because i wanted to have at least one more post in december

since i started blogging more frequently a few months ago, it makes me happy to look at my sidebar and admire how many posts i made each month.
i also like to look in the mirror and tell myself how pretty i am.

i'm kidding.

but, anyway.
i wanted to have another post in december, but i didn't want to actually, you know, write anything. so i did what any self-respecting blogger would do.

i went quiz hunting.

You scored as Portishead - Roads. When you heard this song for the first time, and come to think of it, the third, fourth and basically every other time, all your pain came swelling up inside you and there was so much it started seeping out of your eyes. oh, or you might just be an emo kid, if so, you'd better find this song. It'll break you into pieces. Portishead - Roads 75% Radiohead - Creep 65% No Doubt - Don't Speak 60% Verve Pipe - The Freshman 45% Hanson Mmmbop 40% The Pixies - Where is my Mind 35% Which Classic 90's Song Are You? created with QuizFarm.com

i thought this quiz was especially wonderful, because this actually is one of my favorite songs of all time.* and, the quiz didn't totally suck. like, you know how sometimes you know exactly what answer you're going to get, because the questions are so dumb?
this one wasn't like that.

so, anyway.
hooray for fun quizzes that give you answers you like!
or something.

*it's also one of the only songs that john and i both like. because, generally, he hates everything i like, and i hate everything he likes. except chinese food. we both like chinese food. and scrabble. but i think that's about it.

holy. crap.

remember how i really wanted this new computer for christmas, but i was pretty sure that no one would buy it for me?

well, i was right.
no one bought it for me.

but...
someone did give me a rather large chunk of money--totally unexpectedly--so, it looks like i'll be getting my christmas computer, after all.
i nearly peed myself, just thinking about it.


the same RIDICULOUSLY KIND GIFT, WHICH ALMOST MADE ME POOP MY PANTS WHEN I LAID EYES UPON IT, has also enabled me to finally return here, where i will throw my father's ashes into the ocean, from the same place his mother's ashes were scattered.

of course, being able to afford a trip to hawaii is something to be excited about any day. but, in this case, it REALLY REALLY REALLY means a lot. as you may know, my father has been gone for a little over two years.
without this MOST GENEROUS GIFT OF ALL TIME*, i really don't know when i would have been able to get his ashes to hawaii.

the gratitude that i feel for this gift is so overwhelming, i have been randomly bursting into tears about four or five times a day, for the past few days.

i almost couldn't even write this entry, because there really are no words that could ever adequately describe the gratefulness.
so, rather than go on and on into oblivion without ever really getting my point across, i'm going to wander over to expedia and look at airfares. and maybe pee my pants a little.
you never know.

p.s.
i'm also going to use some of this money to upgrade my blog.
you know, like, leave blogger.
so if anyone could just tell me where the best place is, i'd appreciate it.
i have a lot of airfares to search, and a lot of crunches to do.
so it would be a great timesaver if someone would just tell me where to go.

plus, i can never make up my mind about anything anyway, and it's entirely possible that i could spend all my money before deciding what to do about my blog and then where would we be, internet? huh? answer me that!

*but, is it better than the french kiss from my four year old nephew?
that, my friends, is a tough call.

tiffany and the best christmas present ever.

i think i've talked to you all about my adorable little sweet-cheeked nephew before.
really, i would love to show some adorable sweet-cheeked pictures that i took of him on christmas eve, but apparently my brother has some kind of a problem with me posting pictures of his children on the internet.*
loser. it's like he thinks he owns them, like, just because he produced them out of thin air or something. sheesh.

anyway, fortunately for us all, i did post a picture of my nephew once before. so, if you click this link, and scroll down to where the pictures are, you will totally see some sweet little cheeks. you might also catch a glimpse of my three nieces.**

okay, are you all back now?
because i really have to tell you what my nephew did on christmas eve.

it all starts with the fact that, even though he has the most kissable cheeks OF ALL TIME, my nephew does not like to be kissed at all. fortunately, i am bigger than him, so i can still plant one on him pretty much whenever i want, as long as i'm willing to use force.
which i am willing to do, of course.

anyhow, when my brother and his wife were getting ready to leave, my nephew came over and crawled up into my lap to give me a hug goodbye.
as he sat there, i informed him that though i was sorry because i knew he wouldn't like it, i was going to have to give him a kiss.

