Daily Randonimity

GO here:

2010-11-19T14:11:00.000-06:00

This is where I'm writing now:

byebyetwenties.blogspot.com

See ya there!

the show must go on...

2009-05-21T15:12:00.004-05:00

Alas, dear readers...or reader...

(I mean let's face it, most people find this blog by googling the word "farts")

I'm writing you to say that I am going to turn the lights down on the randonimity and set the stage for a new blog. A blog that talks more about what I'm doing now...a blog that will BLOW YOUR MIND.

(Okay, that's overstating it a bit...but still, go with me here.)

So, please, bookmark the following link...

http://www.tiffimprov.blogspot.com/

The new blog is called "Behaving Improv-perly" (See what I did there? A little play on words and shit? A lame attempt at humor...whatever...I was pressed for time. I went with my first thought. It's a lesson. A lesson, folks.)

So, feel free to reread the old posts here if you like, but really, you should check out the new stuff. Because that's where I'll be.

Thanks for letting me borrow your eyes this past year or so. You are [all?] fantastic.

2 months later...

2009-05-18T12:07:00.003-05:00

I am a slacker.

I get it.

Don't sass me.

There has been too much going on to keep up. Lots of improv. Lots of harmless debauchery. Lots of fat, melting off my body (17 pounds...I know, right?!)

It's been about a year since I started this blog. Actually, I think it's been over a year. I think that perhaps I might just end this one, and begin anew. Something that tracks my summer. Because, you know what? 2009 is THE year.

For what?

Well, I haven't quite figured that out yet, but it's deserving of a fresh start. And with summer in sight, I feel like there will be much more to hammer out on this here keyboard.

Until that's set up, you know, check back and whatnot. Who knows, I might keep on updating the ol' Randonimity.

just a little update

2009-03-23T15:03:00.003-05:00

Not much to say really. I'm really excited about Spring starting to arrive in Chicago. I guess I look forward to the adventures I'm imagining for Spring/Summer.

Taking Max to the zoo or the museums, Cubs games, wandering aimlessly and exploring new things, lots and lots of improv.

It's weird. I have no regrets in life. I mean, you just can't. Whatever it is that's happened, it's helped to shape me into who I am now, and who I will eventually come to be, so I can't look back and wish that I hadn't done something.

But there is this part of me that feels revitalized. I don't think that I was ever "missing out" recently. But I think I arrived at a point where I knew that it was time to move forward and discover things about myself that I need to know. I guess I just started to think that I was stagnating, which was no one's fault. It was just life.

I feel like I'm finally starting to come into my own...at least on a deeper level than before. The last time I found myself in this position, I was young, stupid, and rebellious. But now? Now I feel wiser, a little less stupid, and not rebellious, but curious...in a healthy way.

I've found new hobbies, and have discovered a balance between going out and enjoying my own company...and my jammies. I've started watching more movies, and challenging myself to try new things. I've put more energy into my work, and have set bigger goals for myself in that respect.

I've decided to dive head-first into improv, learning and doing all that I can because it's one of those dreams I let fall by the wayside because I thought my circumstances wouldn't allow me to do it. I don't care if I'm good at it or not. I enjoy doing it. It makes me happy. And doggone it, I am having a ton of fun. I'm also starting to trust myself and stay in the moment more because of it.

But I'm rambling. Point is, it's springtime, I'm looking forward to it. Also, I like cheese.

i've come to realize...

2009-03-08T17:00:00.003-05:00

That I soooooo cannot hang like I used to. But, actually, I'm fine with this. Don't get me wrong, this weekend I had a BLAST; however, 4 days of staying out til the cows come home was a little much.

But fun.

But still, a little much.

I guess it was just something I needed to get out of my system. Push the limits. Break my routine.

Shake things up, etc. etc.

I think from now on, however, that if I go out til really late one night, it's probably the only night I won't be in bed by midnight. Because I'm too old *lol*

I will also be seeing a lot more improv. Chicago's full of it, and I've realized that watching other people do it only makes me want to be successful at it in some capacity, that much more. Plus, it's a shit-ton of fun, and I think it's in my blood. I guess it sort of makes me feel a little more alive. Or, in other words, I'm quite passionate about it.

Now I'm rambling. In short: one late night a week is about all I can handle these days. And I'm cool with that.

Now to tend to the chores. Woo hoo.

blast from the past

2009-03-04T18:18:00.002-06:00

Tiff at age 22:

My old website from 2002.

Don't laugh too hard.

Also, my web design skills are not *quite* this shitty anymore.

WIDGET!!!

2009-03-04T12:36:00.001-06:00

WIDGET!!!

2009-03-04T12:35:00.001-06:00

underconfident.

2009-02-28T13:20:00.003-06:00

So, since I've started my improv classes, I've felt a lot more confident about myself. However, for some reason, over these past two weeks or so, I've felt like the most awkward, unfunny, overweight, aging pile of doo-doo on the planet.

Odd thing is, I don't really know why. Part of me wants to blame the weather. I mean, seriously, could spring just get here already? For real.

But part of me thinks that I'm being too critical of myself. To self-aware for my own good. I know that when I don't give a toot about what other people think, I end up having a much better time, whether I'm out doing some karaoke, or grocery shopping.

It's when I pull apart everything I do or say in terms of how I imagine others are interpreting those things, that I start to feel unfunny or unlikable.

I just wish there could be a 70 degree day, sun shining, people out walking, where I could feel a little taste of spring to get me out of this funk.

I also need to buckle down and eat right like I've promised myself. Perhaps if I stop making the goal to "be skinny" and make the goal to "be healthy" I'll have more success.

Who knows.

sunday, sunday, sunday

2009-02-22T13:37:00.003-06:00

So, I'm in one of those moods where I just don't know what to do with myself. All weekend it's been like this. I cleaned a little, took a bubble bath, created a new station on Pandora that I adore. Watched a movie. But I feel restless. I think it's because I desperately want spring to get here.

Not just because of the warm weather, but I'll also be quitting smoking. Most people don't look forward to this, but I kind of am. My hair and clothes will smell prettier, I won't wake up feeling like I slept face down in a chimney all night. And, unless I've already done too much damage, I'll be able to sing without getting scratchy or losing lung capacity.

To ensure that I don't break my rule and smoke within the first 3 weeks of my quit date, I'm scheduling a wisdom tooth extraction. (Not for this purpose alone, of course. It needs to be pulled. Fucking extra teeth that nobody needs...) Can't smoke for 2 weeks after an extraction, so I figured it was perfect timing.

That and I more scared about getting the tooth pulled than completely altering a lifestyle I've known since I was 17 (on and off).

So, in the weeks after March 20th, you may notice that I'm cranky...and that I have gauze in my mouth...

...juts try to ignore it. It'll all be worth it later on. :)

Was going to rant about how old I'm feeling lately...but after typing it out, I realized that I'm an idiot.

Let's see...

2009-02-18T16:49:00.002-06:00

Ah yes...I'm trying to lose 30 pounds.

Ha!

No really.

Totally blows...but, I refuse to buy bigger pants. Absolutely refuse. I also refuse to buy bigger shirts because it's not my boobs that are the problem, but my tummy. Oh for petesake, what the hell.

Been doing 10 or 20 minute workouts in the mornings. I think I need to order a hoop for work that I can keep at the office...of course, not sure where I could hoop for 10 minutes. When it's warm I'll happily go outside. Hmmm....I should look into this.

Because really, I have fun hooping.

And, that's all for now. I know, how incredibly sodding exciting!

Betty freaking McCrocker

2009-02-11T08:54:00.003-06:00

I know it's Betty Crocker...but I'll never forget the time at Indiana State when a bunch of us tried to make those cut and bake Pillsbury cookies and burned them to shit.

One of my good friends from that year was a bit baked herself, and when we laughed at her for burning the cookies, she replied with a slightly slurred, "What? I'm not Betty freaking McCrocker."

What followed was a perfectly placed bit of silence that turned into a fit of laughter.

Anyhow, that's all beside the point. Tonight, I bake. In the Betty McCrocker way...not the Cheech and Chong way.

Unless Cheech and Chong make Valentine's Day cookies.

And when I say bake...I mean bake. From-scratch sugar cookies with from-scratch icing.

It's gonna be nuts.

I may just capture this fiasco on video.

You know, thinking about my first attempt at college just brought up another memory about baked goods.

You know those Little Debbie brownies? The fudgy ones with the nuts in them? Well, I had bought some for my dorm room one time and it happened to be just before our RA called our floor to a meeting on our bathroom etiquette.

Apparently some of the girls had a hard time cleaning up after themselves...leaving things in the toilet...or dropping shredded pieces of t.p. all over the ground. Pretty disgusting.

What irritated me and my friends was the fact that we were getting scolded for other people's nastiness.

After the meeting we met up to discuss, and in turn hatched a plan.

We took a few of those brownies, warmed them up in our hands, and molded them like clay into, well, into a giant turd. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

We snuck to the bathroom, where we appropriately placed the brownie-turd on a toilet seat, and a little in the bowl.

Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

My friend's dorm was right outside the bathroom, so between snickers and laughter, we would just listen.

And then...the payoff.

The loudest, most disgusted shriek flew from the bathroom. There were even a few gags. Then a rush of people down the hall.

And finally, above all the commotion was the voice of our RA, "You guys! Come on. We JUST talked about this!"

She. Was. Pissed.

We were still in the room laughing our sneaky little asses off. They actually thought someone had shit on the toilet seat.

Amazing.

So...yes, tomorrow morning, if you work with me, expect cookies.

And I promise, no mushed up, turd-shaped brownies on any of the toilet seats.

Hey-Yo!

2009-02-07T12:01:00.001-06:00

Fear not, I'm still around.

After talking to Ryan yesterday...I realized that I should probably...at the very least...update the Randonimity on a weekly basis.

I mean, people are kind enough to subscribe (usually after my throwing a tantrum and stomping my feet on the ground. Usually...but not always.)

So, it's been some time. A lot has changed, and it's still early in 2009.

Second City has been a God-send. No, really. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I'm far more likely to make a complete ass out of myself...without feeling bad about it. It's really a good thing, actually. Instead of being afraid to let myself out, I just do it...if it works, great. If not? Well, that's okay too.

Still loving my job and the company in general. It's a great experience and I'm learning quite a bit. Still as excited to walk through those doors now as I was on the day of my very first interview.

Also, I like Palmer's fudgy hearts.

Speaking of which: Valentine's Day. *pfft* I've never really liked it, but being single again, I realize how much it's EVERYWHERE. I think my disdain stems from that year in elementary school when no one gave me a Valentine in my Valentine shoe box. (Which, by the way, I spent the WHOLE NIGHT BEFORE decorating with enormous amounts of iridescent glitter and doilies.)

Shit like that can scar a kid for life. There I was...like what? 8? 9? With an empty shoe box, while the rest of the class...even the kid who picked his nose and ate it...had at least one.

I think that if I got a shoe box full of Valentines some year, I might think differently of the holiday. *Might* being the operative word.

Of course, I'm long past the days of decorated shoe boxes and paper Valentines. So I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. Ha!

Anyhow, until next week!

P.S. Check the link list. New blog/podcast added (second link down). It's the project of a friend of mine and it's good. So check it out or I will eat your face. Thanks.

a little break

2009-01-25T11:30:00.002-06:00

So, I haven't exactly been using 2009 to keep up with the randonimity.

Funny thing is, there is a lot of stuff going on...however, for once, it's stuff that I don't feel like publishing on the InterWebz for all to see.

Because life is such a whirlwind at the moment, I might not blog as often here as I used to. But check back from time to time...I might surprise you.

And eventually, when things calm down, I'll be back to writing at least SOMETHING once a day.

Thanks for understanding!

success! poot

2009-01-08T12:48:00.002-06:00

So, I was checking my Sitemeter account only to discover that someone all the way from Argentina found Daily Randonimity.

How?

They did a Google search...

...for "farts, nice farts"

and were directed to my blog.

I'd call that a win.

nothing new to report...

2009-01-06T12:52:00.001-06:00

...except that I love my new iPhone.

And that 2009 hasn't been half bad so far.

Also, made my first new post for Cinematic Resolution.

Go check it.

schmerica, i hope you don't mind...

2008-12-31T07:50:00.000-06:00

...but I just had to.

To everyone out there...here's just one reason why my friend Schmerica (Erica) is one of my bestest friends ever.

This is the Nativity Scene she and her boyfriend created this year:

Best. Thing. Ever.

slothy...but you love it.

2008-12-30T11:13:00.008-06:00

Yes, yes. I know. No updates in for-EVER. Look, with the holidays and whatnot, I've been busy. Forgive me?

Great, let's just move forward and put this all behind us.

Don't give me any of that lip. I know, I know. I've failed you. I've let you down. Now sit down, shut up, and open wide for a heaping helping of randonimity.

1.) My cell phone is suffering from a hefty case of dementia. How so, you ask? Well, first of all, it tells me it's charging...all the time. And it actually believes it's charging itself...without the use of a charger. No shit. It even goes so far as to show me that it's fully charged, before being sucked back into reality and proceeding to show me that in the real world it only has one battery bar left.

Hell, the damn thing doesn't even shut off anymore. Nope. It likes to pretend it's charging when the power is off. And, when the charger is plugged into the phone? Well, it doesn't charge.

It also doesn't like me to tell it what volume it should be set at, and has lost all use of it's motor skills, as it no longer vibrates. It's kind of like a volume lottery; I turn the phone on, and it randomly chooses how loud or soft it chooses to ring. Fun.

So, this prompted me to speed up the process of buying a new cell phone. And I have now officially entered the 21st century: I bought an iPhone.

I feel sort of bad. The first day my phone started showing symptoms of its circuit board deterioration, I said to it (literally), "You know, Phone, I always defended your simplicity. For 4 long years I stuck by you, regardless of how out-of-date you are. And now this? Could you please snap out of it?"

The phone was quiet for a few seconds, after which it replied, "Beep! Charging. Beep Beep! Not Charging. Beep! Charging. Beep Beep not charg-Beep! Charg-Beep beep! Not-Beep! Charging!"

I gave it a few days, after which I discovered I could no longer control its volume.

I became very introspective over the holiday. I realized that this would be my cell phone's last Christmas with me. I could not trust it alone, and I could no longer take care of it the way it needed to be taken care of.

So Sunday afternoon, I switched to AT&T and ordered my iPhone.

I still haven't broken the news to my old cell phone. I'm hoping that by the time my new phone arrives, Old Celly will have gone into full-blown amnesia and won't realize that when people dial my number, it's not her/him that rings, but the iPhone.

