We had a bit of a dance party last night after dinner. Rollie, in particular, loves The Dance. I don’t care how shitty your Monday is, if you can watch this and not crack a smile, you are a cold, soulless bastard. Or bitch, as the case may be.
Young Folks
February 6th, 2007We Are All Some Sexy Motherfuckers
February 5th, 2007Todd made a little fun of me for tearing up while Prince did his Super Bowl half-time show finale. But seriously, like, have you never seen Purple Rain?
That performance brings back all the pain and the Mom and Dad stuff, and feelings about Apollonia, and always being second best to Morris Day and The Time, and taking it out on Wendy and Lisa, and on the song they wrote, and on the rest of The Revolution, like Dr. Guy, and you could just let it destroy you, how angry your are, wearing your purple and being short and driving a motorcycle to compensate for it.
But when Prince performs that on stage, it is total catharsis. For all of us. We are all forgiven and cleansed and now we’re hanging out in Miami with the NFL, and a marching band, and wearing some Aunt Jemima thing on our head, and a suit bordering frighteningly on Florida Gator colors, and you know what? We can pull it off, cause we’re Sexy Motherfuckers.
Love me some Prince.
Our House
February 3rd, 2007“(fade in music: Our House by Madness)
danboo wears his Sunday best
annie’s tired she needs a rest
keith and ray are playing up downstairs
elke’s sighing in her sleep
graham’s got a date to keep
He can’t hang around”
I cannot take credit for this – my smarty pants friend and former roommate, Dan, came across an interesting link in the AJC, prompting him to write the above lyrics. This is a house in Midtown, just blocks away from the big Park. I lived here with Dan and Graham for a lovely year before moving to Denver. There was nothing like the stuff that is on Tenth now: mostly there was Outwrite and Gay institution Blake’s. It was pre-kids, pre-marriage, pre-pets, even. I think my sister was still in college! It was a great house, great location, great roommates, but it looked NOTHING like this. Totally wild. Let’s put it this way: Graham said he was “flabbergasted” by the picture. For those of you who know Graham, little would “flabbergast” him.
You Are a Joke
February 2nd, 2007Rollie’s latest thing, other than learning the word “Dammit” from his Grandma, is to say to people, “You are a joke.” The first time he said this to me, I even kind of had my feelings hurt. He just hadn’t said that many mean things before. I got over that, though, and explained to him that it wasn’t nice to say that to people, and that it would hurt feelings, etc. He looked at me blankly, laughed, and said, “Mama, you are a joke.”
I am so good at this job.
It seems that he picked this little gem up from (where else?) t.v. He loves the movie Cars, and in fact, it was the first movie Todd ever took him to see in the theater. (He made it about 20 minutes.) We have it on DVD. It is a pretty benign movie, rated G, but the cars race and bump into each other and say things like “You are a joke.” There is a laughably “mean” car, too.
It is scary how easy it is to imprint things upon the blanket of freshly fallen snow that is the mind of the three-year-old. They are without a single imperfection, and then language begins to assail them from every side, and suddenly, they are saying, “mama, You are a joke,” or “We’re home, dammit!”
This is a very heavy job, raising a kid. For a perfectionist, or even a failed perfectionist, it is really difficult to know that there are no A +s in parenting. Parenting involves watching the slow erosion of a perfect being into an imperfect person, and simply trying to prevent them from sliding below average into sociopath. There is no other way. It is terrifying and beautiful, and the weightiest responsibility I have ever felt.
There are small victories, though. Like getting to wipe your son’s ass after he poops in the potty. Because at least he pooped in the potty, instead of in the diaper, or in his Batman undies, or crouched under the kitchen table hiding from you.
I Know
February 1st, 2007I should not look a gift horse in the mouth, or be ungrateful, but when you leave the vacuum cleaner, broom and dustpan, windex, paper towels, and furniture polish all over the house, it is pretty obvious what you think of my housekeeping skills. That is okay – I will overlook the insult as long as you keep my kids. Even if you did stock my pantry with vanilla wafers, double stuff Oreos, two kinds of jelly with sugar (even though we had two sugar-free versions already), a tin of Hershey’s kisses, Rice Krispies, and two new containers of pourable sugar (as opposed to the cheap bagged type I use). I mean, if I wanted my kids to eat that crap, it would probably be in the pantry already, but whatever. More with which Mama can sabotage her diet after 8 pm.