~a conversation with a four year old~

him: no! kisses are gross! i hate kisses!

me: well, that's really too bad. because you're already on my lap and you don't have a good chance of escaping.

him: no! kisses are gross! i hate kisses!

me: look, it's christmas. i already gave you some presents, so i really think you should just let me give you one kiss.

him: no! no kisses!

(it should also be noted that he is giggling hysterically the entire time, so i'm obviously not torturing him too badly)

me: come on. just let me give you a tiny kiss right on the end of your nose. you'll hardly feel it. i promise.

him: kisses are yucky!

me: fine. then i will sit here and close my eyes, and you can give me a kiss. please? i really just want a little kiss for christmas.

he then gets a look of deep concentration on his face. he looks up, and puts his little hands on my cheeks, and looks into my eyes.
i am sure something good is about to happen.

then he reaches up, and gives me a slobbery kiss on the lips.
and, while he's there, he twists his little head back and forth, making it look like we're doing a 'movie kiss.'

i just sit there, completely frozen, until he is done.
everyone sitting around the table is peeing themselves.

i look at my nephew and say thank-you.
he jumps off my lap and runs off to get in the car.

i just sat there, trying to absorb the fact that my four year old nephew just tried to french kiss me.

but, really?
i think it's great.
because he DID NOT want a kiss. he didn't want to give me a kiss, either. but he thought about it. he took my feelings into account on the issue. he was like 'kisses are gross, but i can see that aunt tiff really wants one. so, just this once, i'm going to give her a kiss, because it's christmas. and, damnit, i'm going to give her THE BEST kiss i can.'
and, you know?
he did.

merry fucking christmas to me.


*i tried to compromise with him, because i really didn't want you guys to be denied of the cuteness. i even said please, just let me post the pictures. no one will know their names, or where they live, or how they belong to. in fact, i will post the pictures with the caption 'i have no idea who these children are, or where they came from. but, look! aren't the adorable and sweet-cheeked?'
but he just sort of looked at me like he wished i would stop talking already.
so i guess it was a no go.
**one of them is my nephew's twin, and people? she is redefining sweet-cheekedness. i'm not kidding.

merry christmas, internet.

sending thoughts of peace, love, and all the other crap. from my computer screen to yours.

how i almost died today. maybe.

earlier this evening, john and i were on our way to work.
we were in my car, but he was driving--because, when given the opportunity, i will ALWAYS choose to not drive.

i guess we were about half way to work, on the express-way. i'm not really sure what was going on, because i was happily lost in tiffanyland--thinking about some nonsense or another--when i noticed that john was yelling at someone.
i was pretty sure it wasn't me, because he was yelling 'climb out of my asshole, fucker,' or something to that effect, while i was clearly strapped into the passenger seat, nowhere near his asshole. and i think we can all be glad of that.

anyhow, i decided that perhaps i should start paying attention to what was going on.

see, there's this weird thing about john.
he is, hands down, the most mellow and laid back person WHO HAS EVER WALKED THE EARTH.
i swear, this man NEVER gets angry.
the only time he ever raises his voice is to yell at inanimate objects, or people driving cars around him. but, should you be an inanimate object or a person driving a car around him?
you better watch out.
once, we got into his car to go someplace or another, and he got irritated because his windshield wiper wasn't wiping the snow off as well as he would have liked.
and, i'm totally not kidding, he got out the car, tore the windshield wiper off, and started beating the car with it. then he swore at it, tossed it on the ground, and got back in the car.
then we really couldn't see, but whatever.
i think he felt better.
kind of.

anyway, i looked around and figured out that we were in the 'fast' lane of a two lane express way, and we were only going 70 miles an hour. the car behind us was, indeed, nearly in our trunk--but still, the speed limit was 70, so i guess maybe we should have been going a little faster.

