i have no excuse for this

Imagine, instead of a slope, this is my house and, instead of poles, they are my plants. Substitute skis for anything made of paper and your vision is complete.

11:27 AM

what a pain in the ass

Blogger decided to stop supporting FTP publishing, which means I have to spend time figuring out what I'm going to do next. I don't want to spend any time on this, so we'll see how it goes. I do have until March (or February?), so I should be able to squeeze in two entries before then.

5:16 PM

fluffy 2-d bunny sticker on the atm

Do you know what this says to me?



It's OK- I'm Asian!

I mean, which is more Asian? Placing the sticker or taking a picture of the sticker?

Yay!

6:20 PM

social networking sites

I'm not a big fan, because I can't say what I really want without worrying that I'll offend someone I really know. Like, know in person. As in, they can come and actually slap me across the cheek or speak to me in a sharp tone while squinting and shaking their head out of pure disgust.

I get enough of that already.

So, Hardly-Facebook and Not-Really-Twitter... regarding my relationship status? I'm in a relationship with God (insert link to God's facebook page here). No, just kidding. I'm single.

Ho, hum.

12:18 PM

i get it

But don't you think any town in the northeast would cover weather, using such terms as "epic," if it were 80° on January 5th with 5'-7' swells and a light offshore breeze?

And? AND? Driving to work, I see the same woman every morning. Sometimes I see her walking up the hill and sometimes I see her at the top of the hill, but I see her everyday. She likes to wear a big, floppy hat and black sunglasses that make it seem as if she just had a cataract removed. Her tiny sweatsuit outfits swim around her tinier body and she appears to have enjoyed 90 some years of sun-filled activities. I realized, a few weeks ago, that I hadn't seen her in months. Like maybe six months. Why would a 90-something-year-old woman hide out for six months?

1. Broken hip

2. Broken Leg

3. Stroke

4. Dementia

5. Death

Today, in the freezing rain, I saw her walking up the hill. I'm glad she's not dead, even if she might be suffering from #4; walking in the pouring rain, winds howling, no umbrella and wearing a baby blue track suit. But she's alive. (!)

P.S. Everyday there are more and more trees that appear to be ever so tired of this life. It feels like a tree cemetery up in here (up in here).

2:35 PM

pacific storm

Crazy, driving, sideways rain, accompanied by 45-95 mph winds ✓

(Side note: the storms last for 2-4 hours and then the sun comes out, like, "What? What are you talking about? Rain?")

Tornados spotted in SB, HB and NB ✓

Bad hair ✓

Flooded streets (as well as my garage) ✓

Mudslides and downed trees ✓

New channels reporting that the storm we should get in about an hour is going to be worse than anything we've seen in the last two days ✓

Taking this site to a new low by only talking about weather and cats ✓

11:55 AM

but what was she wearing?

5:29 PM

earthquake virgin

The Kitten experienced his first two earthquakes this week. The Cat could see them coming and would let you know they were on the way, but they blindside Al-Ḥalīm Netanyahu. He ran under the bed for his first and jumped on my face around 4am to let me know about the second. I wouldn't have minded so much, had his wonky thumb nail not taken out my eyeball. I'll be hiding out in the house today so that I don't have to explain my swollen eye and how it only means that he really loves me and that it was probably my fault, anyhow.

11:24 AM

racist

Why doesn't my oven want to cooperate when I try to cook, but always works well if a white man comes over and uses it?

1:40 PM

just now able to talk about it without breaking down

Get out!

AS OF JANUARY 1ST AT 11:59AM, THIS EVENT IS SOLD OUT!

This event is completely sold out and the race office is not accepting any further entries. Please register for another event ASAP!

