Some pics that I meant to post a link to in my weekend post. Oops.
My Flickr set from the weekend.
Pictorial Evidence
August 15th, 2007Insidious Infiltration
August 15th, 2007So, I have been listening to the Girl Talk album, Night Ripper. Total and complete fun, in a Paul’s Boutique kind of way. Lots of recognizable samples, but used in a really creative way. The song, “Hold Up” is probably my favorite running mix song of the year – How can you go wrong with a song that samples James Taylor and The Pixies? “You still want to hate? Be my guest.” Totally fun album.
Anyway, I am listening to it, and the kids are playing, and I hear a sample I hadn’t heard before. It was familiar to me. “I’m on it,” the voice said. Where had I heard that voice before? Why could I not place it?
Shrek. It was fucking Shrek. The damn Shrek figure from McDonald’s.
The insidious ways that the children infiltrate every corner of my life. . . .
A Few Things I Learned this Past Weekend
August 14th, 2007[Lisa, and anyone else who is familiar with it, please cue Urban Cowboy soundtrack in your head.]
* Beer upon beer upon beer + free Patron shots = Big headache + much shenanigans.
* Damn, I look good in a real cowboy hat. Not that straw shit, either. I mean the sweat-stained, dark, cowboy-like-John-Travolta, Texas cowboy hat.
* My husband can ride a mechanical bull. So can all the other Auburn boys. And a few of the girls.
* Cowboys are hot, even if they aren’t that hot. If you ask them, “How’d you learn to ride the mechanical bull like that?” they reply with a laughing look: “I ride real bulls.” Women swoon.
* I think I may have done something dirty with a sprinkler on Saturday night at around 5 a.m. Actually, I remember the sprinkler. The sprinkler and I were on our best behavior, despite some unsubstantiated reports otherwise; it’s everything that came after the sprinkler that I’m a little fuzzy on.
* Despite rumors of sprinkler sex, I am more modest than I thought; Evidently, I was the only girl in East Alabama on Saturday night who wouldn’t ride aforementioned bull because of wearing a skirt. I know. East Alabama is probably not the gold standard, but admit it, you all are reading this and thinking “I cannot believe that she didn’t ride that bull.” I wanted to ride the bull. I will never go to Alabama again with a skirt on, for fear of coming across a bull that I might happen to wanna ride. Cause I’m a lady like that.
* My Mama is right: I can drink too much, or I can stay up too late, but I cannot do both (well).
One reason that I have been slow to post of late is that my Internet has been sloooowww, too, and I like to illustrate my points with pictures and video (such as Todd riding the bull), but I sit around and pray and pray that God will increase my internet connection speed and he just isn’t listening. I am just kidding. I don’t pray for internet speed. That is silly.
Wish you could see the boys on the bull, though. I will try to post more. I promise, Nat.
Strange
August 5th, 2007It is very strange to watch the bonding experience between a 22-month old little girl, and a 91-year-old man. They don’t have a lot to talk about, and she can’t enunciate well, and he couldn’t even hear it if she did. They both like food. And they hug a lot, which is not at all how I remember my grandfather being with me and my sister when we were little. He keeps on telling her that she is such a sweet little girl that we should’ve named her “Love.” Who is this man?
This was the man that when you told him, “Goodbye! I love you, Pop!” would grunt in reply. I think he is either dying or possessed. The funny thing about him, though, is that I honestly think he thinks he is going to live forever. He told her tonight that it was good she liked books, because maybe she would get a scholarship, and that he would help her out with tuition. That’s like 16 years away. He would be 107.
The sad part is that i could sooner see him living till 107 than actually paying for all of someone’s college. He is that stingy. He cuts one paper towel into four pieces, then uses one piece for days on end. I put tin foil over his dinner and then threw it in the trash can; He pulled it back out and then washed it and folded it up for later.
You can’t make this shit up. Someday I’ll have to write about the mountain of fast food jelly packets he was hording. Good stuff.
