seen by the little green men on Mars. But as soon as I was filled with the bedazzled holy spirit of Christmas and started making eyes at my husband I knew it was not to be. He whined, he moaned and I cussed, cursed and hit at him. Repeatedly.
Luckily that's all it took to make him lug out our mostly new Martha Stewart "Never Out" tree and begin assembling. He wrestled the bottom from the box, carefully placed it in the stand and plugged it in to behold all of it's pre-lit wonder.
One whole section was dark.
Four green and non-lit branches mocked us and our failing Christmas spirit.
I hopped up from the couch and began a string of curse words that barely ended as I shoved my face into the effeminate face of the Kmart sales guy who offered these helpful words "Oh - you bought it last year? And now it doesn't work? Have you contacted the manufacturer?" I held myself together and managed not to shout "No, dickforbrains, I routinely pull out my pre-lit Christmas trees and plug them in just to make sure they still freakin' work! I mean, EVERYONE does that, right?" And I only barely managed to make it out of the glaringly bright and soul-sucking store without jamming him in the eye with the mascara wands that were right at hand.
"Hey, wait!" Harry was under the tree and was looking very much like the tree version of a gynecologist as he brushed the undercarriage of the darkened limbs. "Ahah!" The branches glowed warmly and lit up my husband's upturned and smiling face. "A light had fallen out!"
So what Martha Stewart meant in her "Never out" claim was that if a bulb burns out the rest will remain lit but if one falls out - you're royally screwed.
But my jolly spirit wasn't done being tried, yet - oh no.
Even though Christmas was not moved, cancelled or anything of the like for my shattered self last year, my cousin's inability to attend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house means that the whole ordeal has to be moved. And now Harry and I probably won't be able to attend due to other familial obligations.
I'm the Grinch, I tell ya. Before the heart-growing scene.
Holly the Grinch.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
For pete's sake.
Friday, November 14, 2008
I quite enjoyed it even though the evil couple next to me decided to insert their own running commentary!!!
Seriously, it was like a really bad version of "Mystery Science 3000"!
About mid-way through I was seething and barely able to sit still as I flung my chubby legs in the direction of the girl to my left everytime she opened her mouth to interject what was obviously such an important statement that couldn't be left until AFTER the flick, no, it had to be said RIGHT THEN.
You know these people. These are the ones who have to complain, loudly, about the line in the grocery store and then have the nerve to argue over a ten cent off coupon when they're finally at the head. They are the ones who ask the assinine questions just to hear themselves talk. The ones who can't let it go that their candidate lost and the ones who fill your inbox with the smiling angel emails that warn of your immediate death if you don't forward it on in 2.3 seconds.
I know these people.
I loathe these people.
So, as Bond knocked on the door to a beautiful Italian villa the woman next to me said, in a normal, non-hushed voice, "Oh - he was in the first movie!" I leaned over her, my breasts heaving, eyes wild and I clutched at the armrest and said in a loud voice "UH HUH!". I then nodded and grinned at her until she leaned away.
She didn't speak for the rest of the movie and scuttled away as soon as the screen filled with the credits.
So, if you are in line and you hear a loud couple complaining about the rude gal in the theater, yeah, that was me and - I'm sorry.
No. Not really.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
It is now 1:20 pm and I've been up since 5:00am as a rainbow of colors have appeared of my own making. Not twenty minutes ago I THREW UP DOWN MY OWN SLEEVE. I knew better to recline in the chair and as I struggled to free myself - I didn't make it to the bathroom.
So I covered my mouth and sprayed the carpet and walls with nothing but regurgitated blood-red Gatorade.
I made it to the toilet a bit later only to move from it to the sink as a new problem presented itself inconveniently.
Again - DOWN WITH THE OLIVE GARDEN IN BARBOURSVILLE, WV!!!!
A change of clothes later and a reverse kool-aid stain around my mouth, I am back in my chair, sittting unreclined and gingerly as I wait for the 2 hour mark to approach so that I can check out what color makes an appearance from my innards.
Silver lining? It was every half hour!
Poor hubby had to scrub the carpet while I sobbed in my chair, but that's love, right????
Friday, November 7, 2008
I only stole two (although I was sorely tempted to cram the whole lot in my purse and run like hell!).
I mean, seriously, am I biased here or is chicky the cutest thing walking 'round WV on five-year old skinny legs???!!!
Well, ya know, everyone says she looks just like me so, ya know, ahem... hee hee
And here's a picture of my dear sis who brought the rugrat of my life to me!
Aren't they just 'dorable!!!
So there's my preachy, gushy, and pride-filled post about the cutie that is Gilly-beans.
Gotta love her.
Or do what she says.
Either way - she'll more than likely whap you upside the head with whatever electronic toy is closest.
Monday, November 3, 2008
For some reason, along with my tendency to not be able to sit around and do nothing when I'm hurt or sick, I also get increasingly, um, wanton of physical love.
So yesterday, even though I was sweaty and gross from two days of wallowing in my own pity party, I decided it was high time that Harry molested me. I didn't think that he'd care that I had on no bra, no makeup and that my hair accessory of choice was a scrunchie from the 1980's so I jumped up (translation: I flopped around in the brown recliner until it un-reclined and flung me toward the brick fireplace) stopped in front of him and pulled up the front of my brown, ribbed tank top.
