I For One Welcome Our 2009 Overlords

2008 wasn't much fun, was it? But I learned some things about myself, and without furtherd ado, here is what I learned in 2008:

1. I like celery. No really, I have avoided this stuff my whole life! I like it with blue cheese. I never knew this. Thank you Hooters, I owe it all to you!


2. I can use a hacksaw. So, I woke up one morning, after many mornings of posting an ad on Craigslist to come pick up a pompasan chair for FREE, and since there were no takers, I woke up one morning and decided to destroy it. I first tried to use Eric's axe. He was not pleased. Then I busted out my trusty hacksaw that my father bought me and destroyed the darned thing. I would have just thrown it away, but the condo association prohibits throwing away large items. Little known fact - those chairs are not hollow. The wood is solid. Also little known fact - my knuckles are easily hacksawed.


3. Planning a wedding is hard. No, it's REALLY hard.


4. Living without a car is fairly easy, even in the suburbs.


5. Potatoes can explode.


6. Potatoes can explode in the oven if left in there too long.


7. If you heat up a needle, and put it into what you believe to be a human hand that your friend has given you, and it smells like the dentist's office when he is drilling, you can rest assured that hand is real.


8. It is ok not to be Catholic.


9. That I am a damned fine quilter.


10. That I can paint, and fairly well, and that I am not the only person who is obsessed with 50s style toy robots.


11. I learned how Vietnam started and ended, as well as the Korean war! Wow! Do the French like to screw us! Seriously though, I took a History class just to find that stuff out. I feel leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of my generation.


12. I learned that socialized healthcare is a-ok and we should have it (noting my $200 co-pay as I say this)


13. I learned that I do not like odd numbers, with the rare exception of the number 13.


14. I learned that I prefer flip flops to stilettos. The hard way.


15. I learned that I probably have a serious sleep disorder and need to get some pills for it. You know, before I hacksaw the couch in my sleep.


16. I learned that no one gives a damn about where I got my degree from because I did not get it from Harvard.


17. I learned to like vacation time (first year I have used some without leaving town for some reason)


18. I learned the metric system.


19. I learned  I am still afraid of the number 19.


20. I learned to like Billy Idol.


21. I learned that writing a book is overall not that difficult.


22. I learned that writing a blog isn't all that difficult.


23. I learned that anyone can make a fake name and do freelance writing for money.


24. I learned to act like I am deaf when facing confrontation with strangers.


25. I learned that sometimes it is warmer in Norway than Chicago, and that they have socialized health care.


26. I learned that no matter where Eric is calling from, it will never be as cool as Narnia.


27. I learned that making blog headers can pretty much take over my life.

That's all folks! Have a great 2009! Right now, I am going to go back to working from home. WOO HOO starting the new year off right.

Vacation & Conquring Exploding Vegetables

For the  Christmas holiday, I took some time off of work. It has been glorious! I got a ton of stuff done around the house and feel a strong sense of accomplishment, you know, for once in my life.

Here is what I got done today:

• Collected the garbage from the kitchen


• Collected the garbage from the living room (or front room as we say here in Chicago)


• Did 4 loads of dishes in the dishwasher


• Took out all that garbage


• Consolidated all my sewing materials


• consolidated all my painting materials


• picked up all the clothes that were strewn about


• put all the junk in the kitchen away


• put all the junk in the living room away


• wiped down every surface in the house


• cleaned the silverware tray (and you should too, that was gross)


• wiped down the cabinets in the kitchen


• scrubbed the kitchen floor


• took down the Christmas tree and all decorations


• vaacuumed


• cleaned out the hall closet


• cleaned the tub


• threw away all empty soap bottles


• washed the baseboards in the house


• repaired a chair

Tomorrow I have a day of filling out mortgage refinance paperwork and cleaning my bedroom, as well as making last minute clothing donations to the Salvation Army. I also need to repair the vertacle blinds in my living room. Am I making this sound like fun? Because that is the point of this entry. It isn't to make it sound fun to YOU, it's to try to convince myself that this IS fun. So, you know, I actually do it. And not let my house look like frat boys took it over for about a month.

What prompted this cleaning spree? Eric smelled what he described at cat pee in the kitchen.

Upon much cleaning, I found 3 potatoes behind the oven that had turned into liquid. Well, I didn't know they had turned into liquid until I picked them up and they exploded into a disgusting cat pee orgy of decomposition in my hands. Then, after being freaked out and gagging, I started to shake my hands and freak out some more, hence why I had to clean my cabinets, baseboards, and floor. Becuase after that? EVERYTHING smelled like rancid cat pee.  God forbid I act like a rational adult and NOT spray exploding decomposed vegetables all over the kitchen.

I hope everyone is having a great week, I am now off to try and find the asperagus I bought last month and now cannot seem to find. I plan on just following my nose.

Texty-La-Roo

Below is a selection of text messages between my sister and myself over the course of several days, they are out of context and not in order:

• Let's pee in baggies and throw it at them like we are hippies and they are cops at the 68 Democratic National Convention!


• It used to be called peanut butter, but then the baby got into it and now it is call WEENUTBUTTER! It's the cutest mess in town!


• I found my earring on my bed, I think Grandma's ghost saved it. I am not even kidding!


• I am eating a salad with crushed Doritos in it! What an age we live in!


• Then he accused me of letting my friends put out cigarettes on the grill grates! Why would I do that?! I LOVE THE GRILL!


• Dad said she lost like 75 pounds. I think I am obligated to secretly hate her now...


• I am looking for cheepo wedding dresses right now. $40? I WANTS.


• Let's go to the secondhand store and buy a wedding dress for $5 and then destroy it. I am into destroying things now.


• I am so down with pee balloons.


• I am filled with the hate of 1000 suns! Or gas. It could be gas.


• Dude, smell this. Does this smell infected?


• Your man certainly does have some kissy eyes!