I was on top of my game, checking to see when the mud run registration would go live. I sent a text to my running partner on New Year's Eve Day, the first day it opened, and reminded him to register. (I make it a policy not to register and then remind others- that ends up with me running by myself because they missed the deadline or the race sold out. Aaaand back to the story.) We talked about this a week or so prior, knowing the race usually sells out in two weeks. Due to my RP's COMPLETE lack of attention to his cell phone, WE MISSED OUT ON THE MUD RUN! All three days sold out on January 1st. Seriously? It was only active FOR ONE DAY.

I decided to call RP's home phone, as he's the only person on the planet you're more likely to reach on that line than on his cell. He thought I was joking, but the shrieking and veiled death threats were honest and true. We ended up registering for the step-child of the mud run, the YMCA mud run. It's usually held in October and, other than that, I don't know what the difference is supposed to be. It's the same course, only your money is going to Christian soldiers? It's in June, so it shouldn't be cold, although the mud might be kind of rank after 12,000 people have trudged through it while leaving behind traces of their molecular ancestry.

Ugh. I still can't believe I missed it.

5:13 PM

noticeable changes in 2010

I consistently pick products with the verbiage "renewing," "age defying" or "rejuvenating" when purchasing any type of lotion, facial gobbledygook, toothpaste or deodorant.

3:52 PM

i'm not a movie theater lover

I finally saw Revolutionary Road last night and I can't get the image of Kate Winslet's Frodo feet out of my head.

I'm really trying, but they're still there... big as ever.

Yep. Still there.

11:27 AM

when does this kitten phase end?

At least with a kitten you have only about a year before she gets big and just wants to sit staring at you like you’re a dumb ass. Not like a kid who spends the first two years peeing or puking on things, then about 8 years breaking stuff or writing on it, then spends the next 15 years sitting around staring at you like you’re a dumb ass. [Oldest Daughter] is already in that period. It's funny- she does really well at school and everyone loves her. I mean, I got an email from her band teacher who nominated her for student of the month once, a phone call from her social studies teacher just to tell me how wonderful she is and a handwritten note from principal of the school thanking me for “letting her come to [Middle School].” Seriously, I didn’t think teachers had time for that. But at home she tends to get an attitude. It's funny how that works. Sometimes I wonder, is it me that has the bad attitude? I mean, after all, everyone else thinks she’s perfect! Weird.

Maybe you have a special needs kitty. Oh and I guess you did say your kitty is a boy, so maybe that is the problem. [Youngest/Son] is a lot more destructive than either of the girls and he just instinctively hones in on things I don’t want him to touch. I don’t imagine I will be getting the same type of correspondence from the junior high when he is attending. Maybe something more like “have you considered any of the other fine schools that maybe you would prefer your son to attend?” and things like that.

2:18 PM

third sunday of advent + 3

9:01 AM

twinkle

I put up lights this year. I got those teeny little white lights and some teeny little blue ones, too. I can't stand the icicles or multi-colored big bulbs, so know I shopped for weeks trying to find these things. They're up and on the deck, which is something I haven't done in years, because it's not so much the celebration of Christmas as it is of global warming.

12:14 PM

back to back cat posts

I still use a water bottle when Al-Ḥalīm Netanyahu acts up. It might have been OK for cats to jump on counters in the day of the caveman, but it's considered crossing the line ever since modern man invented the tampon.

It's been a rainy week, but today it's absolutely pouring and isn't letting up. The kitten can't tear himself away from the windows and can't imagine what those plants must have done that was so bad. So very, very bad.

10:57 AM

not your grandmother's dinner

I don't bother cooking dinner for myself on the weekdays. (I get home too late and don't have anyone to do the dishes.) Eating fast food, picked up from a window, makes me feel gross, so, instead, I eat a lot of Trader Joe's fast food, not picked up at a window. That makes me feel somewhat less greasy and much more vegan, even when I'm eating smoked salmon. Also, most of their fast food says "organic" on the label, which makes the Nomadic Waste Management Specialist/Homeless Guy who takes my recyclables think I'm really healthy. (Why wouldn't I care what he thinks about me?)