I wiggled, jiggled and giggled and was only slightly surprised that it did not yield the lovenesting session as I had hoped and instead left him gasping for air as he laughed and guffawed from his own respective recliner.
Huffing, I pulled my shirt back down, tucked a greasy hair strand behind my head and stomped into the bathroom. After tending to my business, I stood before the sink and stared at myself in the mirror, frozen with my mouth hanging open and my hands stuck in the flow of the cold water.
I had a mushy pasta noodle stuck to my upper chest.
Needless to say I showered this morning for a good hour just in case other mushy foods were stuck to other parts of my body that I was unawares and would then jiggle in front of my poor husband.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
A few years ago I fell while on campus and broke my elbow, face and my front tooth. Even though I couldn't raise my right arm above my shoulders I still insisted on washing my own hair. Forty minutes later I had lathered up one side of my head and rinsed it out figuring that was good enough. I drove myself to work, blatantly ignoring the hands "at ten and two" rule that all good drivers follow and ran the cash register by using my left arm and asking people to bag their own designer impostor shoes. I made it work and therefore cemented my stubborn streak in place.
However, this morning when I decided I wanted to make pancakes I refused to let Harry help me. I grabbed the mix, the milk (only slightly expired) and an egg. Turning from the fridge I felt the egg fly from my hands as if it had decided to reclaim its birthright and land on the floor in a squishy yellow streak.
When Harry came running in a few seconds later he looked at me, calmly greasing up the griddle, and then to the eggy streak in the floor. Silently he began cleaning up my mess and then took over the pancake making festivities, slowly ushering me to the table and presenting me with first a happy face pancake man (I ate his eyes first) and a heart.
The moral of the story?
Don't try to make pancakes when you're hopped up on pain killers as you can accidentally egg your own house.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Even if it did mean subjecting myself to the horrors of oral surgery.
Fortunately for me, but rather unfortunate for my readers, things went off without a hitch and I am now one less Wisdom tooth than I was this time yesterday. I arrived right on time, waited for a short period, didn't even balk at the IV (I know - what happened to my severe needlephobia, right?) and woke up an hour later a lot numb and a little sore.
So now I'm only have two problems.
1. My urine smells like a doctor's office (maybe due to the IV? dunno...)
2. And Harry seems to think that taking my pain pills every three hours as directed is the correct way to dispense my medication! Whatevs!
(sorta #3 - instead of not being able to eat much I have instead been eating on the left side and have been hungry as a whole table full of Hungry, Hungry Hippos. Only instead of gobbling up tiny pellets of white I have been chomping on soup, pasta, biscuits, and anything else I can get my chubby little hands on while mushing them up and shoving them carefully into the back of my left cheek!)
Plus this whole oral surgery thing has been killing the vegetarian streak I've been on! After some particularly horrible encounters with improperly cooked, seasoned, cut meat I gave it up for about a month now.
However, don't get me wrong. I shall not soon be buying hemp bras and shouting "fur is murder!" at every clueless Ugg-boot wearer that passes by, but I have become more selective. I am more a "Selectetarian" rather than a Vegetarian. And I'm loving the cookbook "How to Cook Everything Vegetarian." With pages filled with a complete listing of sides to desserts - it's a great place to find something that will tickle your fancy while leaving the carnivorous part of you only slightly wanting.
Anyhoo - Harry's gone out to get me some gravy and biscuits (I AM WV'ian after all) and we're two hours into "The Good Shepherd" which is kinda like the movie "Breech" - long and boring. But Harry's enjoying it and since he was the one who had to go through the pain of dealing with me after the pain of dealing with my surgery - I guess he deserves it, right?
Have a great weekend everyone and send happy "non-dry-sockety" thoughts my way!!!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
So I closed out without saving.
This is how I've been for a year now.
Writing, flowing, brainstorming, editing and, ultimately, deleting it all.
So now I ask of you - what do you read or want to read?
What's not been written that you want to be written?
Saturday, October 25, 2008
I'm now seeing how having a child can not only be a rewarding experience for the normal stuff - but would also provide a wealth of blog-worthy stuff!
Kids Say the Damndest Things!
Gilly was playin her Shrek Vsmile game while I was cleanin her room up ( she had already done her part, BTW) and she was giving me the play-by-play. "Ok, Momma. Dis is the part wif da games. Options, players and boners."
"Boners. Dhey are hard fings dat you get. When you try hard. To get hard fings"
I just wanted to see how much funnier this could get. " So where do you get the boners?"
"Yeah, on Shrek. Where do you get the Boners?"
And I swear, I felt bad for making her say this but she did, indeed say it. "Where Princess Fiona is. Where its wet. Dats where da Boners are."
And my grandmother was with my cuz and her kids today at Walmart. Nan Nan and Laynie went to the potty and when Laynie was all done she hollered, "Nan Nan! I need you to get in here and wiped my DAMNED ASS!!''
My church-going Nan Nan was shocked! And embarrased! She scolded Laynie and told her that Jesus did NOT like Good Little Girls to talk LIKE THAT!!
"Oh yeah. Sorry. Well, can you please wipe my damned BUTT, please?"
Ya gotta love 'em!
I have laughed until I cried reading this and had to share!!!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Well, this is the pained expressin that graces my mug after an evening with the Hubby and his grandmother, Meme.