• Dude, I am seriously scared of wells. And zombies too. Zombies and wells. They are both because of Baby Jessica.


• What am I up to right now? Just friending all your friends on Facebook. You?


• I just got a shipment of 4000 expiered condoms. Want to make a condom snowman with me?


• It's because secondhand smoke kills! Luckily for us, so does Chuck Norris.


• It has to be true! I read it in an NRA Manual!

L Stories

My little sister pretty much takes the L Trains everywhere. She doesn't have a liscence (even though there is a FACEBOOK GROUP dedicated to her getting  it. I am not kidding.) and so she takes public trans everywhere.  The other day, she is the only one standing on the platform waiting for the train. As she is standing there, a woman comes onto the platform, and is looking at her all hard.

And Julie is like, "Eh, maybe that's just her face" and doesn't say anything, or move at all. She just keeps waiting for the train.

Then the woman starts yelling at her. "DID YOU SAY SOMETHING TO ME BITCH?" Julie doesn't even look at her, or in her direction, she assumes she is talking on her cell phone, or to someone else.

The woman starts walking towards her, and the whole time is staring her down, and screaming, "BITCH I AM TALKING TO YOU DID YOU SAY SOMETHING TO ME?!"

Julie is understandably freaked out, so when the woman gets within arms' length, Julie turns, looks startled, and says "Mahmm yur gohnna have to spheak uhp I'm def."

The women looks shocked and ashamed, and stammers out a sorry and walks away briskly. Julie still doesn't know what this woman thought she heard, but it didn't matter, it kept her from getting her ass completely kicked by some random woman on a train, so hey, there's a massive plus.

And now I am seriously wondering if Bear is deaf, or if he just likes to say random stuff and ignore me when I try to enforce safety codes.  Hmmmmm...

Help me Internet! You're my only hope!

Ok, for those of you who find wedding planning boring, look away. For the rest of you HELP ME PLEASE.

I need a reception site! Preferrably for 200 people, with the option that allows us to have a bar. I would prefer in the western burbs of Chicago, IL. Also, I am on a VERY limited budget, so the cheaper the better. I am looking for alternative sites, like lodges and stuff, because quite frankly I cannot afford 13GRAND for a wedding reception, but also we don't want it to be ghetto-fied. One last thing - it cannot be outdoors.  Does anyone have any ideas? Even if you think they sound stupid, SAY IT. You never knw what might inspire me to greatness.

Weddings be fricken hard!

Happy Chicago Christmas!

Have a great Christmas everyone! I know I will!

Everyone from Chicago knows these cartoons, but I thought I would share them with the world. The sound quality isn't that good, but then again, the sound quality wasn't that good on the originals, either.

Enjoy!



I'm Hardrock:

Merry Xmas Eve!

I got an Xmas bonus! I know what you're thinking, "GTFO!" which I cannot type out because I am trying to quit swearing but YES IT IS TRUE.

Time to celebrate by blowing it all at Hooters! Someone get me some oysters! I feel like taking Bendryl later and having some crazy Piccasso dreams!

Or, you know, paying some bills. I guess that might be ok too.

I am thinking of ditching out of Eric's Xmas party and showing up at my extended family's party, busting open the doors, screaming "MY BITCHES!" and then promptly walking back out to my car and driving away. But I am pretty sure that would give my mother a coranary. Just like how she is going to have to explain to them at some point during Xmas about how her lovely daughter (me) became a protestant. GOOD TIMES!

So, in conclusion, I would like to say to my parents thank you for another wonderful year, and I appreciate all that you do for me. Merry Xmas, my bitches. And remember, it could be worse: I could be a scientologist.

Diet Post

First, I would like to take a moment to get political: Houston/Galveston - I AM ANGRY WITH YOU. This is very hard for me, seeing as I am trying to give up swearing, but how dare you not be demanding that these officers are not boiled in their own piss in the center of a public square?

For the link-phobic here's the breakdown: Plain clothes officers attacked a little girl whom they thought was a prostitute, even though she did not match the description of the prostitute, and tried to forcibly put her in their car. She grabbed a tree (smart little girl) and screamed for daddy, all while the police were beating her. Then, they arrest her at her school for *drumroll please* resisting arrest and assault on a police officer.  IT WENT TO TRIAL, and it was declaired a mistrial - all the same - why are the police not reprimanded? Thanks to Pandora for pointing this out to me.

ANYWAY, the diet is going good. Do you all know about Burrito Beach? It is FABULOUS! They have a low carb bowl that is fantastic. But, I know they are only in Chicago, so here's the breakdown of the bowl:

-Mexican Seasoned Chicken, about a cup, shredded (I just add the taco seasoning that you buy in the store)

-Shredded Cheese, about 1/4 cup

-1/2 cup of tomatoes

-1/4 cup of onions

-1/4 cup of guacamole

-1/2 cup of salsa

-About a handful of lettuce

Layer it, mix it up, it's darn good! You can also add sour cream, if you really wanted to ruin a diet...

Today was a high of ten degrees. TEN. It was very hard for me not to just order a chicken for delivery and have my gluttonous way with it, but no, I stuck with my diet. Tomorrow, it will be a high of thirty degrees, isn't it wrong I am looking FORWARD to tomorrow for that very reason?

Late Sunday Post

To all of you who are reading this in different parts of the country/world:

Currently, in Downers Grove, it is -7, but with windchill, it's -27 (this is closer to the actual temperature. Especially considering the wind is HOWLING outside.) It is currently 36 degrees F in Oslo, Norway.

Please fo me a favor - go buy a can of AquaNet, and spray the whole thing outside, and think of me, and try not to think of Al Gore.

Thank you.

Hooters

You would think as a quasi-flaming feminist I would hate Hooters. Not so.  Back in the day it might have been scandalish to work at Hooters, but nowadays in the summer, women pretty much dress like that anyhow. They might as well be getting some good tips out of it.