See the carrots? My, how healthy. And that? That, kind sir, is cat food. Seriously, the picture above is cat food and it looks better than what I tried to cook for myself last Sunday. I'm used to wet cat food looking more like this:



No, this is 2009 and this is what cat food looks like:



Maybe I should add that this is what cat food looks like when it's $1.99 per can. Normally, I would never spend that kind of money on cat food. Technically I didn't, because Centinela had a buy-one-get-one-free sale. Yes, they have those a lot, which is part of the love. The Natural Balance LID and Merrick that Al-Ḥalīm Netanyahu usually eats costs a lot less, but it's Christmas and I don't have the heart to tell him he's not getting that new cat tree he's been highlighting in all of those catalogs he conveniently leaves around the house.

I know. I can't believe I'm that lady, either.

2:47 PM

not to invite further comparisons, but...

I've been moisturizing with raw shea butter for about two months now and my face is as soft as a baby's ass. You'll have to trust me, as the Internet has yet to satisfy my need to share texture, but it's really soft. Really.

2:19 PM

world AIDS day

I don't care who (or where) you are, everyone can find a few free hours.

11:53 AM

people might think i'm a spinster,

but I'm just a neat freak:

3:43 PM

side effects

I have been taking Ciprofloxacin, which is for sick people who also happen to have borderline personality disorders: it will help push you over the edge or make you want to fight to live a normal life in which a nice bearded man shovels snow off your front walk while you, inside and next to a fireplace, sip on a hot totty, use a cushion made of hundred dollar bills to prop up your head and watch fluffy puppies covered in kittens sleep by your feet while reading the new Murakami book.

When I began taking the drug, I was freezing, yet sweating, too tired to blow my nose, coughing constantly, couldn't get enough sleep and felt ready to die. Now that I've been on the antibiotic since Thursday I'm freezing, yet sweating, too tired to blow my nose, coughing constantly, can't get enough sleep, have a horrible stomachache, a splitting headache and I feel dizzy all of the time. 21st century medicine. Hip hip.

I went back to the clinic today and they said the antibiotics aren't working. (They went to medical school.) Having already taken my morning dose*, tonight I'll start a Z-pack, which is stronger or just has a better marketing strategy. Hopefully I can stop sweating, because I'm too tired to be doing all of this laundry.


*Does Ciprofloxacin have any side effects, you ask?

Most common side effect:
Nausea

Less common side effects may include:
Abdominal pain/discomfort, diarrhea, headache, rash, restlessness, vomiting

Rare side effects may include:
Abnormal dread or fear, achiness, bleeding in the stomach and/or intestines, blood clots in the lungs, blurred vision, change in color perception, chills, confusion, constipation, convulsions, coughing up blood, decreased vision, depression, difficulty in swallowing, dizziness, double vision, drowsiness, bad upstairs neighbors, eye pain, fainting, fever, flushing, gas, gout flare up, hallucinations, hearing loss, heart attack, hiccups, high blood pressure, hives, inability to fall or stay asleep, inability to urinate, decreased censorship over words that leave your dry mouth, indigestion, intestinal inflammation, involuntary eye movement, irregular heartbeat, desire to call everyone "Britney Jean Spears," irritability, itching, joint or back pain, joint stiffness, kidney failure, labored breathing, lack of muscle coordination, lack or loss of appetite, large volumes of urine, light-headedness, loss of sense of identity, loss of sense of smell, mouth sores, neck pain, nightmares, nosebleed, pounding heartbeat, ringing in the ears, seizures, sensitivity to light, severe allergic reaction, skin peeling, redness, sluggishness, speech difficulties, swelling of the face, neck, lips, eyes, or hands, swelling of the throat, sense of loss over housing market in Vegas, tender, red bumps on skin, tingling sensation, tremors, unpleasant taste, unusual darkening of the skin, vaginal inflammation, vague feeling of illness, weakness, yellowed eyes and skin, lost ability to cope with full time job.