Seriously: I cringe at the thought of what has entered my children’s mouths throughout the various times they have been taken care of by their grandparents. I know it will not kill them, and the free time is worth a cavity or two, but the worst part? I cannot physically bring myself to throw out those Oreos. A full bag? I cannot do it. They will sit there and slowly ruin my weight loss until Todd comes home on Saturday, when they will succumb to one of two scenarios: 1)Todd shows extreme willpower and kicks them to the curb. 2) Todd goes out for drinks with the boys, and then comes home, skulks around the kitchen as the rest of us sleep, then eats Oreos in one sitting with a peanut butter jelly sandwich.
I know this is our weakness, and not theirs. Why does it have to be so hard?
Kiss My Bass
January 30th, 2007
In addition to the cast of characters we have seen here in Orlando, we also took in some sights. I skipped the theme park stuff, and hit the outlet malls yesterday while Todd was working. I took the trolley line and on the way there, i had the pleasure of being surrounded by a bunch of German conventioneers. i have no idea what they were saying, but it doesn’t really matter, as German accents always sound sinister to me, even when they are laughing and smiling. As if they are going to give me one last cigarette before they make me turn around and shoot me execution-style into the grave I have just finished digging for myself. On the way back, I met a stereotypical large Irish family, replete with mischievous sons. The mom loved the Simon and Garfunkel that looped on the trolley, over and over. The driver on the way back was from Chicago, and he was new, and he didn’t know where he was going. It is not a good sign when you have to tell the driver how to drive his route.
After I got back to the hotel, Todd and I went to Outback, mate. Seems that everything in Orlando is themed, franchised, and a chain. Todd and I competed in a contest against one another for who could come up with the most Australian words (bonzer! Billabong! Didgeridoo?); they must be pronounced with an Australian accent, of course. Anyone who knows my husband knows that he killed me in this game. If there is anything Todd loves, it is slang. He also loves to make me do any kind of accent or sound effect, because I am exceedingly terrible at both. If you want to illicit giggles from the both of us, the way to do it is to get me to do a machine gun sound effect, or get Todd to do R2D2 imitating Chewbacca. Good stuff. Chains are lame, but don’t worry, I managed to choke down a prime rib and a bottle of wine. I will survive.
After that, we headed back to the mall (Orlando is basically one big mall with some roller coasters thrown in for good measure.) Todd had a balance left over on a $500 gift certificate a client gave him last Christmas to Bass Pro Shops. Todd doesn’t really hunt, so we have been stretching the gift certificate for years now.
Bass Pro Shops are just awesome. There is so much stuff that you don’t need in there to catch a fish! There are also knives, guns, ammo, live fish tanks, and camping stuff. Did I mention the bird calls and cute dog toys to teach your lab to retrieve dead birds? They have huge boats in the parking lot and ATVs on the showroom floor inside. They also have really nice Columbia clothing that makes me want to go camping. By the way, ladies, if you are ever stranded in a Bass Pro Shops megastore, just go to the electronics section and get the cute young Irish boy to show you how the GPS works. You will have no idea what they are talking about, or if you do, just act like you don’t, and he will keep on talking. In that accent. Until your husband comes and finds you and breaks the two of you up. (Actually, i really did want to check out the GPS, because I am fascinated by them and want to try Geocacheing. But I wasn’t about to tell Patrick the Irish boy that.)
One more thing about Bass Pro Shops? You can play these fun target practice games. It is fun as shit, and old, grizzled hunter types think you are really cute when you whoop and holler when you hit the targets and make the bells and whistles go off. What I’m saying, girls, is Bass Pro Shops is a great ego-booster. You are so much cuter than the other wives in there, with their “Kiss My Bass” shirts on.