Also, their hot wings are freaking fantastic.

So, last Friday I was trying to get HR Guy to drive me downtown (roughly 2 miles) to go get some Hooters hotwings, takeout style.

I sent him this haiku to try and convince him:

Let’s get some Hooters
Short shorts and tasty hot wings!
Yum Happy Friday!

This was his humorous response:

Two, wait no, three things on this one.  First, the allure and enjoyment of this establishment is the casual dining in restaurant experience where I am fawned after by women who are out of my league as if I were in an Al Bundy fantasy montage from Married with Children.  This privilege is not shared with your standard pick up order.  Second, I seem to recall Haiku’s about sandwiches that were used to persuade me and then when I was swayed, no buy in from the person whose idea it was.  You are like the girl who cried sandwich day.  Finally, I am pretty sure the last time I consumed wings at Hooters I got sick immediately thereafter and threw up when I got home.  Was it poisoning HR Guy? Good question, and let me answer that by saying I am not sure.

I do, however, know this.  I have, over the course of my formative years put some pretty awful things in my person for consumption.  Various boozes and concoctions from bars that have sedated me like a poached elephant.  Food, that has fallen on the floor, and some times combinations that are less than savory because as a single guy I do not own complimenting side dishes to go with my main course.  None of these things have created the feeling, reaction, and residual feeling that this particular hooters meal had.

So I say unto you, no, I would not enjoy Hooters wings today.  I would not eat them with Bobby Flay.  I would not eat them at all, no way, even if brought to my table by Rachel Ray.  I would not eat them on a boat, I would not try them with a goat.  I would not eat them with Mia Hamm, I would not eat them, Sam I Am.

Good day.

So yeah, it is safe to say we did not Hooters. We did, however, have sandwich day!

Annoyances

Here is a list of things that are annoying me at the current moment:

1. The weather. Three days ago, it was 50 degrees out. Two days ago it was -7 out. Yesterday it snowed like crazy for 10 hours. Tomorrow: Ice storm. Dang Midwest, I am suddenly seeing the appeal of Southern California. I mean really.

2. My job. I will not go into specifics, but let's just say that Mr. Mercury sums up my feelings with this delightful Queen song:



(Anyone else notice that I have a thing for androgynous men from the 70s?)

3. My MP3 player. Half the songs sound like it's a CD skipping. THIS IS WHY I GOT AN MP3 PLAYER - NO CD SKIPPING.The warranty just ended on it too. Blerg.

4. Mozilla Firefox. So, you finally convinced me to update. And when I did, I noticed that all my bookmarks are GONE. Poof! Thanks Mozilla, I sure feel safer!

5. My computer is running so super slow it isn't even funny. This post is taking forever to write. Every time I have to backspace it freezes up something fierce.

6. Steak'n'Shake. Seriously SnS, why is there only one 16 year old working your drive-thru lane. IT'S SNOWY OUT, NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD GET OUT OF THEIR CARS. Plus, he didn't know how to process a debit card. What are you, Amish?

7. MTV. Why do you not play videos anymore? I mean, I just got cable, and no videos for me. And no, I will not pay for the extended cable package just to get MTV2, MTV3, or MTVInfinity. Seriously, MTV, I could watch this video on loop for 6+ hours:



(On a side note: Oh noes! The recession has hit Beyonce! She is forced to dance in a completely empty room, not on some exotic location!)

8. Dieting. I am cranky because I am dieting again. This double chin extravaganza I have going on has got to end. And because it has snowed, all I want to do is make a fondue out of a brick of blue cheese and dip fruit, pretzles, my hands, heck, my whole head in it. Something tells me this is not part of any diet out there. (If it is, please, feel free to tell me about it!)

9. My messy house. Seriously, how can two people make this much mess? If our house ever is on fire, the firemen would show up and be like, screw it, it's just a garbage dump fire, and then they would walk away.

Ok, that's it, sorry for the bad YouTube post. This is just taking to darn long!

Bear the OSHA Mascot

At work, we have a handyman, and for all purposes, I will call him Bear. Bear is a bit of a character. Once, I walked in on him working. He was perched on two different sized aluminum ladders, one leg on each, and was working on live wires above his head.

The thing about Bear is, he's deaf. Not the permanent kind of deaf, but the kind where he is really hard of hearing and the government classifies him as deaf.

So, when I see him doing this ladder stunt, I run over and try to get his attention without startling him. I finally get his attention, and by this time, I am yelling hysterically. He looks down, and cheerily says, "Oh hi there. What can I do for you?" I scream "BEAR! OSHA!" He stops for a second, looks at the ladders, looks at me, and says, "What about it?"

Bear came in yesterday, and he didn't have his hearing aid in. When this happens, it's comical. He says some of the most ridiculous things, and I cannot quite tell if he says these things purposely, or if he thinks he is saying them quiet enough that I cannot hear him. Either way, he came up with some gems yesterday.

When he walked in the door, he quipped, "I'm farting eggrolls." I put my hand up to my ear and said, "What did you say Bear?" He yells, "I'M CRAPPING EGGROLLS."

Then, a little later, my boss left, and left his office door open. Bear walked into his office, sighed, and said "Daddy doesn't love me."

Bear once mildly electrocuted himself. The guy who used to work in the warehouse came running up to me freaked out. He's like, "I think Bear electrocuted himself. He yelled and the lights flickered."

I freak out and run to the back, and find Bear, who is frazzled, slightly electrocuted, but otherwise ok. I tell him we legally have to take him to the doctor, and he refuses. I tell him he is walking, talking, breathing disproof of Darwin's theories.

"No doctor," he says, "I'm fine. Besides, that would take too long. And me being electrocuted started a small fire back there, and we should handle that first."

Fricken Bear, he will never be the OSHA Mascot.

