Naked early morning floor cleaning March 30, 2007

Last night (early this morning, really) while I was sitting on the couch trying to muster enough strength to get ready for bed the dogs & I heard women’s voices, loud, shouting women’s voices, seemingly running right past our front door.  Kalabou began to do that low growly, whiney thing where she fills up her cheeks with air. Which is sort of funny really because, why? Is that supposed to be intimidating? That she can hold air in her mouth? Really? Because that just doesn’t seem like something that would make me run for my life. I think she needs a better strategy.

Anyway, I bolted off of the couch & making pretend binoculars with my hands, peered out of the window.  From the yard next door (which has been for sale & uninhabited for several months) I saw two sizable women sporting ill-fitted sweat clothes & no breast support, charging across the yard towards our house with lit cigarettes dangling from their lips.  I nearly ducked down because I was so shocked to see anyone over there, let alone at 12:30 in the morning, and I don’t mind telling you, they didn’t look like ladies that would take kindly to being spied on, “ OOPS. YOU MUST FORGIVE ME BECAUSE I WAS COMPELLED BY YOUR SHOUTING TO LOOK OUT OF MY WINDOW.  I’M SURE YOUR EARLY MORNING SHOUTING IS FOR A GOOD REASON & I’M NOW GOING TO LEAVE YOU ALONE TO DO MORE OF IT.” 

Just then they reached the side of our front porch & I could faintly tell that they were trying to wrangle a dog that’d apparently gotten through a hole in our wire fence (the only section of our yard that isn’t fenced with picket or privacy fencing) that runs from the back of the house out to the street.  I continued to watch [less conspicuously, from behind the coat rack] as they proceeded to peel back my fence and in the light that was spreading across the yard from the porch, saw them free two (count them one — two) Black Labradors.  The truck drivers ladies encouraged the dogs back into the house while I watched on, hoping against all hope that they were maids sent to get the house ready to sell. 

With my fingers crossed, I headed to bed.  Harold was stirring from his 1^st of 8 or so alarms so I told him the story.  What I said was a lot.  What he heard was, “… they peeled back our fence”.  So he discussed how he would need to stop at the hardware store on the way home to pick up replacement fencing and then was all, “… so, we have lesbian neighbors?” before falling back asleep.

Some time between him getting up with the 8^th alarm, going down to work out & coming back up to get dressed, I fell asleep. 

“I don’t think they’re a maid service.”

“What?”

“The ladies next door.  I don’t think they’re a maid service.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re naked.”

“What!”

“I glanced out the window on the stair landing [which, by the way, is directly across from their kitchen window], & yeah, one of them is in the kitchen on her hands & knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor in her underpants.”

“No bra.”

“Um, no.”

“Great.  We have fat, NAKED, lesbian neighbors.”

“With two Labradors.”

Because I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to inherit March 27, 2007

Last week there was a break-in in a neighborhood pretty close to my Mom’s.  I thought she might be a little freaked out about it so I brought it up to her during our weekly Sunday after-church visit.  Now, understand, my mother generally contradicts anything that I say and typically always defends ‘the other guy’ (the other guy being the opposite ’guy’ of whoever I’m defending).  With that said,

“So Mom, did you hear about the break-in over on Bishop?” [which, I knew she likely had, since she takes watching the news and court TV very seriously]

“Yeah, What about that?”

“I was just thinking it was kind of close & random, I thought you might be worried.”

“Well, they said the intruder broke in with a hammer or something, right?”

[Harold reads from the paper, "It says he hit the homeowner with a sledgehammer AND a picture frame (because a sledgehammer evidentally isn't quite forceful enough - logically a picture frame would work better).  Harold continues, "It says the homeowner shot the burglar 5 times, once in the head, three times in the torso & once in the flank. Brandenburg (the bad guy) was intoxicated, has a lengthy criminal record that includes arrests for ethnic intimidation, aggravated menacing, drug abuse, forgery, fleeing and eluding and assult & had recently been released from prison."  Nice guy.]

