Archive for April, 2006

This is the story that never ends

April 17, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” ~E.L. Doctorow

(A story in four parts because I’ve got shit to do)

I’m limiting myself to special K, triscuits, and a banana today. I feel as if I eat anymore I might explode/I haven’t had a ‘good’ work out since last Tuesday; thus making me ornery, fat and lazy. This is a long time coming I would say, I should’ve known that after Wednesday things would just be shit and I’d be left feeling quite complacent, but at least I now know the root of the complacency and boredom.

Pukefest 2006

Wednesday evening Noah (as depicted here and here) was not his usual happy go lucky-shower me with hugs, kisses-slobbery self. Instead of sleep, he decided to test out his Linda Blair in the Exoricist type moves. The first time he puked and the subsequent screaming that was involved, I felt terribly, because (a) his parents (as depicted here and here) were going to kill me and (B) he’s such a sweet baby and his teeth were driving him batshit crazy. The second time he puked – after the first changing of the sheets – I actually could hear from the living room. This was about the time that I started to tear up, because he was so upset. I needed to call my mommy, who was wholly unhelpful and told me to quite being a pussy; though not in those exact words.

The third time he puked was positively priceless. I had just picked him up, when he decided to perform the aforementioned Exoricist type moves. The similac and pears that he had just eaten shot the fuck out of him, on to me, my pants, grazing my face, onto the floor and crib behind me. I swear on my life, that his head may have spun around a few times after that. I gave him a look of “Holy mother fucker” and yelped a little bit. He gave me a look of “Man the fuck up, why are you screaming like a little bitch?” Then I yelped some more and brought him to the sink to rinse him off, where he happily frolicked with the water and smiled. I contemplated getting my tubes tied and smiled back. After which he smiled some more, while I tickled his tummy and then promptly fell asleep.

I thought about what to tell Amy and Jason about why there were no sheets left and prayed that they wouldn’t hate me. For the record, prior to Pukefest 2006, he put him on the floor next to the exersaucer and he fell into the exersaucer and screamed bloody murder. The only remedy for this was a bag of frozen spinach to keep the child from bruising. If you’re wondering, Amy and Jason do not hate me and I was sent off with pictures of Noah to use against him on his 16th birthday. Noah, I love you dearly, especially the hugs and kisses, but don’t think I won’t show your first girlfriend pictures of you in a pot.

Next up: In which I’m quite tempted to walk from Maryland to Long Island

Oh how lovely

April 14, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

Upon seeing this eye sore, Peg proclaimed “God that’s Ghetto.” I feel this deserves it’s own ’say no to drugs’ commercial. As in “This is your car. This is your car on crack” or “This is your car after you’ve busted the fuck out of it and you’ve had to resort to using duct tape.” Thoughts?

For you duct tape connoisseurs out there, the silver duct tape works about 150 times better than the more eye friendly, clear duct tape. You know, just in case you were wondering.

Tired doesn’t even begin to describe my state right now, but you’ll be happy to know (or at least I’m pretty stoked about it) that my car is becoming a little less ghetto-fied as we speak. A big whooot! for the mechanic Gods. But have no fear, for upon my return to you party people there will be stories that shall include-but not limited to-the consistency/scent of puked up Similac formula, what exactly happens when you call 911, why it takes 6 hours to drive from DC to Long Island, more stories about my flipping fantastic brothers, my Grandfather’s funeral (fun for the whole family), my new found appreciation for Red Lobster’s cheesy and delicious biscuits and what happens when my father discovers ‘The Google’.

For now, admire my poor car, which seems to test my will to live, more and more each day.

Das Randomness

April 12, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“God made everything out of nothing. But the nothingness shows through.” ~Paul Valéry, Mauvaises pensées et autres, 1942

My Super Sweet 16 premieres tonight. I haven’t been this happy since the end of last summer. Remember last summer? Full of Laguna/Pretentious adolescent goodness? Ahh summer, I cannot wait. It all kind of makes me yearn for a Benz of my own. Once Laguna premieres it’s so on.