My Baby is Calling

So, very often, I find myself on the phone with some charity. And I can't be a total dick to these people, they're volunteers, and it's not their fault I somehow ended up on their calling/mailing/relentless email lists.

I have tried everything, well, everything not involving firearms, to try to get off the phone with them at least somewhat politely.

I have finally found the perfect excuse.

Caller: ...and with a small donation we can save the whales/defend Rod/plant a tree/save the children

Me: Cutting them off I'm sorry! I have to go, my baby just spit up all over herself! I'm so sorry!

Caller: Oh! Gosh! Go! It's ok!

Me: Thanks. NOW TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST.

Eric said that one day, this would catch up with me. And it did.

One of my friends from childhood called, and I was walking out the door at the time, and it just naturally came out.

Friend: ...then he broke up with me! Can you believe that?! I mean...

Me: I'm sorry, my baby just spit up all over herself! I have to go!

Friend: YOU HAD A BABY?

Me: Ahhhh*%$@. Taking off coat. No, what were you saying?

Speaking of swearing, reset the counter, I swore today. $#@&%# telemarketers.

A Gross Science Experiment

For those whom are offended by bodily functions, you should probably look away. Or, actually, find another blog. I mean really, what are you even doing here? To people with children at home - they will really get a kick out of this story. Especially little boys.


First off, I would like to wish my Aunt Sue a Happy belated Birthday! Happy Birthday! This post is dedicated to you.

So, on Friday, it was 18 degrees outside, but with the wind chill, it felt like 2. Yeah, TWO FRICKING DEGREES. I was walking home from work, and I had a thought, a quite scary thought.

See, I have been really sick for the past week, what with the flu and all. I drank about two gallons of orange juice over the week, and then became promptly sick of the stuff. So, I sent Eric out to the grocery store to pick me up some fruit to eat. He came back with raspberries, strawberries, and a whole slew of cherries.

I brought the cherries to work with me, and ate roughly two pounds of them. I don't know about you, but cherries give me a bad case of gas.

I am walking home, and the whole time, I am farting with pretty much every step.

And then it occurs to me, can the people driving by in cars see my farts? Like, you know how you can see your breath? Is the same true for ...that other kind of breath?

I got home, and got on the internet, and lo and behold - IT'S TRUE. You can see farts in cold weather. You just have to not have any pants on. It's safe to say I had pants on in two degree weather.

But all the same - THE MORE YOU KNOW!

Tagged!

I was tagged by Semi-Hipster Homemaker for this delightful internet meme. My first! So, here it is:

The rules:
Link to your tagger and list the rules
List 7 random facts about yourself
Tag 7 people (and make sure you check back and see what they say!)
If you’re tagged, play along and pass it on!

Random Facts:

1. My name is not Enna, it's Anne, and it's spelled exactly the same as Miss Anne from Semi-Hipster. My mother added the 'e' at the end because she said without it the name seemed so plain. Now, whenever I am at a doctor's office, nurses call out Annie, because everyone thinks the 'e' is pronounced. This annoys me to NO END. Very few people are allowed to call me Annie. An aunt I used to have called me that all the time, and Eric's mom is allowed to call me that, but that's it. Anyone else, I stress my name somewhere in the conversation. I end up sounding like that Jimmy guy from Seinfeld. (PS you can still call me Enna. I kind of like that name!)

2. I am trying to quit swearing. I know, even I think this is too hard for me to accomplish.

3. Eric any my favorite thing to do is play Mille Bournes. Seriously, we are Mille Bournes fanatics.

4. Speaking of board games, if you ever play the game of Life with me, I will win. The rules of probability do not apply to me when playing that game. By the end of the game, Eric is so annoyed he usually vows never to play the game again, hence all the Scabble playing and Mille Bournes. This little fact sucks particularly badly because Life was Eric's favorite game growing up.

5. I am addicted, ADDICTED I TELL YOU, to Sugar Free RedBull. There are days that I am so busy that is all I drink.

6. I have not missed Sunday services at church in like, 3 years. In fact, I just became a Methodist. My Catholic mother was ok with it, as long as I didn't join one of those 'sad ladies prayer groups'.  I think if I ever create another blog, I will name it "Sad Ladies Prayer Group." Then religious women will click on the blog and be horrified by my penchant for profanity.

7. My top favorite TV shows are: 30 Rock, Californication, The Office, The X Files reruns, Penn & Teller Bullsh*t (I cannot believe I just bleeped that), The Tudors, Secret Diary of a Call Girl, CSI, How I Met Your Mother, Weeds, Arrested Development reruns, Doctor Who, Gavin & Stacey, Coupling, This American Life, and good gravy do I watch a whole lot of TV!

Ok, now for tagging:

Andrea from Pantry Puff

Hootie

Daddoo Tillster

Nia from Niaskywalk

The ChitwnWife

Winona from DaddyLikey

My international Quaker friend Drifting Focus

(For those of you without blogs, you don't have to pass it on.)

Another Sick Post

I have the flu. You should feel very badly for me.

So, without further ado, here's a link post for your time. Thanks for taking the time to stop by:

This one is specifically for my mother: Portraits as Living Deads. It's a French artist who draws people as zombies. French Art + Zombies = AWESOME in my book!

Speaking of dead people, have you ever wondered where they are buried? Then check out this site: Find a Grave. Apparently every jazz and blues singer is buried in Chicago.

I am reading entirely too much about this guy.

For Eric: What qualities make a superhero! Wooooosh! Remember - no capes!

I get roughly 14 calls a day from Not-For-Profits. I feel this guy's pain.

I would very much like blood splatter posters for my office, as well.

And finally, I laugh at this, and then I go driving around in my Mitsubishi.



(If you can't see the small print, click on the photo.)

A Disgusting Jewish Post

Ok, that title was a little misleading. See, this is a disgusting post as well as a Jewish post. Well, now that we have clarified that, on with the post!