~a re-enactment~

me: baby, we're only going 70. maybe we should get over.

john: fuck getting over. i'm passing someone.

me, inwardly: then fucking speed up to 72, and be done with it.

me, outwardly: ***silence***

at this point, we could have gotten around the car we were passing, but instead, john slows down to 65 miles an hour. and then he slams on the brakes. like, REALLY slams them on. my head almost hit the windshield, because i always put the shoulder strap behind the seat. so, you know, i'm not properly restrained. i honestly have no idea how the car behind us didn't plow into us, he slammed the brakes THAT hard. as an extra safety bonus, only one of john's hands was actually on the wheel, because the other hand was busy giving an extended version of 'the bird.'
i was not happy.
can you tell?
oh, also, at some point the car started flashing it's brights at us, but i can't remember exactly where that part goes.
anyway, then the car behind us was finally able to slip up next to us, where he returned the bird, and lovingly checked left towards our car. mind you, we were driving past the mall exit at this point. it was dark out, and there were cars EVERYWHERE--not much room for error, you know? the funny part was that, just yesterday, i heard this story about a guy who was road-raging with someone--he pulled over, thinking he would fight with the other guy, but the other guy pulled up and pinned the first guy's car against the little cement wall thinger on the highway. then he leaned over and shot a gun into the car. the first guy saw the gun and ducked, so the bullet hit--and killed--his pregnant wife.
so, yeah. that's what i'm thinking about the entire time this is happening. you know, apart from thinking that this guy is going to ram into us, and we're going to be killed that way.
i swear, as the guy is pulling up next to us, i was thinking, i fucking hope this guy fucking shoots me right now, and john has to call my mother and be all 'i'm sorry, but tiffany is dead because i'm a road-raging lunatic.'
then the car got in front of us, and started speeding away.
john started going a little over 80 miles an hour, so we could ride the other guy's ass just like he had been riding ours. john also flashed the brights on and off, as he speeded toward the other car.
and then i lost it.

me, yelling: baby, i am in the car, too! please do not endanger my life!

i then start crying really hard, which only pisses me off more because i was ruining my make-up and would have to look like a red puffy mess for the rest of the night.

john: i'm not endangering your life!

me: yes, you are! ***sob, gulp, sniff***

~end re-enactment~

of course, john immediately got in the slow lane. we got off the higway, and he put his hand on my leg and rubbed it soothingly the rest of the way to work.

and i'm not mad at him, at all.
i just had to tell you the story because a)it REALLY freaked me out, and b)i know that, even though he apologized, inside john is all 'damn girls, scared of everything, i could have won that fight.' so i'm just wondering, am i crazy? wait--let me re-phrase.
am i crazy about this particular situation?
isn't it unsafe to do things like this?

let me know.
and, while you're at it, enjoy your christmas eve.
just think about all the crazy family stories i'll have for you soon!

making my mother proud

today someone in england googled the term 'shit smearing,' and their effort led them straight to my blog.

to this post, to be exact.

i sure do hope they found what they were looking for.

an open letter to hate-mailers

dear hate-mail leavers,

yes, i know karate isn't chinese.
i know how to use wikipedia, too.

i was trying to make light of a very difficult situation.
perhaps you should just be glad that my blog is the only thing you have to be upset about at the moment, hmmm?

ahhh, perspective.
it's such a lovely thing.
you should look into it sometime.

love,
tiffany

an open letter to china (or, more on the universe and everything)

yesterday, i spent about a half an hour looking up my friend david's last name in the maryland phone directory. david moved to taiwan last may, but his family lives in maryland. we emailed regularly for a while after he moved, but one day his email quit working, and i didn't hear from him for a few months.
then, a few saturdays ago, he called the bar and we all got to talk to him for a few minutes. he told me his new email address, but i guess i remembered it wrong, because when i got home and tried to email him, it didn't work.

anyway, yesterday, while i was getting ready for work i just couldn't stop thinking about david. i worried that another too many months--or, worse, years--could go by before he would get a hold of me again. david's just one of those kind of guys.
so, i decided to take matters into my own hands.

david has a REALLY unusual last name, so i decided i would just call all the numbers i could find until i found his dad. this required me to leave many strange voicemails, but i didn't care.

