Izze: The Drink
I likie. Yummy flavors. Nice design.
Famous People
Why were Oliver Platt and Rosie Odonnell having lunch together at Canter’s on Fairfax?
They were there so she could enjoy chicken noodle soup, her first real food since having the flu for the past 48 hours. Only, it wasn’t Rosie. It was me. And it wasn’t Mr. Platt, it was Joe. But there were people there at Canter’s that knew better then we did regarding who we were. There were knowing glances passed across the table and isle. There were whispers and smiles. They knew that because I had a baseball cap pulled down over my head and looked as if I had something to hide, namely that I felt like shit, we must be famous. And Joe’s hair is kinda long right now and I’ve heard him compared to O.P. before, who I think is cute, so I wasn’t surprised about that, but Rosie? Come on.
Anyway, we don’t have to look any farther than the rearview mirror to find the stars here in LA. We are the freakin stars. And I need to lose some more weight. Fast.
Rain
I don’t know if you’re in LA and noticed, but it’s raining outside. Again. Still.
This weekend, Joe and I were in Santa Monica on 3rd Street. We took Tyler for a ‘date’ and went to lunch and shopping. At his request we went to no museums and dutifully kept it completely un-educational in the institutional sense of the word. And it rained the whole time. Sometimes worse than others. If you timed it right, you could duck into a store right as the drops started really pelting, leisurely browse and then rejoin the throngs during a short reprieve of precipitation.
Of course we left the umbrella in the car. That only makes sense. So we did our fair share of ducking in and browsing things we might never have looked twice at. Like the Albert Einstein action figure. Actually, he deserved at least 2 good looks.
When I was young, my mom always carried little square packets in her purse about the size of a half a credit card. Magically, she would unfold one of them to unveil a full size clear plastic poncho. I would get so embarrassed running with her into Duke’s, the only store in town that sold Levi’s button fly 501s, with her in that ridiculous poncho through the rain. I would literally.nearly.die. Ah, the psyche at age 14. She outdid herself once when she ran out of little instant ponchos and put a used grocery bag over her head. A. Used. White. Grocery. Bag. Do you understand the import there?? Do you? I couldn’t look the people in the store in the eye. All 3 of them. And they all worked there. And 2 of them were over 70 and couldn’t even see her damp, bagged head anyway, but that wasn’t the point. My mom was in public with a white bag over her hair, tied near the base of her hairline under the boof. And I was totally trying to be cool and try on 501s so tight you couldn’t bend your legs after they were on. Or bend over to do anything without running the risk of popping a seam. Or even get up from the bed after lying flat on your back and wrestling them on in the first place. And for some reason, once I bought them and took them home and then washed them to make sure they were extra snug, I would sew the lower part from the knee down to make them tighter because that extra 2.5 inches that was flapping away from my skin made me nervous and had to be eradicated. It was a time of great concern for my own lower half and I had no extra energy to expend on my mom and her attempt to keep her hair dry at any cost. It was an afternoon I never forgot. I learned to become one with the rain and not need an umbrella so I’d never accidentally forget it and then want it and then not have a poncho and then wrap a bag around my head and embarrass myself and my posterity.
One of the times we ducked in and out, Joe asked if we were doing ok. Doggedly, I told him I was fine, thanx. I loved the rain. And Ty said the same but I think he meant it. I explained to Joe that I didn’t feel the need to separate myself from the gift of moisture falling from the sky and didn’t care for umbrellas. Or some other crap like that. Because then it really started raining and I swallowed hard and found myself asking the lady where Ty bought magic cards for an extra bag. A big one, please. I was going to put a bag over my head. And God laughed and made the bag neon orange.
ps. While in the ladies during lunch, I overheard two women in adjoining stalls talking seriously about a funeral they had just attended. In my usual completely irreverent fashion, I almost laughed out loud.
#1: How was Danny at the funeral? Didn’t you sit by him?
#2: Yes. Well, you know….he cried and then stopped. Cried and then stopped. Cried and then stopped. And then cried. Off and on. Pretty much through the whole opening prayer.
Yes. I’m most likely going to have to repent for this and many other similar occasions.
Fleas Rock
The Flea Circus is rad. My favorites are lasersword duell, cheerleader, and manager toy. And for you gore-gluttons, some even have blood. Eww gross.
via Snarky
Best Pick-Up Line This Week
Did you just get a parking ticket? Cuz you have FIIIIINE written all over you!
via my daughter (!)
New Religion
Fear comes in direct response to my resistance to experiencing life.
The point is to stop resisting the experience and allow it to happen, not to get God to do it for me.
I will reshape my reality to fit what is Real.
Pink Gloves
I’m typing with pink gloveds on and sometimes I mwss up on some typingh letters.
Today I have made a new discovery. My belly button is not centered. I know. I can’t believe it either. But when I look straight down, it’s slightly to the right. Question 1: When did this happen? Sub-question 1a) If this happened at birth, why did I never, ever notice it even during my high-primping days in high school when you compare practically every body part to all your girlfriends? Sub-question 1b) If my mother loved me, why didn’t she have is surgically moved to the center? Sub-question 1c) If this happened recently, what in the hell could have happened to make my belly button move slightly to the right? What does an event of that magnitude look like?