Okay, so after that, we went back to the hotel bar to have one last drink, because I was really tired, but we ended up drinking with a bunch of tire salesmen from all over the southeast until about 2 a.m. One of them looked like a cross between Al Sharpton and Morris Day. (See picture of him from across hotel bar.)
I felt a little doodieish this morning, but still managed to get out for lunch and to go with Todd to drop off Ronnie at Universal Studios. It was a real live backlot for a film studio, and I saw absolutely no famous people. Tonight? Dinner and a movie. Home tomorrow to kiss my babies, whom I miss very much, not that you can tell it from anything I’ve written here.
Darth Maul!
January 29th, 2007Unfortunately, Todd would be a shitty paparazzo; When he had the opportunity to snap a picture of Ray Parks at the breakfast buffet this a.m., he totally choked. Or maybe he just didn’t yet know how to use his new Treo. But yes, we had breakfast with the actor who played Darth Maul. He was there with wife and child, who was a bit of a cutie with her pink Pumas. Not cute enough to make me miss my kids, though. I slept in, drank coffee over the newspaper, and am now on my way to run. This afternoon? Outlet malls, and maybe a movie. Ahhh, the life of a non-Mom on vacation. Sheer bliss.
Road Trip! Ronnie! LeatherFace!
January 29th, 2007
My sister Lisa came to pick up the kids this morning. She and Mark took them to the Georgia Aquarium. Todd and I went to his office, picked up the Ryder Van and Ronald McDonald, and hit the road for Orlando. Yes, I said “Ronald McDonald.” (I call him Ronnie. We are on first name terms after riding from Atlanta to Orlando all day. He likes classic rock.) He is starring in a shoot that Todd is working on in Orlando. Ronnie cost $10,000 to make. Unfortunately, I forgot my cord to upload pictures to the computer, so you will have to wait on pics of Ronnie. Suffice to say that his fucking clown feet are huge, and I got a little scared when the sun went down and it was just Todd, Ronnie, and me in the van.
Other gems of wisdom obtained by riding in a van for 9 hours with my hung over husband (Advertising Awards – who knew those addies were so wild?) and Ronnie:
- Mrs. Winner’s biscuits are awesome, but the ones at Cracker Barrel are better. That being said, if you eat both, along with mac and cheese, fried okra, mashed potatoes and fried shrimp, you will feel sick. Especially while bumping along crappy roads in north central Florida.
- When choosing a ten cent peppermint stick at Cracker Barrel, just choose Butterscotch flavor. Other good flavors include: Cherry Cola, Strawberry, etc. Do not choose “Horehound” flavor, simply because it sounds like a good fit. You will spend the next forty minutes eating a stick of candy that you do not find that appetizing, and regretting your faulty choice while your husband sucks merrily away on his butterscotch one.
- Radio stations from about Macon, GA to Orlando suck ass, with the exception of the University of Florida station, which played Fugazi’s “Suggestion,” but neglected to play the next track, “Glue Man,” which sucks for anyone who really likes the album, because it just ruins it when the tracks split. We then drove out of their piddly range. U of Florida itself, and the greater Gainesville area, also suck ass.
- The other exception to the radio rule is the awesome bluegrass show with a local doing the dj thing and giving shoutouts to the regular listeners, who are all named Mac or Bud or Bubba. “Wabash Cannonball” at sunset was rather nice. Also the song about letting the racehorse run.
- Another radio rule: If you come across a song you even remotely like, for instance, “I Just Called to Say I Love You,” or ELO’s “Don’t Bring Me Down,” just go ahead and go with it, because it is the best you are going to do for, like, an hour. You will spend the next ten minutes just scanning through the GodRock, scripture-readers, scary-talk, and new country stations. If you find a classic rock station, just leave the dial the fuck alone. If you, like us, manage to get a run of Van Halen, Pink Floyd, Neil Young, CCR, and Tom Petty with Stevie Nicks, count yourself lucky. BTW, that whole intro to Van Halen’s cover of “You Really Got Me” is fucking awesome.
- Don’t be alarmed when you enter Florida and are greeted by the Shoot First, Ask Questions Later signs. Or the “Repent Sinners!” signs. Or when you are cast in shadow by the frighteningly large Confederate battle flag by the highway. The people are so nice, despite the fact that they try to scare you with their flags and guns and bibles and gators.