1:24 PM

delay of game

Walking to to my car that night, the fire felt closer:



And maybe it was the ash that set off this whole spiral of death. I am sick. SO SICK. I haven't felt like this in God knows how long, because I don't typically get really sick. Sure, I've had colds, a runny nose, headaches, coughs, sinus infections and the like, but I've never had all of that AT ONCE, along with an aching body- that gets winded walking to the washroom- and this very sexy sweating thing.

I finally got out of bed today so that someone might give me some drugs to MAKE THIS STOP. I went through my medicine cabinet only to find that the freshest batch of drugs had expired in 2007. 2007 means I actually packed and moved all of those drugs. Twice. There was some DayQuil that expired in 2003, so that had moved no less than 3 times. At the clinic, it turns out that I have a high fever (yeah, I got that from the sweating) and some other stuff that sounded bad. I stopped listening, because my head is so plugged up and I was so tired from dragging myself in there that all I was waiting for was the white piece of paper that would get me DRUGS. The nurse lectured me for not owning a thermometer, but do people really own those? People without kids, I mean. If I'm sick and I'm sweating, I gather that I have a fever. Why do I need to know the exact number? Oh, death prevention and such, yeah, but whatever. I can't believe I am typing. So tired. Feel like Gumby.

I'm going back to bed, even if I can't sleep, because I can't breathe, because I can't stop coughing.

1:04 PM

it's that time of year

Out by the Ortega.

3:06 PM

healthy lifestyle and i are on a break

Had a piece of chocolate cake for lunch. I don't really like chocolate, so I ate a lemon square to cleanse my palate. Hating yourself is quite fun.

3:20 PM

there are no small entries...

11:24 AM

research body parts, 1.5

I have pictures to post, but haven't had the time. I don't mean to ruin the suspense, SPOILER ALERT, but you can still see the cut/scar. I knew there was a reason I hadn't seen the stuff on Oprah, even if the girls are saying I need to give it more time. Isn't it presumptuous to assume I have that much more time to give?

P.S. If I don't write anything for five months straight, you'll know I'm dead (and not just a guy named John).

4:46 PM

hate crimes, post shooting

Two Orthodox Jews were shot in their respective legs as they tried to attend a morning prayer service at their North Hollywood synagogue. The wounds weren't life threatening and both men will live, certainly with emotional scars as one was carted off to Providence Holy Cross Medical Center and the other to Valley Presbyterian Hospital.

11:29 AM

spam does not always speak the truth

Whores will stay with you all night long with your new python.

Whores are not easily impressed.

We know how to steal your pain and illnesses.

Only if it's attached to your identity.

Forget about dictionaries we offer soft in different languages.

This one is true.

12:53 PM

research body parts

I was cut by a piece of steel. The upside is that it's a clean cut, but it was deep-ish and bled long enough for me to get the earthquake kit/Kermit band-aids. (I didn't replenish the kit, but I did put back the flashlight and Maker's Mark.) The cut is no big deal; it's not like I'm the first person to take a shank to the knee during sex and I'm certainly not the first to write about it.

One of the girls told me about raw shea butter a while back, so I got in on a group purchase. The look alone was enough to keep the container untouched for months:




A few weeks ago, I ran out of lotion and used the butter instead. That was it: I have used it every day since. It's not super user friendly, so I take a chunk and smush it around the inside of the container's top. One chunk usually lasts me about a week, so I think the container is going to make it into spring.

The girls said it was a cure-all, but Oprah hasn't done a show on raw shea butter, so I was more nodding my head while planning my weekend than paying attention. One said it got rid of her stretch marks, but I don't have stretch marks. If I had kids I don't think I'd have time to write about sex shanking and African treatments via Amazon. When they said it got rid of scars, I stopped planning dinner in my head and started listening.

Day 1:



I've started applying heavy doses of the raw shea butter, approximately every five hours, to my enormous war wound. The only thing I've noticed (on day 1) is that it's not really scabbing over even though it's closing up.