Anyone – or maybe I should rephrase this – any of y’all from Austin? Because in case I’ve neglected to mention this, I’m going to be there in a few weeks for some R&R. Why? Because I’ve been to Marrakech, Casablanca, Lisbon, Sevilla, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Rome etc. etc., but not to fucking Texas or Connecticut for that matter. So any cool things to do in Austin would be greatly appreciated and you may even be handsomely rewarded. How does my undying love and devotion sound to you?

And since you all did so well with the whole suggestion of the books (but you know I’m now forced to replace one of those titles with some Rushdie), I’m now looking for new music. Over the past few months, I have become a 3hive whore and I’m damn proud of it, but more suggestions are welcome.

Gracias mis amigos. And once again, enjoy the honeybaked ham and/or brisket.

An ounce of stupidity

April 11, 2006 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See

“You can swim all day in the Sea of Knowledge and still come out completely dry. Most people do.” ~Norman Juster

Ok, so don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, because it’s a tad bit embarrassing; but sometimes I wonder how I made it through 17 years of schooling, four of which at a fairly decent private institution. The point is that though I can fully comprehend American Public Policy , I can speak Spanish fluently and I have also learned to swing a golf club immaculately, I am none too bright. Take for instance the painstaking operation that was translating One Hundred Years of Solitude from Spanish to English. Painful like someone tried to rip off my left nipple kind of painful. Like I seriously cried at 1 AM while simultaneously thinking of near fatal diseases that I prayed I would succumb to before my 12:54 PM class. For years I thought this hellish experience was reserved for my Spanish class and that no one had actually written such a terrible ass book (magical realism is rather hard to comprehend or give two fucks about when you’re 15), I was utterly convinced that Gabriel Garcia Marquez was some made up person. Imagine my surprise upon learning that this was an actual book and that people, including Queen Oprah herself, appreciated this book.

Fast forward to my obsession with Bridget Jone’s Diary over the past year and a half (another tribute to my Spanish fluency is that I can understand this move in both Spanish and English. Brilliant!). At one point in the movie there is a cameo by some author - Salman Rushdie. Ummm, sorry, who? Today while reading a Slate article, I happened across his name and was convinced that Salman Rushdie may in fact be important or some such shit. I decided to Wikipedia him and read all up on his back story and the controversy then banged my head on the desk a few times because holy hell Salman Rushdie isn’t just some Bridget Jone’s character, but he’s a real live boy and I am a real live idiot.

So to recap, I can tell you all about European history and can comprehend it in both Spanish and English, I can name a few hundred members of Congress, but I only recently have discovered that Rushdie and Marquez are actual people. Dear readers, you have just stumbled upon a bumbling idiot. Lucky you.

A Numbers Game

April 10, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand. ” ~Emily Kimbrough

In the spirit of Monday, my laziest writing day next to Friday (at which point you’d question why I write on either of these days. The answer being I don’t know and because I can), I am going to post a list of sorts that I feel truly brings together the craptastic-ness of my weekend.

Ready?

The number of Five Guys gift certificates received: One. Amount? $10 Reason? I left for 15 minutes to go to CVS and they accidently gave my food to someone else. Was I upset? Nope. But it got me a free meal and a gift certificate. Everyday, I love them more and more.

Number of trips to Five Guys: Two.

Number of alcoholic beverages consumed: Five at karaoke. Plus one bottle of wine Saturday evening.

Number of hours spent watching DVDS: Seven

Number of times Walk the Line was viewed: Three (that’s in addition to the seven hours of DVD watching)

Number of times “Because you’re mine, I walk the Line” escaped these lips o’mine: 27

Number of times that I professed my undying love and affection for Phil Mickleson: 14

Number of years my baby brother has turned: 20

The age on his ID: 27. hmmmm

Number of Grandparents that died on Saturday: One.

And finally…

Number of times I contemplated poking my eyes out with a knitting needle due to the fact that I’d be driving to Albany later in the week: 349

That said, we shall see how the remainder of the week goes. I’ll keep you posted as to the state of my eyes and whether or nor I’ve decided that poking myself with a knitting needle is a most excellent idea.