I plan to let him/her live out what's left of his/or her battery life until one day, well, one day I'll wake up and his/her screen will be forever dark.

It's sad, but it's for the best. You were a good friend to me you old hunk o' junk. You and your llama screen saver and your poorly made homemade ringtones. I'll miss the midi version of the Perfect Strangers theme song that you played as my alarm. I remember we won that one together...during a rousing game of Name That Tune- TV and Movie Edition back in December 2005. Ah...the memories.

Any how, the first app I plan to get for my iPhone is iFart. I think Old Celly would have enjoyed it.

2.) Christmas was pretty good, aside from the fact that I was PMSing like nobody's business. I swear, you could have seen this storm of irritation and destruction on a radar map. I was crabby as hell, and for no good reason.

Luckily, however, it quickly passed and left little damage. Which is good, because although celebrating Christmas with a hellfire attitude is pretty awful, starting the New Year with one is much, much worse.

3.) I've had a lot of time off of work due to the holidays (and this nasty chest and sinus cold). It makes me realize how much I love what I do and how great the company and the people I work for are. And how blessed and lucky I am to have what I have.

4.) Quitting smoking in March. Will keep you posted. Which reminds me, I need to track my cigarettes.

5.) Going to try and lose 30 pounds...again. To prepare, I've been stuffing my face with all things fattening...and drinking massive amounts of RC cola. Gotta get it while I can.

6.) Second City classes start in 2 weeks. Holy crap. I. Am. Stoked.

7.) Gonna learn to play guitar. That said, I'd like you to meet Otis:

I haven't yet purchased this glittery blue gem of a girly guitar (with a boy's name...after the great Otis Redding...one of my musical heroes...), but I'm saving up. Then it's lessons at the Old Town School of Folk Music for me. Can't wait.

8.) I think that's it for now. And I will try really hard to update more often.

9.) Oh yes! There is other news. Part of my many New Year's Resolutions stems from the fact that I haven't seen enough movies. So, I will be resolving to watch at least one movie per week, and write what I learned from it. This also means there will be a new blog from me for you to be able to follow my progress and see what I discover: Cinematic Resolution

Feel free to take a sneak peek and bookmark it now. I plan to start promptly on January 1, 2009.

10.) Happy New Year to you all!

one year ago today

2008-12-18T12:14:00.003-06:00

So, I was trying to think why December 18th seemed to feel like it had some sort of meaning. And then it hit me: December 18th marks the one year anniversary of my college graduation.

It still seems weird to me, I mean, I spent so much time at Purdue. I worked super hard and I loved every minute of learning about all sorts of things...

...well, except for math...I avoided math by taking logic instead. And logic is just like math, but you're not solving number problems...you're solving all sorts of other cool problems. For example, our final group project was to use what we learned to come to a logical answer to the Kennedy assassination Magic Bullet Theory. Very interesting stuff.

But I digress, it's been an entire year since I ran through the halls of the Star Plaza theater...late to my own graduation, fearing that after all that time I wouldn't be able to walk or that I would have to be disruptive and try to sneak in and find my seat out of 500 graduates in the middle of the opening speeches.

I remembering running so fast that my little white collar thingy that the women had to wear, was falling off, blowing behind me, the sticky tabs holding it on getting stuck in my hair.

Luckily I found my place in line just in time. And as I sat there, waiting to finally get my degree, I remember thinking about Max, sitting there...likely bored out of his gourd, but the fact that he could experience this with me was incredible.

And afterwards, he handed me 2 dozen roses and his eyes just glittered with pride and excitement for me.

Then we went to one of those Japanese restaurants where they cook on your table and I got to try and flip and tap the spatulas on the cook top...which was hilarious.

I really can't believe that was a year ago.

Also, I guess this would be a good blog to let you all know that because I'm such a lover of learning things, I'm officially enrolled at the Second City training center Chicago! Woo!

My Level A classes begin Thursday, January 15th. So freaking excited.

i'm going to be blunt here...

2008-12-16T11:57:00.005-06:00

I was driving today when "Magic Man" by Heart came on the radio. Now, the song itself---especially the lyrics--- is overtly sexual...there's no doubting that.

But there was something else I noticed while listening to the guitar solo...the guitar solo itself even sounds like sex. No really.

I was simply going to post that one song up here so you all could agree or disagree or come to your own conclusions about the guitar solo in "Magic Man," but as I looked for the song, I decided instead of creating a playlist with only one track, I should compile a list of sexy songs...at least sexy songs in my opinion.

So, if you're bored...take a listen to "Music is Sexy." They're songs I think are pretty darn hot-to-trot.

And at the very least, take a listen to "Magic Man" and just try to deny what I've said about the guitar in that song...

...I dare you.

Also, my bog layout hides the scroll bar on the player...so if you need to scroll back up, just refresh my blog...sorry about that!

zig a zig---what?

2008-12-08T11:13:00.002-06:00

Real quick, as I drove into work today I got stuck in a little construction traffic.

No matter, really, as I had the radio to keep me company. Of course, when the radio started playing the Spice Girls, I found myself at a crossroads.

Do I leave it on or switch the station? And for some odd reason, I was just pulled into the song...seriously. I could not turn it off to save my life.

What the hell does that mean?

bye, bye pescatarianism...

2008-12-01T09:04:00.005-06:00

So, yesterday morning I battled a four-hour long gall bladder attack. Combine that with the fact that my Thanksgiving meal consisted of only plain mashed potatoes, bread, plain noodles, and green bean casserole, and I have come to the conclusion that I no longer wish to remain meatless.

However, I lasted nearly half a year AND I learned a little self-control when it comes to meal choices.

So I will commence eating meat again...in moderation.

halloween...very belated

2008-11-22T13:00:00.007-06:00

My apologies for not posting these pics sooner, but I've been busy/lazy/absent-minded since the average temperature has dropped WELL below 50 degrees (Yay, Winter! ...feh...).

Anyhow, here are pictures from Halloween Weekend 2008...and yes, I had two costumes. Why? Well, I worked my ass off on the first one:

The Hunter Becomes The Prey
(Moose takes Sarah Palin. Win!!!!!1111)

Now, keep in mind that the costume was well over 8ft. tall, and the antlers were about 3 ft. wide, so my decision to change the costume for the next night weighed partly on this fact.

The other part was that not a lot of people got it at FIRST glance...upon second look they realized what I was, though, and laughter ensued..yadda yadda yadda.

But I took the costume rigging, and the next day went shopping with Jeff to create the second costume:

Off with Her Head!

It took about an hour because the hardest part (the rigging) was already done, and I think it came out well. It was also a lot easier to get around in...and, yes, I did tilt my head to the side ALL NIGHT.

Jeff went as a ShamWow, which was incredibly brilliant.

Again, it was hard for him to get around, but he did an awesome job and he got a lot of great response. And he was just plain hilarious!

And finally, there was Max's costume.

Max the Mummy

I think he's pretty lucky to have two really creative parents. Last year I made his Nutcracker costume by hand, and this year his Dad did the honors creating an awesome (and creepy) mummy costume.

He got so many compliments---even some extra candy! The funny thing? It consisted of a $3 second-hand sheet, some fake blood, black grease paint, and dirt. I'm telling you, it's amazing what a little thriftiness and ingenuity can create!

will power

2008-11-20T12:25:00.003-06:00

So, I'm pretty proud of myself at this very moment.

You see, I have always wanted to take improv classes. It's not that I think I'll ever be famous or make a career out of it (although the latter would definitely be awesome...).

I guess it's that I honestly believe it will help me come out of my safety zone so to speak. And, hopefully, keep my wit sharp and quick...which is important for a writer. Actually, I think it's important for anyone.

But I'm digressing. See, I decided that I wanted to take classes starting in January (which is the next session), but to do it, I needed to really tighten the purse strings and follow a strict budget. And no lie, the budget I've set is pretty tight.

Basically, for the next two or three months, I'm not allowing myself any more than $25 per week "fun money." This means any going out, lunches, make-up, clothing, etc. that I want, must cost less than $25 per week in total. It's crazy. (And, as a smoker, I have also set aside a cigarette budget...which may prove to hasten the quitting process as the stipend is only $30 every TWO weeks...meaning that I either need to smoke less or smoke cheap...both of which are good things because they will eventually start to ween me off completely. So yay for that.)

This is the first week of the new budget, and so far, I still have $12 left until Monday for fun money. Not a whole lot, but I decided to take the Skyway twice, and Max lost a tooth, so there went about 10 bucks at the beginning of the week.

So why will power? Well, first of all, I haven't gone out to lunch all week, and today my budget-strength was truly tested. A large group of my coworkers were heading out to lunch.

Last week, pre-budget, I would have said, "Screw it...what's $20.00?"

But today? Today I looked at the menu online...to check to see if there were any low-priced appetizers, soups, or salads. And when there weren't? I politely declined the offer.

I think about how much I want three very important things that this new budget will provide:
1.) The improv classes.
2.) A good Christmas for Max and everyone else that I care about.
and
3.) Financial freedom and responsibility for the first time in my life. If I can learn to not have to live paycheck to paycheck, it will only help me. Especially in this economy. The more I save, and the more I learn to live off of less, the better I will be in the future. The better my family will be as well.

So, there will be no going out to lunch for me today. And that's okay. I brought some clam chowder to work anyways.

as natural a delivery as possible...

2008-11-11T09:29:00.003-06:00

Saw an ad for this on a Chicago bus the other day...

I guess gas delivery doesn't really get anymore natural, now does it?

Well, unless you count the times I consume those football size burritos from the Hidden Cove...those within a 4 mile radius can arrest to the unnaturalness of my gas delivery...

accepting our oddities

2008-11-06T18:17:00.006-06:00

I want to just put something completely random out there. (I mean, this blog is called Daily Randonimity...)

So, I've been thinking...every one of us has some sort of weird habit or routine or whatnot, that, more often than not, we keep to ourselves---only to be exposed to those who are extremely close to us. (And even then, it usually comes up by accident...)

Since turning 28, I've felt like really taking an inventory of my life---and owning up to every thing about myself: the good, the bad, and the downright odd. I think that's because I've discovered that I have a lot to well, discover about myself still. But the first step is to really look at the whole picture. I mean, sometimes I can absolutely loathe myself (typically about 3-5 days in a row, per month...) and other times I embrace myself. Not physically embrace, but you know, I think about what makes me like and unlike others and I try to appreciate it all.

But for the most part, I fall somewhere in the middle...one day I'm loving the way my butt looks in my favorite pair of jeans, or the way I took something overwhelming and turned it into something pretty darn good...while at the same time I'm hating my oily forehead and its never-ending crop of new pimples, or the way I stutter and trip over my words when I talk (which is, oddly enough, one of the reasons I adore the written word so very much).

But I'm digressing.

So, I've realized (and perhaps some of you have too...) I have this...well...I have a slight vocal tick. No really. It's like a little hum or vocal sigh that I don't typically notice. It's actually pretty funny (especially when I catch myself doing it).

Jeff calls it "beeping" which is a pretty good description of the sound. But it's something I can't really control. It just happens.

For the most part, nobody ever brings it up. I'm pretty sure it's because they don't want to hurt my feelings or have no idea how to approach it. But really? It's not a big deal. It's just a part of who I am---and it's involuntary...so there isn't much I could do about it anyway.

But anyways, after 28 years, I've decided to stop feeling self conscious about it, and instead I'm just going to accept it as a quirky Tiff-ism. Inner-randonimity if you will.

And I'll tell you what...it's pretty darn freeing...

*Beep*

i know, i know...

2008-11-03T11:24:00.001-06:00

I haven't posted in a while...a long while. Busy times around here. But there are many pictures and some stories to post soon. Don't give up on the Randonimity...

...it'll be back in full effect soon enough. :)

excuse the bitchin', i can't complain

2008-10-23T11:10:00.002-05:00

So....yesterday...I was a bit of a bit----....grump, shall we say? Last night I ended up going to Mother's with Jeff, singing karaoke and enjoying birthday toasts with him and Matty, and even seeing an old live band karaoke friend who I haven't seen in years.

Of course, I've also learned that at 28, my body can't tolerate 3 Tom Collins, a Jagerbomb, Chambord and pineapple shot, and a BJ shot. In other words, my liver be painin' today.

Also, after waking up this morning I had:

About 10 calls from Max wishing me a happy birthday.
An inbox full of happy Birthday emails.
A card from Brynn on my chair at work
Said card had a button on it that reads," Another Year Sexier!" which I plan to wear all day.
A birthday work email, informing everyone that I also share my birthday with "Weird" Al Yankovic, among others...

And, as I was getting ready, I was listening to the radio when Poison's "Nothing but a Good Time" came on.

First of all, that's just a great song to hear on your birthday (or any day) in general, but second, and most important, that was my dear friend Lewis's jam. We all sang it at his Live Band Karaoke memorial right after he passed. And when I heard it this morning, it was like he was sending me his birthday wish. Maybe that's mushy, but it meant a lot to me, and it made me realize that it's not about the parties or the celebrations---it's about the people you care about and who care about you.

And apparently, I'm fortunate enough to have a shit-ton of them. Love you guys!

for future reference...

2008-10-22T17:24:00.005-05:00

Please, if I ever...EVER...discuss my birthday again, in terms of plans, parties, celebrations, etc., remind me to stop. Also remind me to not plan or get excited for said birthday because it tends to only blow up in my aging face and upset me for no reason, ruining an otherwise normal, yet decent day, and turning it into a day of self-pity and overall upsettedness.

I was doing so well, too. I guess I could measure some small amount of success in the fact that I didn't give a damn about my birthday until 3 days before. Usually I'm excited and planning for weeks. Unfortunately, I decided last minute to cram that excitement in anyhow, and, alas...here I am, questioning myself, pitying myself, and just feeling plain old.

But as it draws nearer (like, 12:22am tomorrow---which is almost still like a part of today...), it just gets worse and worse and I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Last night I, of course, chose the latter.

Hell, I won't even be celebrating my usual Pioneer Tap birthday party. I won't even be going to the Tap tonight. Nope, I will be sitting on my almost-28-year-old ass, alone, watching TV, watching the clock strike 12:22am (that is, unless, I have fallen asleep as has been the case over the past few months), thinking, "It's my birthday. Whooptie-freakin-do. No one cares. I wish there was a damned new episode of Rock of Love Charm School on right now...but that's not til Sunday. Gosh, Tiff, you are getting old. 28? 28?! Really? Where the fuck did that time go? Holy shit. Old and sitting alone on a couch. On your birthday."

Who knows, maybe at that moment I'll let out a hilarious fart or something to shake me from the thoughts that will have, at that point, no doubt invaded my 2-years-away-from-30-sitting-alone-on-a-freaking-couch-on-my-birthday mind.