We went to dinner, running like mad to beat the be-sparkled youth of Homecoming weekend and landing in our seats in mere minutes.
And then the conversation starts.
"Meme have you been using your computer?"
Insert four minutes of "What"s and "Huh"s before she finally understands what he's said and Word War I is getting ready to start over a talk about an HP touch screen computer and its attributes.
After dinner, I'm frazzled, but holding up well until Meme mentions that since she couldn't get the mattress off the guest bed she just put the Dust Ruffle ON TOP of the mattress. Harry starts pulling off the comforter and sheets to put it on right and just about the time that he is balancing the pillow-top on his sweaty brow is when little Meme decides to say "Can you flip it? It needs to be flipped, too! I couldn't do it - can you? Flip it? I could've done it myself. Can you? Flip it?"
So Harry, of course, flips out.
I hurry to smooth the edges of the dust ruffle out while Harry bellows and guffaws while clutching the mattress with Meme still calling to him repeatedly to "flip it" and "come here - look what I've done!" while poking a pencil top toward her computer screen.
If one man could spontaneously combust with only the heat of aggravation - then there'd surely be a mushroom cloud over Huntington right now.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Riding the subway can be a scary event. Especially if Harry's in your car. For some reason Harry decided that he was "too cool" to grab the bar so as the car lurched forward, Harry lurched backwards, into the arms of a stranger who looked affronted that a large WVian was now cuddled against his belly. Harry apologized, I cackled and we went on to find the big bookstore called "The Strand." Later, as we rushed to make the shuttle back to Times Square after a particularly wonderful dinner at Michael Jordan's restaurant in Grand Central, I hopped the doors as they were closing, wrapped my hand around a pole and sat my large butt into an orange plastic chair. Harry, on the other hand, was in mid-sit when the car moved with a start and Harry sat down hard - on a guy in a suit.
I laughed so hard that I worried my steak would make a reappearance.
And now for my no-hold's-barred description of "Equus" aka "The Naked Harry Potter Play." If you're offended by frank language and accurate descriptions - leave now or forever hold your peace...
Going to see “Equus” on Broadway was a purely selfish endeavor. I’m not often allowed such luxuries since most of what I do in life is for the benefit of others. Rarely do I allow myself to commit a purely irrational act of selfishness. But going to see Daniel Radcliffe bare his proverbial “magic wand” on stage in NYC was not one I was likely to let get past me.
So when tickets became available I sicced my husband on them like a WV Pit bull on a toddler. And he walked away with not two tickets, but four. On two different nights. The first night was for “on stage seating” – the second – Orchestra - Row N.
This is my account of the first night, Tuesday, October 7, 2008, at the Broadhurst Theater in NYC. Row A. On Stage.
We arrive early and immediately hop in line behind two obvious HPphites. Only after listening to their incessant prattling for ten minutes do we realize that we’re in the wrong line. After being instructed to line up in a different que we find ourselves behind a woman with “Harry Potter” emblazoned in hand-inked loveliness on her jean jacket. I was jealous only because it appeared to me that the boy-wonder himself had scrawled his name on her upper shoulder. Hell, I would’ve handed him a sharpie myself during the play but he was busy getting all naked and stuff. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The theater was small and as we were directed to our seats we were told by a tiny gal I could easily bench press that we’re to turn off our phones, show her and then show the guards, too, that we’ve powered down. After a frantic bathroom break for the man with the ever-shrinking bladder (Harry never used to pee. I swear the boy’s insides floated through the first five years of our togetherness) we were shown to a stage door and then up a set of stairs that, for once, I didn’t mind climbing.
We were dead center, hanging right over the stage. I could see every bit of dust as it landed on the Tetris-shaped platform in the middle of the stage that housed four blocks placed in each corner.
I liked these seats.
The only thing that left much to be desired was that in order to see the action below, one had to roll forward and sit in a semi-kneeling, semi-praying position. Only when my legs ached and my toes tingled with loss of feeling did I dare to move as the pseudo-gay guy next to me was completely spreading his legs next to me as if his package was just that huge that it required plenty of berth in order for them to breathe. “Whatev!” I wanted to scream at him, but instead I leaned into my poor hubby, thanking God he’d already visited the restroom since I was now giving his manparts no room to guzzle oxygen.
The lights dimmed and four men wearing fleshy see-through bodysuits slowly walked out and plucked, in unison, the metal horse heads from around the walls of the stage. The play opened up with Richard Griffiths describing “Alan Strang” and how he came to be a patient of his psychiatric services. Daniel Radcliffe, looking very pale, but trim, and a bit hairy, leaned lovingly against a large man who was wearing the horsey brown velour pants and fleshy brown body suit.
I won’t go into every detail, but I will say that the play has its moments of disturbing, its moments of well-crafted funnies, and its moments of tender as we see the walls around “Alan” break down and his attempts to hide his reasoning for blinding six horses that he worshipped.
Being in a bird’s eye view spot of the actors, I noticed that Daniel as “Alan” spent a lot of time facing us, with his back to the audience at large. This gave me a chance to look for breaks in character, to watch him to see if he was truly someone who was acting for the craft or acting for lack of something better to do. I should’ve known better. I never saw a single crack (so to speak).