Zombie Alley
August 3rd, 2007This is a post from awhile ago. I was having publishing probs and forgot about it. But here it is, in lieu of the brilliant post that you would have gotten, if I had gotten my pictures to upload for it . . .
My friend, Kat, who lives in the Netherlands, visited with us this past week. She is married to my friend Mike, fellow Hornet from back in the day. (See “Dorks, Circa 1991.“) She and their son, James, stayed a night and I introduced them to life in East Atlanta. She blogged about it here, and even posted some cute pics of the Three Musketeers.
Zombie Alley, by the way, is what I call a street near our house. She appreciated it, and that speaks volumes about what kind of person she is – possibly a bit freakish like me.
I would post my pics of the stay, but they are all naked bathtub pics of the kids.
I hate the Dentist
August 2nd, 2007Okay, that’s a lie. I am scared of the dentist. Except I have a new Dentist, and – put me in a hippie skirt and twirl my ass around! – he uses nitrous oxide.
I could learn to like this weekly pap smear/dental appointment stuff.
Smart Cookie
July 31st, 2007Husband goes out of town and, in excitement over evening of unadulterated control of television, Annie drinks a complete bottle of wine over the course of the evening.
Very with it this morning at 7 a.m. when son pooped on potty (so proud!) and then came in and asked me to wipe his butt. Who needs coffee?
Waiting for nap time. For me. I need a nap.
I thought that I had learned that, as my Mama says, “The wages of sin are not always death.” For the non-Southerner, I believe that translates to “Don’t drink a shitload when you have to get up with two kids under four the next day.”
8 Mile
July 29th, 2007I did it. I ran eight miles. That is the farthest I have ever run in my life. I planned to do it outside, but the weather was threatening thunderstorms, so I relented and agreed to do it on the treadmill at the gym. I get so fucking bored on the treadmill that I want to die, but I just told myself that I had to do it and if I didn’t, i would be disappointed in myself. Somehow, either the self-induced guilt trip worked, or I just had one of those “magic” running days where it just isn’t that hard, and anything seems possible. I was really tired, and it was hard, but I just took two miles at a time, and it wasn’t that bad.
Sure, the no hills and lots of AC probably made it easier, but the thing that I am starting to realize is that the most important element to this running thing is the mental element. I just had to tell myself that I could do it, and that, to borrow from that sage poet Eminem, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”
Total time for the 8 miles: 1 hr 34 mins 44 secs. (11:51 pace)
Oh, and according to my little calculator I use to map my routes, running 8 miles at a 12 minute pace adds up to about 1000 cals burned. That’s, like, ten light beers.
This is Sad
July 28th, 2007So, CBS is going to air video games tomorrow. Like, instead of sports. So, there actually is something more frighteningly indicative of the laziness of our culture than hordes of children (and men) sitting around repeatedly tapping keys and staring at a rectangular box for hours on end; Hordes of men and children sitting on a couch watching other people sitting around repeatedly tapping keys and staring at a rectangular box for hours on end.
This is so fucking sad.
Afternoon Surprise
July 27th, 2007Not to be confused with Afternoon Delight.
My sister was bummed out about various life stuff and so she came over to destress. Why you would come to the home of two kids under four to destress, I have no idea, but she is a strange cookie.
Anyway, I never even ate breakfast, and then she had me convinced that I should drink a margarita with her, before I had even had lunch. She really had to twist my arm. Ended up having lunch, two margaritas, and hanging out all afternoon in the backyard with the kids, and the two dogs. (She brought her new pup, and once again, I forgot to snap a picture of her.)
The best part was kicking the soccer ball with Rollie. When you have a baby, you just never really let it sink in that they will grow up, start talking, and be able to kick a soccer ball with you in the backyard. It was a little surreal – Just me and the boy, kicking the ball back and forth and talking and laughing.
Might have been the margaritas, but I think it was more that he is just growing into such a nice little boy. Into someone that in twenty five years or so, I might actually be friends with.