droller than thou.

on wants.

Is it wrong that part of me just wants to have a baby so I can put fake mustaches on it?

I think not.

also this.

Election from Amir on Vimeo.

on things including, but not limited to, mustard and halloween.

Some things:

1) Today we had our first semi-major homeowners' disaster: bathroom flood!  Wheeeeeeeee!

2) Inglehoffer Original Stone Ground Mustard is awesome.  I would go as far as saying "ham-grabbingly good."  And  it has a whole family of other delicious (I'm assuming) products.  How exciting.

3) I have become addicted to Super Collapse (or whatever its called) on my iPod Touch.  Good lord.  It brings back fond memories of college, wherein  a roommate and I would go to the library to work on our senior comprehensive projects, and then just spend a lot of time playing Collapse in the computer lab.  Ah, good avoiding-inevitability-times.

4) For some reason, I really enjoy the smell of the plastic bag that Halloween candy comes in (after you've emptied out all the candy into a big bowl, of course).  I'm probably giving myself brain cancer with all the empty plastic bag sniffing that's been going on lately.  At least I'll die knowing it was for a good cause.

5) And speaking of Halloween...Every year I get really excited to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters, but then I'm always disappointed with the scraggly bunch of teenagers and not-very-cute older children that show up.  I demand adorable toddlers, dressed in adorable costumes, cowering in adorable fear!  Is that so much to ask?  Huh??  Jerks.

let's just elect obama, already; i'm sick of this shit.

I don't get undecided voters.  How can you have so few opinions, or lack so much conviction in your beliefs?

Yesterday one of my teachers said, "Ooh, I'm getting so nervous about the election!  I wonder what's going to happen!  I don't know which guy I like better!"  And all I could think, eyebrow visibly cocked, was "What a fucking idiot."

Either you feel that your government has an obligation to help its citizens or you don't. Either you support human rights or you don't.  Either you want less income disparity or you want the rich to keep getting disgustingly richer and the poor (and middle class) to get even poorer.  

 It's not that difficult. 

Whatever.  All this foolishness will be over next week.  Unless, of course, there's some sort of vote counting debacle or something.  But that would never happen again, right?   

on getting shit done.

Okay, so I've discovered something awesome and yet kind of gross.  I will try to put it in the most delicate way possible : internetting whilst perched primly upon thine commode is an experience most pleasing, by Jove's fiery beard; huzzah for wireless internet!  

There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?  

See, usually, I'm big proponent of reading in the bathroom.  But today, as I had just finished reading this and this, and I happened to be in the middle of an email when nature's call came, fate (plus my new laptop, plus our new wireless connection) intervened and showed me truly righteous path.  Besides, using the internet is so much more efficient than just reading an acclaimed novel during a bowel movement; you can actually accomplish things (besides a good colon cleanse)!  Is this too much information?*

It reminds me of a David Sedaris story, I think perhaps from Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, wherein his sister confesses that she frequently talks on the phone while shitting.  Apparently, if the other party becomes suspicious of all the grunting, the trick is to say that you're trying to "open a jar."  Who knew it was so simple?  

And now you know my dirty little secret.  I won't tell you which part of this entry was constructed en loo...That just wouldn't be ladylike.

*I must admit that I had considered this endeavor before, but shied away from it because it somehow seemed unsanitary.  Kind of like my aversion to reading cookbooks/cooking magazines in the bathroom; it just seems dirty.  But then I got over my laptop-related qualms.  I still maintain, however, that cookbooks do not belong anywhere near feces.  

houze photoz.

Exciting house update: We just moved all our stuff in on Sunday, so now begins the process of unpacking and finding homes for all our (and mostly I mean my) various craps.  Here are some before and after photos:

Le Kitchen:

Le Office: 

Le Living Room Shelving Area: 

Le Hallway Cabinet Thinggy (I think I'm going to repaint the doors in chocolate brown):

Le Front Room (which will eventually get some sort of design on the colored wall):

Le Fireplace:

Le Pass-Through Window:

Le Couch(!):

Okay, so obviously I owe you some more pictures of other areas of the house; I will get on that...eventually.  Also, let's just be clear here: that is not my crap staging the before pictures.  Additionally, please be advised that all the tarps/tools/randomly placed windows/etc. will be removed at some point in the near future.  Also, apparently, I'm French.