The four rectangle blocks that were moved from various spots on the tetris-floor in order to make platforms, beds, couches, chairs, etc. had bits of paint removed as “Alan” picked at them when he sat in uncomfortable silence in his “room.”
Daniel shook at times, he fidgeted, he wrung his hands and bit at his fingers. I noticed a scratch on one of his arms as he raked his nails down its length. He still didn’t break character.
Even when a chubby chick with accidental cleavage was staring him down from the stage tops.
After intermission came the scene where the audience finally finds out why Alan, someone who supposedly loves horses, took a hook and blinded six of them in one night.
As Alan and Jill, a girl who also works at the stable, return from a rather interesting date, Jill cajoles him into coming back to the stable to basically forniacate in the hay.
Alan, who loves horses almost to the point of no return and God-like worship, is not happy with the situation since his pony-friends are in the stalls next door.
And as they stand on either side of the four rectangular boxes pushed together and then lit to look like hay, they begin undressing in a very non-sexy but young-like game of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” The awkwardness is thick in the air as we all think of the awkwardness that is nakedness.
She stands to one side of the “hay” and he to the other. The last to go is her cotton undies and his plain white boxers (I imagine this is to signify the somewhat innocent act of what they are doing – but I’m interjecting my own thought here).
And there was Daniel Radcliffe, not Alan, not in my mind anyway, with a slight trail of hair leading to his dick. And since I promised not to mince words – I won’t. It wasn’t large. From what I could tell, about three inches, but in his defense – he was in front of a large audience and it was cold in there- and I believe he may be still sporting a turtleneck. It was very nice in color, darker pink and well proportioned to him. His testicles were quite grandiose in comparison, evenly distributed and again, well proportioned and not too hairy at all. ☺
And his butt was pretty darn nice and a bit bubbly if not, of course, pale.
So there’s too much information for you.
But you know what? For about 30 seconds I was enthralled with the nakedness but then it was gone. I could only watch with bated breathe as “Alan” came back and screamed and threatened Jill out of the barn when he realized he was upsetting his favorite horse, “Nugget” by attempting to sleep with Jill instead of riding Nugget in his usual sexual frenzy.
Worried and alarmed by what he thought he heard the horses say in their stalls, “Alan” flies around the stage, to each stall and jumped up by planting a foot on the stall door, still naked mind you, and blinded the horses in their stall. What follows is a two-minute scene of horses and “Alan” running around the stage in a blind panic before he collapses on to the blocks in the middle of the stage before the shrink shoes up to cover him up and hold him as he wails in pain.
I was amazed at the raw and powerfulness of the play. And this is when the majority of it was played to an audience in front of me instead of directly toward me.
Wonder if it will be any different when I see it front the proper angle?
Updated from Tuesday: No – it wasn’t. Wait – it was. It was better.
So, logically, I choose Taco Bell.
Unfortunately, so did the girl in the dark green Pontiac Grand Am in front of me.
I pulled in behind her in the drive thru, ignoring the fact that she had obviously pulled in at a very unnatural angle and then watched as she slowly rolled her back tire and rim over the first curb. Feeling embarrassed for her, I did not gape at her through my opened window but instead concentrated on finding the "Mamma Mia" soundtrack on my Ipod.
But as she pulled up to the window I cringed as I watched her wedge the relatively unscathed door panel against the bright yellow pole and then curb her rim again.
I could barely contain my horror as she then grabbed her carb-laden food from the hand of the Taco Bell Staffer and peeled off - rocking her tiny car again by slamming it into the next torturous curb.
Apparently she received her license at "Rock-em-Sock-em Bumper Cars."
Needless to say I gave her plenty of space when I pulled up behind her at the light to exit on to Route 60 lest she confuse my SUV with a high curb that needed to be climbed!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Even today's activities of sitting on a couch, laying on a couch, eating on a couch, watching tv from the couch and laying back down on a couch was just too much. I need to take another week off of work to recoop! :)
Anyhoo - I will have many more details to post later - as well as a few pics - I took very very few since most of the NY spots we visited had strict "NO PHOTOGRAPHS!" signs everywhere and I will also be posting a very detailed post on my two "Equus" experiences. Some may not be for all eyes but goshdarnit had I not made it to see Daniel Radcliffe in his b-day suit I'd want a more accurate description than "not too big," ya know? So fair warning on that front, k?
As for when I'll be posting this blog it will more than likely occur after I move this blog to its new home. I'm planning on tackling that move tomorrow since the big "announcement" occurred right before my vacation and I had no patience to even TRY to attempt a journal relocation when my mind was filled with packing all the necessities - which I did - the only thing I forgot was lotion - so 'scuse me if some of my pics are a bit scaly - k?
I'm off to bed now and I will be sure to let you all know where my new www.home with be. I have started my own website so I'm thinking about starting fresh from there or figuring out how to point a blog from there to my new blogger blog (which won't really be new it will be this one - wait - what? I even lost myself on that thought! :) ). So - if anyone has any ideas - I'm open!
Email me or comment me! email@example.com
Monday, October 6, 2008
"OH MY GAWD! IS THAT HOLLLLLLY?!" Sure enough, Erica, Melissa, two gals I went to high school with in Ona, WV, and another friend were standing in the doorway of Bubba Gump's. How funny is that?! We're HOURS away from WV and I run into a gal I've known since neon capris were popular the first time around!