Okay, so we get to the hotel (Doubletree Orlando, across the street from Universal.) We go in, get a bellhop/valet guy to help me with the bags while Todd secures van and Ronnie. I start talking to the guy – turns out it has been a wild weekend. There is a TNA wrestling event going on tonight and tomorrow night. I didn’t know anything about this, but according to my awesome bartender Tony, they do it once a month at Universal, and everyone is totally cool, and a lot of the women are really skinny and have implants. I am so excited about my people-watching tomorrow.
That being said, the people-watching tonight wasn’t too bad. I didn’t see R2D2, as we missed him by about five minutes at the hotel bar, but I did get to see LeatherFace from the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and also the artist who did all of the KISS album covers. Awesome. Oh, and some gray-haired old guy who is in a Geicko commercial – Peter Graves, maybe? Other people who were at this nerd orgy: http://www.fxshow.com/guests.htm
More to come from the Starbucks downstairs in the morning. Will have camera and laptop in hand. Come on, hot guy from Eureka! Or The Greatest American Hero!
Give it Up, JL.
January 26th, 2007This morning as I ate my cereal, I flipped on the t.v. I was going to check the weather, because Todd and I are leaving for Orlando on Sunday, and I had seen a snippet of news that said there was a chance of snow Saturday or Sunday night. (I did not see anything about snow.) When I turned on the t.v., it was still on MTV from my fix of Road Rules last night before bed. I left it on, though, because there was a Silversun Pickups video on, and I really like them. (They were #3 on my Best of 2006 list.) I was also a little in shock that MTV still plays videos. Who knew?
Anyway, the video ended and before I changed the channel another came on. It was Jared Leto’s band, 30 Seconds to Mars. Now, I had never heard them before, but all of us who were My So-Called Life fans love him to death simply for the fact that he was Jordan Catalano, Angela’s crush/makeout partner. I knew he had a band, but frankly, every time I see him outside of the MSCL environment, I am struck by how completely stupid he seems, so I also assumed that the band would suck, too.
I was right. They suck. Their video (some kind of Japanese sword-fighting drama thing) seemed like it would never end, and purty Leto just couldn’t pull off the rock star voice, or the ridiculous punk rock, jet-black-hair-with-eyeliner-and-black-leather look.
This got me to thinking: Poor Jared. No matter what he does, he will never be anything but Jordan to us. He was okay in Requiem for a Dream, I guess, but I don’t want to see him rock, and I don’t want to see him date actresses even more stupid than he is. I want him to lean against the Mustang in his flannel shirt and look sullen. I want him to make out with Angela in the basement while she is supposed to be in Biology. I know for a fact that there are a large number of men out there who enjoy watching the shit get kicked out of him in Fight Club over and over again, or to see him die, die, die in The Thin Red Line. Me? I just want to see what happened after Angela left Brian Krakow and got in the Mustang with Jordan.
I know. Random.
Ran 5.08 miles today. Yes, I have to put the .08, because I ran it, didn’t I?
Will Run More. Or At Least Blog About Running More.
January 24th, 2007So, the new year is all about resolutions and that damned sticking to them. So, one of my resolutions was to run more. Haven’t been so good at that – the kids and I have been sick for over two months, off and on, and we have been busy, blahblahblah. Enough with the excuses. I am going to try and be better. One way that I find to make myself better adhere to any resolution is to tell others what I want to do. It keeps me honest if everyone knows I am Eating Less, Drinking Less, Running More, Writing More. I wrote recently about overcoming my writing fear – part of that was saying on here, to lots of people who know me (and a few who don’t) that I want to write more. Scary, but effective. I will now do the same with my running. I am going to start logging my runs, and my weekly mileage. Just to try and keep myself honest.
Today: 4.7 miles. Unfortunately, that is all i have done this week. Hope to do more before the yard sale on Saturday and my trip to Orlando on Sunday. (Looking forward to getting some running in while in Florida, though.)
Okay, now you know. There. I’ve said it. Help hold me to it. Guilt and embarrassment works.