Archive for May, 2006

One of them

May 12, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“The best style is the style you don’t notice.” ~Somerset Maugham

Before I go about blatantly breaking one of Kathryn’s (dear, sweet, wonderful, social butterfly that she is) rules, I should say that if I want to go about telling you all how dreadfully boring I am and that I just burned the shit out of my tongue, then it’s my God given right to do so. Especially if telling you the boring, keeps me from divulging the good. See that? I’m turning into one of those people with some good to share, but isn’t willing to share it. Something so good, that on Wednesday night I threw Noah in the air and called him “my pretty baby”. Then I wanted to punch myself in the face because really? Who the hell says shit like that? Commence with the eye rolling if you will.

Oh speaking of Wednesday, we really need to have a very long chat about some very important recent events. Unfortunately we can’t have this chat until I’m fully caught up and then can make an informed hypothesis about recent craziness. But I will just give you this: Hanso Foundation.

Now don’t start throwing things at me and booing and hissing and wondering why I’ve been under a rock for the past two years (or, trapped on an island. Ha!). I know. I KNOW! And now I’m doing my due diligence to play catch up and become a better person. Promise.

And really that’s all. This weekend? A kegger. A freaking kegger. I truly believe that graduation was just a formality and that I’m allowed to behave like a 19 year old, for as long as I want. So there. Have a splendid one.

R&R

May 11, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“A vacation is what you take when you can no longer take what you’ve been taking.” ~Earl Wilson

Five days.

Five mother fucking days.

Five days in which I cannot use the phrase ‘mother fucker’.

But that’s ok, because a certain pretty person who has only threatened about 20 times that since “she brought me into this world, she’ll take me out”, is allowing me the use of her picturesque home in Martha’s Vineyard (there’s a porch! With a swing! And bikes!) for FIVE WHOLE DAYS. Even better, she’ll be there too. This means five whole days of free-loading and offered things like free meals and shoes and ice cream. This is what I have always pictured Heaven to be like; me, living as a spoiled brat, with a mother who will entertain the idea of wine tastings. HA! I made her appreciate wine tastings (and soon the world will be mine!)

So we’ll stop with the hyperbolic dreary pablum that has spewed forth from these fingers and instead go for something delicious and wonderful like pan seared spicy tuna, garlic mashed potatoes, and fresh clams with bellies to boot.

Anyway, I think we can all agree that I’ve been a petulant child as of late with a penchant for malaise and tears. Ok, let’s just call me a bitch and leave it at that (the first step towards recovery is admitting that you have a problem). And we won’t speak of the very bad thing that my procrastination has led to because that will cause me to cry into my diet coke and there will be A LOT of groveling. Nope. Won’t go there. Instead, we’ll only speak of beaches and sun and the days after Martha’s Vineyard when Dear Old Peg will be gracing the nation’s capital with her presence, which means Acadiana (or perhaps Oceanaire, maybe Filomena? 1789 if I feel like getting hit by a bitch with a popped collar and a beemer). More ‘whee!’ and less tears would be greatly appreciated.

Some days, it’s nice to look forward to the good rather than dwell on the bad. Or at least, that’s the plan for today and if we’re lucky, for the next two weeks as well.

Cause and Effect

May 9, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“It is easy to ignore responsibility when one is only an intermediate link in a chain of action.” ~Stanley Milgram

The sable is currently covered in bird poop because it’s parked under a tree. It’s parked under a tree because I have yet to register my car in the District of Columbia. It’s only a minor detail that I’ve been driving in this district of ours for the past four years and that I have yet to get actual DC car insurance. I’m not all that keen on the whole insurance thing because it seems mighty complicated, I like to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. I can’t get registered (A) because of the car insurance and (B) because I actually owe the District roughly $60 in parking tickets. The parking tickets are as a result of being parked in a zone over the 2 hour time limit without the proper zoning sticker, which I don’t have because I’m not registered because of the aforementioned insurance issue.

Terrible with the paying of the parking tickets, would be an understatement. Sure, I know that I have the ticket, I can see it, I post it up on the bulletin board of me, right next to a captivating picture of me and Bill Cosby. I look at the bored, admire my former thin self and then a shiny object catches my eye and I forget about the parking tickets. But hey! At least I’m trying. It’s entirely better than before when I would freely allow myself to be towed and then cry about it to a parent (whichever parent less likely to hang up on me at the present moment) and have the ticket taken care of. I too am considerably shocked by the amount of responsibility I have. This, for you all playing at home, would be a big fat ZERO.