They were here to see Madonna but came a day too early and were just seeing the sights.
Harry looked a bit scared but managed to snap a pic of us hanging out in Times Square...
Which will be posted later.
We're back in the room now as it's been a long day followed by the shock and awe of having a room in the Hilton over looking the plays in Time Square and then going to Bar Americain for dinner which wasn't too bad but waaaay overpriced considering my favorite dish was the side of spicy chips and warm blue cheese sauce...
So - off to bed we go!
Tomorrow we will venture underground to the ubercreepy subway and then off to find a comic book store that's supposed to be really neat-o and a book store that's supposed to be 8 blocks long! I'm sooo happy - I'll be like a fat kid in a candy store. Then again, I was a fat kid in a candy store today when we stopped in Hershey, PA today and had horrible food, horrible chocolate and just an overall horrible experience. The fun-loving Reese cup man that greeted us from atop the building, smiling his welcoming plastic smile, seemed to mock us for wasting our time as we grumbled toward the parking lot.
But - NYC is, so far, great! Expensive! But GREAT!
I'm not sure how often Harry will be willing to pay for the 'net so it may be some time before I can blog again!
My only regret is that I didn't see if Tylenol made shots so that I could've just directly injected myself with their lovely pain-relieving power... Ahhh - my feet! Stupid "bouncing souls" of Doc Martens! Tomorrow I'm trading you in for some handy Asics Tennis Shoes!!!!
OH - and tomorrow is when I have stage-seating for "Equus." And seeing as how my sake of modesty is just under that of a French Prostitute's I will be posting everysingle gory descriptive detail that I can muster.
Ye be heartily warned...
Giddy up, ya'all...
We've made it to MD and went shopping at some outlets, drove too far to eat at an Italian joint and then spent the night trying not to kill each other over too-fluffy pillows, a blanket that wouldn't stay put and the thermostat!
However, we're still alive and have just filled up on a lovely carb-filled and FREE breakfast of bagels, sausage, bacon, pop tarts, eggs, potatoes and cheese and other lovely sugary and starchy combos!
Now we're off to drive the rest of the way to the Big Apple of New York and hope to make it there in one piece. However, seeing as how we're in the "Executive Center" right off of the lobby and I've managed to fumble the one job I had to do (stapling together the Mapquested pages) by lodging a staple in the stupid stapler I don't see me surviving. So if one of you happen to be driving by the Interstate between MD and NY and see a lone, sad, chubby gal in an unfortunate outfit of red sweater and bright blue tank, please stop and offer her a ride 'cause she may have just gotten kicked out of a moving SUV!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Tomorrow morning we pack the car with the laptops, the gadgets, gizmos, snacks, dvd's, cd's, Ipods, cell phones, books, magazines, notebooks, pens, markers, maps, confirmation sheets, gas cards, credit cards, luggage, overnight bags and, if there's room, Harry and me.
After one overnight stay we will find ourselves once again in the midst of New York City. Two hillbillies, in desperate need of a vacation, will then attempt to eat ourselves into food-related comas by midnight every night after going on tours, seeing naked people on Broadway, and basically trying to soak up enough culture to last us for the rest of the year.
And I could really use a vacation. My life is beyond hectic at the moment and I'm never without the high-pitched "Squuueeeeee!" of the gears of my mind working overtime to attempt to put things in perspective. And now with this AOL thing. Grr. Anyhoo. I plan on having a good time and coming back with some souveniers, stories, new accessories and at least five extra pounds 'round my ever-expanding bottom.
Wish me luck, send me happy thoughts and I hope everyone has fun this week! I know I will be!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
So, as you all may have guessed, Harry was gone a long time. Seven days. Seven LONG days where I went through a LOT of batteries in my personally operated female hygienic device for want of the dearly semi-departed husband. And since I tend to be a bit more, um, how shall I put this? Amped, yes, I'm a bit more amped for carnal lovins than the normal married-for-five-years wife should be I'm afraid that I may have broken Harry along the way.
Since I'm not much for "love-making" or romance or any of the other stuff that girls sometimes claim to need just because it can be rather hard for some to switch from our internal "to do" list for the house to the internal "to do" list for the significant other. Me, on the other hand, I can go from 0-60 in five seconds, from Park to Drive in a matter of moments, so it's no wonder that my poor over-sexed hubby is now sitting in the other room, bashing out a Guitar Hero version of a Metallica song and missing every other note.
I mean, after all, he's probably scared to death that I'm going to beat down the door to the man cave and attack him like sex-starved woman at a Romance novel convention.
Hmm.. Which now that I'm postulating about that - seems like a pretty darn good idea!
Toodles! hee hee hee hee
Sunday, September 21, 2008
But I digress.
I think someone forgot to pack up one major thing as they scattered last night:
It's not often, I'm sure, that a thirty-foot bulldog is forgotten, I'm sure...
At some point during the day, Gillian, my lovable niece had decided to "borrrow" my phone. "You can take ONE picture, Gilly - so choose wisely," I said to her.
Here are the several she took instead:
Summer in one of the cool green chairs mom got at a consignment shop. I'm sure my dear sister was supposed to be doing something else but seems to have gotten distracted by a "Traditional Homes" mag and a mug of coffee.
