Sunday, August 29, 2004
Today we went to a festival held on the boardwalk of a nearby town. The main attractions were live music, vendors, rides and carnival food (Bavarian nuts! funnel cakes! processed meats on sticks!), but the fringe benefit was checking out the native wildlife. Maryland beach people are truly a breed unto themselves. At the booth for the local Arts Council, their Executive Director looked me over and said, "You look like you have an appreciation for the arts. We'd love to have you join us." All that from a black shirt and white capris? Right-o. I think what she meant was, "I notice that you have all of your teeth and aren't wearing acid-wash jeans. Slim pickin' down here, but we'll take what we can get."
The highlight of the afternoon happened as we were on our way out. We walked towards one of the band tents and noticed a large crowd gathered around the dance area. Not in the dance area; AROUND it. Very deliberately giving it a wide berth, yet positively glued to the action.
What were all these people watching so intently?
OH. MY. GOD. It was a vision in pink hibiscus print polyester, dancing his little heart out to a cover of Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock & Roll". (Side note: I seriously think the middle-aged rednecks would riot if this song wasn't played at every damn outdoor festival around here.)
The guy had moves like this:
And white patent leather boogie shoes:
Song genre made no difference. Here, he's getting down and dirty to the Booty Call!
Just when you thought you'd seen enough to make you want to wash your eyeballs, he unbuttoned his shirt.
And then the shirt went missing completely. Note the gold medallion. (Reader poll: What's worse, a shirtless guy with chest hair so lush and thick he could put a barrette in it, or a shirtless guy with AN EERILY HAIRLESS DROOPY MANBOOB CHEST? Please, email me, I'd love to know your opinion.)
And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse...oh, but it CAN! It's SPIRIT FINGERS!
I'm ashamed to admit that we gawked through the "Booty Call", the "Electric Slide", the "Cha Cha Slide" and the "Macarena". I think I lost a little bit of my soul today. Feeling grateful for small miracles like not having to see "Jump Around" danced out by Mr. BoDangles.
# posted by Amanda at 10:16 PM |
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Friday, August 27, 2004
A South African couple who died by murder-suicide will be married posthumously this weekend. The article quotes a cultural expert: "[Death] does not mean the relationship has irretrievably broken down."
Maybe not, but I'd say that when THE GROOM SHOOTS AND KILLS THE BRIDE, it's a fairly clear indication of unresolvable relationship problems.
# posted by Amanda at 9:16 PM |
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Wednesday, August 25, 2004
At least once every summer, we invite a few [dozen] friends to our house for heavy grilled meat consumption and fine adult beverages. These parties are starting earlier every time because all of our friends are old* now and old people don't like to drive at night. Add beer and wine to the mix and the heads are lolling by 6 PM. Pretty soon we'll just be meeting up for a rousing game of shuffleboard after sharing a Senior Breakfast Special at Denny's.
* More and more of us are slipping into the 30+ age bracket every year. The horror! Can't someone do something about this? I demand to know why more American tax dollars aren't being devoted to research to find a cure for diminished ability to party like a rockstar!
The most recent party was last weekend. In lieu of pictures (oops, forgot to take any!), I offer:
Diary of a Big Event Day
7:30 AM
Wakey wakey! Go fetch a cup of milk for the child who is yelling, "Mommy! Milk!" from her crib. Return to bed and resolve to lay there sluglike for as long as possible.
8:30 AM
Haul out of bed after doing some quick arithmetic regarding the number of hours before guests arrive compared to the amount of work that needs to be done. Make coffee, make breakfast, make the dog go outside. Start picking up debris.
9:14 AM
Greet wildly bedheaded husband, who is reporting for duty in the kitchen. Have following conversation:
Him: What needs to be done?
Me: *rattles off list of chores, frequently invoking the verb "clean"*
Him: How clean does everything need to be?
Me: How clean...*blink*? It needs to be CLEAN.
Him: *scowls*
Me: *recalls meeting several men in college who believed that dirty laundry miraculously became clean again if it just "aired out" a bit*
9:45 AM
Grandparents arrive to drop off new kitchen table handmade by Granddad Cheezleton. The table is gorgeous. It is a rather solidly constructed table, and can be used as shelter in the event of a hurricane. Much admiring and photographing of the table ensues.
10:03 AM
Grandparents depart, taking grandchild and grandpoodle with them. There will be no fresh poodle landmines in OUR party yard, thankyewverymuch!
10:15 AM
Neighbor's very large dog wanders over to fill in for Toby in the fresh landmine department. Good GAWD, what do they feed this beast?!