So last night, I noticed that my ear lobe was swelling up. Like, to the size of a grape. So, I touch it just ever so slightly and all this pus starts pouring out of my second ear piercing.

Yeah, I am one of those people who have their ears double pierced. Or as my mother phrases it, one of those women with the "white trash" piercings. See, when I was younger, I asked her if I could get my ears double pierced. She told me that if I still wanted it when I was 18, she couldn't stop me then. So, for my 18th birthday, I got my ears double pierced, and then for my 19th, I got my cartilage pierced. All of this horrified my mother. But anyway...back to the disgusting part of this post.

So, I grab the nearest container, which happens to be a shotglass. It FILLS half the shotglass. Is that not the grossest thing ever? I mean, I was completely amazed, but also majorly disgusting.

I also have the flu, so yeah, it's been an experience. Which might explain the second part of this post...the Jewish part.

So after that fun experience (and if anyone has some insight as to WHY that happened, feel free to leave me a comment.) I went to bed, and dreamed the following:

I am walking down the street, specifically 107 and Artesian on the south side of Chicago, and around the corner turns a giant Menorah Car.

Now, in order for you to understand what I am talking about, it looked like a little antique blue car with the star of David as a hood ornament, and a GIANT brick Menorah built right on top of it. None of the candles were lit. BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE SILLY.

So this giant Menorah is rolling on down the street, heading right towards me, and instead of exhaust, little tiny dreidels are falling out the back of it. And all these little Jewish kids are running after it, collecting the dreidels.

I say out loud to myself, "Well, I guess Hanukkah is right around the corner." As though this is an explanation for why this is happening, like "Oh yeah, I forgot, thanks GIANT MENORAH for the reminder. I have to go buy some gelt!"

I woke up laughing uncontrollably. I laughed so hard I had to get up and pee.

When I woke up the next day, I discovered four Enna-sized bites out the leftover ham that we had last night. I think maybe God is trying to tell me something? Something like stop sleep-walking-eating-ham and wash your darn ears, maybe?

Night Terrors

I try not to post about my dreams too much, because most of them would make Stephen King shutter, plus the vast majority of them are pretty normal, and don't make for good postings on the internet. Some of them are just so freaky, it would take me a page-long post to explain what was even going on in them, and even then it wouldn't be clear.

So, without further ado, here's a random selection of dreams I have had in the past week or so (leaving out the truly horrific ones):

Dream #1:

I was commissioned by Martin Luther himself to translate a Bible from Swedish to English. I got through most of Genesis, and I am not ashamed to say I WINGED MOST OF IT. Martin Luther came in every once in awhile to check on my work, and he was like "Eh, it'll do." and I was like "Yes, this casual attitude is something I can get behind!" Then I woke up feeling all guilty about leading the Anglo-Saxons down a wrong path with passages such as "and then Adam did some stuff. It involved animals or something" and "then Eve came out and was like 'what's up Adam? How's it hanging? Oh, nevermind, I can see.'" I MEAN REALLY.

Dream #2:

I was in charge of shoveling babies into a fire for fuel to keep the house warm. Why babies? Who knows, maybe we were out of puppies or something equally as cute.

Dream #3:

The zombies were coming, and I was in charge of getting my sister's kid out of the house, and she lived in one of those California houses where there's doors in every room that lead to the outside FOR NO REASON AT ALL. And all the doors were WIDE OPEN. I failed, by the way. That kid got eaten in a very horrific and slow manner. The zombie ones are the really bad ones.

Dream #4:

I get a new job. The only caveat is that I must eat whatever my bosses bring me. They bring me a possum. They are completely disgusted by the fact that I dig right in.

This dream, coincidentally enough, kind of mirrors my real life. I once was rushing a sorority, and the final test was to eat a fish. So, without any hesitation, I proceed to do just that. I got it in my mouth before they were like "NO! Stop! It was just a test to try and see if you would do it! Or if you would protest." I figured I would eat sushi every day, and it was relatively small, so why not, and down the hatch it went. I didn't even taste it. I immediately got in, but it kind of ruined the night for the other pledges, as I ate their only fish, and therefore they could not be put to the test, thus forcing the sisters to think of some other horrific test to give them.

Come to think of it, that's probably where that dream came from. Huh.

Dream #5:

Someone is beating me severely, concentrating on my legs and feet. I woke up to find that I no longer had any covers and my arthritis was in full force.

All of these dreams (with the grand exception of the last one) I end up wandering around the house before I wake up. This is the main reason why we have multiple locks on the balcony doors. Complicated locks too.

And finally, a dream from back in the day:

I need to get into a door, as there are gang members after me. I have already been shot once in the shoulder, and I am banging away at this wood door. I figure it's better to break something getting in and be ALIVE than let the gang members catch up with me. During the course of the dream, I cause myself to have a compound fracture in my right leg. When I wake up, four of my toes and two fingers are broken - I had been punching the wall, and not JUST the wall, the stud in the wall. I had to walk around the house a little while to make sure I didn't break my arm, hand, ankle, leg, or foot because everything hurt so badly I couldn't pinpoint where the pain was coming from exactly. My shoulder hurt (where I thought I had been shot) because apparently I had slammed myself into the wall with such force I had a bruise the size of a grapefruit on it, and it looked like I had been shot with a rubber bullet. Luckily, I was involved in soccer at the time, so no one took a second look at the bruising, otherwise DCFS would have been at our house in a FLASH.

Now, the grand (partial) tally of things I have destroyed while sleeping/sleepwalking:

-Every single hair tie in the house cut to smithereens. Apparently it was imparative I destroy them.

-2 Lamps

-One cereal bowl

-a full set of champaign flutes

-one VCR (as I recall, it was "watching me")

-Binoculars

-one stick of deodorant (smeared it all over the toilet seat.)