The tv looks possessed!Ahhh - the floor. How nice.
A cord. Yup. That's a cord.
And then, as I was leaving the humble abode of my dear parents I noticed something odd about the house at the end of the alley:
It's demolished! I have been looking at this house for all of my 25+5 years! And just like that POOF! It's gone! Weird...
And finally, a dinner of Bourban Peppercorn chicken and a slightly undercooked veggie casserole for one was how I ended my night:
And since every chair we moved had to first be inspected by a blind Siamese who warbled up a storm and did an unfortunate face plant off the couch on to a rolled up rug, this shot is for him (even if he can't really see it)...
Sometimes an open paint can causes more trouble than expected...
Hope everyone had a great weekend!
After another day of moderately hard labor moving armchairs, tables, more tables, more armchairs, some chests, fourteen pictures in frames, two with no frames, and two frames with no pictures, mom and I collapsed onto separate green-printed couches and she asked me, out of the blue, "Do you like your job?"
I was kinda surprised so I said, "I don't know."
I don't really talk about what I do. I don't really feel the need to. It's not particularly exciting in most instances and due to confidentiality the funnier stories can't really be posted on the world wide web.
I work in Human Resources for a large non-profit Mental Health Center. I can't make my applicants rich with gratuitous salaries nor do I have the same lining the interior of my pockets. I enjoy meeting new people, I enjoy talking to them on the phone but the constant threat of doing something wrong or saying something wrong or inappropriate tends to stifle me on more than one occasion. I'm learning, slowly, to find the balance between being myself and being a representative for the company but I fear that I may never be able to play the corporate straight man. It's just not me.
But I do like my co-workers and I do like the human aspects of being in human resources, but I'm still not sure if it's what I'm destined to do.
How old were you all when you figured out what you wanted to do with your life? Was it an epiphany at 16? Or a thought that stuck when getting on the bus at age six? Was it something that you had no choice due to parental over-control? Do you yet know what you are meant to do? And do you worry, too, that some of us were not destined to figure it out in this life, that maybe we were put here on earth as human fillers for the world in order to make those of concrete mind and determinate ways to flourish?
As for now, I am still liking my job. I'm not in love with it, but I think I could be. Like an arranged marriage in a far off land, I hope to grow to love it... or to at least never loathe it in the way I did when I was a receptionist at the "Law Firm that shall not be Named."
Saturday, September 20, 2008
1. Pick up lunch for everyone. Sit back and watch as my mother takes each chicken sandwich and poke her long, skinny finger in each to find the one she wanted as she simply cannot bare to eat a lumpy chicken sandwich.
2. Take chairs from the kitchen to the tv room, arrange them only to find out that Gillian wants to eat in the kitchen and I've stolen her only chair. Take the chair back. Put it in the "wrong place" and move it as instructed by a picky five year old holding a mini "Elphaba" doll from McDonald's in her tiny dimpled hand.
3. Try to eat lunch while mom regales story after story of "Times when Ben gets hit in the head." Gabe, the lovely youth who helps mom and dad out stops in mid-bite of his sub to say, "He does seem to get hit in the head a lot..."
4. Mom insisted that an eight foot long skinny table would fit in her tv room. Summer and I dragged it in through the back door, past the pile of expensive cat food, through the late 19th century mini-door and into the tv room. "Try it there... or maybe over there." She pointed and paused and pointed and paused and when we didn't move fast enough she would position her tiny arthritic frame next to the furniture in question and grunt as she jammed it with her (easily breakable) hip. Many times I had to threaten her life - for her own good, of course...
5. Put down a gorgeous rug. Pick it up. Put down a different rug. Rinse, repeat.
6. "GILLIAN! WHAT IS THIS?! OH GOD!" was heard from the living room. I stopped in mid-comb of Silver the Cat and looked up to the doorway to see mom holding a baggie containing a greenish gray blob by the tips of her fingers. She was gagging and wretching and ran, as fast as she could anyway, to the kitchen. The smell lingered in the air and wafted around us, enveloping us in a non-visible green fog of ick. Mother made her way back to the other room, armed with an industrial strength cleaner. Gillian followed. "Did you do that, Gillian?" mom asked her. "Noooo.. it was Momma!" Summer busted out laughing at her daughter blatent improving of the truth.
7. "What are you making, Gillian?" I asked my gorgeous brown-eyed niece as she swirled her paint brush in the trays, making them all the same brownish-black color. "A mess," she replied, without missing a beat.
8. Go to grocery store and manage to stay pace with a mother whose two kids insist on beeping the horn of the car stuck to the front of the buggy the whole time. I picked up canned corn. BEEP BEEP! I contemplated bread choices. BEEP BEEP! I inspected eggs. BEEP BEEP BEEP! It took every ounce of my power not to toss the BEEPIN' eggs at the BEEPIN' kids.
9. Home now. Happily eating cookies and watching tv. Too tired to make dinner. Will instead eat more cookies and watch more bad tv. Until I have to go back to the 'rents tomorrow and start the cycle all over again.
Wish me luck!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Harry left yesterday to do a week-long (weekend-included) detail in Whothefrickcares, WV and now I'm all by my lonesome.