Question 2: Am I the only one of my kind out there? I can’t say that I’ve noticed anyone else’s belly button being skewed. Question 3: Does this somehow take my level of hawtness down a notch? I can’t help but feel a little less sexy now….. Question 4: Can I somehow blame this on my parents?
This I Love
I Heart Racy Nuns and Valentines Day.
My Kids
Those are my 4 kids on the header ages 12-16. Yes, they are the cutest kids in the entire world.
Guess What?
It might be kinda ugly around here while I get things figured out….
Dinner With Friends Thanks to Denny's
Last night, Joe and I went to dinner at our friend’s home. We took separate cars because we both drove directly from our respective worksites. So one of us, (me) got there before the other one of us (him) and won the spot of ‘Dessert Buyer’ which wasn’t a big thing and I didn’t mind at all. I would just run into the grocery store and pick up something nice. No biggie.
Apparently, no one in their area eats food from grocery stores. Because there just aren’t any. Which makes me feel so sorry for them, those sad, sad, people with no food. But being at the top of my game, I quickly thought up a new plan. I’d just find a bakery or dessert shop and get something there.
Was I HIGH? If they don’t eat grocery store food, why did I think they’d have a bakery? They have Staples and 3 hair places and other assorted stores that have no food. There was a Target, which in retrospect probably would have had a box of cookies. I totally could have picked up a bag of little Honey Graham bear cookies for dessert, each sealed in their own portion-sized bag. That would have been the smart choice. But I digress….
The only option was a Denny’s. Have you heard about how much I love Denny’s? No? That’s because I don’t. But I knew they had pies. Whole ones. And I could buy one. So, against my better judgment and past experience, I went in.
Krystal: 15 or so and zitty, was on an important phone call when I walked in. Her name badge was smudged but her hair was clean. Her off-brown-orange-tan shade of foundation mask was just thick enough to cover her jaw line but not her acne. She held the phone pinched between her shoulder and ear while twirling a pencil in one hand and fixing her padded bra with the other. She saw me walk in and she smiled a very large, toothy smile and raised one finger to let me know to wait-one-minute-and-she’d-be-right-with-me and continued her phone conversation. With Dan.
“Dan, I’m worrrrking!” Her eyes get large and ever so exasperated.
“Seriously. I’m worrrrrrking. I can’t talk right now.” She rolls her eyes to show me that she’s just as irritated at Dan as I am.
“Oh. My. Hell. Seriously. I’m SO working right now. You should just come down here. Seriously.” Krystal raises her shoulders in a shrug, looks at me and raises her one finger again. ItÂ’s a good thing her finger is a few feet away from me or it might accidentally get bent backwards.
“Daaaaan. I’m not going to keep talking to you right now. I’m SO working.” She covers the mouthpiece, so Dan can’t hear her WORKING and whispers to me, ‘I’ll just be a sec.’ and shows me her great gappy teeth again.
“OK. Seriously, you’re a pig. And I’m so not going to. And now I’m telling you, I’m working. So, are you coming in later? Because that would be SO cool. I TOTALLY hate this sucky job and all these PEOPLE (through clenched teeth) so come in here you ass.”
My instinct is to thump her and remind her that yes, I’m still standing 2 feet from her and that I am one of those PEOPLE (I’ll show you clenched teeth) and that she better get her raggy ass off the phone. I HATE Denny’s.
Krystal hangs up the phone. She shrugs her shoulders one more time just for good measure while she shakes her head….that darned, silly Dan.
“Hiiiiii. You’re eating all alone? Just you?”
“No. I’m just here to buy a pie.”
“A pie?” *blink* *blink*
“Uh, yes. A pie.”
“You just want to eat pie? Do you want to sit at the bar?”
“No. I’m just going to buy a pie and take it with me.”
“Oh. Ok.” Yelling to the guy at the grill, “Hey! Do we sell the pies? Like, a whole pie?” Then to me, “Ok. What kind?”
“What kind do you have?”
“Uuuuuummmm. Waaaaait just a sec.” She looks in the drawer under the cash register. Nope. No pies in there. She goes to the little shelf-fridge with the pieces all set out on plates and showing upside-down double amounts thanks to the mirror along the top. “We don’t have a whole pie. Do you want to take, like, 10 pieces of these?”
The guy comes out from behind the grill and tells her that there are whole pies in the back. She totally “Oooooooohhhh”s and then shrugs her shoulders to me again.
I could continue. But I won’t. It took me about 15 more minutes to actually get the pie in a bag (because there are TWO sizes of bags and only one fits around the box and that is so confusing) and out the door. But my strong belief is that Dan did come in later and that Krystal and Dan ran away to, like, somewhere where there are no PEOPLE because she hates them and a place where she doesn’t have to figure out how to be customer-servicey or look for pies mysteriously kept in refrigerators and not in drawers. One can hope.
Interesting Cool
My interview with Heather Armstong is linked in the definition of dooced in the Macmillan Dictionary .
Watching The Hours
Joe says, while we cuddle in bed and watch depressing movies like The Hours:
‘That woman needs a good cookie. In fact, all those women need chocolate chip cookies, great sex and a cat to sit on their arm.”
Is there any doubt why I’m with this man?