Here's some things I have woken up to find:

-Potatoes on the kitchen floor spelling out the world HALP (not 'help' HALP.)

-A jar filled with cotton balls with a note OBVIOUSLY written with my right hand (I'm a lefty) saying "Important"

-toilet paper strewn all over the house

-The cans in my cabinets alphabitized

-Wearing every pair of underwear I own (technically I was 4 or so, and my mother discovered this one)

-So many cuts and scrapes I have lost count

-My hands duct taped together

-various food items partially eaten (lots of corn. lots of canned beans. You know, stuff I wouldn't just normally open and say to myself "Why not?! What a treat!")

ALL OF THIS WITHOUT AMBIEN. So, what do YOU dream about?

Facebook and Catholic School Tales

This will be a trying post for me. I am trying to quit swearing. Catholic school pretty much induces swearing like a trucker for me. Except I know a trucker, and I have a dirtier mouth.

I joined Facebook, under severe peer pressure from my sister, who quaintly told me that Myspace was for hookers prostatots. Anyone who was anyone, according to her, had a Facebook. So, I joined, and originally, I joined under a fake name. I friended everyone whom I had already friended on Myspace, made it private, and then quietly and unceremoniously changed my name to my real name.

And then the friend requests started flowing on in. I friended some people I was friends with in grammar school, and friended far more I went to high school with. Everything went quiet after that, which was fine, seeing as I advertise this blog on my Facebook, and don't want to share it with just everyone that I am the person writing it.

Then my extended family found my Facebook, I hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the nasty names I called Sarah Palin during the election, but decided that it wasn't anything I wouldn't just SAY to them if they asked me about her, and I went ahead and friended them as well.

And then I friended my father, because really, why the heck not, he reads this blog, what could I possibly write on a Facebook page that I wouldn't write here? Besides, he knows I save my best material for this blog anyhow.

Facebook got quiet again for awhile.

And then I got a friend request from a girl whom shall remain nameless, but let's just say that she tortured me in grammar school. So, I rejected her friend request.

She then sends another friend request. And I reject that one as well.

Then she sends a message through another friend that says "Why won't you accept my friend request?!"

See, torturing me in grammar school wouldn't just be enough for me to not accept a friend request. This girl owed me a tongue lashing.

I used to work at a high rise office downtown. I also, strange as it may sound with my previous gratuitous use of the C-word, used to be Catholic. Hence, all the Catholic schooling.

When I worked at this high rise, I worked for a very specific company that was very good at philanthropy.  They gave benefits to live-in partners (for those of you not down with the lingo, if you were gay and had a partner living with you for more than a year, they got benefits through the company. AND THEY WERE GOOD BENEFITS.) They also gave money for retinal research (as well as many, many other charities and research groups.)

These two acts of good will pissed off a certain Catholic organization. As well as a certain Evangelical organization.

So, one day, I am walking out of work, and I see her, Facebook Girl, and she is holding up a sign that has a picture of an aborted fetus on it.  She runs right up to me.

Facebook Girl: Do you work here?

Me: Yes I do actually.

Facebook Girl: WHY?!

Me: You're aware this isn't a planned parenthood, right? It's an investment consulting firm?

Facebook Girl: Yes, and they donate money to retinal research! And they support gay rights!

Me: blank stare

Facebook Girl: They get the retinas from aborted babies! They're supporting abortion!

In the background protesters are yelling stuff like "Jesus hates abominations! Homosexuality is an abomination! Baby Jesus hates anal sex!"

Not one to let a chance at being snarky pass me up, I yell to them:

Me: EXCUSE ME? I AM PRETTY SURE ALL BABIES HATE ANAL SEX!

And then I casually turn back to Facebook Girl, who is HORRIFIED.

Me: You were saying?

Blagojevich in Federal Custody

For those of you in Illinois, early this morning Federal Agents took Rod Blagojevich into custody. There will be a news conference at 11 a.m. CST.

For more info on this go HERE.

Haikus

I like to write Haikus. No, really. Like, I LOVE WRITING HAIKUS. So, without further ado, here's some haikus for your delightful enjoyment:

Sometimes when I'm bored
I post strange stuff on Craigslist
Like stuff about toes

Puppets scare me lots
Something about their wood hands
Sends chills up my spine

I ate a cat once
It freaked my mom out bunches
Thought I had rabies

Oh Sarah Palin
You piss me off so very much
Fade away dammit

Hey there neighbor man
I stole your Netflix movie
Accidentally

Why doesn't anyone
use those triangle dumbells
They are so old school

Eric was not aware
He's engaged to a girl with
Bad horrific gas

Hey Fashionista
Who holds a one day Haiku
Contest I am pissed!

How I miss Night Court!
Oh what a great show that was!
Night Court Thug Life Woot!

Hi tasty bacon!
You'll be in my belly soon
Tasty tasty Pork!

Eggs could kill me fast
Why must they be in all food
The tasty ones too

Almost all my gifts
ordered and wrapped so nice
Wrapped jars of farts

Finally reading
The last Harry Potter book
He whines so very much

Orange soda so good
Is the downfall of diets
Especially mine

I have a small doll
We pose her humorously
So much fun for us!

I'm slowly learning
Swedish accidentally
Oh Emi Guner!

Ok that's it folks
Time for me to go to bed
Night night you sleep tight!

My Thieving Ways

Once, about four years ago (maybe more now that I think about it) Eric and I went to a New Year's Eve Party in Appleton, WI.

The thing about living in Chicago is everyone knows someone is Appleton, Wisconsin. It's not a theory, it's a fact. I don't know what it is about that town, but those folks get around.

Anyway, Eric and I go up to this party. And it must have been a great party, because I remember slim to bubkis about it. Well, I remember one thing.

My friend's roommates bought fish and a hamster as decoration/things to play with while drunk. They put the hamster in a ball, and would blow cigarette smoke at it, they put it right next to the speakers, etc. I think they even fed it vodka. The roommates decided that at the end of the night, they would put it into a microwave.