****

last night, i was reading the blog of another one of my friends, and saw that apparently he was thinking about david, too.
in fact, he wrote a letter to china, requesting the speedy return of our friend.

the letter went like this:
Dear China, You have my friend Dave. Please send him back. Thank you.
PS. He's the 6'5" american, he looks stoned, he likely is stoned, you let him teach small chinese children english (your bad), i doubt he'll be hard to find.

****

today, david's mom called the bar.
my boss answered.
i guess david got hit by a truck while he was driving his scooter-thing home from work. the rumor is that he shattered a disc in his spine, but his mother wasn't too sure. she said she was having a lot of trouble getting information out of the doctors over there. fortunately, david was at least stable enough for transport, and was already in the process of getting shipped back to maryland.
i guess he is due to arrive sometime late tonight.
she promised to call us tomorrow with news, as soon as the doctors here have a chance to assess the situation.

****

to: china
from: tiffany
re: you're in big trouble

dear china,
when my friend wrote to request the return our friend david, i am quite sure he didn't mean that we wanted him essentially med-evac'd back to the states.
under no circumstances were you to run him over with a truck.
seriously.
i, too, am often annoyed by people riding various types of bikes in places where i think only cars should be. but, still, i do not run them over.
if i find out that this rumor about the shattered disc is true, i will be kicking your ass.
yes, you, china!
the whole lot of you.

and i don't care if you know karate.
i doubt many of you have come across an angry red-head, so let me just warn you.
karate ain't got nothin' on me.

you'll be hearing from me soon!
unsincerely,
tiffany

****

when i called my friend, the one who wrote the first letter to china, to tell him what had happened, we couldn't get over the fact that we both spent a good part of yesterday thinking about david.

my friend thought maybe the universe was punishing him for being demanding or selfish, like the universe was saying 'oh, you want your friend back? well, here you go. have fun.'

i told him that i definitely don't think that's the case.
while i am a firm believer that karma can, indeed, be a bitch sometimes, in this case i think there was something else at play.
what exactly it was, i can't be sure.

i just know that our friend was in distress, and somehow he ended up in our thoughts.
it's not like we divined out of the sky that he was in danger, or that he was hurt or anything.
but he was certainly with us.

it could be coincidence, or it could be something more.
but, either way?
i think it's strangely beautiful.

fuck snape

~attention all people who may be wanting to read the harry potter series, but for whatever reason have not gotten around to it yet: you may not want to read this post. i'm just saying.~

i came late to the whole harry potter thing.
harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban was already in book stores before i decided to read the first book.
people kept telling me i should read them, but i never really considered it.
wizards and sorcery and such just aren't my thing.
or so i thought.

finally, while preparing for my first thanksgiving trip to park city, i went out and bought harry potter and the sorcerer's stone. i'm not much of a skier*, so i imagined that there would be plenty of time to read while i perched myself next to the fire in my aunt and uncle's house. of course, that was before i knew of the relentless battle of the boardgames that would take place.

anyway, i think i probably took about 12 books with me.
on the plane, i started to read the harry potter. i don't like flying--as you all know--and i figured it would take the least concentration. you know, so i could still keep half of my brain focused on imminent death, or whatever.
but i'll be damned if that harry potter book wasn't one of the most delicious** things i'd ever read.