Let's see, a little under 7 hours to go.

(And that doesn't even count my birthday "party" on Friday...which at this point consists of 3 guests...one of them being myself. But I guess that's my fault for delaying the inevitable by trying to avoid celebrating my birthday in the first place and sending the invite only 3 days before the party. I can't freaking win, can I?)

@@!$%^@!#%^@#*^#@!!!!!!!!!

2008-10-21T16:33:00.004-05:00

Aw, fartknocker, dick hammer, douche bag, Muesli, banana nut bread, fermented olive loaf, monkey tail, whale taint, bunyon muffin, cracked egg, jelly skunk, rat fluffer, pudding wrench, starfish, pucker face, bicycle peddle, toot horn, frog nuts, spunk monkey, tractor breath, oat bran, fish Walter, funk drawer, butt rocket, crotch gun, mint nose, pineapple papaya, Dirk Diggler, poo poo beard, potty head, poot face, swamp sock, dick feed, jerky beefer, rank moldy toaster, Boxcar children, fruity tart, lacy poop, urine luck, potty cake potty cake bake this in your freakin' pan!!!!!! Argh.

...yes, I'm a little distressed at the moment.

got mah' hair cutted

2008-10-18T12:32:00.006-05:00

Fringe-y bangs---which work wonders for masking forehead breakouts...and lots of layers---keeping my length while cutting off a majority of my crunchy ends.

I love it. Tricoci does an amazing job with my hair every time, and the stylist I see charges a reasonable price, especially for the caliber of work she does. Not once have I ever walked out of that place disappointed when she's cut my hair. And I'm pretty picky about my coif. (Hey when your mom accidentally gives you a mullet your sophomore year in high school? Well, you become a little gun shy with your hair after that. Talk about traumatic...)

It was a little blustery out last night though, so I ended up hailing a cab right after I walked out of 900 N. Michigan. Usually I sit in front of the 4th Presbyterian Church (or, as I call it, "my pretty church") and watch people walking by. I'm not Presbyterian...heck, I'm not even what you'd consider religious, but there is something so beautiful and peaceful about that church that when I go to that neck of the woods, I feel I must sit and absorb it all in.

I guess I'm I'm a little sad I didn't get to do that this time.

However, I think the cab driver thinks that I work as a stripper. I left my car at work and caught a cab downtown to Tricoci. So, on the way back the cab driver asked where I needed to go. I told him the address, and he said, "Oh, you live by the horse barn."

I told him, "No, I don't live there, it's actually right next to where I work."

Then he got silent.

Then it hit me.

Next door to the horse barn is V.I.P.'s strip club. This is, of course, not where I work. But in that cabbie's mind? I'm sure it is.

odd

2008-10-17T05:13:00.001-05:00

So, Facebook is kind of a weird thing, right? I mean, you find people that you haven't seen/heard from/talked to in ages, add them to your list of friends, and then after a few small opening pleasantries, you don't really talk to them any more than you did before you found them on Facebook.

It's like you're keeping them in your back pocket, just in case you want to say hi, or see what's going on in their lives.

Of course, this isn't the only use of Facebook. I have plenty of friends that I do see on a regular basis that are also Facebook friends...and there's Word Twist. (Which, by the way, needs some sort of 12-step program add-on app.)

But back to that first use...you see, I was checking my Facebook, as I so often do, when I saw that my good friend in high school and her husband (a guy I had dated for about 2 weeks back in high school), just had a baby boy. I am incredibly happy for them. Absolutely so.

However, it was also kind of weird. Probably because I've technically lost touch with them. But also because I'm beginning to feel how much time has passed since I was a teenager and we just talked about these kinds of things in our futures. Now, those things are actually happening.

Well, sort of. I mean, yes, I have a son. (An 8-year-old son...holy cat turds...eight?! Wow.) And yes, I was married...once...a long time ago...for a short time. But those things happened in my life when my friends were still just predicting those things in their futures.

I kind of feel like I'm in this odd place. Here I am, a pretty seasoned parenting veteran...at least in terms of baby and toddlerhood...those teenager years scare the shit out of me more and more as they draw nearer...

but I have no close friends getting married, already married, with kids, expecting kids. Heck, I don't even understand that crazy mom-talk when I attend a party with other moms who've been leading, say, a more traditional life. It's like, I'm one half mommy and one half cosmopolitan. And I actually like that. You will never find me huddled in the kitchen with the other hens, talking about curtains, casseroles, or cat litter.

But at the same time, I guess I have this curiosity about what it's like to have friends my age with families. I mean, I have great friends and I love all of them. And this is not some sort of strange plea for them to all get hitched and pop out a couple of loin-fruits A.S.A.P.

Not at all. But when I see an old high school friend and her husband taking that next step in their lives, I find myself one part choked up, one part happy for them, and one part completely confused and weirded out.

Also, have I mentioned that I turn 28 next week? I feel like this could be the root of this particular issue...

...like, am I where I'm supposed to be at 2 years til 30?

I guess so, because if not, then I'd be somewhere else...right?

Right.

report cards and a head in the clouds

2008-10-16T11:48:00.006-05:00

(Sorry I couldn't find a better version of this classic clip! Keep in mind, his teacher isn't like this lady. But listen to the part when John Candy responds to her calling his niece a "dreamer" and a "sillyheart." Also, I love, "I'm Buck Melanoma, Moley Russell's Wart." Ha! Ha!)

So, Max's dad calls me this morning to let me know that Max got his first report card for the third grade. It's also his first report card with actual grades on it. In other words? Pretty exciting times for all.

The basic run down was all A's, with a B in English and a B+ in Art. What's more? The kid made the freaking Honor Roll. Dude, I didn't make the Honor Roll until 5th grade, and here's my flesh and blood doing it on the first try. Amazing.

But it's not all fun and games at the House of Randonimity. You see, Max's teacher made a few comments on Max's overall behavior, attitude, performance, etc., over the first quarter.

He got high accolades for his behavior, but then she went on to write, "Maxwell needs to stop his constant daydreaming and forgetfulness. Does he have a regular bed time?"

Time the heck out. He made the freaking Honor Roll. He received A's and B's. And I'll have you know, he's not forgetful. He just tends to be a little like me when it comes to recalling things. It's not that he forgets something, he just doesn't feel like getting into it at the moment. So, his common response to most questions about his day or whatnot is, "I don't remember." He's freaking 8. And when he's ready, he'll be happy to talk about whatever you asked about.

But what gets my goat more is the daydreaming bit. Again...he's 8! He's got a head full of whimsical things. He's got ideas. He's got dreams. And guess what? Sometimes he gets lost in them. And he STILL gets A's and B's...even when his mind is up in the clouds.

I think his daydreaming is a good thing, and I'm not about to tell him to stop. In a world like this, sometimes all you have are your daydreams to keep you sane, and to keep you from falling into a rut. I'm proud that he knows that he can get lost in his thoughts when he feels the need to do so and take care of the important things---at the same time. That's not a boon to his education. It's a lesson in multitasking, dammit.

So, I say keep dreamin', little man. And keep doing what you're doing in your classes.

Also, he does have a set bedtime. But, again, he's 8. There are, of course, plenty of nights when he comes downstairs for his umpteenth glass of water, or an extra hug, or a re-do on the tucking in.

Thinking that an 8-year-old just falls asleep as soon as you tuck him in---every single night?

All I have to say is....who's the dreamer now, Teach?

quick bloggy about non-existent accents

2008-10-15T22:18:00.002-05:00

I just got off the phone with my cousin Melissa and something occurred to me: for the past, oh, I don't know fifteen years or so, when talking to each other, we tend to talk with this strange made-up accent.

I can't really explain it. It sounds like we come from some conglomerate made up of places in Eastern Europe, Asia, Mexico, and Jupiter. It's kind of E.T.-like, but it has that definite ESOL touch. It's weird.

What's even weirder?

I don't think we realize we do it. I mean, until now that is. But I wonder how many times we've been somewhere when the other one calls, only to answer the phone like, "Heeeeello. Howwww are youuuuuuuuuu. Oh no no. Dat's okaey. Okaey. Byeeee-byeee." (As you can tell, it's really hard to type a made-up accent and make it fly.)

Perhaps I'll record a sample and let you guys be the judge on where this accent is possibly from.

Either that or just come up to me and ask me to do it for you. Because I totally will. Even if it means making a complete ass of myself...

...especially if it means making a complete ass of myself.

hooplah!

2008-10-14T07:41:00.007-05:00

Finally busted out my hoop last night. It's been way too long, and I'm a little rusty, but it felt good. It's amazing the workout you get with 20 to 30 minutes of hooping.

Sorry about the abundance of video effects, it's been a while since I've played with any editing software as well. I went a little overboard.

I especially like when the room looks like it's turned into the set of an 80's music video (back when there were still music videos...played on a regular basis...uninterrupted by episodes of My Super Sweet Sixteen and Next), almost like Dire Straits "Money for Nothing." (It's at about :47.)

And don't mind the outfit...it was a workout...I have the right to look slobulous.

who...

2008-10-12T22:09:00.005-05:00

...spent over an hour creating this?

Yours truly.

Hey, gotta represent, right?

Right.

Here are all of the pumpkins Max and I carved today. (And by we, I mean, I did the dirty work and Max carved out a single pumpkin eye. But he had fun, and really, I did too.)

What's more? As I sat on my porch enjoying this unseasonable weather, some neighbors walked by, commenting and complimenting my pumpkins...before they even realized I was sitting out there.

Then their dog started to crap on my lawn.

Which is totally fine.

sixteen days til my 28th birthday...

2008-10-07T12:12:00.002-05:00

These are going on the wishlist...self-designed and cute as heck:

I'm just sayin...

hangin' tough

2008-10-05T03:48:00.004-05:00

Just got back from the New Kids show/Pioneer Tap after-party.

What a night.

Pictures and proper blogging will commence soon.

Right now, I need some sleep. (Also, I think the 40,000 or whatever, screaming females blew out my left ear drum. Small price to pay for some smokin' hot [and all grown up, I might add] New Kids.)

i'll admit it: i think farts are funny

2008-09-30T11:37:00.008-05:00

Okay, so I'm a firm believer that flatulence is funny. Gross, yes...but hilarious nonetheless.

This past summer, Max was drawing with his side walk chalk and came up with about five different versions of the little guy in the picture up there.

Me: What are you drawing?

Max: It's a fart.

Me: A wha? A fart?!

Max: Yes.

Me: Why is he wearing a hat?

Max: All farts wear hats. But different farts wear different hats.

Me: Oh really? Explain.

Max: Well, mean farts wear top hats, because they're bald. Mean farts also have fangs...just two fangs. No other teeth. Nice farts also wear top hats, but they have hair. And they don't have two fangs...just two regular square teeth. And silly farts, they wear beanies. They don't have hair or teeth, but they don't mind...because they're silly.

Me: A-ha. What else? Is that fart riding a unicycle?!

Max: Yes. Silly farts ride unicycles. (Note: Silly fart depicted above.)

Me: Just silly farts?

Max: Yes, other farts walk, or jump. But they all carry canes.

Me: All farts carry a cane?

Max: Yes. And a briefcase.

Me: Where...what...uh...well, what's in their briefcases?

Max: Duh. A banana.

Me: *silence* Bursting into a fit of laughter.

Max: Now he's laughing, too.

So, to sum it all up:

All farts wear hats; types of hats are determined by the type of fart. (Unfortunately, I can't help but picture the type of fart associated with a swimcap...ew.)

All farts carry canes and briefcases with a banana inside. (Purpose of banana remains undetermined...but one can only imagine. I'm just glad Max didn't choose to stick corn in there...)

Farts are rather active; some walk, some jump, some walk AND jump, and some ride unicycles. (I wouldn't be surprised if a fart appeared on and episode of So You Think You Can Dance...and won.)

Farts have varying styles and degrees of teeth, based on the farts' varying degrees of temperament. (So, some farts have higher dental costs than others. Although, I'm assuming all have halitosis.)

My son has a wild imagination and an awesome sense of humor. And his penchant for creating sidewalk chalk masterpieces astounds me. (But what can I say? That's 50% of my DNA in there...*insert my best Don-Knotts-as-a-proud-Barney-Fife impersonation here.)

$25 for 3 shrimp and 1 tbsp. of (mediocre) crab dip

2008-09-29T11:11:00.004-05:00

So, my 10-year high school reunion was this past Saturday. I didn't post a picture because, well I didn't actually take any.

That's right. No pictures of my 10-year reunion. Why?

Well, although the effort was there, and I did have a nice conversation with one girl in my class, in all, the gig was lame. L-A-M-E.

Put it this way: Instead of wanting to find out how we all spent this past decade, the cliques of high-school past returned, successfully clustering together and not talking to anyone else.

It was brilliant. But I didn't feel bad. Quite the contrary, really. I was willing and eager to talk to everyone. I mean, 10 years is a long time, and it would have been nice to see what everyone's been up to. I said hello to everyone, tried to engage in small talk. Smiled. Laughed. Etc.

And when the responses weren't returned, I just sat back and watched the room. I didn't feel like I was the bigger person, or that I had matured more. What I did realize was that I have reached a point in my life where I know that I can't control the behavior of others, and that I can't hold it against them either. They are who they are. I am who I am. (That's very Popeye-esque, am I right?)

I left at a little after 10PM and headed elsewhere.

And, by the way, can I just say? The gas station attendant at the BP where I stopped to get a Red Bull was taken aback by the fact that I was attending my 10-year reunion.

"You're kidding me, he said. "Let me see your I.D."

I obliged.

"Wow. You look too young to be 10 years out of high school," he said.

"That's awesome of you to say that," I replied.

"It's awesome of you to look so young," he said.

(Okay, so I realize that last response was more awkward than flattering...but I digress.)

Regardless of the perviness factor in the attendant's amazement, it was nice to think that after 10 years I'm not showing my age.

Not so nice to think that I might have left the guy with a boner.

Hey, I'm just sayin'...

nostalgia

2008-09-26T22:36:00.005-05:00

I took this picture 3 years ago in Green Bay, Wisconsin on a road trip with Angela. I could go into all the gory details, but I won't. In short, it was quite the "break out of the mold and find yourself" summer.

I was 24, single for the first time in a long time, and I was pretty darned fearless actually.

I was also really skinny...but I digress.

I guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic as of late. I think it's because I'm still adjusting to things in my life. I'm also coming up on 28, which still seems weird to me.

Sometimes I feel much older. Sometimes I feel much younger. But usually, I feel like I don't know what I'm supposed to feel like at 28. Does that even make sense? I guess it's a matter of coming to grips with the way you imagined your life, and the way it's actually turned out.

And actually? I wouldn't change a thing.

cooked carrots

2008-09-24T11:16:00.003-05:00

I'm probably gonna get some slack for writing this. I mean, I know the past is the past...yadda yadda yadda. Whatever.

But look, I feel like I should note this realization about myself...because it's important...at least to me anyways.

I hate cooked carrots.

Seems like a non sequitur, I know. But really, that fact sparked the basis of my realization yesterday. I will keep this short.

I dated this guy for 2 years. Without going into details, it was bad news and he was completely wrong for me. Completely wrong.

He once cooked me dinner, and as a side dish he made...you guessed it: cooked freaking carrots.

To make matters worse, he cooked them in *gag* orange freaking juice.

My hatred of cooked carrots can be blamed on the odd sweetness the possess once they've been heated, combined with their semi-mushiness. Crap. I'm making myself ill just writing about it.

Add orange juice and you've successfully tripled the effect. So, in essence, you are now eating semi-sweet, orange flavored pieces of, well, if I may be blunt, poop.

It was disgusting. But what's more disgusting...

...I lied and told him they were fabulous. I even suffered through 2 helpings. Why?

Because I didn't want to admit to him, or worse, to myself, that this guy wasn't right for me. I was so concerned about making something impossible actually work, that I completely disregarded my own needs and feelings.

And I did it for two full years after that moment.

I heated up a Lean Cuisine meal yesterday. It contained cooked carrots. I did not know this and took a hefty bite...filling my mouth with those putrid buggers. The rest of my lunch, I managed to eat around them...but as I pushed them out of the way I thought about those carrots cooked in orange juice and I realized how far I'd come.

And I just wanted to put this out there:

A.B., your stupid orange juice carrots sucked...horribly. They were not yummy. I would not eat them in a box. I would not eat them with a fox.

whiting, indiana is like living in a gas chamber

2008-09-22T15:25:00.003-05:00

I've been a lifelong resident of Whiting, IN. With all the factories within and near the city, it's hard to escape the stinky air. Sometimes it smells like sulfur, sometimes it smells like soap, sometimes is smells like burning corn, and in the past, it smelled like roofing asphalt (a scent I've now come to associate with fond memories of my childhood).

And sometimes? Sometimes it smelled like a combination of all of the above.

Fact is, there is a lot of pollution in Whiting. Now, I know we've all been assured that any release of chemicals into the air meets the standards of the EPA (at least that's what we're told), but after last night, I'm not convinced.

It used to be a running joke that the brother of an old high school friend of mine was the only one in his troop able to make it through a tear gas test during his basic training. Well, after the foulness I experienced sitting at home, windows open, enjoying a breezy late summer night, I think I might be able to pass that test as well.

It was about 7:30pm, my family and I were watching a movie on the television, when all of a sudden the air just felt thick. It smelled a little like gasoline, chlorine, and that roofing asphalt that I mentioned earlier. Except it wasn't just a smell. About 20 minutes after it started, my nose was stinging and my eyes were burning.

My family started complaining about the pollutant as well, talking about the same symptoms.

About an hour or so later, it was so bad that I could actually TASTE the noxious fumes. My mouth became slightly pasty, and my eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. And still, my nose and eyes were burning.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. It took over four hours for the fumes to dissipate, but unfortunately, whatever they were had already done their damage.

I went to bed with a foul taste in my mouth, sensitive eyes, having trouble breathing.

I woke up the next day (today) lightheaded, queasy, and having a plethora of stomach issues. It is now 3:35pm and I am still feeling very off-kilter.

What I want to know is, what the heck have they been releasing into the air in Whiting, and how can something that has physically made me and my family ill, be acceptable to pump out into the air?

I've dealt with the Whiting pollution for years now, and never have I experienced anything close to this. Never.

I honestly believe that someone should be looking into this. This cannot be healthy. Anything that causes the eyes and nose to burn and then causes illness the next day cannot be a good thing to breathe in, and just shouldn't be allowed to be released that way.

friday, the mustache fairy...sunday, the tooth fairy.

2008-09-22T10:59:00.006-05:00

First and foremost, I'd like to acknowledge my friend Evan who so kindly linked this blog to his blog. Just so you all know, I highly recommend his site/blog at Evan Jacover (dot com!). So check it out.

On a completely different note, Max lost his second tooth in less than 2 weeks. He had saved it to put under his pillow at my house, and unfortunately actually lost the lost tooth somewhere between our garage and the kitchen.

Worried that the Tooth Fairy might not come if the tooth wasn't under his pillow last night, I plotted in true parent fashion.

About 20 minutes after tucking him in, I waltzed into Max's room, cell phone in hand:

Me: So...I couldn't find your tooth.

Max: Are you sure? Where did it go?

Me: I don't know...but...I made a few calls, and I got the Tooth Fairy's voicemail. Left her a message, ya know, letting her know the whole story. I mean, this stuff happens.

Max: Yeah, I'm sure kids lose their lost teeth all the time.

Me: Exactly. So, like I said, I left her a message. She didn't answer...probably out collecting teeth already.

Max: *laughing* You're silly, mom.

Me: It's true. Anyhow, check your pillow in the morning just in case she gets the message tonight. If not, I'm sure she'll get it by tomorrow.

Max: Okay.

We said our second round of goodnights and I love yous, and I tucked him in to bed. (Of course, 20 minutes later he was downstairs prancing around in his Spiderman underwear, asking for another glass of water...)

I waited a few hours before traipsing to my mom's scrapbooking room where I proceeded to cut out a tooth made of light blue paper. And then I wrote this note (disguising my handwriting):

Dear Max,

I got the message your mom left about your lost lost tooth! Don't worry, these things happen. If you find it, just give it to your mom and I will pick it up. Here's two dollars just for you!

Love,
The Tooth Fairy.

I tied a blue ribbon and then taped the $2.00 onto the tooth, and slipped it under his pillow.

When he woke up this morning, I reminded him to check...just in case. I waited for him in the bathroom, about 5 minutes later he came walking into the room with a giddy little, "I have something to show you!" face.

Me: Did the Tooth Fairy come last night?

Max: Yeeeeeessssss.

Me: Oh good then! She got the message! Hey, what's that?

Max handed me the note. And of course, I went into making a huge deal out of it. Max stood there slightly embarrassed, I think. But a little proud too.

And as I watched him, I wondered if, at 8 years old, I had still managed to fool him...or, if he knew that it was actually me trying to hold on to his childhood a little longer, and I was the one with the wool pulled over my eyes.

And even if that is the case? Well, God bless him for being so sweet.

moustache day

2008-09-19T16:08:00.004-05:00

Today was Mustache Day at work.

This was what I brought to the table.

Of course, this was before my work logo, a set of keys, and Jimmy Hoffa found their way inside the 'stache.

wrong way hole

2008-09-17T12:12:00.005-05:00

Whatever you do...

...don't put it in the Wrong Way Hole.
(At least not without permission...)

Now that's priceless advice. Right?

Right.

stupid mcafee siteadvisor

2008-09-15T16:49:00.002-05:00

So apparently there's a glitch with McAfee SiteAdvisor and Blogger---meaning if you have SiteAdvisor on and you try to visit a .blogspot.com site? Well, you get a scary, red, phishing warning.

So I wrote them:

Unfortunately, today every single Blogger account is coming back as a phishing hazard through SiteAdviser...including my OWN blog.

Can somebody tell me what's going on here? I like that SiteAdvisor warns me about phishing issues, unfortunately it's gone a little overboard. I'm not going to add EVERY SINGLE BLOGGER url to my Do Not Warn list. It's annoying, and I'm sure my readers have stopped going to my blog now that your software has sufficiently scared them into thinking that my simple blog is some type of phishing threat. I hope that if this is a glitch, you'll be fixing it soon and I hope you'll go on the record and let people know not to worry about all those blogs that they think they can't read now.

If you've had this problem, realize I am not phishing for your info. *lol*

*le sigh*

weird menu items: part one

2008-09-15T11:09:00.003-05:00

Jeff and I go to a lot of family restaurants which has lead me to notice something about family restaurant menus: They contain some pretty entertaining typos and meal choices. Take the above for example. "Sophie's Choice."

?????

Now, I have never actually seen the movie or read the book Sophie's Choice, however, I know what it's about. If you don't, I welcome you to read the synopsis here (but keep in mind, it will spoil the movie for you): Sophie's Choice Synopsis

If you don't want to ruin the movie for yourself, here's the drift:

Holocaust
Concentration Camps
A mother and two children in an impossible situation
Death

(That's a REALLY watered down list of things involved in the movie.)

So naming a menu item Sophie's Choice? Darkly funny and quite unappetizing. Brilliant.

singin' in the rain

2008-09-14T19:53:00.002-05:00

It's been raining since Friday...so during a break from Max teaching me how to play Guitar Hero (and royally handing me my ass), I did a little karaoke.

sitemeter is annoying me today

2008-09-14T10:22:00.002-05:00

So, for the past month or so, my statistics tracking site, Sitemeter, has been touting a new look and new features...the whole nine yards.

They informed us that they'd be offline on Saturday, September 13th as they moved their site and data. So all weekend so far, I have been waiting with bated breath to check my site stats.

Unfortunately, so many people are suffering Sitemeter withdrawals that it's blocking up the "Migration" login site (for those of us who already had accounts and are switching them to the new sitemeter.) In other words, it's too busy to get in and I'm ready to pull my hair out!

I'll keep trying I guess. And, I'll also come up with a more interesting post later on today...I promise.

google strikes again!

2008-09-11T11:22:00.005-05:00

I've learned three things over the past two days:

1.) This blog is getting more popular in terms of Google searches. This morning I checked my Sitemeter to find that someone from Jonesboro, Georgia had found my blog by searching Google for "dunkin donuts vanilla chai".

If you search about 4 or 7 entries down you'll find my entry on my first week at JV.
(It changes. One time Daily Randonimity was 4th, then is was 6th or 7th...but whatever.)

2.) People search for a lot of random things; and typically it's those random things that lead them to my blog. You would think they'd find it by searching for my name, or where I work, or even the blog title itself. But no. They find it completely at random...which means that I've aptly named my blog. Woo hoo!

3.) Even though Dunkin Donuts is a pretty darned popular establishment, more websites use some combination of the words "how to make your hair look like George Washington in the pool" as keywords, than "dunkin donuts vanilla chai." (Although upon a check just now, Daily Randonimity was the last listing on the first search page. Success! Note: This is only because I put that exact phrase in my post yesterday. It links to yesterday's post...not the actual post on George Washington pool hair...but still.)

See? Web analytics can be fun.

this blog is a google keyword search result

2008-09-10T13:21:00.004-05:00

About a month ago, I posted a blog highlighting a late-night, post Pierogifest Pool party.

Today Sitemeter informed me that someone from Brooklyn, NY found my blog by searching for "how to make your hair look like George Washington in the pool."

At 8:30 this morning, this blog was still the #1 result.

Unfortunately, that's not the case anymore. Pity.

I'll keep you posted on this very important discovery.

sometimes they write themselves...

2008-09-07T11:29:00.003-05:00

Saw this while driving into work last week.

Now, I realize that there are a million jokes here; however, I will leave the captions and wisecracks to you.

But I will say this: I'm sorry for the raindrops in the picture. Although I think it's sort of funny how it almost seems as though the environment is censoring the picture.

oh mr. coffee...

2008-09-06T11:21:00.001-05:00

A few months ago, our old coffee maker decided to spaz out on us at work. I had noticed that we had Mrs. Tea sitting on the shelf in a very lonely condition, so I suggested that we replace our broken coffee maker (which was not a Mr. Coffee...) with a Mr. Coffee.

I felt that the previous situation was mildly adulterous.

So, our office manager went out and, upon my suggestion, picked up our new coffee maker: a genuine Mr. Coffee.

Unfortunately, though the thing makes a nice cup of java, the carafe is prone to spills. Doesn't matter how you hold the thing, or how slowly you pour; inevitably, while preparing a cup of coffee or filling up the machine, you will create a large puddle on the counter top.

I recently went in the kitchen to find that my coworker, Chris, had aptly renamed and relabeled the machine: Mr. Spilly.

I should add that shortly after we brought in Mr. Spilly, we threw out Mrs. Tea. This could be the reason for his unsavory behavior...but I digress.

skinny jeans!

2008-09-04T18:09:00.004-05:00

So, last night I decided to go balls out and try on my skinny jeans. It was a pivotal decision. I mean, did I run the risk of feeling good about the fact that 5 pounds have released themselves from my ass, only to find that my skinny jeans would refuse to be pulled up over my calves?

Or did I hold out another week or so, in the hopes that by then they would fit?

After weighing my options, I decided to try them on---for shits and giggles.

Lo and behold, they not only came up over my butt with *minor* issue, but they actually buttoned and zipped. I mean, sure, they're snug, but they fit much better than they have in almost a year. A YEAR.

As I looked myself over in the mirror, it was like a new wave of confidence came over me. Suddenly, more clothes in my closet looked appealing. I mean, even though the skinny jeans still give me a *slight* muffin top, it was like I was a new person.

I found myself packing tops in my overnight bag that just a week ago I had written off forever. Surely when paired with these skinny jeans, these jeans that have faded to just the right color and hug my butt in a way that shows her off in all of her glory, those tops that I wouldn't have dreamed of wearing would now not only be acceptable, but flattering.

I mean, we'll have to see about that of course, but I did wear my skinny jeans to work today. And yes, they're more snug than my usual variety, but I can breathe and digest without issue. Also, I've noticed that their current state of tightness is just right for holding every jiggly part up and in, making walking around (or movement in general) a much more pleasant experience.

I don't think it's the fact that I'm thinner when I can fit into these jeans. I think it's more the fact that these jeans and I have formed a bond. And for a while, that bond was broken.

But now? Now I'm even more motivated to continue my quest for a trimmer figure and a healthy lifestyle.

So, in hindsight, risking the the loss of my motivation was ultimately the right choice.

(Of course, had they not fit, it might be a different story...)

Also, took an interesting picture on the way to work today. Will post it very soon.

leetle tiny blog...

2008-09-02T23:27:00.006-05:00

I must admit: I have nothing witty, smart, interesting, or even boring to report today.

I'm sitting here at Jeff's, drinking wine and relaxing, excited for him to get home so we can catch up on Season One of Mad Men and begin Season Two.

That show is fantastic. And...I think I've found my doppelganger...sort of.

Well, you be the judge:

Elizabeth Moss (AKA "Peggy" on Mad Men) :

And me (AKA, um...me):

(I'm on the left, in the gold...)