Now, I am not passing judgment on anyone here, I am just stating facts of what they did and what they intended to do. I mean, I have seen the Peta videos, I know where my food comes from and what it goes through to get to my plate. But all the same, a microwave? That's a terrible death.

So, the party was winding down, and I asked my friend if I could take home the hamster.

Sure, he says, but it isn't mine to give, it's the roommate's, so you should ask them. So I do. And they say no, but I can have it after I microwave it.

I then decide to steal it. I grabbed a shoe box out of my friend's then-girlfriend's room, dumped her shoes out, and put the hamster in the box. Then I went to the crudettes, and stole a carrot and some celery. I then told Eric I had everything ready and it was time to go.

Keep in mind, however, I neglected to tell him that I was in the process of stealing a small animal and trying to smuggle it across state lines in his car.

We get in the car, and we start the long drive back to Chicago. About an hour in, Eric starts asking me about noises coming from my side of the car.

Eric: Do you hear anything? Like a methodical crunching, rustling noise coming from over there?

Me: Nope.

Eric: Are you sure?

Me: Yep.

Eric: Alright, I have to pull over, I think there's something wrapped around my tire, like a plastic bag or something.

Me yelling: I STOLE THEIR HAMSTER.

Eric pulling over: WHAT?

Me: They were going to kill it and so I stole it. I have it in a shoe box. It's eating crudette.

Eric: What?

Me opening the shoebox: See? He likes celery.

Eric: I totally cannot believe you stole their hamster.

Me: I totally cannot believe I got away with it!

Eric: Ditto!

So, we get it back to Eric's house, and his mom is quite impressed with us. I think this is the first time in my life I have a) stolen something, and b) been given kudos for doing something that is clearly a no-no, I mean, it's on the 10 Commandments as one of those "God strongly advises you NOT to do" things.

With my next paycheck, I buy the full gamut: The gigantic habitat, the wheel, the organic, self cleaning bedding, the organic hamster food. I went all out.

Then it dies.

I was so pissed off. I dropped $120 on this stupid little pet, and it up and died on us.

And I know what you're thinking, no, I did not eat it.

I gave away all the stuff I bought, because Eric and I both decided that maybe we weren't ready for another hamster quite yet.

We named the little fella Dante, because we figured that he had been through hell, and then promptly gave it a proper burial in a City of Chicago garbage can in the alley.

So I guess the moral of this story is don't let me see you torture and animal, otherwise I will be forced to steal it in a shoebox, and take it home, buy it a bunch of crap, and then discover it dead.

And to that certain friend of mine: YOUR FORMER ROOMMATES OWE ME $120!

Goodbye Bratz (And I Mean That)

In case you haven't heard, Mattel sued Bratz, and now legally own it. You can read about the whole mess here.

I could write about the whole story here, but I think the Associated Press pretty well has it covered.

I however, am writing about how I am not sad to see them go.

For years, I have skimmed Mommy-blogs and read about how evil Bratz dolls are, how they over-sexualized little girls. And yet, they grew in popularity.

When I was growing up, it was all about how Barbie was evil. How Barbie taught little girls to be pretty, stupid, and spend their husband's money.

If that's what Barbie taught us, then the Bratz dolls can only represent the ideal that an old issue of Maxim found in a truckstop bathroom wants women to look like.

Except I think Maxim is even to classy for these dolls.

And I get it, Barbie is still "evil" but she's the lesser of two evils. And I am well aware that the lesser of two evils is still evil. But shit, even Barbie got to be a Vet or an Astronaut every once in awhile.

So, without further ado, allow me to show you the caliber of doll that is going off the market, and you can see if you agree with me.

First up, your metrosexual date:

[caption id="attachment_497" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Look at the size of his head."][/caption]

Ok, he comes with a comb, chain wallet, and a funky disco shirt. Hot damn, what a catch! Also - what a large head. Take a word of advice from my mother, ladies, look at the man's head. Now picture yourself pushing something of that size out your va-jay-jay. Not so attractive anymore, is he?

[caption id="attachment_498" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Being a slut isn't a "fashion""][/caption]

This is the fashion designer. Though I do appreciate a doll of color (they didn't even have a Brunette Barbie when I was growing up.) But what exactly are you supposed to do? Put one of those stencils on her and draw her clothes on? Those pants already look painted on, why do you need the stencils?

[caption id="attachment_499" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Flower Girl Cloe"][/caption]

Ahhh the womanly arts. In jeans and heels, no less. Ironically, the flower girls of the 60s would revile this thing.

[caption id="attachment_500" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Holy shit a solid gold dancer!"][/caption]

All these dolls come with some kind of makeup or a hairbrush or some other girlie crap. For little girls. Screw being ok with yourself, you need to look better.

[caption id="attachment_501" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Pop Singer Yazmin"][/caption]

OH MY. No one get this for my future child. It comes with a plug in microphone. So far, if we were little girls with these dolls, we would have learned that you need good nails, wear heels ALL THE TIME, sing well, and be adept at the womanly arts. Oh, and date androgynous boys with large heads.

All around, I am happy to see this brand go. I am hoping Mattel doesn't just repackage them, and continue selling them under their brand.

Someone once described these dolls as "pole dancers on their way to work." I would have started out with that statement, but that pretty much summed up my entire blog post, only with less snark. Hence, I will end with it.

Sleeping Like The Dead

Yesterday, I wrote a post about how I frequently had to rescue my sister from her own little toddler hands. Well, I got her back for those years of sleepless nights.

One of the side effects of my weird sleep disease is I frequently sleep with my eyes...open. Like, wide open, in terror.  I have no idea why.

The first person to discover this trait was my little sister. I was sleeping, half hanging off my bed, with my eyes wide open. Julie just starts screaming.