i read the entire book on the airplane on the way to utah.
and in the salt lake city airport, on the way to the baggage claim, i bought harry potter and the chamber of secrets.
i was hooked.

well, sort of.
a return to michigan brought a return to school, and a return to school sort of 86'd pleasure reading. i fell behind.
when someone gave me harry potter and the goblet of fire for my 25th birthday, i still hadn't read the third book.
in the end, i decided that was a good thing. had i been devouring the books as they came out, i would have turned into one of those freaks who is standing in line at the bookstore for hours on end when the new books come out, because they've been waiting two whole years since they'd finished the last installment.
i fancied myself to be quite clever.***

but then my plan crumbled to all bloody hell.

all of the sudden, last summer, the sixth book was coming out!
the sixth!

and i hadn't gotten around to reading the fourth.

i dug around my various book keeping places--bookshelf, car trunk, under car seats, everywhere in my car, really. finally i found the fourth book under my bed, and i got down to reading.
it was two days until the release of the sixth book, harry potter and the half blood prince.

a few days later, i was reading in my princess chair*** in the living room while john watched some weird show or another on this weird channel--i think it's called G4 or something. john watches it all the time, and from what i can see they just talk about video games a lot. of course, i'm no expert, as i'm usually sleeping or reading when john is allowed control of the remote.
anyway, in this particular case, it turned out to be a good thing that i was in the other room, because apparently the G4 people stopped talking about video games long enough to reveal some kind of REALLY BIG spoiler about the new harry potter book.
john came into the living room immediately, to give me the following lecture:

stop reading for a second, this is really important. i just found out something about the new harry potter book, and, trust me, you do not want to know what it is. if you're watching t.v., or if people are talking at the bar or whatever and they start to mention harry potter at all, just change the channel, or walk away or something. because you are going to be so pissed if someone ruins this for you. oh, and read faster! people are going to be talking about this a lot.

after badgering john for a few minutes to JUST TELL ME WHAT IT WAS ALREADY, i decided that he was right. it would be better if i read it for myself.
i stayed up that entire night finishing the fourth book.
the fourth book is not short, just so you know.

anyway, the next day i went to the bookstore and bought the fifth and sixth books with grandiose plans of reading for days straight.
the next day, i woke up early and read most of harry potter and the order of the phoenix.

then i went to the mall, to buy a birthday present for my niece.
at the mall, i walked by a man who was wearing a shirt that said 'dumbledore dies pg. 596.'

i cannot even begin to tell you how badly i wanted to follow that man around, yelling various mean things at him.
but, the grownup part of me realized that, of course, that kind of reaction was exactly what he was hoping for.
i mean, one doesn't wear that kind of shirt in public the very week that the fastest selling book of all time comes out because they're hoping to make people feel cheerful.

so, instead, i went home and moped.

and didn't read the book.

finally, last week, i decided that enough time had passed. (read: i ran out of other things to read, and all of the sudden i was all 'omg, i still didn't read the last harry potter!')
so i went digging around for my copy, and got down to business.

last night, i started reading at around page 500.
as i read on and on, getting closer and closer to the infamous page 596, i tired to remain calm--no big deal, i knew what was coming.
i was prepared.

well, bullshit to all that.
because no one told me HOW DUMBLEDORE WOULD DIE!!!
and, even pessimistic little me could never have anticipated such horribleness.
seriously.

at first, i was just pissed.
i got on myspace and left my little sister***** a message that went like this:

oh my god, i hate snape.
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!!!?

now i'm crying and i'm the biggest loser of all time because this book has been out for a year and a half and i totally didn't know that was going to happen.

I HATE YOU FOR NOT TELLING ME.
FUCK SNAPE, AND HIS DAD, TOO.

p.s. nice nose ring, though.

then i cried for a few minutes.
and then i went to bed.

but i was scared because i had just finished reading all that scary stuff, so i had to go to sleep with my head covered by the blanket, with just a tiny opening to breathe through, like i did when i was little.******

when i woke up this morning i was still pissed off, so i decided to blog about my whole shitty harry potter experience.

the end.