“Well, don’t you think that was a bit excessive?  I mean, the first two shots should have done the trick.”

Heavenly God!  I would like to hope that she was just trying to be the bigger person, following God’s commandment that, “thou shall not kill” & that surely she wasn’t insinuating that this poor man should have had cognitive reasoning capabilities during this.

To me, the concept of this poor unassuming homeowner being judged for the force with which he defended his family & property was staggering.

Imagining the scenario:

“Hey, very bad man who wishes to do me bodily harm & steal all of my belongings, stop there I say!” [Man takes one to the skull with a sledgehammer] “Sir, if you would kindly refrain from trying to kill me, I would be most appreciative – further, I will not then be forced to retreat to my boudoir to retrieve my shooting iron, possibly resulting in bodily injury to either you or myself. [Picture frame smashes over his head]  “You sir, have forced my hand!”  [Bang! Bang!] “There, two should be sufficient.  I have just injured you enough that you cannot crawl after me, yet ambulatory care might save your life so that you can stand trial and be judged by a jury of your peers for your crime.  Let it not be said, however, that you were not amply warned.” 

Are you kidding me?! 

You know, I always try to be the bigger person too (in most instances).  And I’m on-board with the fact that this man was (at one time – possibly as a child) a human being – but by invading this man’s home & threatening his life & livelihood, he’s now officially a former-human being who deserves to have his balls folded in half with a hair barrett until they rot & fall off, someone who then deserves to have said rotted balls shoved into a blender & pulverized into a fine powder that can be mixed with arsenic & then served to him on a cookie.  That’s not so bad, right?  I’m offering him a cookie, aren’t I?

This is me being a bigger person.

Cell phone cop, like me March 23, 2007

I just want to share the most recent installment of my favorite comedian’s, “Secret Public Journal” because I totally share his sentiments about people & their bad manners when it comes to using their cell phone. See if you agree.

Mike writes:

This week I inadvertently became a member of a secret organization called the “cell phone police.”

I was at the gym. Now I know you’ll have to suspend disbelief that I was at the gym, because while I’m not overweight I am the guy who could really put the brakes on an orgy. Everyone would be like, “Was he invited? Why is he eating a stuffed crust pizza?“ 

I was about to get on the lateral pull down machine and there was a guy on the machine not using the machine but sitting down at it talking on his cell phone. He was this kind of small, muscle-y, effeminate gay fellow and the reason I tell you that is in case it turns out that I murder him, it won’t be documented as a “hate crime.” My only hate is for people on the lateral pull down machine who are choosing to use their phone instead of laterally pulling. He could be laterally pulling down 7 guys and a goat and I wouldn’t object as long as he wasn’t text messaging.

Now I usually don’t make an issue of these kinds of cell phone scenarios. Last month I was at a movie and the guy next to me answered his phone during the movie and he answered it by saying, “Who dis?” So not only was he willing to talk to someone during the movie, he was willing to talk to anyone during the movie.

I could understand if he picked it up and said, “It’s what type of cancer? It’s dat type of cancer?” Incidentally, cancer is now the go-to excuse for using your cell phone in public.

So I’m at the gym and I want to use this machine, so I walk up to this guy and signal that I want to use the machine and he looks at me like I’ve committed a great foul by interrupting his call. And he walks away in a huff. And as I’m leaving the machine, he returns and points out that I could have returned the machine to his weight setting as a courtesy and that’s the moment when I decided to join a secret American organization called the “cell phone police.”

I said, “I’m sorry to bring this up, but I wasn’t sure you were even using the machine or whether you thought this was a phone booth, which would be strange since this is a quote unquote ‘cell phone free zone.’”  Then he put his headphones on and said, “I’m sorry I can’t hear you.” Real nice guy.

So the next day I’m at the gym and he’s there again AND he’s on the phone AGAIN. And I don’t say anything, I just glare at him briefly, in a non-sexual way, but he gets off the phone then he comes up to me. I’m assuming he’s going to pick a fight, but he doesn’t. He actually apologizes. He says, “I just want to apologize for my behavior. Because yesterday when I was on the phone, I was talking to my mother; she has cancer.” I think he was lying, and I think if you lie about your mother having cancer as an excuse to use your cell phone, there should be a very serious penalty. Growing up, it was always, “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back,” That doesn’t even make sense. I propose a new saying: “Lie about your mom having cancer and she’ll actually get cancer.”

So I didn’t believe him, and I wanted to say, “Oh, do you think she got cancer from talking on the cell phone too much?” or, “Oh, does she have that type of cancer that helps you come up with witty comebacks 24 hours later, cause I think you might have that type of cancer.” But it was only my second day on the force of the cell phone police, so I held my weapon and called him a douchebag in my head. Just another day on the beat for cell phone cop like me.

All inclusive as I’ve been neglectful March 21, 2007

['Shiny happy people!  With extra shiny!', will not be seen as previously scheduled due to several neglectful days of interruptions.  We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.]

I’m sure I no longer need to regale you with further Justin-love.  I think you got he jist. It was good.  Really good.  Jud is a professional at being sneaky (possibly with the CIA).  I’m a bad liar & T-shirts were $45 (& I’m fairly sure I didn’t talk about that part before, but it’s definitely worth mentioning, GeeAWD!) 

Saturday we took Maddie to her birthday party at Pump It Up.  While she was partying from 10-12, Harold & I shopped around West Chester for awhile & wound up picking Maddie up a windbreaker. 

After getting her from the party, we stopped by Chipotle [?Donde esta la casa de big-ass burritos?] for lunch.  Now, there’s actually a strategy to eating at Chipotle with my family.  I always get the chicken bowl, Harold the chicken burrito (the one that reminds us how lucky we are to have opposable thumbs), we get an order of chips & guacamole to share & Maddie always thinks that she doesn’t like Chipotle at all.  Inevitably she begins eyeballing our food.  She can see the sour cream on mine, she’s not eating thaaattt.  Harold gives her some of his burrito (that’s so big it could double as lumbar support), so now he won’t have nearly enough to fill him up!  This is what would happen if I didn’t act quick; Harold would finish his burrito [the reason why Chipotle has steel-reinforced tables] & then devour ALL OF the chips & guacamole! (which, I don’t know if you remember or not, are my very most favorite thing to eat READ: About Me).  So what I’ll have to do is, hurry to finish my bowl, eating all I can, which is never all of it & offer it to him, just as he’s finishing his burrito (that requires a spotter).  It works!  Disaster averted.  The chips are mine.  Thank you [taking a bow]. 

JT & Pink; Representing AND keeping it real March 17, 2007

I cannot adequately do justice with words how much FUN we had last night nor can you    truly understand, without having actually experienced it for yourself, just how AMAZING the J-Tim (he likes me to call him that) concert was!

 

I am 29 36 years old (Kendra [hereafter referred to as Jud <pronounced Jude>] a mere year younger, and yet, I am quite sure that what we did last night could only be described as ‘bringing it on home’!  To reiterate the sentiments of my dear friend Jud (in the comment section of yesterdays post), “Woohoo!”

 

Oh, and PINK!  Don’t even get me started on her!  That girl is so many kinds of cool that I would have paid to see her with JT (he likes me to call him that too) opening.  She’s just that good! And my home-slice Timbaland, broke it down club-style at intermission (though, disappointingly, did not perform his part in, “My Love”).

 

Anyway, let me back up …

 

The concert started at 7:30, so I suggested that we leave at 5:00 to pick up Jud’s friend Tammy in Covington [a shout-out to my girl Tammy from Florence!] @ 5:45 – which would give us 1.5 hrs. to make the 3 minute trip back across the river to the arena [I was trying to accommodate my innate sense of bad timing & all around lateness to most things that require a person to be in a particular place at a specific time].  So we arrived at the arena at roughly 6:00.  My plan worked! 

There was a slight incident at the door when, on the way from the garage to the arena, I remembered that I still had my contraband camera in my backpack.  Ack!  [Read: ‘Absolutely NO camera’s or recording devices allowed inside the arena’ – signed, the Management].  So, Jud (with her well-honed smuggling skills) suggests that I put the camera into my pocket; however, we’re already standing AT THE DOOR!  Ok, so no time for that valuable advice, the security adolescent girl starts riffling through my bag & with only her keen sense of TOUCH, recognizes that the object in the bottom of my bag, beneath the wrist-wallet, make-up bag, tissues, daily calendar, pack of gum & car keys, is in fact, a camera.  What?  Do they go through Helen Keller training?  So I was then forced to feign this awkward surprised reaction like it wasn’t until that moment, the moment that she’d brought it to my attention that I had been reminded that I’d unwittingly forgotten to remove a 6″ camera from my loaf-of-bread sized backpack before exiting the car like I’d meant to.  Dammit.  So with Jud volunteering to walk back with me to put the wretched thing back in the car (did I mention that it was really, really cold out?), we sulked away.   (Big ups to Jud for sticking by a sister).  Do you people not realize that EVERY PERSON IN THAT ARENA HAD A FREAKIN’ CAMERA PHONE!?  

You know, in hindsight, I think Jud may really be an undercover specialist, because as we headed back into the arena, she said, “We should have just walked around the corner, put the camera in your pocket & went to another security person.”  BRILLIANT!

 

That said, tune in tomorrow for the conclusion, entitled “Shiny happy people!  With extra shiny!” … it’s 1:30 & Maddie has a b-day party at 10! 

Good night.

Justin, my nose is running & I’m apologizing for it right now March 15, 2007

Justin Timberlake is in concert tonight at US Bank Arena & I’m going [this is where I should start jumping up & down like a 13 year old girl], however, I have developed a nasty cold or allergy issue of some sort & am a drippy-eyed, cloggy-yet-runny-nosed mess.  Most definitly not sexy.  How am I supposed to ‘bring sexy back’ with tissues shoved in my nose holes? 

[some Justin love for ya]

Maybe the fact that my ears feel like they’re packed with cotton balls (in a painful way) will be beneficial – acting as a natural (albeit painful) noise muffler.  This could be bad.

Full review tomorrow.

Yeah, that about sums it up March 12, 2007

[photo taken at the Contemporary Arts Center downtown]

 

Look closely.  Can you spot the 6 year old in this photo?  The 13 year old?  I don’t think this picture could more accurately depict exactly where my girls are in their lives right now.  Maddie, age 6, curious, excited, eager, animated, passionate, playful, energized, wide-eyed, enthusiastic & interested.  Ashton, age 13, cool, disinterested, apathetic, distracted, daydreaming, preoccupied, side-tracked, diverted & lost in thought.  Yup, that’s about right.

Don’t get me wrong though.  The adjectives could easily be reversed under different circumstances.  For example, if we were at the mall.  You see my point.  Actually, the adjectives reversed several times, from floor to floor, just that day.  

Ashton is actually very passionate about things that she’s into right now [which, by the way, is not the childrens play area at CAC] but she is also, at 13, incapable of convincingly faking interest in anything that isn’t appealing to her.  Not even to spare your feelings.  She just simply cannot. 

Both will tell you they had an enjoyable day that day.  Just don’t gauge that by looking at this picture.  I LOVE THIS PICTURE!

A couple of conversations worth mentioning March 9, 2007

Overheard recently at a Mexican restaurant: 

“…well, he’s a liar, soooo …”

“How do you know he’s a liar?”

“Because I lie , so I know what people look like when they’re lying.”

“Oh.”

“But he’s expelled now for drinking & marijuana.”

“Ah.”

Conversation between my friend Kenny (Kong Yu K) & myself:

“Well, I’m out of here.”

“Oh, yeah?  Where are you going?”

“I’m heading home to Maryland for a visit.”

“Oh, fun!  Ok, well have a safe trip.  Bring me something from Maryland.”

“Ok, what do you want me to get you?  Crabs?” [immediately regrets his decision to suggest crabs]

“Yes, Kenny.  That’d be great if you could get me crabs.  Thanks” [uncontrollable laughter]

“Ok then, I gotta go.  Bye.”

Conversation betwen my friend Joe & myself:

“We went to BW3’s last night & I was surprised that there were a couple of groups of good looking girls there.”

“Maybe they were there looking for groups of good looking guys & know that’s where guys go.”

“Maybe.”

“So did you talk to them?”

“Well, not at first, but then I went over to save them because there were these old guys that kept trying to talk to them … they were like 35!” [hmmm, they probably smelled like mothballs too]

“35 huh?  Man, that’s gross [rolling eyes].  Good thing you got involved in that.” [Joe, you do realize that I'm 29 36, right?] 

Nothing more supportive or considerate March 8, 2007

Recently I was fortunate enough to have been given some unsolicited words of encouragement by a lovely well-meaning woman, when she said to me, “Harold was the best thing to ever happen to you.”  Such a thoughtful thing to say, full of very useful self-esteem building encouragement, which I am right this minute feeling swathed in. This is also a welcome reminder of how other women are not the most passive-aggressively judgmental people on Earth. Her consideration is enveloping me like a bubbly bathtub fart.

Sure, I recognize how lucky I am to have a husband who loves me so much, who is so thoughtful and considerate of my feelings, sensitive to my mystical [sometimes paranormal] monthly mood swings, who is a wonderful daddy and is reasonably good with tools.  But what is really being implied here?  That were it not for him, that I would be a stressed out & overwhelmed mess of a flake?  That I would have surely misplaced Ashton years ago because I would have been much too preoccupied being a crack addict [but she was just heeere!]?  That I would have been unable to keep up with the grooming of my own eyebrows, unable to prevent Ashton from running with scissors, encouraging her to wear makeup by the time she was 6 and applying for membership in the NRA by 12? That I would have inevitably been reduced to a shell of a human, spending countless hours just sitting around spreading butter on my fingers & licking it off?  [I don’t know things just come to me].

I’ll give you that I was a ‘flighty’ kid (also heard over the years; free-spirited, crazy, silly & hot goofy).  It has apparently escaped her attention though, that I not only grew up & matured, but had also managed (before meeting my husband) to buy not only a car on my own but also a home for Ashton & I (what 20-something does that!?) AND a Rainbow Vacuum Cleaner (listen lady, do you know how much those damn things cost!?)  A full time job, a thriving, vibrant little girl in Kindergarten (well, there was that one unfortunate radiator kicking meltdown…oh, & the two cases of head lice).  But on the whole, we did fine.

So yes, I thank God that I have an encouraging, supportive husband – because I need him to effectively deal with ‘supportive’ people like her. 

I need to get going, I have to go suggest to Maddie that she play in traffic now.

On account of I need to chill out March 7, 2007

The other day my friend Christy called to ask if I'd be able to fill-in last night at her monthly Bunco game.  

I didn't know what Bunco was, so she explained to me that it was a 'mindless dice game'.   Hey!  I'm 

mindless!  I'm in!  I probably scared them with my freakishly detailed knowledge of the game of Bunco 

(Did you know that it started as a parlor game in England, went through a period of prohibition 

and is now popular among affluent suburban women?  See!)  Having no idea how to play, I Wikipedia’d

 it.  Amazing how much information you can derive from one paragraph.  Yeah, I’m fairly sure they’re 

scared of me.

Harold has been encouraging me to be a joiner recently, in the hopes that a few hours away might chill 

me the heck out [read re: 'you eat to much bread’ rant] - and I'm happy to report – it did, because I have 

come to terms with the fact that he unloads the dishwasher differently than I do, and that is okay. 

It's okay that he does it wrong.