The other predicament is that I find myself lost in the traffic camera – snail mail space/time continuum. In which the amount of time that lapses between getting caught running a yellow light and the time that the ticket arrives to my mother’s house and the time which she notifies me to tell me that I have received said ticket and questions what I will be doing about it, is about 30 days. We’ll place 50% of the blame on me and my poor driving skills and 50% of the blame on my mother who doesn’t deem it all too necessary to actually open the mail once it’s received. Hell, I’m still not too sure that she actually goes to the mailbox daily, but that all is a different story entirely and we do not say bad things about Peg on this blog.

So for all I know, I could owe the district of Columbia upwards of $160 in parking tickets, which actually may have doubled by now because of the aforementioned great displays of otiose behavior. I’m on a roll here kids…quite literally a roll.

C’est la vie

May 8, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“My life has a superb cast but I can’t figure out the plot.” ~Ashleigh Brilliant

I’m intrinsically pretty type A. So as I sat munching away at carrots and laughing cow cheese, I realized how uncharacteristic of my usual self that I have been. Not that I’m normally happy go lucky all is well or some such bullshit, but on the whole, if things are ‘fine’ then I am ‘fine’ and will respond as such. That is unless I’m terribly depressed – which has happened before – but that’s usually marked by random disappearances and self inflected injuries, capped off with 2+ years in therapy.

Anyway, I’ve been wholly unmotivated lately, to the point where my bedroom looks like Hiroshima (or Nagasaki or the Atlantic after the Titanic sank, whatever) and my sleeping pattern can be likened to a newborn at best, with the waking up every two hours at night, but not being soothed by a caring parent. I’ve also been driven to tears by pure ridiculousness of my own manifestation. Other highlights include: crying because I couldn’t find the Gap on South Street and holy hell there should be a Gap every-fucking-where; being flipped off and yelled at at the Exxon in Northeast by some large burly black man; crying during the credits of the West Wing which was remedied by my mother calling CJ Cregg a Bitch. So as you can see, I’ve been nothing but a ball of laughs lately and I just can’t shake it.

Beyond packing my shit up and driving a uhaul to Jackson Hole and/or hold a party for Kris, without whom I would never recognize the lamey, lameness of others, which completely trumps my own, and/or holding a party for the wonderful congresswoman from FL, without which no one would ever read my blog and I’d be equally as lame and/or just ahhhh…I’m also having a bit of a shit time with realizing that the past five years have fucking flown by and yet I’m feeling wholly inadequate with a headache to boot.

Re-reading that last part, I’m just a lady in waiting: Waiting for things to start making sense again so I can just get on with it. Impatient is the first word that comes to mind.

New and Improved

May 8, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

With more shamless pimpage to boot

“The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. When the world seems familiar, when one has got used to existence, one has become an adult.” ~Eugene Ionesco

This morning I did my usual Monday self torture. Wherein, I awake an hour late considerably enough to skip the gym and then I seriously contemplate getting up. Is it really that necessary to remove oneself from under a blanket? The best was awaking to a bedroom that ever so slightly resembled the aftermath of Hiroshima. Or more like Gap/J.Crew/Anthropologie decided to throw shit around my room. At any rate, it made getting dressed that much more difficult; finding my raincoat in my bottom drawer, not withstanding.

Meanwhile, in my head, I’m making great strides at recalling the weekend. Sure I remember the off color Klan jokes while driving through southeastern Pennsylvania at 10:45 PM on Saturday evening. Oxford, PA had a little bit of a children of the corn thing going on. Most assuredly, I’m able to remember when I started drinking at 4PM on Friday and stopped somewhere around 1 at a Playboy themed party in Tenleytown, finally ending my evening at Steak n’ Egg. Saturday was the aforementioned trip to Pennsylvania and a night cap at Indebleu, because nothing says ‘I love my roommate’ like free grey goose and tonics.

A few weeks ago, I had lamented to my mother that everyday is the same. I wake up, make a half ass attempt at going to the gym, I go home, pretend to give two shits about my outfit, go to work for like many hours, go home; wash, rinse and repeat. Repeat for the next 40 something years. Which looking at it now, sounds so freaking awesome that I just can’t handle it. Even better? My mother deciding to call and remind me that it’s been a year ago (one year today) that I graduated from college, which is like being reminded that you’re turning 34 but with added head bashing and possibly a few cathartic tears into one’s Special K.

There’s also the sad realization that everything is different and yet the same from last year. Except now with less money, more snark and copious amounts of alcohol. The next 45 years should be awesome, like a frying pan to the head awesome.

Posted by nopasanada @ 10:34 am | 5 Comments

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