So far on this Friday of Loneliness, I've learned:
1. Three-day-old Fettucine Alfredo does not stand up well to microwaving. The resulting cakey goo would be better suited for replacing mortar in most brick and mortar houses, leaving only the slight smell of cheese for the inhabitants.
2. Reading the end to a wonderful book that evokes tears upon the flipping of its last page is never a good idea to the perpetual lonely ones. But, if you're feeling brave, go buy "Love Walked In" by Maria De Los Santos" and try NOT to sob a bit - k? Unless you're made of stone (or three-day-old fettucine) and then - never mind.
3. Have a plan in mind for the dinners to come so that you don't end up sitting in your kitchen, hastily typing on your old laptop and wondering if a Cherry Pepsi and a handful of nuts could really constitute enough for a "dinner."
4. Be well aware that the weekends of weekends past that seemed to speed by on a dead-heat race to end will now mock you cruelly as Friday night seems never-ending.
5. Coming home to a dirty house that could be dusted, cleaned, straightened, mopped and vacuumed is really not worth the time it would take away from moping. :)
(oh yeah - and now I'm eating a pot pie!)
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
This can mean one of two things.
1. The oral surgeon undercharges which means YAY for my wallet
2. The oral surgeon's attention to detail is not very - uh - detailed. Which frightens me and my "sockets."
"We're on an hour wait time..." the woman said apologetically and, as all smiling people tend to do, she won me over.
I settled into an uncomfortable seat, pulled out my wonderful book "Love Walked In" (No, really - it's great - you'll love it - go get it! The rhetoric alone will make you love words like you've never loved them before! Ahem...) and started to read.
And that's when the Patients from Hell entered. Straight from the movie "Idiocrasy" a large woman in unfortunate jean shorts and Nike's from 1989 loudly entered the area and was followed by a tiny girl and a matching tiny boy. A small child blathered between them and I started a bit when I noticed that oh my heavens that was their daughter. Yup, the youngin's had sprouted a youngin. I doubted that their combined ages could have compared to my 25+5 years.
I decided to ignore them for dwindling on the unfairness selection of life and the unfortunate dying out of Natural Selection was too much to bear witness to in the waiting area of an Oral Surgeon.
Uh - apparently I would be called to witness after all..
"Hey you!" The jean-shorted lady wiggled a dirty (ew.) tissue in my direction to get my attention. I looked up at her and said, "Yes?"
"Who you here to see?" she rolled in her seat so that she was leaning in my direction. I tried not to stare at her oddly tinged hair or the balloon tattoo that snaked up her ankle that bore at least ten names. Coldness washed over me as I realized that the balloons, the fleshy, multi-colored balloons, bore the name of her offspring and that this woman, this woman of unfortunate dress and manners was single-handedly (well- almost) trying repopulate the earth. Or WV at least.
"Dr. Gonnapullmyteefers," I said.
"Yeah. He just left for lunch," she said and then she sat back and waited.
I'm not sure for what.
I guess I was supposed to have some sort of violent reaction but all I could think was "Man's gotta eat."
I blinked at her and she went on to assault the woman to her left. "MAN! This weather does a number on my sinuses. My whole body really." And damned if she didn't run a reddened hand down the front of her to caress her frontal regions.
An hour and a half later I'm finally in the big dental chair.
"Thank you for waiting," my tall dark-skinned doctor said to me in a soft and kind voice.
"No problem," I said. "And I expect a discount," I added in my head.
After the exam and his decision to only remove one of the three useless teeth that grew in my mouth, we talked about birthdays and it turns out he was also born on September 11th.
"I can't really celebrate my birthday on September 11th," he said with his middle-eastern tinged voice and with a small smile on his face. "People see me walking around, smiling, on September 11th and think 'TERRORIST!'"
I didn't want to laugh - but it was pretty damn funny and after being accosted in the waiting room by a tatooed earth re-populator I was overdue for a laugh.
So - good news: I only have to have 1 wisdom tooth out of the three removed.
Bad news: I have to have 1 wisdom tooth out of the three removed.
Young Holly is not happy about upcoming oral surgery...
Friday, September 12, 2008
Soon after the alarm goes off and I pop out of bed only to be accused of being the bestower of bad dreams as I had apparently forced Harry out of my life and into a studio apt in Boston in one of his few and far between dreams of active over-imaginationland.
Then comes a long day of phone calls and meetings which finally ended with me feeling very much my newly acquired 30 years.
I went home, piled on some more eyemake-up in attempt to look more awake at dinner and dragged myself to Harry's car. He'd already made us late by forgetting to lock the door and having to go back and do it again and then he was pulling up in front of "Blackhawk" (hee hee) and taking his time parallel parking.
I snapped. "Oh forgodsakes! Go up there! Park up there! No wee-wawing into a space just GO UP THERE!" Which he did since I was the birthday girl of cheer (or something).
We walked into the restaurant and ran into our neighbors and chatted for a bit while Harry kept tugging on my arm. Seriously - if my purse would've been heavier I would've socked him with it. Repeatedly. And with chubby-girl gusto.
Finally the hostess takes us through the front room, the second room and kept walking to the back room. I was BEYOND annoyed. There were PLENTY of other seats in the other rooms where I could sit and eat my bday steak but NOOOOO lil' miss "I buy my pants at the kid's store cuz my ass is THAT tiny" had to take us all the way to the BACK.