Come visit us in our garishly painted abode, s'il vous plaît! 

on friends (or lack thereof).

On a slightly less angry note than the last few posts...

Lately The Mister and I have been talking about how making new friends as adults is quite difficult, and  actually a lot like dating.  I mean, first there's the conundrum of finding a place to actually meet people.  Work?  Usually full of weird jerks who you wouldn't want to spend eight hours a day with, let alone your free time.  School?  Again, weird jerks.  Bars?  Now that's just way too much like actual dating.    

Obviously, somewhere, someplace, there exist normal people with whom you could become friends; the problem is separating the wheat from the chaff.  And being able to recognize that someone is wheat-y enough to actually invest the energy in trying to de-chaff them.  Because there's nothing worse than spending all day in the mill and then coming home, stinking of mill rot, with a sack of chaff.  

Okay, so now let's assume that you've found someone potentially normal enough to be seen as a possible future friend.  Now what the hell do you do?  I mean, okay, so you start talking to them.  Well, that's all awkward, now isn't it?  Perhaps you make some small jokes, trying to gage their response to your particular brand of mill-themed humor.  And maybe, if you're lucky, they chuckle quietly, but they probably just give you a weak smile and a weird look.  Oh, great.  What are you supposed to do with that?  Do they think you're lame, rude, boring?  Or maybe they're just feeling the same first date small talk awkwardness that you're feeling, and are thus unable to fully comprehend and/or respond to your sparkling wit with their normal gusto.   

Or maybe they just think you're a douche.  Whatever.  I didn't want to be friends with you anyway.

Ahem.  

So, anyway, say you actually make it past the awkward, getting-to-know-you chitchat.  Now you feel like your relationship is ready to move to the next stage: hanging out outside of work/school/the mill.  Gulp.  How does one wrangle this?  Do you just give them your email address (hoping, perhaps, that they will be impressed with the witty pop cultural reference contained therein)?  Do you ask for their phone number?  Do you give them yours?  Just thinking about it gives me thigh hives...

(Also, on a side note, getting my hair cut by a stranger is so stressful.  So much small talk to make for such a prolonged time!  Just the thought--hives.)

Then, of course, once you're actually hanging out, you have to do all the same crap you do in the initial   stages of a romantic relationship: feel-out your compatibility; negotiate personal space; adjust your personality to conform to their notion of the "ideal friend"; check their email and voicemail several times a day in order to make sure that they're not hanging out with other friends; establish dominance by never breaking eye contact or ending handshakes first; make empty threats and then spend all Saturday night crying on the bathroom floor when they fail to fulfill the unrealistic stipulations of said threats.  You know, all that normal relationship stuff.

For me, the transition from acquaintance to friend usually involves the sharing of an embarrassing story involving my various lady parts.  For example, I feel the key transformative moment in my relationship with some former coworkers in Pasadena (visit them here and here) was the revelation of this story, which led to my happy re-christening as "Big Coot."  Sigh.  Good times.

In conclusion, I don't have any friends who actually live in the same state as me.  Unless you count my husband, parents, and sister.  And my parents' cat.  Who really much rather prefers my husband (who is allergic to cats and avoids contact with her) to me.  

Yeah, you probably shouldn't count the cat.

on a good video.

So, I have mixed feelings about Sarah Silverman.  Sometimes funny, sometimes not.  But this video is awesome:

You can also just go to the website, The Great Schlep.

P.S.- Thanks for finding this, Keith.

mawwiage is what brings us togevah.

Okay, so I realize that this is way belated, and also that most of you who would actually care about it already know--but whatever: my sister is engaged!  How fun.

 

 

Aw, it's so cute I want to fill my shoes with vomit.  Congrats, Laura and Ashley!