*which reminds me, i should REALLY tell you that story.

**what? is it weird to refer to a book as delicious?

***and sometimes reading harry potter books makes me write with a twinge of british inflection. apparently.

****the reddish one, which is pictured in my last post.

*****she turns 16 on wednesday. i linked to a picture of her on myspace, so you could see how cute she is with her little nose ring that she just got, but then i remembered that as she is SMART, her myspace is set to private, and you wouldn't be able to see it unless you are her myspace friend. which, you're not, i'm guessing.

******actually, i did this until i was about 23. but don't tell anyone.

an open letter to santa

to: santa
from: tiffany, a mostly good girl
re: gifts

dear santa,

i have been a VERY good girl at least three days this year. and i was hardly ever a very bad girl. so, i think i deserve some presents.
here's what i want:

1. this and this and this and this and this and this, to help me keep my face looking young and beautiful.



ha! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
but, yeah. this is what my face looks like when i don't take care of it. (and also when i stand out in the cold drinking excessive amounts of alcohol, as i took this picture in the bathroom when i went to the world series). but anyway, seriously. as you can see, i need this shit.

2. this, just because i've really been wanting it for a long time.

3. these, because i look like an orphan, but i can't bring myself to retire my old ones. see below.*



4. and last, but not least, this thing, which i want so badly that i could not even begin to express it in words. and while i know that it is not possbile that i will ever own this machine of wonder without purchasing it for myself, i want it soooo badly, that i couldn't really imagine leaving it off the list. please excuse me while i sob for a moment.

ok, i'm back.

anyway, thanks for your time, santa.
you know i appreciate anything that you can do for me, and that i will ALWAYS leave you kahlua and cream with the cookies. fuck all that milk nonsense.

xoxoxo,
tiffany

p.s.
just in case some kind of miracle happens, i wouldn't mind having this, either. it is my favorite place on earth, after all.

*although, santa may be able to ignore this request because i know that it is driving my mother insane to know that her daughter is tromping all over town in such filthy boots, and it is highly likely that i will be getting a replacement from her.**

**and, speaking of her, look how pretty she made my new room.



ooooh. i likey.

it's uncanny, really.

You scored as White Rabbit. You're constantly worrying about everything, and always in a rush. If you were diagnosed with any psychological ailment, it'd probably be anxiety disorder. White Rabbit 100% Tweedle Dee & Dum 75% Caterpillar 63% Alice 63% Queen of Hearts 50% Cheshire Cat 38% The Mad Hatter 31% Which Alice in Wonderland Character are YOU? created with QuizFarm.com

so, i could have found this out for free?
humph.

revelations

so, as i've hinted before, crazy things have been afoot in tiffanyland.

i have been keeping some serious secrets from you guys.

anyhow, the original secret, which prompted another secret, has recently become unsecretified.

so, here we go.

b.g. (you know, the roommate/best friend/psuedo-sister) is having a baby.
while we once thought that we would end up as life partners, it turns out that i am not the father.
i know, it's shocking.

anyway, i guess the thing about being pregnant is that you have this desire to, you know, live with the father. and like, be a family.
so, i lost my roommate.
and i'm trying not to be sad about it, because while i don't get to see her everyday anymore, the bright side is that she is busy growing a whole new person who i am sure i will love very much indeed.

it's really all very exciting.
except the part where i had to move back in with my parents because i couldn't afford to get my own apartment.
that part isn't exciting at all.
except the part where now i can take a jacuzzi tub every day and i don't have to buy groceries and i can play my piano whenever i want to.
and the part where my sister is moving back in next week, and i'm sure it will all be very fun for at least two weeks, after which we'll probably all want to kill each other.

so, anyway, that's what has become of my life.
yay, me.

'tis the season

here, for your viewing pleasure, is the six chamillion fifty four thousand twenty eight hundred and seventh reason why i love my sister:




this is a paper mache snowman that b.j. made when she was little.
i'm not sure exactly how old she was, but that's beside the point.
the point is, this snowman rules.

maybe you can't tell yet, so let me show you from a different angle...





hello?
can you all see that this snowman is smoking a bong?

i think it was actually supposed to be a pipe. and, really? you can't blame the girl. the song frosty the snowman clearly states that frosty smokes a pipe. and, you know, paper mache isn't really an exact science.

and thank god for that, because i just don't think life would be right without this most fantastic christmas decoration.*

*although, that's sort of a misnomer, because my family loves this snowman so much that we could never bring ourselves to put it away. so, it's really more of an all-year decoration.

good news!

You scored as Very intelligent and useful girl. Congratulations! You are a very intelligent and useful girl! You are not at all taken in by the media hype that tries to tell girls how they should look and what they should like. You react against that crap in a positive way, breaking down the walls that the male hegemony tries to build around us and providing a positive role model and inspiration for other girls. Keep expressing yourself and your individuality! Very intelligent and useful girl 65% Fairly intelligent and useful girl 60% Slightly pointless girl 35% Stupid pointless girl 20% Fairly pointless girl 0% How much of a stupid pointless girl are you? created with QuizFarm.com

or, i was smart enough to give the 'right' answers on this juevnile and SEXIST quiz. because, we all know that reading fashion magazines makes you 'a stupid and pointless girl.'
i mean, i have never confused vogue with time. but i also didn't think that an occassional glance at it would render my life 'pointless.'

i guess you learn something new every day.

interlude

~crazy things are afoot in the land of tiffany.
crazy, i say. and i think we all know that i'm an authority in that area.
anyhow, the craziness is not currently up for discussion, but rather than reaching for the bottle of xanax, i've decided to blog. about something completely random that happened more than four years ago.
enjoy.~

my family is crazy. you're shocked, i know.
but my family is crazy in a good way--at least, once you get to know them. if you don't know us very well, we can be a little...much. to say the least.

i hadn't been dating john for very long when we went over to have dinner at my parent's house for the first time. he had met my parents--i think we'd gone out a couple of times, but it was before they'd spent any real time together.
anyhow, as we're sitting around the dinner table, the wine is just a-flowing away to everyone except john, who's not really a drinker.*
after abour 3/4 of a glass (it doesn't take much), my mom starts telling us about her favorite new t.v. show, real sex, on hbo.
my mom just could not get over the crazy things that you can see on cable televison--she watched a man get his penis pierced! can you believe that!

anyway, then she started explaining 'the craziest thing she had ever seen' to us.
apparently real sex had done a segment about a group of people who had some sort of bizarre horse fetish? i guess the people would get together--a big, old group of them--and they would get naked and run around pretending they were horses. they never had any actual sex or anything. although, sometimes they would ride around on each other. or something. i never saw the episode, myself.

and, really?
i didn't need to.
because my mother decided she wasn't telling the story well enough. i guess she thought that john and i weren't REALLY GETTING how crazy it actually was.

so she got up, and started trotting around the dinner table.
making horse noises.
and then my dad got up and started skipping along behind her, pretending like he was whipping her.**

and, really?
i have to end this entry now.

because what can i even begin to say about that?

*he'll have a beer--sometimes even two!--but i think in four and a half years i've only seen him drunk twice. which is excellent, because i almost always have someone to drive me home.
**thank god, they kept their clothes on for this demonstration.

i have a purse, too.

a while ago i noticed this thing 'going around' the blogosphere where people were revealing the contents of their purses, and i was all, 'cool! i have a purse! with stuff in it! i should do that, too!'

you may or may not have noticed that i never got around to it.

so, since i have nothing of any particular interest to say today, let me introduce you to my purse (and its contents).



i like my purse.
it is a coach purse, and that means that it is cool. in case you didn't know.
i like having a coach bag because i have somehow convinced myself that it is okay to go to the mall wearing my fleece pajama pants that are covered in POLAR BEARS, because as long as i'm carrying my coach purse, i 'have class.' or something.
the recent addition of a matching coach wallet may mean that i don't have to wash my hair anymore. it's a whole new world, people.
seriously.*

anyhow, here's what resides--in shambles, obviously--within the beautiful purse of wonder and classiness.

1. victoria's secret beauty rush lip gloss in passion fruit
2. bobbi brown lip stick in brownie
3. bobbi brown long wearing cream shadow in burnished
4. two contact cases
5. philosophy hope in a tube eye cream
6. a random pin for my hot rollers, which i was looking for this morning
7. twenty-seven pennies
8. a brush
9. a new coach wallet
10. which has no money in it, because clearly all of my money is randomly strewn throughout my purse in the most chaotic fashion imaginable
11. a receipt from kroger for oprah magazine, baked cheetos, diet vernors, skyy vodka, edy's ice cream, and glaceau smart water
12. xanax
13. a u.s. airways boarding pass for my littlest sister
14. one ziploc bag containing three necklaces and one container of burt's bees lip balm
15. one sam adams bottle opener
16. a dvd copy of a slide show my cousins and i made for our grandpa's 80th birthday on new year's in vegas last year
17. a tiny piece of orange yarn, cut from the hair of a raggety anne doll that my grandma made for me when i was 3 years old
18. back up deoderant, because i ALWAYS forget to put it on before i leave the house
19. the book i'm reading right now, under the banner of heaven
20. a random q-tip

and...that's it.
i think i've learned two lessons from this little experiment:
1, i have a lot of makeup, and therefore have no excuse for going out in public looking as ugly as i normally do, and 2, i really need to go to the bank more often.

*but not really.

and the universe said...

oh, you think you're a freak magnet, huh?
you ain't seen nothin yet, honey.
take this...


this morning a woman came into the bar EXACTLY AS I WAS UNLOCKING THE DOOR.
she sat herself down at a table, and proceeded to do something that sounded like hacking up a lung for a few minutes.
eventually i had to go over to the table and see what she wanted, as i was the only one working at the time.

as i stood at the table, about two feet away from her, she neither stopped hacking nor covered her mouth at any time.

she said: (while hacking) i want a double burger. and use the cheapest meat you have.

me, inwardly: wtf? this isn't the super market! you don't get your choice of ground chuck or ground sirloin! p.s. stop coughing on me, witch!

me, out loud: how would you like that burger cooked?

her: rare. medium. medium medium medium rare. medium. rare. medium.

me: ok.

i then run as fast as i can down the stairs to give my boss the puppy dog eyes which he knows to interpret as 'help! the freaks are after me again!' he reminds me that it is the first of the month, and the freaks will be out all day. he sends me back upstairs. i think that 6 pm is looking mighty far away, and wonder if it is too early to make myself a cocktail.

once upstairs...

her: can you come over here for a second? i need some help.

i walk over. she is looking at the beer list. she points at a beer called 'goose island honkers ale.'

her: do you think this goose island will help me get rid of my goose flu?

i look around, praying that someone else is standing nearby, because holy shit did she really just say that? i really have no idea how i maintained any kind of somewhat professional composure. alas, no one was around.

me: actually, that's just a normal beer. i don't think it has any medicinal value.
me, inwardly: hello, lady. it's not vodka. sheesh.

her: because, you know, when i was a little girl i got that whooping cough because i lived next to the lake.

i just stand there. i did not know that living next to a lake was a leading cause of whooping cough.

her, still talking, not caring that i'm frozen in horror and confusion and unable to speak: and now i play with a lot of japanese geese, so i think i've probably gotten that goose flu.

me: how about some hot tea, then?

her: that sounds good.

i run away. another server comes in and i make her take the tea over. because if i'm going to die of goose flu, i'm taking all my friends with me. damnit.

i also decide that it is defintitely not too early for a cocktail.