Harry lagged behind and as we stepped through the threshold I noticed my very tall friend Mike standing there. I turned around to ask Harry if he knew Mike and Meghan were going to be here when the ENTIRE ROOM ERUPTED INTO SONG and pretty much added another twenty years to my already aging heart.
As my closest friends, family and loved ones sang me a "Happy Birthday" - I just kept repeating "Well - HI!"
I was shocked.
I think I almost ran at one point.
We ate like kings, made fun of each other, ate some more and had a wonderful time.
Apparently Harry had been planning my Surprise 25+5 birthday since June. He had a cake made from my favorite local baker (with 25+5 on it) and special menus at each place setting (with 25+5 on them). My steak was like butter, my cake was like a dream, and my Harry was the man of the hour.
A sneaky lil' bastard of a man, but still...
(This is the front entry of Blackhawk)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Three years ago I posted a "must do" list on this exact blog.
Here it is, and on the eve of my 30th birthday, I provide updates!
(Before I’m Thirty!)
1. Learn to play a musical instrument (a tambourine does NOT count)
-->Okay - I learned three chords on a baby blue guitar and promptly forgot it - but i counts - right???
2. Learn to speak a foreign language - conversationally
-->um, Three years is a really short time to learn the language of a whole other culture...
3. Own at least one pair of shoes that are comfortable at all times.
-->I own six! My Coach Valeri ballet flats are so great that I own two pairs of each style!
4. Be able to shop at a grocery store without fear and anxiety of produce and soccer moms.
-->I still maintain that grocery stores, and their ever-increasing size, are scary places to go alone... One can get lost in the frozen foods section alone!
5. Find that perfect shade of lipstick.
-->Kat VonDee from "Miami Ink" (tv show) came out with a line of cosmetics and a perfect shade of rust that worked with my lighter and now my darker hair! Score one for Holly!
6. Learn yoga.
-->I did pilates. Once.
7. Read at least one best-seller a week.
-->Meh. Maybe one a month!
8. Designate one corner of one room as "all mine."
-->I took the third floor instead. Booyah!
9. Write a book.
-->Wrote, re-wrote, started, re-started and re-re-wrote... I'm too picky...
10. Learn to burn a dvd.
-->I haven't yet, but I know I can. Same difference.
11. Learn to work my pink Ipod Mini.
-->Got a new one and stuck my pink mini in the bottom of a deep, dark drawer.
12. Learn to knit/crochet/needlepoint - and have end results recognizable.
-->No, but I just bought a new sweater!
13. Grow a tomato.
-->I had some home-grown tomatoes the other day. With home-grown worms in them. I'm good for a bit...
14. Figure out what I want to be when I "Grow-up"
-->A fairy princess?
15. Watch the Indiana Jones movies.
-->I now completely see the draw of Harrison "I'm a hottie with no shirt on" Ford.
16. Be able to wear a tank top in public without fear of others seeing my jigglies and jubblies.
-->Nope. I just don't care if my jigglies and jubblies are seen now.
17. Go to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />London - see Big Ben.
-->Nope. So sad.
18. Pet a koala bear.
-->A stuffed one?
-->I do stuff for my mom for free all the time. That's GOTTA count for something...
20. Make Harry Kirby, a cartoon based on my hubby, into a real comic strip.
-->I made Harry a Harry Kirby for our anniversary. Good 'nuff.
21. Quit my job.
-->oh HELL YEAH I quit that job!!!!
22. Find a new job that doesn’t require an IQ in the gray area to exceed at it.
-->I'd be doing a lot better at my current job if my IQ was a little higher and my memory was a little longer and my patience was a lot longer... :)
23. Paint a mural on a wall in my house - make sure hubby is still breathing - finish said mural.
-->I painted three bricks of color on either side of my fireplace. I think that counts!
24. Face a fear (ex: heights, falling, grocery stores, organized fun, wal-mart, spiders, bees, lawn-care…)
-->I may have faced a fear or two - but I'm not sure if any of them are worthy of blog-time...
25. Learn to make my own pasta.
-->Go to grocery store. Avoid Soccer Moms and Cart-toting Grannies. Grab pasta from shelf. Run through Uscan. Run like the wind! :)
26. Learn to bake a cake - from scratch.
27. Learn to decorate a cake - with all the tricks and tools of the trade.
-->I can now bake a cake from scratch - but I don't see the point. And as for icing it - it's never been easier: "Harrrrrrryyyyyyy! I neeeeeeed your hellllllllllllp!"
28. Learn to do crosswords - without cheating.
-->Why on earth did I find this important???
29. Watch at least one foreign film a month.
-->I watched "The Dreamers" the other night. It was shot in France. There were a few subtitles and a bit too much genetalia for a normal film that didn't have Jenna Jameson on the cover!
30. Learn to be happy with who I am, ‘cause I am what I am ( Popeye?)
--> Still working on this one. Maybe by the time I'm forty???
Sunday, September 7, 2008
And I'm starting it off with ordering something from this fun website!
Perpetualkid.com! I love it!
I like the smelly pencils, the PlayDoh cologne and the men with balls magnets!
AND I like the toast clock, too!
This place is too fun (even if it wouldn't let me paste pictures into my blog!)
Any suggestions as to what else I should order?!