I'll let you know how it goes.



Day 1 Blooper Reel:

"Hey! Whatcha doin'?"

3:01 PM

growing up weird

My oldest sister, a high school freshman at the time, was not taking the separation of our parents particularly well. She wanted to live with our father, who wanted us to live with our mother, who wanted us to live with our father, our aunt, the homeless guy who hung out by the liquor store or maybe a nice Amish family who could dress us in pilgrim-like outfits and teach us how to make bonnets. Had someone not tipped her off to Rumspringa, we'd probably be teaching you how to churn butter.

I quickly realized that working our parents against each other was the fastest way to get what you wanted, so the divorce didn't seem all together bad. With the parental team, you had a better chance of death by shark attack than getting to stay out past seven, but, separated, you might get to spend the night at the friend’s house whose parents were heathens that fed their children ice cream and called it "dinner." If you brought home a B and told Father that Mother's antics caused you stress and less study time you would get sympathy and not grounded. He would then call our mother and a fight over grades would turn into a fight over Cheryl or Susan or whomever our father was dating at the time, making our mother forget who had piano lessons and who was due at the ice rink, never mind that you brought home something less than an A. With five girls, a dog and a soon to be ex-husband who was dating graduate students, you could get away with almost anything as long as there was no blood trail. For a ten-year-old, it was like having my own apartment.

My oldest sister didn't see any of the positives, but, instead, focused on the lack of attention directed towards her. She was not enjoying the freedom that accompanied divorce, but wallowed in the fact that she now had two bedrooms instead of one. One parent's admiration seemed useless and didn't provide the just amount of shine on her achievements. She was artless when being introduced to Stacy, a TA our father was dating, asking, "Are you eligible to vote?" rather than opting for the ceremonial handshake.

I decided she was playing the divorce all wrong and distanced myself from her in order to keep my new, fashionable apartment-like lifestyle afloat. It was a few months later when I noticed my oldest sister was never anywhere without her Shaun Cassidy backpack. She wore it constantly, even sleeping with it strapped to her back. She would threaten our mother and father with the very existence of the backpack, but no one had any idea what was inside. All we knew was what she threatens us with: it was enough to get her to NY City or Montréal in style, where children had boundaries and adults weren't so self-centered and dysfunctional.

In the spring of that year, my oldest sister performed at the graduation ceremony of our father's university. She was an accomplished piano player, having toured with the London Symphony Orchestra for three summers, and was the youngest person to perform a solo at the prestigious university. She practiced for weeks, committing every note of the Concerto in A minor to memory. When it was time for her solo, our parents, on either sides of the auditorium, commenced The Clapping War. It seemed that whoever clapped the loudest was the parent which most inspired and nurtured their daughter's talents. The clapping stopped when their daughter took center stage wearing a black dress and patent leather Mary Janes, accented with a Shaun Cassidy backpack.

When, two years ago, I found that very same backpack on eBay and sent it to my sister for her fortieth birthday, she was not so appreciative. She did not deny owning one in the past, but did not understand what would drive me to make the purchase. As quickly as it appeared, the Shaun Cassidy backpack was never seen again. I still think she buried it in the backyard or sent it off to Australia to live with relatives. I had no idea what was in that backpack. I imagined wads of money rolled up in rubber bands, a compass, some toothpaste, a map of every major city in the US and Canada, a pet rock and maybe a mood ring. As an adult, I've asked my oldest sister numerous times what was in that backpack, but she always tells me she's busy and that if I had kids I'd understand.

Yesterday, for my birthday, my sister sent a gift bag full of weirdly unrelated objects. They included four Kit Kat bars; a blush brush, blue eye shadow and an eyelash curler; a polka dotted two-piece swimsuit; two tampons; a pair of flip-flops and a printed image of a Tiger Beat magazine with Leif Garrett and Shaun Cassidy on the cover.

4:26 PM