Okay...so this is not the best picture of me. As a matter of fact, it's pretty awful...just check my pit stain. Hot.

But I'll tell you this much: When I took this picture? It was 2005...and I was wearing my skinny jeans...

and you're telling me i don't have enough experience?!

2008-09-01T11:59:00.004-05:00

Back in my job hunt days, my lack of experience in copywriting made it difficult for me to even get a response. Sure, my writing skills in terms of the advertising world weren't polished, but I don't think that makes me any less of a writer.

Luckily, I found a job that I adore and that tests me every day. One that helps me prove to myself that what I bring to the table is pretty darn delicious.

Even so, there are times when I have to roll my eyes at my past experiences looking for writing jobs.

I present to you, Exhibit A:

If I had been writing this ad, I would have made it perfectly clear that they got married...and now they have 5 kids. As opposed to writing it in a way that suggests that these two lovely folks have tied the knot,and now you must procreate 5 times.

I'm just sayin'.

baggy jeans

2008-08-29T20:45:00.003-05:00

I couldn't bear to not write an entry for more than a day. I've been supremely busy this week, but I just wanted to give you something---anything---to update you until I have time to write (and podcast) a proper blog:

The jeans I'm wearing today (which just so happen to be borderline "too tight" most days), are officially baggy.

Now, I'm well aware that the bagginess is one part eating better and exercising (sort of...) and one part haven't washed said jeans in a day or so and have been in them for over eight hours...

...but that second part? Yeah, it's a lot smaller:

the plan

2008-08-27T20:32:00.002-05:00

Here's the plan for tonight:

1.) Leave work by 10pm

2.) Drive home--remember to enjoy Lake Shore Drive at night...it'll make the drive feel shorter.

3.) Arrive home, check for spiders near the front door, struggle with key---all the while fearing that a face-eating spider is slowly creeping up behind you, next to you, above you (cripes! They're EVERYWHERE!).

4.) Frustratedly open the door. Let out a huff. Probably say "Jeebus Chrisssssse..." under breath (but loud enough to really express discontent).

5.) Fumble through the dark to find the light switch, any light switch, all the while carefully avoiding glass coffee table.

6.) Flip on dining room light, although actually wanting to flip on the kitchen light. Remind self of which switch is which. Forget which switch is which in about 5 minutes.

7.) Plop purse on counter/chair/table/floor---whichever's closest.

8.) Pee. This is inevitable after the amount of water and coffee consumed today.

9.) Come up with ways to justify that the pizza you ate for dinner (Hey. It was free Lou Mal's...), does not count as cheating on your diet. Remember that you only had one piece...even though you thought you wanted two.

10.) Turn on radio. Probably something AM. Remember how fast 30 is approaching.

11.) Walk into kitchen. Pour a glass of wine, wait, no, have a beer. Wait. A margarita. Go to computer, check which option will be less detrimental to your diet. Choose that one, all the while knowing you'll still have a margarita, too.

12. Fill up bath tub. Use Jeff's shampoo to make bubbles.

13. Top off wine glass.

14. Soak in a nice, relaxing bath.

15. Towel off, put on pj's, have a cigarette on the back porch. (There are no spiders out there. Well, none that I can see, at least.)

16. If Jeff's home, give him a big kiss. If he's not; try to stay awake just a little bit longer.

17. Get some much-needed (and well-deserved) sleep...

...start all over in the morning.

(Podcast coming shortly.)

crazy day

2008-08-26T13:13:00.006-05:00

So, my wisdom tooth cracked. This caused my tongue to swell up and my jaw to feel like a cow had just kicked me in the face.

Not fun.

And wouldn't you figure it happened during one of the busiest times of my life to date.

So I took a trip to the oral surgeon this morning and found out that in addition to needing the sucker yanked out, I also have an infection.

Yay.

Of course, the initial plan was to get a consultation, and then drive into work. That didn't happen. Figuring that the effects of an infection in my jaw would not be good, I thought it best to stop into Walgreens to pick up my prescription and be on my way.

I should have known by the percentage of slow drivers and oblivious pedestrians on the way to the pharmacy that the rest of my day wasn't going to go as smoothly as planned. After waiting for what seemed like 10 minutes for a driver to get a "primo spot" in the Walgreens parking lot (for chrissakes, it's Walgreens...the farthest you'll have to walk is 10 goddamned feet...), I wrestled my way through the door.

It smelled like a goddamned fart in there.

I hurried through the noxious cloud of ass puff, only to be told that my prescription would take 40 minutes.

I had 2 options.

1. Go to Chicago and turn back around to pick up my prescription before 10pm, and then head back into Chicago.

or 2. Call work, see if I could work from home until my prescription was ready and head into work.

After calling, we all decided that 2 would be my best option. I mean, I don't think anybody wants my jaw to explode right now.

I went home, did some work and headed off to Walgreens to pick up my prescription, nervously wondering if the place would still smell like a public restroom at an IBS convention.

Click here to listen to the Podcast of this entry!

oh skinny jeans. why hast thou decievest me?

2008-08-25T14:50:00.006-05:00

So, I'm dieting again.

Not really, dieting, per say...but watching what I eat and investing in a shitload of 100 Calorie Snack packs and meat that really isn't meat.

Why? Because 30 pounds ago I felt fit. But now? Now, more often than not, I feel bloated and unstylish. When you can't fit into 70% of your wardrobe, usually that means that you've resorted to wearing worn out t-shirts and unflattering jeans.

This is true in my case. So true, in fact, that my last pair of hip jeans are officially too small.

This is unheard of.

I mean, my skinny jeans and I have had a love-hate relationship for about 2 years now. But there was always that one pair of jeans that, even if my gut, ass, and hips had outgrown my skinny jeans, well, that other pair of cute jeans still fit.

And I'll be damned if I tried to try them on over the weekend and I couldn't get them over my knees.

So, I've decided to lose the weight. 30 pounds. This is kind of a big deal, because in addition to a slimmer waistline, I will also be losing my butt and *gasp* my boobs.

But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make, because honestly? I don't want a new wardrobe. I have plenty of clothes...they just don't fit. Or, if I do manage to squeeze them on, they cut off all circulation below the waist AND make digesting food near impossible do to their restrictive nature on my intestines.

So that's the scoop. But you know what's great? I actually eat MORE when I'm dieting than when I'm not. Why? Because to keep your metabolism working, you need to eat more frequent (albeit smaller) meals throughout the day.

I've eaten 3 times already and I still have 2 snacks and a meal to go. Woo hoo!

Also, I'm going to start exercising.

Today, I set my alarm for 6am in order to do a free workout on Comcast On Demand. Unfortunately, I couldn't pull my sleepy ass out of bed.

The good news? The biceps on my right arm are going to be bulging from hitting the snooze button for the better part of an hour.

Hey...

...it's a start.

One more thing: I am going to start a podcast of this blog very soon. I realize that sometimes, well, you just don't feel like reading. But more on that later.

I have a snack to eat.

Click here to listen to the Podcast of this entry!

150 million bucks...and all i have to do is what?

2008-08-23T15:19:00.005-05:00

So, checked my email this morning and found one of those "My client in Somalia needs you to invest 456 gabajillion dollars on his behalf" emails.

It's from Barrister Paul "Paulie" (I like to call him Paulie) Graham and it reads:

Barrister Paul Graham
Law Practice UK
Glasgow
Scotland

Hello,

Pardon my invading your privacy. I am Barrister Paul Graham (Managing Partner) Barrister, advocate, Solicitor of LLP Law Practice UK, located in Glasgow Scotland. Born January 2, 1960; admitted, 1984. Education: LL.B, Phd. 1979. Practice Areas: Business Law Company; Commercial; Employment; Family Law; Intellectual Property; Real Estate; Wills, Trusts and Tax. I have a legitimate business offer for you. I want to know if you will like to help my client invest in your country and get rewarded financially without leaving or neccessarily affecting your present job.

I represent Mrs. Ljiljana Zelen Karadzic, wife of Radovan Karadzic, former Serbian leader, who has just been extradited to face genocide and war crime charges in the Hague, the Netherlands, herein after shall be referred to as my client and it is on her instruction that I am doing all that I am doing now. She is looking for a foreign individual or a corporate body that can profitably invest $150,000,000.00 (One Hundred and Fifty Million US Dollars) on Real Estates outside Serbia.

Most importantly, you will be required to invest these funds on real estates preferably in your country of residence outside of Serbia. Mrs. Ljiljana Zelen Karadzic, herein after shall be referred to as my client, is willing to reward you with 30% for your partnership role. Trust me; this is once in a life time opportunity and I bet you can't afford to miss this. The said funds,$150,000,000{One Hundred and Fifty Million USD} is presently kept in a safe vault in a Private Finance Company in Serbia, and needs to be re-profiled for immediate transfer. Hence you will be expected to liase with the finance company as regard the release of the funds to you and subsequently invest in Real Estate and Property for her in your country on her behalf.

If you prefer to be re-contacted for more express information, Write back promptly at: paulgrahamllp@hush.ai At the receipt of your interest to partner this project with me and my client, I will send you a detail email as regards the procedures to be followed to achieve this objective.

I am looking forward to your reply correspondence as my response with more information on this profiting offer will be swift back to you.

Sincerely,

Barrister Paul Graham
LLP Law Practice UK
Glasgow
Scotland

Well holy cow. 150 million US DOLLARS? I decided to write back...I mean, the real estate market has been iffy this year...I thought it best to give him a few better suggestions. And the fact that he was only 19 when he got his PhD? Man, this guy must be a genius! I mean, really. Eat it Doogie Howser!

Here is my reply. (I can't wait until he writes me back so we can get this ball rolling!) :

Dearest Barrister Paul Graham:

I am so happy that you contacted me! January 2nd was your birthday, eh? Well happy freakin' belated birthday my man! I should buy you a beer next time I'm in Glasgow! You know, hang at the pub, meet some sexy kittens, have a real swingin' time! But I'm digressing. I mean, this is serious business.

So your client, Ljiljana, needs my help, is that right? Well, let me give her my first piece of advice: nobody needs 2 useless "J"s in the spelling of her name. No, hear me out for a minute. I mean, look, it's obvious her name is pronounced "Lilliana" so why go through the hassle of inserting useless consonants? For christ sakes, her hubby's on trial for freakin' genocide. I'm sure the last thing she really wants to deal with are jerkwads mispronouncing her name. Am I right? AM I RIGHT?!

I'm right.

As for her wanting to invest in "Real Estates" outside of Serbia, Look Paulie (can I call you Paulie? Great). So look, Paulie, I'm going to be frank with you here...the real estate market in the states these days? Not so good my friend. I mean, I could take that money and buy a few trailer parks, maybe a nice crack house or two, but I'm telling you...the return on your investments (which herein after shall be referred to as ROI) is gonna be for shit. No really.

So allow me to make a suggestion or two.

Suggestion 1: Invest in meats on sticks. Hear me out, Paulie. I mean, you're probably saying, "Is this American woman crazy?!" But look, we crazy Americans love to eat meats on sticks. It's portable, affordable, and just damn cool. Could you imagine what 150 million dollars could do for the meat on a stick industry??? Foot-long corn dogs??? Think out of the box, Paulie! How about Yard-stick corn dogs! On ACTUAL YARDSTICKS! Christ, I'm drooling already! And your ROI? Ho-ly shit. People pay at least 3 bucks for a nice kabob these days. A yard-stick of meat? Our out-of-pocket might be----MIGHT BE---4 or 5 bucks. We charge a flat $12 per stick and these people could feed the whole family---twice. And then, when they're done, they could measure things. I am actually blowing my own mind right now, Paulie. Hoo-wee, you have contacted the right girl.

Suggestion 2: Squirrel Farming. We set up custom traps, and our squirrels are basically free. Take them back to the ranch and it's all the squirrel milk you could ever want. And squirrel milk is projected to be a hot commodity in the next 2 to 3 years.

Suggestion 3: Beta Max video tapes. VHS has nothing on Beta. Trust me.

Suggestion 4: Clowns. Need I say more, Paulie? Eh? EH?! Christ, the transportation costs ALONE would be so cheap. I mean, one Smart Car for every 45 clowns? Brilliantly ridiculous.

So those are my suggestions to Lejiliajjajjanijaji about investing that stack of cash she's got stored in a vault. Which, by the way, can I just say, is not a good idea? She'd be much better off cataloging shoe boxes or re-stuffing her mattress with those bones. Vaults are highly overrated.

I really want you to be "swift back to" me on my ideas. Let me know if they work for you so we can work together on this matter.

Also, "neccessarily" is only spelled with one "C", my man: necessarily. You should talk to your college or University or mail-order degree program about that. They really did you wrong.

Thanks Paulie Graham Cracker! I look forward to more details!!!

Sincerely,

Swanky B. Parsnips

fridays, roof tops, and why are the blue angels so late?!

2008-08-22T15:00:00.001-05:00

Last Friday, the Chicago Air and Water show kicked off. Luckily, at work we had access to the building's rooftop. So at around 3pm, we decided to take a little break from our busy schedules and catch the Blue Angels' portion of the show. Love those freaking Blue Angels!

Unfortunately, the Blue Angels were a tad bit late. But as we waited we were able to see 15 people jump out of a plane with red smoke shooting from their shoes.

I snapped a lot of cool photos that afternoon. As you can see, in this one Chris is explaining something important via the use of jazz hands.

Either that or he was trying to high-five one of the Blue Angel pilots. (I mean, they were close...but not that close.)

I was just trying not to fall off the building.

oh syntax!

2008-08-22T00:01:00.003-05:00

Since Chicago's installed these push-button Emergency-Generation Machines, I'll never again find myself asking, "Where's an emergency when you need one?"

i'm a mush

2008-08-21T11:53:00.004-05:00

I was getting something out of the closet the other day at Jeff's house, when I noticed his clothes just chillin' on their hangers.

I took a step back and looked at the collared shirts, and the slacks, and the pajama pants on the top shelf. (I usually manage to steal a pair or two of those pj pants for a few months before he even notices they're missing. Now, his socks? I steal a pair of those and it's like he's got some kind of damn radar! But I digress...)

But looking at all of his clothes, I just got all mushy and sentimental, like, "This is all of my baby's stuff. All organized and pressed, just hanging there, waiting to be worn."

Maybe it's weird, but when he's at work and I'm home alone, sometimes I walk to the closet and take a quick peek at his shirts. I guess it just comforts me a little.

That and he's got this one shirt that has these flaming mutant pineapples on it--which totally makes me laugh.

new digs

2008-08-20T12:36:00.001-05:00

The games division at work moved upstairs, which resulted in a mass migration downstairs where I'm stationed with the other writer/directors. So here's my new desk.

And yes...that is, in fact, a gigantic Twinkie.

not very appetizing...

2008-08-18T12:23:00.003-05:00

So, I was perusing the JV kitchen for lunch the other day when I found a brown jar of B&M tucked away in the back corner of a cabinet. (Apparently, B&M is baked beans.)

Note: When making a food product that is A.) brown and
B.) known to cause gastrointestinal issues and/or music, so to speak, it's probably best not to name it anything remotely close to "BM." (That ampersand (&) does not make the situation any better, if that's what they were hoping...)

triage?

2008-08-17T12:31:00.001-05:00

I still find this situation disturbing.

acid cigars

2008-08-16T12:22:00.006-05:00

Uh? Don't smoke the brown ones?

you don't know jack

2008-08-14T11:04:00.001-05:00

Check it out:

You Don't Know Jack firm relaunched for the casual era

colorful language

2008-08-13T16:11:00.003-05:00

After an intense day of Back-to-School-the-Day-Before-School-Starts school shopping, I was exhausted, to say the very least.

Max had tried on at least 20 pairs of shoes before I convinced him to go with the Vans on clearance for $15. Apparently, even he knows a bargain when he sees one...which is great.

After pulling in the driveway and carrying 5 bags, my purse, and a travel coffee mug up the back stairs, I used the pinkie finger from my left hand and the middle finger from my right to fumble for the house key. Unfortunately all of that awkward fumbling caused my car key to break loose from its ring and hit the deck.

As the key thumped on the wood, I instinctively shouted, "Shit!"

Then I looked at Max.

"Sorry, Max. Mom shouldn't say things like that."

He looked up at me and gave me an understanding nod---and forgiveness for my foul mouth. I mean, it's rare I drop a curse word in front of him, but it happens. Heck, when we play video games, inevitably a "damn" or a "shit" will pop out, especially when Mario fails to make a jump for the 18379384th time.

That's when Max will say, "Mom! You're not supposed to say that word." And that's when I humbly apologize, and he says, "That's okay."

But it got me thinking. I remember the very first time I let the word "shit" slip from my juvenile mouth---right in front of my dad. We were in the 87 Dodge Caravan, driving up the street to somewhere I can't remember. I was probably 11 or so, and I remember being introduced to Razzles candies that day---you know, those candies that magically turn into gum?

I had been chewing on a few pieces that afternoon. So sure, they go from candy to gum, but what my friends failed to mention was that if you chew them for too long, they also magically disintegrate into stringy, lumpy, slime. And as we were going down the street, that's exactly what happened. One minute gum, and in a split second, a mouthful of fruit-flavored, rainbow-colored bird poop.

So, I quietly muttered, "Shit."

For a moment, the interior of the car started spinning, my face got hot, and my ears began to buzz.

Did I just cuss? In front of my dad?!?! Did he hear me? What the hell am I going to do with this mouthful of lumpy stew?

My dad kept on driving. He didn't say a word. But for the next few years, I didn't utter a bad word in front of my parents again.

But during that part of life, that part when there are words that you're not supposed to say and really aren't allowed to say? It's sort of breathtaking. Think about it. When you said them around your friends, out of ear shot of parents, teachers, or other adults, you felt sort of empowered. I mean, you could almost taste those words...and they were delicious.

And then, at some point, they became words that you still weren't supposed to say, but could say if and when you needed to.

At six, I was allowed to say "dang." (Turns out, I could have been saying it all along. But I'd heard my babysitter say it and just assumed it was a bad word...so one day, I just asked and ended up getting the go ahead.)

At twelve, I was allowed to say "crap" whenever I wanted.

At sixteen, I could get by with "hell", "damn", "piss", and the occasional "shit." I could even say "bitch" so long as it wasn't in reference to my mother.

And, even though my friends and I had been saying it for a few years already, by 18, I could drop the mother of all curse words--the F-bomb--in front of my parents. (But I gotta tell you, even though I was allowed to say it, it took a long time to not feel the way I did years before in the back of the family van that day my candy turned to troll snot.)

I guess it's sort of a coming of age thing. A rite of passage of sorts.

But sometimes I wish I could taste those words again, back when they were juicy, forbidden fruits still ripening on the vines of my vocabulary.

No shit.

hey, jerkass…what about my freakin’ order?

2008-08-11T14:43:00.004-05:00

Now, I’m not one to complain about restaurant service, and for the sake of it being my first time at a certain establishment, I will not mention its name in my blog. However, if I end up going there again, and I happen to receive the same treatment? Well, it’s going on my shit list for all 5 of you readers to see.

So what happened? I’m not sure what to call it really. Blatant rudeness? Poor customer service? Borderline discrimination?

I honestly have no idea. What I do know is that I felt really disrespected and hurt when it happened.

For lunch today, a bunch of us headed to [restaurant name withheld] for lunch. I’d never been there before and it looked pretty decent. Plus, Peapod hadn’t made a delivery yet, so I was starving.

I offered to buy my coworker, B, lunch because she so graciously pitched in for me last week. We walked up to the counter together, and I let her know she could order first. She was ordering a wrap of some kind, and I wasn’t sure what exactly she wanted on it, so I thought it best to let her go ahead.

After she told the guy that she wanted the Wasabi Tuna Wrap, there was a pause and I began to say, “And I’ll have th—“

He cut me off without even looking at me. You know how someone shoots you a look to as if to say they'll be right with you? Yeah. That totally didn't happen.

Nope. He just bulldozed over my words—like he couldn’t possibly be bothered with them.

He proceeded to ask B what she wanted on her wrap.

B: “Lettuce, no mayo or mustard, and no tomatoes.”
Order-Taker-Guy: “Is that all?”
B: “Yup.”

B then looked over at me as if to signal to the Order-Taker-Guy that it was my turn to add on to the order.

Once again I started, “And I’ll have the five-cheese sli—“

The guy walked completely away from the counter and back toward the kitchen—once again without even so much as looking at me.

I turned to B, “Apparently I’m invisible today.”

For a split second I thought about not ordering at all. What horrible customer service. I mean, really. Did he find me appallingly unattractive? Was I too chubby? Did I look funny? Did I remind this guy of an ex-girlfriend who had stomped all over his heart before proceeding to swallow it whole, only to pass it three days later and flush it down the toilet?

What was worse? He didn’t even ask my name. He had placed B’s order on a separate order ticket and handed it to one of the cooks. When he took my order, he rushed through it, let the cashier know I was paying for both orders, and didn’t bother to put my name on the ticket.

I felt horrible to say the least. It was like he didn’t want to be bothered with me. I felt ugly and out of place. I honestly did. I mean, I sort of felt mildly worthless. Like I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, I-don’t-know-what enough.

It was awful.

I stood at the counter waiting for my food to come up so I could just get the hell out of there. The whole time I just kept thinking about how awful this guy’s attitude toward me had made me feel. I thought about giving him the benefit of the doubt, I mean, it was lunch and there were about 7 of us placing orders.

But I thought about the attention he gave B and the care he took with her order. Why didn’t I deserve the same care? It was just bad business.

As I walked out with my salad and my pizza, I thought about how I never wanted to go back there again. I’m sure some day I will, but no time soon.

And besides…the food? Well…it wasn’t that spectacular anyways.

what's a matzo wit you?

2008-08-08T17:19:00.002-05:00

Took Max to The Whistler for dinner not too long ago. Jeff ordered the matzo ball soup. When it came to the table, Max looked confused.

Max: What's that?
Jeff: It's a matzo ball.
Max: What's a mazzo ball?
Jeff: It's well, it's a ball of dough. In soup.
Max: Oh. Can I try it?
Jeff: Sure.

Max proceeded to finish off most of the soup.

At the table behind us a couple both ordered corned beef sandwiches and got snippy with the waitress complaining that the corned beef was "old." The nice waitress offered them a different menu item, but they remained grumpy and declared that they were leaving.

As they huffed across the parking lot to their car, no doubt complaining about their experience...and no doubt still hungry, I looked down at my plate. I'd ordered The Iron Duke, which was basically roast beef, lettuce, onions, and some packets of horseradish. (The menu had said, "covered in a horseradish sauce." Apparently that meant AFTER I opened the packets and covered the sandwich myself?)

I squeezed on the horseradish and took a bite, relived that I hadn't ordered the Reuben as I had initially planned.

Max asked for more matzo ball soup.

cultured

2008-08-07T10:57:00.003-05:00

The first movie theater Jeff and I saw a movie at together is just a few minutes from his house, near Lincoln Ave.

We saw Slither there about 2 years ago after a nice meal at Lou Mal's. Back then, it must have been owned by a big movie theater company because it showed all the latest releases...and had an ample parking lot.

Not too long ago, it was sold to someone else, and I'm guessing it was an individual or a family, mainly because the parking lot was not sold with the building. That's right, there's no where to park if you want to see a movie. Well, there is...a few blocks and a hike across a bridge away.

And yes, a police car is stationed near the theater to ticket anyone who parks within a reasonable walking distance.

We drove past this theater recently, to see that, in addition to the mainstream blockbusters, the theater is now showing what I assume are movies popular to either the owners' or the local demographic?

So I did a little research. Turns out Mehbooba and Thoda Pyar (it's actually spelled "Pyaar." Good to see that even after an ownership change, there are still mistakes being made on the marquis) are Bollywood offerings.

Wiki pages are helpful, I know...but video clips are better:

Thoda Pyaar Thoda Magic:

This one actually looks pretty good. And if they had subtitles, I'd probably go see it.

And here's the trailer for Mehbooba:

But apparently, it's a remake? Not sure. Here's some footage from "Mehbooba" from 1976:

I think it's pretty cool, actually. (Despite the fact that yes, I laughed when I saw the word "boob" in big black letters on the marquis...what can I say? I'm still somewhat of an adolescent when it comes to body parts.)

But what I can't understand is, why is Momma Mia under new management?

And why do people interested in group sales need to call Hancock?

post-pierogi pool party

2008-08-06T10:55:00.005-05:00

When I was in grade school, my friend Jackie taught me how to make a George Washington hairdo in the pool. That was over 17 years ago, and to this day I find it equally as hilarious as the first time.

Basically, all you have to do is dunk your head under, and flip all of your hair in front of your face. When you come up, you'll look a bit like Cousin It. When you come out of the water, before you toss your head back, take the ends of your hair and flip your hair up and voila!

You are Washington.

It's also funny because the guys at work showed me this: Washington, Washington.

Why am I bringing all of this up? (And more importantly, why am I allowing you to see such a horrendous picture of me?) Because after Pierogifest, my friends and I decided that the bars were too crowded (one even closed early and only a select few [not us] were allowed to go in and pay for over-priced drinks...sheesh, the nerve!), and we were overheated.

The solution? Free beer and swimming at my house. So we jumped in in t-shirts and underwear and drank (free) Fosters, Leinie's, and Old Style. We even called in to 103.5 Kiss FM (it was the only commercial-free station that came in clear on my radio with the broken antenna).

Actually, Angela called and here's what she said:

"This is Angela from [sometown], Indiana! Pierogifest woo! We're swimming naked [note: we really weren't] and drinking beer! Beer! Pierogies! Yay! What happens at Pierogifest stays at Pierogifest! George Washington is here!"

(Me into the phone: "I'm George Washington. I'm drinkin' and I'm swimming naked and I love Pierogies! Washington! yay!")

Angela again: "Woo hoo! Oh yeah, and Melissa has a sweet pussy!"

Click. (What's more? Angela actually hung up...not the DJ. Mission accomplished.)

About an hour later, the DJ played the call.

Well, sort of...

Kiss FM: DJ: "Hey girl what's up?"
Angela: "This is Angela from [sometown], Indiana!"
Kiss FM DJ: "And what's goin' on tonight, girl?
Angela: "It's Pierogifest and we're drinking beer and swimming naked!"
Kiss FM DJ: "Aw girl, you wilin' out! (laughing)"
Angela: "What happens at Pierogifest stays at Pierogifest!"
Kiss FM DJ: "All right, girl! You guys are crazy! Have fun! Kiss FM" (Cue some remix of a song they played 30 minutes before.)

Wait. Hold up.
They edited out George Washington.
(Some might argue this goes against all things patriotic...)

...damn censorship.

free hbo?

2008-08-04T11:37:00.002-05:00

I've driven past a few shady hotel/motels in my life, but this is the first time one shared the same name as my reaction upon seeing it...

Oh...mi...

I wonder if they have a "4-hour nap" special...

the great muppet disaster

2008-08-03T13:04:00.005-05:00

A few weekends ago, Jeff decided to wash some old puppets from his childhood that he found in storage. Years of being cramped in a box in a damp storage unit had given the old puppets a rather mildewy aroma.

Most of the puppets were hand-made, and they were all over 20 years old. In other words, they we're really...REALLY fragile.

As I sat on the couch watching TV with Max, Jeff walked over to the washing machine to pull the puppets out of the washer and put them in the dryer. As he opened up the lid, I heard a shocked gasp, then a thoughtful pause, until finally Jeff burst into a fit of laughter.

ME: "What happened?!"
Jeff: "Oh...no." (laughing)
Me: "You didn't put the puppets in a pillow case before you washed them...did you?"
Jeff: "Oh...my...goodness..." (Still laughing)

One by one Jeff pulled out the puppets, some of which had made it through the spin cycle with flying colors, and some that well, as you can see from the above picture...some that didn't fare as well during the Great Muppet Disaster of '08.

ME: "Oh. My. Gosh. (pause) Baby! You killed Kermit!"
Jeff: (laughing and holding up random puppet body parts ) "Get me a towel and the travel sewing kit. This is going to require major surgery."

mini golf

2008-08-01T11:31:00.008-05:00

A few weekends ago, Jeff and I took Max to Skokie for some mini-golf. The theme of their 18-hole putt-putt course has something to do with interesting places around the world. The 17th hole just happened to be Africa.

Unfortunately, in this particular hole, you had to hit the ball into a hippo's mouth, but right in the way was a gigantic plaster elephant.

Luckily, my son Max (above), has no problem doing what it takes to make par for the course. I'm just glad that it wasn't a real elephant...after a heavy lunch.

Also:

What the hell city is this?

In other words, when did the Statue of Liberty move to Chicago?

Oh, Skokie...*shakes head*

love

2008-07-31T11:50:00.004-05:00

This has to be one of the best videos ever. If ever love was caught on camera, it's in this video.

Basically, these people are all listening to the song "First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes---which is the song in the video. (And also, can I just say that the concept for this video is really awesome...I mean, having random people listen to the song and capturing their first reactions? Absolutely brilliant.)

It's hard not to feel all the different types of love that each person (and an animal!) is expressing or reacting to when they hear different parts of the song. It really is beautiful.

And yes...I get choked up...every time.

P.S. Jeff? I love you. ;)

being done

2008-07-30T20:37:00.002-05:00

Usually on Wednesdays I opt to stay in Chicago with Jeff. Of course, once a month I head back to Indiana to join up with the gaggle of girls (and the occasional guy) for karaoke night at the Tap.

Today I decided to stay in Chicago, and all day at work I contemplated calling up a friend to come over for some wine and girl talk. So, I texted her to see what she was up to.

About an hour later, I got her response.

Now let me preface what I'm about to talk about next. See, this friend has a family member who is one of the strongest people I know. And this person has always been my friend's ally, confidante, and overall inspiration.

This person has also been dealing with medical problems since I've known my friend.

When my phone rang with my text ringer, I was expecting either a "What's up?" or "I've got practice." I mean, it was pretty last minute, and my friend is a busy gal these days, bless her heart.

Instead what she wrote struck me. In summary, the text simply said: "i'm at ....'s all night...[they're] basically done...we're making [.....] as comfy as possible until it's time..."

At first I was saddened, and immediately texted back my love and prayers. I didn't want to call and interrupt such a private moment.

Before I closed my phone, I reread my friend's message..."[they're] basically done..."

That line really stood out to me. Of course, in simple terms it refers to the end of life. But I thought about it on a deeper level. There's something beautiful about that line.

Done.

Done with worry, done with pain, done with the pieces of the world that make us hurt, make us cry, make us wonder what the point is, or make us wonder some people do such horrible things to one another.

I think my friend put it in such a beautiful way. It's not that life is all bad, or that it isn't worth it. I think it's the exact opposite. I think it's about this crazy journey with ups and downs and curves and turns. I think it's about beauty and about ugliness. It's about absorbing everything around us. It's about experience. It's about learning. It's about succeeding...and failing. It's about laughter. It's about philosophizing. It's about everything.

But like all things, there will be a point when we're done. And then it's off to something new and different. (For the record, I don't believe that once this life is over that's it.)

Not done forever. Just done with this. It almost makes it feel like the journey has been won. Like every experience---good and bad---has finally paid off.

This weekend, I looked at my pit of a bedroom and shuddered at the thought of cleaning it all up. For a few hours Sunday evening I toiled, scrubbing, vacuuming, sorting, organizing, doing laundry. Near 11:00pm, I had finished. I looked around at my room, no more a filthy pit of dirty underwear, empty water bottles, and errant shoes. It was peaceful. I couldn't wait to just get into bed and enjoy it. As I hung up the last shirt, I took a deep breath, exhaled and thought to myself, "I'm done."

It was a small accomplishment, a little speck compared to a lifetime lived. But it was freeing.

That line...[they're] basically done...as sad as it is, I think it's very poignant in its simplicity. Because being done with something isn't necessarily a bad thing. Being done with one thing, gives way for something else. And in this case, I'm sure it's a journey without pain and suffering, full of unimaginable beauty.

silly singin' time

2008-07-28T21:16:00.002-05:00

Felt like singing a little Elvis tonight. I just think this song is so cute...so I sang it :)

get, get, get, get busy.

2008-07-28T13:30:00.004-05:00

So, Pierogifest was this weekend in my hometown...which I still live in. At least for part of the week.

Initially I had planned to upload my pictures this morning, but scary dreams of earwigs, flying ants, and poisonous caterpillars that morphed into poisonous kittens, caused me to hit snooze more often than I should have. (Yes, that's right, poisonous kittens.)

So instead of treating you to a nice picture of me impersonating a drunken chicken, or sporting a George Washington hairdo in my pool at 2 in the morning, or of my friends and enormous amounts of beer and ethnic food, today I can only write you to let you know that this week's blog entries involve a lot of hilarious pictures and stories.

Just not right now.

Right now I must do some work-related research.

And also find out what it means to dream of poisonous kittens--I'll definitely keep you posted on that one...

thank you for being a friend

2008-07-22T23:11:00.004-05:00

So, sad news.

Estelle Getty passed away today. You know, Sophia from Golden Girls.

I'd heard the news during a break at work so I sent out a group email informing everyone of the sad news, along with my two cents on how she was a Boomin' Granny.

Fantastically, this resulted in the entire office breaking out into a sing-along of the Golden Girls' theme song. First one person, then a couple more joined in, then more, until finally the entire staff was stylizing the "And if you threw a par-taaaaaaaay, and invited everyone you knew..." lyric, all the way up until the end of the song. Someone even busted out with the final instrumental string.

It was out-of-the-blue and brilliant.

I just wish I would have recorded it.

abundance of energy?

2008-07-16T12:15:00.006-05:00

A funny thing happened on the way to work this morning. I decided to take the Chicago Skyway to save a few minutes. Although I work in the city now, I still haven't purchased an IPass or an IZoom or whatever other tolling product is available.

I mean, I need one but I just haven't gotten around to it yet. So I always have to use the cash lanes and pay my $3.00. Recently, the Skyway made all of the lanes--even cash lanes--accept IPass.

As I drove through today, I handed the toll booth operator a five-dollar bill. He started handing me my change and then stopped and said, "You have an IPass?"

I thought he was making a sales pitch.

"No, I don't." I said politely, still waiting for my change.

Then he mumbled something about the IPass again and started to hand me back my $5. The way it was going, it seemed like I was in the wrong lane and needed an IPass to get through. I told him, "Look, this is a cash lane? Why do I need an IPass to get through?"

He told me he knew that, and that all lanes accept IPass. I told him that I understood that, but that I don't have an IPass.

Then he said, "But it's saying that you do have an IPass."

I looked around my car and assured him that I didn't have an IPass and begged him to take my money. I think my exact words were, "It might be saying that I have an IPass, but I don't. Take my money because I don't want you to get screwed. Really. Take it."

He did, but he looked really confused.

I don't know if he was more confused about the fact that the sensors detected a non-existent IPass, or that I didn't take advantage of the fact that they had made a $3.00 mistake.

streetlamps

2008-07-15T23:09:00.001-05:00

"I'll Find A Way"

I'll find a way to see you again
I'll find a way to see you again

I used to think that anything I'd do
Wouldn't matter at all anyway
But now I find that when it comes to you
I'm the winner of cards I can't play
Wait for me, wait for me
Darling, I need you desperately, desperately here

And I'll find a way to see you again
And I'll find a way to see you again

The rain is like an orchestra to me
Little gifts from above meant to say
Girl, you falling at his feet
Isn't lovely or stunning today
Wait with me, wait with me
I'm alive when you're here with me, here with me, stay

And I'll find a way to see you again
And I'll find a way to see you again

Why do the street lamps die
When you're passing by
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight
If you held me close, would you laugh it away
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay

And I'll find a way to see you again
Yes, I'll find a way to see you again
I'll find a way, a way, a way to see you again
I'll find a way, a way, a way to see you again
I'll find a way, a way, a way to see you again
The rain will bring, the rain will bring, the rain will bring, bring, bring me down
The rain will bring, the rain will bring, the rain will bring, bring, bring me down
The rain will bring, the rain will bring, the rain will bring, bring, bring me down

laundry list

2008-07-14T22:21:00.004-05:00

Okay some things:

1.) Laundry gets me thinking.
2.) I am still very sad and it feels like I've been socked in the gut.
3.) I was wrong about some things.
4.) I've changed my mind about others.
5.) I'm dying my hair in 15 minutes. Stop me now, or forever hold your peace.
6.) Next blog will be about farts. And it will be up in about an hour or two.
7.) Heavy whipping cream makes coffee more delicious than you could even begin to imagine.
8.) Yes, I heard you tonight. And yes, I wanted to pick up the phone.
9.) Always on my mind. In fact, I may start calling you "Georgia."
10.) I like my dad's chicken.
11.) I also like broccoli. Unfortunately, it gives me gas.
12.) There are ashes on my dashboard.
13.) I hooped today. I am a bit out of practice.
14.) A centipede almost knocked me on my ass last night.
15.) I rocked COD2 today.
16.) I can't wait for my eye doctor's appointment Wednesday.
17.) I hope you know that I'm realizing a lot...in a good way.
18.) My hamburger at lunch today tasted mildly like Windex.
19.) I listened to a lot of good, albeit sad music today. Here are the lyrics to two new favorites:
Fireflies
Romeo & Juliet
20.) I miss you more in 24 hours than I ever have. I just want you to know that.
21.) I like bubblegum.
22.) I lost a button on my favorite new pants.
23.) I have veiny hands.
24.) I wish I had a Tootsie Pop.
25.) I don't care what anybody says...RC cola is the best. Period.

bye, bye, blondie

2008-07-14T10:54:00.003-05:00

That's right. I've had my current hair color(s) long enough. Actually, over a year---which is like, a world record for me. Crazy.

So yesterday, after a less-than-good, borderline terrible, incredibly awful day, I decided that I'm going brunette again. Initially I was going to get through the summer, but I scratched that plan and bought two boxes of Dark Mahogany Brown hair dye.

So, tonight, I will officially be a brunette again.

I'll also look like my driver's license picture again, which is good because many times people question whether the damn thing is really mine. Which is annoying.

And yes, I'm still very sad today.

sadness

2008-07-13T21:55:00.003-05:00

Sad day.

I don't really know where to begin...or even where to end for that matter.

So I'll just say this, you know how sometimes you get a picture in your head about how you think things will be, and then out of nowhere it all changes? Like, all of a sudden everything compounds into a confusing mess until the picture in your head gets all blurry and out of focus. And the whole time you're hoping that you'll be able to bring it back into clear view, but you're not sure how to, or if you even can now?

But you really want to. More than anything.

That's my day.

photoshop skills not necessary

2008-07-12T16:52:00.005-05:00

So I was checking my email today when I noticed this little gem of an advertisement on the screen.

Now, I've seen a TON of weight-loss ads, and I'm well aware of the fact that:

1.) they usually make false claims

-and-

2.) the models are *usually* airbrushed.
Okay...pretty much always airbrushed.

But see, typically? Typically they're airbrushed to look, well, NOT airbrushed. Sneaky, I know.

However, if you take a look at the model above, it's hard not to notice that instead of nicely airbrushing some curves in her midsection, they blatantly just took out a chunk of her body. I mean, they didn't even soften the edges! Look above her belly button. It honestly looks like a chupacabra came and had her spleen for a snack.

Is that the secret that will shock me? That a chupacabra will chomp out random bits of my anatomy, thereby allowing me to fit into my skinny jeans again?

In that case, mission accomplished.

again with the blast from the past...

2008-07-11T12:06:00.007-05:00

I don't know what it is about this week but, damn have I been nostalgic. And it's not like on-purpose nostalgia. It's more like, things pop into my head or something comes up and BAM! I'm back 3, maybe 5, or even 10 - 15 years ago.

It happened again today. See that video up there? Michael Penn's "No Myth." Brilliant song. Well, I was listening to Last.fm again today, and all of a sudden it came on. And in an instant, there I was as the Roller Dome skating rink in north Hammond, holding hands with my very first boyfriend--we'll call him M.

Ah, puppy love. I mean, at the time it felt genuine. I was only 14, so in my adolescent mind M was 'The One." I imagined our lives together: house, white picket fence, a dog, and 2.5 strawberry-blonde-headed children. (I have always wanted to be a redhead, so the fact that M had a reddish tint to his coif pretty much sealed the deal for me back then.)

But when "No Myth" came on, for a moment, the memory of M and the Summer of 1995 (Holy cripes...13 years ago? Really? Wow. Hold on, I need to regroup for a minute.)...

...as I was saying, when "No Myth" came on today, it brought back that memory of me and M at the roller rink way back in 1995. This song was playing during a couple's skate when M skated me to a dark corner, and I had my first kiss under a shower of lights from the disco ball.

Of course, I make it sound so poetic now. In reality I had a mouth full of Bazooka bubble gum and I had no idea how to kiss.

Like, at all.
And the place smelled like hot dogs and nachos.

Anyways, M and I spent that entire summer together, making out on my front porch swing, (This was before the city decided to install landing-strip-intensity street lights on my street, making secret make-out sessions on the front porch virtually impossible.), talking on the phone for hours, and celebrating our month-a-versaries. Yes, I got flowers once a month every month for an entire summer.

But all this nostalgia I'm feeling, I guess it's not so much about missing M. I mean, he was sweet, but it's not about missing M at all. I think it's the innocence that I miss. When it was all foreign to me,and my heart (among other things) was experiencing all of these new feelings, and it didn't have any bad relationship experiences to reference yet. That naiveté is priceless, and when we are going through it, we don't notice it. And really, that's kind of sad.

I wish I could have found a way to bottle that precious innocence up and could have saved some of it, so that I could daub some on like fine perfume every now and again. Just let it wash over me like those orbs of white light from the Roller Dome's mirror ball back in 1995, all sparkly and new.

cranberry bogs and ska music

2008-07-10T11:19:00.003-05:00

So, for some odd reason I decided to Google an album that I had about 10 or 11 years ago called "Ska Down her Way: Women of Ska."

I remember adoring this album back in my "ska-kid" days.

I spent countless evenings lying on my bedroom floor--my combat boots with the checkered laces tossed carelessly near the bed, my silver bomber jacket with sewn-on patches from all my favorite bands draped over my desk chair--singing along to that album.

And for some reason, it popped into my head to look up that album again. I found it on Amazon...although it's now out-of-print and only available through sellers willing to part with it. Luckily, many of the tracks can be heard in-full on Last.fm.

But listening to those old tracks again, with their island-y, poppy, trumpet-y melodies, I got to thinking about how much I still love that music. At Fat Cat on Thursday nights, our softball team usually gets together after games for some food and chit chat. We've always sat outside, but on occasion I've ventured inside to use the facilities, and I've noticed that they play a whole lot of ska music. I mean good stuff, old stuff, classic pure root-of-all-that-is-skafully-wonderful, unabashed ska.

And you know what I want right now? Like really bad? Especially since last.fm works like a radio station and is pumping some mad-awesome ska into my headphones right this very minute? (And it's based on what artists I like. For example, if I put in "Agent 99," which is an awesome ska band, Last.fm will continually stream related artists. And right now, they're playing one of the best Chicago soul, reggae, ska bands---ever: Deal's Gone Bad. This. Is. Fantastic!) But I'm digressing...here's what I want:

I want to sing in a ska band.

Not gonna happen, I know. But it's going on my list of weird things that I want to try at least once. It's one step below "Walk in a cranberry bog" and one step above "Visit a llama farm." Okay, maybe it's tied with the llama farm.

I could, possibly combine the two I guess. You know, visit a llama farm with a ska band and put on a show?

Actually, that *might* be cooler in a cranberry bog.

What to do? What to do?!

sweet lew

2008-07-08T10:47:00.007-05:00

That's me with my friend Lewis back in February 2006. We were at an Oscar Party, dressed to the nines, drunk as skunks, balls to the wall. Okay, so it wasn't THAT rowdy, but our table was covered with half-sipped chocolate martinis and screwdrivers that we'd hoarded right before they shut down the open bar earlier in the night. And by night's end, we'd finished them all.

I remember Lewis lost his camera that night. He'd gotten it for Christmas and had been taking pictures ever since. Hundreds of pictures were on that camera, and unfortunately the camera was gone. We figured someone had probably stolen it.

And to be honest, I think Lewis was more upset about the memories he'd lost, rather than the camera itself. I mean, the camera was replaceable...but the moments in those pictures? Well, it'd be impossible to recreate them.

Of course, a few hours later, Lewis had moved on. He was past losing the camera, and on his way to making more memories, posing for pictures in other people's cameras. Like mine. Or our countless other friends.

But that was Lewis. He just made the most of everything. I mean, he was born with a heart defect for which he'd had an artificial valve implanted since he was little. But you'd never know it. He never let it slow him down. And much like the way he just went on having fun even after losing his new camera, Lewis just went on having fun and enjoying life, even with a heart condition.

I mean he just really lived. Truly balls to the wall I guess, actually. He did things that made him happy. He never acted like he was more fragile than the rest of us, even if in truth he actually was.

I remember a few weeks after Oscar night, Lewis leaned over and told me that in the fall he'd be having heart surgery to replace the old valve. I was a bit shaken up. I mean this was serious shit. But he let me know that it would be okay, and that it would be for the best. I mean, the valve he was using now was getting pretty old. "Better to be safe than sorry," he'd mentioned.

He was dressed like a vampire or a super hero. Something with a cape. It wasn't Halloween, just a theme night for him and his circle of live band karaoke friends. I remember him whispering into my ear, his cape falling over his shoulder, someone on stage was drunk, and singing something loud and fairly obnoxious. But just like he did after losing his camera on Oscar night, Lewis just went on with the night, having fun, creating moments...as if nothing happened.

Lewis died July 8th, 2006, just about 4 months after he told me about the heart valve replacement. He was 24.

It's been two years, and for the most part it doesn't hurt to think about the loss of Lewis. But sometimes, like today...it's harder.

I guess for all of us who knew Lewis, it's a lot like when he lost his camera on Oscar night. Right after, we were distraught. We were borderline frantic and shocked. But as timed passed, we went on. We started having fun again, occasionally looking up to the sky as if to check in on Lew every once in a while. We kept on creating moments, even though we still felt like there were some empty spaces where Lewis should have been.

And now, two years later, we still do. But unlike the camera, Lewis is not lost. A little piece of him is in everyone he ever knew. And we are all better for that.

Miss you Lew.
November 11, 1981 - July 8, 2006.

square peg

2008-07-07T23:06:00.004-05:00

I've always felt a little out of place. I mean always. Anywhere. No matter what.

It's not entirely in a bad way, and perhaps I could blame it on mild chronic self-esteem deficiency, but no matter what, I seem to always feel like I just don't fit in.

I guess it's kind of hard to explain. And as I write this now, it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense even though it's been on my mind all day. Literally. All. Day.

I've always had this issue with being "normal." More specifically, it's just that I've never felt entirely normal. Which I suppose is a good thing, I mean, normal can be sort of bland, boring, beige. But I imagine that there's some sort of comfort in normalcy. And I think that's what I feel like I'm missing.

Or, perhaps, maybe it's not really normalcy that I crave. Maybe it's just a sense that who I am isn't really all that out-of-place or awkward. That I could actually find comfort just by being me. But no matter what, I just can't seem to shake the fact that most days I feel like a square peg in a very round hole.

In short, more often than not I feel rather awkward. Always have.

And maybe for me that's just normal.

vote early...vote often

2008-07-05T16:53:00.005-05:00

Okay, so it isn't really voting, but here's the deal.

A very, Very, VERY dear friend of mine is a HUGE Alanis Morissette fan. There's a contest on Myspace karaoke that she's entered, and I really want her to win. Her love for Alanis is akin to my love for No Doubt. In other words, this is a big freaking deal.

All you have to do is go listen to her recording of "Incomplete" by Alanis. (Yes, my friend is singing...and I'll tell you what, it's pretty amazing.) Then rate it. Rate it based on how you feel, or if you love me, give her a 10 for going out of her way just to figure out how to hook up her microphone...and succeeding!

Just click the "Play" arrow button on the link below and support Erica!

long weekend delay

2008-07-05T12:54:00.001-05:00

Sorry it's been a few days since I've updated. But don't worry...4th of July related blogs are forthcoming. And maybe a few that have nothing to do with the 4th, too.

Yay.

dollar store bargains part 1

2008-07-01T10:27:00.023-05:00

A while back I talked about a trip to about a million different dollar stores in Chicago. This past weekend, I took a walk up to one of my favorites at Foster and Lincoln. It was Jeff's birthday this past week, and nothing says "I love you!" like random trinkets from the dollar store. I've decided to show you what I've bought...so far...and why I enjoy the dollar store so very, very much. So, with that...let's begin:

First:

My First Cute Puzzle. In the same line as "My First Happy Puzzle," "My First Sad Puzzle," "My First Ugly Puzzle," and "My First Trauma-Inducing, Will Require Therapy Later in Life," puzzles.
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This clown is scary as hell. But take an even closer look (if you can stand it)...

"Sleep Happy?" Are you F*@$ing kidding me? There's no sleeping period as I lie awake in bed, worrying that this evil MFer will come and eat my face.

And I'm an adult.

I can't imagine a child taking comfort knowing that freakin' Pennywise is watching him from the outlet by the closet...
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This one about gave me a star-attack...

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Now, I don't even really know what this thing is. Some sort of spinning musical light. Woo hoo.

The real fun lies in the the fantabulous packaging. Let's take a closer look...shall we?

It says:
"Magical Light. Design for the children.
Best quality for your selection.
Welcome to choose our product."

Me: Um...Thank you?

32 Grow the music! Alright!

Um...I'm assuming that this is a unisex toy? Either that, or it could cause seizures AND make you question your sexuality.

Forbidden finger? Moving parts gap? Uh.....I'm confused. Maybe if I look at the more detailed warning section...

This didn't help me AT ALL.
Where's a damn custodian when I need one?
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Ah yes...a construction action figure playset! Woot! Hey, wait? Is that a sticker that says "2" Action Figures? Why yes it is...because if you peel up the sticker you'll find that apparently there used to be 4.

Damn lay-offs...

Is it just me, or do these construction workers look like rejects from Village People auditions?

And apparently, they're made out of cheese...
But what else is in this playset?

Surely something awesometastic to make all of my construction daydreams come true...

Hammer...Check!
Jackhammer...(Freaking cool) and Check!
Wheelbarrow...Check!

Hey...wait a minute. What the...

An axe? Really? For what?

Oh..a malfunction.
It all makes perfect sense now.

Wait...malfunction? Arg...what's "malfunctioning?"

Um...the malfunctioning culprit is either a rock...
or a giant turd.
Neither of which explain the need for an axe...the wheelbarrow, yes.
But definitely not the axe.

What else?

A flag. Nice. But, where the hell is it from?

Holy sh*t on a shingle. What the hell is this?

"Warning: Firefighter!"
Is he trapped in there?!
Use the jackhammer to get him outta there!
Wait...this explains the axe...
Are these guys construction workers, or serial killers?!

Or perhaps they're part of a militia?

Camo green sand bags...

...barbed-wire trench fence?

Hey wait a minute...

"Press Show of Orientation Go"
Great advertising. Really. This sign is so DIS-orienting that you need to visit the all-powerful Press Show of Orientation to get your head on straight again.
It does beg the question however: What the hell does a press show have to do with a malfunctioning turd and the Village People militia?
And also, what did that poor firefighter do to end up in a barrel over all this?
I know:
Code of flammable stifle the forbidden finger to violate the custodian. (In other words, they probably failed the fire safety inspection.)

Really, though...what can I say? I mean, especially when you put it all together:

It's the 4 -- whoops, I mean 2 action figure Construction/Village People/Waste Removal/Serial Killer/Militia Set.

Wow.

The lesson: I'd be less worried about lead poisoning and more concerned about the mental trauma caused by this CF of a playset...
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Proof that our children are growing up too fast:

A newborn with a cell phone? Really? Why?

Ohhhhhhh....yeah. That makes complete sense now...

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And finally, something I didn't intend to buy, but had to because the store owner was staring at me too much for me to simply snap a picture. (Plus, it was only a buck...so why not.):

Sweet Love Douche. Sweet freaking Love? Really? Are you kidding me?

Sheesh.

Well, at least it's "Complete." Wouldn't want some cheap, incomplete douche, now would we?
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Ah, the joys of the Dollar Store. I tell ya, this stuff just doesn't get old.

If you happen to have any dollar store finds, email them to me: tsvitko@gmail.com

I'd be happy to post them in upcoming Dollar Store Bargain posts.

girls' night out

2008-06-29T23:54:00.006-05:00

It was my friend Sarah's 27th birthday, so to celebrate the girls all went out to the Office for some drinks. darts, and shit-shooting. It was the first Indiana girls' night I've been involved with (aside from Pioneer Tap Wednesdays) for a long, looooong time.

But it was fun. And after a few hours, the inevitable face roulette and rollercoaster pics were taken. Here are mine:

Face Roulette

"Act Like You're on a Rollercoaster!"

Yeah..it was a pretty fun night. And it took my mind off of a lot of life-adjustment related crap.

shift, change, morph, move

2008-06-26T23:23:00.006-05:00

That sort of sums up my life right now...but in a good way overall.

Three years ago at this time, I was, well, I was sort of a mess. There was this negative relationship that ended in February 2005...but for the better. And not so much because the guy was a jerk..I mean, he sort of was...but because we totally weren't right. Totally weren't.

So by this time three years ago, I was trying to figure things out with myself. I hadn't really considered myself for the two years I was with said guy, and then all of a sudden there I was...all up in my face...and it was like I was looking at a complete stranger.

I had a lot of fun back in 2005. I really did. And like I said, I was kind of a mess. But a good mess. I was really fearless. I was exploring new places. I was trying new things. I was shucking away the shell I had created during that bad relationship with...we'll call him DC...with DC.

And it was incredible.

Hell, I was 30 pounds lighter back then too...and I didn't even exercise. How I wish it were that simple now!

So why am I writing about this? This "me" from 3 years ago?

Well, because I sort of miss her. I miss her a lot. She was fun. She wasn't uptight. And she was pleasantly naive.

Even for the next year, after things finally started falling into place, she was still around. And then, it was like she changed. I changed.

I started to fear breaking the rules. I started to care what other people thought. I started to stop trying new things, instead choosing to stick to the familiar. Oh yeah, and I gained back that 30 pounds I'd lost.

But I'm also thinking about that "Three-Years-Ago Me" because I'm once again at a turning point...a metamorphosis stage if you will. I worked really hard to get to where I am and I'm really happy with how it's all played out. Every up and every down. Sounds sappy and sentimental...maybe even a little (a lot) cliche, but it's true.

So now I'm at another one of those points and I'm trying to remember what I was like three years ago when I just let go and let be. When I stopped trying to please everyone else, and tried to live for what was important. I hope I can get to that point again...

...because three years from now I'll be looking back to June 2008 and remembering this time super fondly. I'll probably even want to relive it a little, so I'll pull out my CDs and pick out the ones with the songs that I'm listening to now and play it...hoping to bring back everything I felt now. If I quit smoking by then (which I REALLY hope I will...), I'll probably even crave a cigarette.

And maybe I'll even have gained back 30 pounds that I had lost...or that I really hope I'll lose in the next few months.

It's just sort of a weird time I guess. In good ways and bad ways. But when I look back? The best thing is, I'll really only reminisce about the good.

my forehead is a battlefield

2008-06-26T00:57:00.007-05:00

and my skin is losing to the all-powerful forces of sebum. Sebum is such a disgusting word...but what it's doing to my face is even more disgusting. Seriously...my skin looks like a shit ton of pimply ass.

So I have two options:

1.) Cover it with make-up to camouflage the issue, in turn making it much worse by clogging my pores even further...or

2.) Try to convince the world that Cousin It's coif is the "new black," and completely wrap my face in my hair.

meh

2008-06-25T00:01:00.001-05:00

Tired. Work. Cubs game. Going for 17 hours straight. Still not done. Writing. Tired. ZzZzZzZzZz......

Daily Randonimity

GO here:

the show must go on...

2 months later...

just a little update

i've come to realize...

blast from the past

WIDGET!!!

WIDGET!!!

underconfident.

sunday, sunday, sunday

Let's see...

Betty freaking McCrocker

Hey-Yo!

a little break

success! *poot*

nothing new to report...

schmerica, i hope you don't mind...

slothy...but you love it.

one year ago today

i'm going to be blunt here...

zig a zig---what?

bye, bye pescatarianism...

halloween...very belated

will power

as natural a delivery as possible...

accepting our oddities

i know, i know...

excuse the bitchin', i can't complain

for future reference...

@@!$%^@!#%^@#*^#@!!!!!!!!!

got mah' hair cutted

odd

report cards and a head in the clouds

quick bloggy about non-existent accents

hooplah!

who...

sixteen days til my 28th birthday...

hangin' tough

i'll admit it: i think farts are funny

$25 for 3 shrimp and 1 tbsp. of (mediocre) crab dip

nostalgia

cooked carrots

whiting, indiana is like living in a gas chamber

friday, the mustache fairy...sunday, the tooth fairy.

moustache day

wrong way hole

stupid mcafee siteadvisor

weird menu items: part one

singin' in the rain

sitemeter is annoying me today

google strikes again!

this blog is a google keyword search result

sometimes they write themselves...

oh mr. coffee...

skinny jeans!

leetle tiny blog...

and you're telling me i don't have enough experience?!

baggy jeans

the plan

crazy day

oh skinny jeans. why hast thou decievest me?

150 million bucks...and all i have to do is what?

fridays, roof tops, and why are the blue angels so late?!

oh syntax!

i'm a mush

new digs

not very appetizing...

triage?

acid cigars

you don't know jack

You Don't Know Jack firm relaunched for the casual era

colorful language

hey, jerkass…what about my freakin’ order?

what's a matzo wit you?

cultured

post-pierogi pool party

free hbo?

the great muppet disaster

mini golf

success! poot