I am jolted awake, and look at her like she has absolutely lost her mind.

Me: What the heck Julie? Why...

Julie: crying YOU LOOKED LIKE YOU WERE DEAD!

Me: Who wakes up someone like that? I was sleeping!

Julie YOU LOOKED LIKE YOU WERE DEAD!

Me: All the same, that was pretty rude.

Julie would not be the last person to see me sleeping with my eyes open. Frequently, I will fall asleep in front of the TV, sitting up, with my eyes open. Eric will carry on a conversation with me, and when I don't respond, he realizes I am sleeping. He has also woken up, seen me with my eyes open, and been so started he's fallen onto the floor.

This has become a never ending source of amusement for me, however. I have frequently told people, "Hey, you want to sleep over? You can see what I will look like when I am dead." And really, who could resist an offer like that?

Chicago

Is my blood not thick enough? I mean, I cannot help but wonder strange thoughts like this when I am standing at 5:40 a.m. waiting for the train. Today's high is 36 degrees. That will be the highest it will be all day. And all week.

Right around the beginning of February, when I am walking down Monroe, and my eyes are frozen open, and the capilaries in my face are freezing and exploding - I remember why I liked owning a car.

Midsummer, when there are street festivals and hotdog vendors and Navy Peir is in full swing, I always think to myself, "WHO NEEDS A CAR! LOOK AT ALL THIS EXCITEMENT!"

Today, I remembered why I loved driving, which does not bode well for the rest of winter. Like I said, it's usually February before I am this sick of freezing while waiting on public transportation.

Plus gas is cheaper now than when I gave up my car! I MEAN COME ON.

Either way, when I am freezing my ass off, I think back to childhood memories in footie pajamas (oh what I wouldn't give for footie pajamas now!) Usually because I was warm then, so very, very warm.

This morning, I thought about my little sister, Julie. Julie liked to suck her thumb and twist her hair while she slept.

Usually I would be awakened in the night by the sound of her crib banging around. It sounded like she was tied to a chair and she was desperately trying to hop the chair over to the other side of the room ala a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon, only replace the chair with a hardwood crib. And replace Bullwinkle with a redheaded toddler.

Then, seeing that she couldn't will the crib to the other side of the room, where I was sleeping, she would stand up and yell, "Sisssssssy! I'm stuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" and shake the crib with her free hand.

How was she stuck, you ask?

Good question. She would twist her hair until her hand got stuck in her hair, and she couldn't get it out.

Then, she would continue to call me until I finally got up, got some scissors, cut her free, and unwrapped all the hair off of around her fingers so they could resume not being purple.

She would then happily lay back down and go back to sleep. BUT I WOULD BE AWAKE. Very rarely would I be able to fall back asleep afterwards.

Ironically, I would take the time to find the scissors, unwrap her hands, and handle the situation, but wouldn't take the time to properly throw away the hair I had cut off. So, when my mother would clean under my sister's crib, there would be a veritable tumbleweed of hair under there, usually the size of a basketball, which used to puzzle and freak out my mother to no end.

And all I could think while I was standing out in the cold, waiting on yet another train this morning was, "Shit. I should have knitted that hairtumbleweed into a proper pair of gloves."

Which pretty much shows that my brain is officially frozen and not working properly.

UPDATE: HOLY CRAP IT'S DECEMBER!!! Why did no one tell me?! I need to change my header!!!

My Mother, the CSI

I was recently offered a human hand.

Yeah. There's NO OTHER WAY to say that. Well, I guess there is. Someone offered me a human hand because they know I am an artist. I cannot, for the life of me, tell if this is real or not. It's skeletal, and held together with little screws. The person offering it is also an artist, and picked up the hand at a flea market in the middle of a book fair. She had since become a vegetarian.

Friend: I just can't eat meat anymore. I keep staring at this thing, and it's staring back.

Me: Well, in fairness, it would be less creepy if you didn't paint eyes all over it.

Friend: Yeah. The eyes give it a perky little face, and now all I can think of is how I have a perky little face, and someone could eat me.

Me: I am really not following your logic. Also, and I mean this as kindly as possible for one artist to another, two eyes equals a perky little face, seven eyes, scattered around on skeletal human digits in varying colors and sizes is not perky. It's the stuff of nightmares.

Friend: *sighs*

Me: On second thought, I do want it. Think of the children I could torture! Shit, I would buy an ice cream truck just so I could travel around the midwest scaring the crap out of children!

Friend: You're always the one who takes it too far, you know that?

 

I should take it to my mother, who, despite the creepy paint, could tell if it was real or not. I know it does have some plaster on it, but then there's something else there too. Like the plaster is only there to fill in divots or something. Ala nail holes in an apartment.

Why my mother? Because, and this is WAY before CSI, my mother has read every book on human remains and decomposition that has ever existed. No, really.

In the meantime, I have to paint over the eyes. They're just sitting there, staring a hole through my soul, judging me for being a meat eater...

Gobble Gobble

How was everyone's Thanksgiving? Mine was GREAT. See, I took a vacation. A real vacation. For the first time in three years.

And boy, did I get a taste for vacations! I totally see why people do these kinds of things.

In other news, I made a quilt. I know, I know, am I turning Amish? Will I be changing my name to Mrs. Jacob Yoder? Not so much. It's s a Christmas gift for Mrs. Eric's Mom. (Can anyone else not believe that I haven't found a pseudonym for her yet? Because I sure can't.) See, I started it Friday, and pretty much finished it last night. I also watched the entire first season of 30 Rock while I quilted.

I also got 90% of my Christmas shopping done as well.

So why am I so relaxed, you ask? Because I did most of it ONLINE. In about two weeks, I will have everything wrapped, and all ready to go. Most. Relaxing. Holiday. Ever.

Since this post has been all about my life, I feel the need to post a comic or something. I know the election is over, but this comic just keeps cracking me up: