Loose Threads

•May 22, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Have I said lately that I love Chipotle?   Well – I love Chipotle.   I have always referred to it as the “Subway for Burritos,” but sometimes that is exactly the ticket.

Not that I eat burritos.  I mean, I do, but Chipotle is for LOW CAL noshing.  My burrito bowl that leaves me stuffed is less than 500 calories.  Cuz I do not get rice.   I don’t feel it’s that big of a sacrifice.  Rice just doesn’t …do it for me.

This could turn into just a random mishmash of little shares.   Because I immediately went to change the subject to  “my pants are missing a button.”  I need to replace it. I can sew a button, as a matter of fact.  That is the sum total of my sewing skills, but I can sew the shit out of button replacements.   I hadn’t realized my pants were missing said button when I bought them at the thrift store. But hey, they were 25 cents.  One can’t bitch too hard at that.  Especially when they are so cute.   Grey capri cargo pants.

That was not my original outfit this morning.  It was a strange morning.  I had it in my mind to wear a certain skirt today. A favorite, grey tshirt material cotton.  I had thought perhaps it was a little big but then I got it on and realized “Yep.  Too big now.”  I was going to say “fuck it” and wear it anyway.  I had even decided on a pair of heels, though I would need to wear some sort of …stockings.  So I reached in to the place where they live and came out with this grey pair of panty hose.

Totally unidentified.  No idea where they came from.  I got them on with the shoes and the skirt and I looked down and realized.  “You look like you think you are a fucking figure skater.”   They were a little thick and had almost a bit of..sparkle to them.  Yeah, can’t be doing that.

So they came off along with the skirt that was nearly saggin’.  NEAR FASHION FAIL, lemme tell ya.    I did not want to change from the waist up so it was….fish around in the drawer..  GREY CAPRI CARGO PANTS.  “yep. this could work!”   got them on. Damn. button missing.  “oh well.  longer shirt.  WHO WILL KNOW?” AND I LOOK CUTE!

I love that it’s warm enough to wear skirts.  I will be rarely wearing pants from now on.   However, tomorrow is not a skirt day.  I always wear jeans and “completely cover the feet” shoes when I do a property search.  Cuz YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU WILL BE WALKING IN OR THRU.

NEXT ABRUPT CHANGE: I love when you say something that you didn’t intend for funny, and then the person you are talking to thinks it’s like the most awesome thing ever.   I hadn’t meant for it to be funny. I was just talking about LIFE..

In POINT:  Kitty.  He is a total pimp.  He even knows work days.  And even when I have a day off.. he is right there sat next to me on the bed, stroking me on the cheek or hair.  At first very lovingly  “Get up, Baby.   You know you gots to go make us that money.”  However if I don’t comply (and quickly), it gets less gentle very quickly: “Bitch – don’t make me have to repeat myself.”

 

 

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New Words

•May 18, 2014 • Leave a Comment

I have been told on numerous occasions that I speak my own dialect.  I can’t really deny this.  I do have a tendency to make words up as I go.  I just figure if what I mean can be gleaned in the context of what I am saying, why shouldn’t I make English my bitch?

I read a blog post recently on Man Repeller that was dealing with exactly that.  A new word:  Turnt.

I am still trying to decide what I think of this word.  A while ago, a friend of mine was trying to get me on board with a few words of his own creation.  They were actually quite similar.

One of them was  creamt.   At first I was “oh, hell no.”   However, if I can think something through and get it to make sense to myself, why not?

Dream.  Dreamed. Dreamt.   Why wouldn’t it or couldn’t it work the same way for a rhymed word, especially when both words are taking the forms of verbs?   Once it worked for me, I was good with it.   Cream. Creamed. Creamt.

I’m not going to USE it, mind, but I don’t automatically feel as though “No, that’s wrong.”

Kanye’s word?   I don’t think I dig it.  Even though it could follow the same structure. …. No.

Mom’s Vocabulary Lessons

•May 10, 2014 • Leave a Comment

So since it is an hour away from Mother’s Day here and I have already went and made a big fuss over my mom today,  I am going to talk about something else that involves my mother.

See, Mom loves to learn.  Most anything. But I swear nothing makes her happier than to learn some inappropriate or “dirty” phrase. I think it makes her feel cool and hip.   Which is great, I guess, for her.  I’d be more enthused if it weren’t so often making incredibly awkward moments for me.

It almost always follows the same pattern:  She spends time with one of my brothers. He says something largely inappropriate that leaves me reeling that he would say this in front of  our mom (any mom really, but HE KNOWS HER).  She then counts the minutes until she next sees me so she can work that phrase into the conversation, (in her mind) subtly.  And then its “double dipped in awkward”  for me when she does this.

They aren’t always “dirty” , per se.  Sometimes they are just “….what?” moments.  Occasionally, I wasn’t previously familiar with the term when she introduces it to my world.   One of those that come to mind immediately was “muffin top.”

That one, there was no slickness at all.  We were out having lunch somewhere.  And yes, it was bitchy, but I don’t care. A girl rolled past with a couple of other people and based on what this girl was wearing,  I simply murmured  “Oh dear.”   Mom immediately starts giggling like a 12-year-old.  I really hadn’t thought my little comment was really that amusing.

Me:  “What’s so funny?”

Her:   *it takes at least 3 tries to be able to speak she is laughing so hard*  “Oh…it’s cuz Tommy said….”  and she bursts out laughing again.

I wait a bit for her to get herself together and against my better judgement:  “Ok? Tommy said……what?”

Evidently Tommy and she had been out a few evenings before for dinner and a similarly dressed female and crossed their path and Tommy had evidently made a similarly bitchy comment (yeah see? it runs in the family) to the tune of “Whoa! Look at THAT muffin top”

I actually had no clue what that was before this moment.  So mom schooled me on that one.  I swear that was her best day in years.   So now I know.  I also immediately came home and shared it with “The Internet.”

However, most times the exchanges are a little bit different.   A while ago, mom and I are going somewhere, I’m driving along and she’s chattering away about I don’t even know what.  And then she immediately took a conversational turn and was all “OH! I  almost forgot.  So Tommy and I were talking the other day about International Politics (They weren’t. I just don’t remember what it was, except it had NOTHING to do with what came next)  and he said something to me….”  (DRAMATIC PAUSE)

“What did he say?”

“He was talking about a mouth hug”

I blink and  just keep driving.

Mom:   HAVE YOU EVER HEARD THAT TERM?”

Me:   “yes.”

Mom:  “So you …you KNOW what it means?”

Me:  “yes.”

Mom:  “WHY HAVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME BEFORE?”  (I really think she was a little offended)

Me: “Because when we are talking, there just isn’t usually a place to work “MOUTH HUG” into the conversation.”

Mom:  “WELL NOW WE CAN BECAUSE I ….*KNOW* NOW”

I swear it’s been years since I have seen her that proud of herself.

Me:  “Yeah. No, we can’t.”

Based on these moments my mother and I have shared over the years, I have told Mr. L way more than once: “if conversation ever gets awkward with you and my mom?  Just whip out an Australian swear word or icky phrase to teach her.  She will *love* it. ”

I think he thinks I’m setting him up.  I wish I were.

 

Odds and Ends #2

•April 29, 2014 • Leave a Comment

I didn’t have a whole lot to talk about tonight so I thought I’d show you some stuff!  Just dumb crap that I am all about.  Some of it has been clogging my Feedly “Save for later” for quite awhile now.  Yes- Big Fan of Feedly.  I find it about a billion times better than Google Reader.

Why, Jesus?

I find the whole idea of Waterlogue amazing! I am so sad you can only get the app on a stupid Iphone!

Ring Rug

I desperately want to make that rug. I saw it on A Subtle Revelry and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Thank You!

And – WOOHOO! A SHARE! Those are our thank you cards! This will even be a surprise for Mr. L.

GO Me!

Screen Cap FTW! That’s today’s step from the FitBit (my best friend).

Memory Lane

•April 27, 2014 • Leave a Comment

I spent some time with Dawgz today and we spent a little more time than normal strolling down memory lane.  Different people we went to college with came up  in the conversation, and because we were talking about college, it was a foregone conclusion that The Roommate From Hell would take center stage.

Sadly, she was mine.   There isn’t enough space on the internet to categorize every single thing wrong with Minerva (I’m going to leave her anonymous).  Looking back with the wisdom of experience, I can say without too much anger, I think the largest of the problems was she was simply not ready to have been away from home.

Another problem that wasn’t her fault is that I went away to this college after having been on my own for quite a while.  I went the second semester of my sophomore year; and though I had lived at home in the interim between graduation and then, I had been treated as an adult, for all intents and purposes.  It was very hard for me to adjust from that to the closely supervised atmosphere of a private religious college.    Actually, I remember describing it to my mother whilst home on a weekend as “it’s like a …concentration camp.”

This combination of people was .. I started to say “like oil and water”,  but “gasoline and flame” is probably a better descriptor.   I am not terribly tolerant and patient, either.  While I said very little to Minerva (on any subject), keeping my thoughts to myself made my resentment of “the little things” build.

As I sit here and type, I see how perhaps for someone with a different personality, she might not have been such an utter and complete nightmare.  I see better now how my own things made her seem worse than she actually was.  I had always had my own room, my own privacy, and a lot of “alone” time.  I was unused to having very little of that.  So her need to inform constantly of her doings might not bug someone else as much.

“so.. I’m gunna go to the student union n stuff… and like I think I’m gunna study n stuff… and I have 2 dollars so I will probably get you know like a snack n stuff… I should be back here by like….10 n stuff..”

I would sometimes try my best to at least mutter ” mhm,” (on days when I was feeling particularly charitable) or just ignore her (most of the time) because that seemed more polite than going with brutal honesty and screaming “I DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY OF THAT”  I can remember burying my head in Dawgz shoulder and just whimpering “I just don’t care N STUFF.”

Now that I’ve painted this picture of myself as the monster and her as the misunderstood waif, … Yeah, No,  I still say she was a cretin.  Anyway. The particular incident that had Dawgz banging on the table and howling laughter in the restaurant today as we remembered. ..

I had a friend, Jeffrey, we’ll say.   Jeffrey was just a buddy because Jeffrey was incredibly gay.  I don’t remember how it worked it out or why, but one night, Jeffrey was visiting me and we were laying on my bed together watching a movie with the lights off.  I also don’t remember what movie we were watching because its irrelevant to the story.  Suffice to say, we’re watching it and Minerva burst in loudly, flipped on the overhead lights with enthusiasm (because that was how she rolled.  That I *might* have been sleeping would have *never* hit her world.) , and started to speak…

Then she actually glanced over at my side and saw Jeffrey sprawled out on my bed.  Her mouth dropped all the way open, her eyes got huge, and she burst into these loud braying sobs.  I sit up, stare a moment, blink, and then just say “……………what is your problem?”

“How…HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?”

“uhm………………….do what?”  I seriously had *no* idea what the hell she was talking about. The obvious conclusion hasn’t even hit me yet.  At that point, she was bawling so obnoxiously she couldn’t even speak. She just POINTS over to something on her side of the room.

The background information on this moment in the story was that her side of the room was so amazingly filthy; just a mountain of trash, unwashed laundry and ….crap. I think I had just trained myself to never even glance over there.  Because while I’m not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, my half of the room looked like Martha Freakin Stewart compared to that lunacy.

But because she was *pointing*, Jeffrey and I sort of followed the finger and there on the wall, never having been noticed heretofore: a little handmade poster: I heart Jeffrey Smith.  IN GLITTER!!!!! (I swear on Chanel, this is true.)

I just bust out laughing. I couldn’t stop. A lot of it was because *then* I never understood HOW I could have missed something that ….clowntastically awesome.   Jeffrey, however, (rightly, I suppose) was finding the whole thing incredibly awkward and started putting on his shoes.  This is when Minerva finds her voice and her rage, evidently:

“I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE YOU COULD TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME ‘n STUFF”

“You never had him. He’s GAY.”

That doubled the awkward factor because then Jeffrey turns around and looks at me all aghast (I really had no idea he was still “IN THE CLOSET”)  and is all like “WHO ELSE KNOWS?”

“uhm… EVERYONE? Well, evidently everyone ‘cept for… Weeping Wanda, over there”

So Jeffrey left all kinds of offended.  We made up, but needless to say, all future movie dates were in HIS room.

I sort of felt bad in a way for the fallout of that disaster.  I never told anyone about that but Dawgz and she flat-out told me “yeah, I won’t repeat that because ……it’s not that I don’t believe you but…yeah YOU HAFTA BE MAKING THAT SHIT UP” “I’m not.  promise. True story!”   But if my Dawgz doubted me, I wasn’t going to risk “spreading fiction” further.

Jeffrey, however, told EVERYONE.   Later, when Minerva became the butt of nearly every joke, Dawgz was just all “holy shit! yeah.. I hadn’t believed you.”  “I TOLD YOU, WOMAN, WHO COULD MAKE THAT UP?”

 

 

Life Lessons

•April 25, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Yesterday, I read a post on some snooty literature blog. I don’t actually mean that as particularly negative. I don’t particularly mean the ‘snooty’ as uncomplimentary and I wanted to clarify that. Anyway, the thing. The gist was that with electronic readers, you never have to be ashamed of what you are reading, because no one even has to know. They gave a little list of “trash” reads that are actually pretty good.

I really don’t remember what was on the list except the first one. “Flowers in the Attic.” Honestly? I think I was ten or eleven when I first read that series. Well, I just Googled it. I read the first four. Everyone did. Mind? Blown. I had already been busted by my mom for reading those horrible little Harlequin romances. Those were *evil* and forbidden. I am guessing it must have been because the VC Andrews were *thick* books (I’m guessing “The bigger the book, the more suitable it must be”) but she never said a word about those and I would read those with my eyes SO wide. Murder. Incest. Etc.

She finally asked me about it around the …third book into the series. AND SHE FLIPPED HER SHIT. She gathered them up and took them away from me. And then a couple of months later, I found the second one in her night stand. WITH A BOOK MARK! Yeah. Hypocrisy Up In This Bitch.

I stole them back and started them over on the sly. So anyway. Yeah, read ’em.  I don’t believe I took anything away from reading those. However, a different “trashy novel” series stands out in my head as having gained knowledge from it.

Scruples. Yes, love, Judith Krantz. I love me some Judith Krantz. Most know of Scruples and Scruples 2. I find that many don’t know “Lovers,” the 3rd book. Mostly because the first 2 books were largely about Billy Ikehorn and the 3rd book is basically “Billy Redux” ala Gigi Orsini, her step-daughter.

An artist formerly known as “Aunt” was also all about Scruples and what she took from it was Sascha’s “Men Must Suffer.” I never cared so much about that.

I was about the French lady who was Billy’s landlord during the Parisian stint, Madame de Vertdulac. No, I didn’t remember actually remember her name off the top of my head. I hunted down my paperback copy. Because I *knew* I had it. I will NEVER get rid of Scruples.

Liliane taught Billy (and Layla) about discernment. If you can’t afford to buy something, you have the luxury of only approving of the very best. And you can snob your heart out at “second-rate” items that you wouldn’t deign to consider if you *could* afford them.

Obviously, my recent swoonings about knockoff Birkins prove that I don’t 100 percent follow this rule in life. Let’s say it’s more of a guideline than a hard and fast rule with me?

Lately, it’s all about the handbags with me, isn’t it? I woke up at 2 am this morning musing about a bag that I lost when I was 17. “Musing” …mourning is a more apt term. This was a great bag. It was a black leather drawstring.

I’m really surprising myself with my colorful storytelling this evening. “Lost.” Yes, that’s not one hundred percent honest, either. I was an idiot and created a situation where it was stolen.

A friend and I were going to attend a concert in a not great area of town. We parked about a block away in a bus station parking lot. (First mistake, no?) We parked in her mother’s car. We wanted to be careful and smart; so we got out of the car and very carefully threw our purses in the trunk and then went to ROCK OUT!

We rocked back to an empty parking spot with a sprinkling of broken glass and tread marks. AND WE WERE SURPRISED!

This was a much more helpful article than normal. You got 2 life lessons from me for the price of one. 1. A book that gives you something is never “trash.” And 2. Don’t put your purse in the trunk after you arrive at your destination.

What can I say? I live to assist.

Shallow.

•April 22, 2014 • Leave a Comment

You might think this is one of my most shallow posts ever. I might think it, too, when I’m not just so sad.

While changing out how my handbag, I had to make a really hard decision tonight. I have a gorgeous red patent leather handbag. It’s Liz Claiborne. It’s textured. It’s almost everything I would dream of in a bag.

But it’s really too small. I don’t carry a HUGE bag. But the things I carry, I don’t like to not carry. And if I could just ‘leave some of them out,’ I feel like I could subtract them completely from my routine.

So I struggled with this. I actually went through my handbags and deleted 3. Which is amazing because I just went through them like 3 weeks ago. I realize I was just stalling. I finally had to face the truth.

And I’m sat here about to cry.

 
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