10:35 AM
Suggest to husband that he not try to set up the 12'x20' party tent by himself.
10:36 AM
Watch husband continue to try to set up party tent by himself.
11:00 AM
Hear husband's announcement that he has decided to wait to set up the party tent until more Y chromosome carriers arrive.
12:30 PM
Unpleasant cramping sensation begins. Uh oh...
Uterus: Knock knock!
Me: Uh, this is really not a good time...
Uterus: You're not in control here!
Me: Look, if you'll just keep the PMS - emphasis on P - going a bit longer, I guarantee that there's some cake in it for you.
Uterus: ...I'll see what I can do.
2:29 PM
The house is...clean! The food is...ready! Never before have we been so prepared for a party! There's not even a partially finished huge remodeling project to be embarrassed about (unless you count the fact that the media room in the basement is missing part of its ceiling...but who would notice that?).
2:29:30 PM
One of our Amazing Vomiting Cats pukes up a wad of something nasty on a freshly cleaned bathroom floor.
2:30 PM
Guests begin to arrive. Merriment ensues.
3:30 PM
The monsoon rains settle over the Mid-Atlantic, turning our backyard into a mudpit.
3:35 PM
The house becomes a mudpit. Laminate flooring becomes my FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD.
4:30 PM
Despite intermittent rain, the meat is successfully grilled and served amidst many vegan side dishes. It's good to have options.
4:35 PM
Sean reminds everyone that we have a new pool table in the basement. All of the testosterone in attendance begins flowing down the basement steps. Sean does not resurface again for several hours.
6:00 PM
It is noted that the bathroom in the foyer is behaving suspiciously.
6:01 PM
The foyer bathroom is officially closed due to "an incident".
6:02 PM
The entire party discovers a need to pee. Immediately. A line forms on the steps leading to the upstairs guest bathroom.
6:04 PM
The upstairs guest bathroom is declared to be acting funny. What are you people DOING to my bathrooms?!
6:30 PM
People with fetuses leave.
6:35 PM
People with children leave.
6:45 PM
People who occasionally babysit for people who have children leave.
7:45 PM
People who have large dogs leave.
8:00 PM
People who have adult children and no pets leave, pretty much because we are too exhausted to continue being gracious hosts. These people probably went out drinking afterwards and stayed out until 2 AM.
9:00 PM
The house is thoroughly clean once again. Party remnants have been stored or discarded.
9:01 PM
Uterus: ...About that cake you promised...
# posted by Amanda at 10:56 AM |
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Monday, August 23, 2004
Not quite the coolest thing that has ever happened to me, but still pretty damn cool
I won a prize in a sweepstakes! Much as I could use another rainbow colored fish wallet, this time the generous folks at Pepperidge Farm sent me a copy of the script from the final episode of "Frasier", signed by the cast. Evidently all of the roles on the show were played by illegible.
Now I can't say that I never won anything, but I can say that I've never won anything that wasn't sponsored by Pepperidge Farm.
# posted by Amanda at 12:54 PM |
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Thursday, August 19, 2004
Searching for the perfect Halloween costume for your little one? Desperately trying to steer him away from being one of the 20 Spidermans in his class? Why not persuade him to trick or treat as a pimp? There are several styles to choose from, so your kid need not worry about another boy showing up to Halloween in the same cheetah print pimp suit he's wearing.
More good news: ho costumes are also available! Isn't that PRECIOUS? As my friend 'Hana pointed out after sending me the link, it's a disturbing idea, but then again the ho costume is less revealing than a Britney Spears costume would be.
Call me conservative, but I think Sophie will be sticking with more traditional Halloween costumes like a ballerina or Wednesday Addams.
Toby, on the other hand...well, I just might have to pimp my poodle this year.
# posted by Amanda at 12:00 PM |
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Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Jesus wants you to eat wheat
Who says the Catholic Church is unreasonable? Eat your Pope Tarts, dear.
# posted by Amanda at 11:52 AM |
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Sunday, August 15, 2004
DC Metro dooce.com addicts, get thee to a newsstand and pick up today's Washington Post Magazine! (Or go here if you'd rather read online.) In it, you will find an article framed around Washingtonienne Jessica Cutler, whose blog chronicling her exploits as the newest Capitol Hill office dirty girl ended up getting her fired. The article touches on the perils of blogging about personal topics and includes a mini-interview with Heather Armstrong. Nothing you haven't already read at dooce.com, but, you know, addiction. Who amongst us can willingly pass up another helping of Dooce plus bonus photo?
# posted by Amanda at 8:04 PM |
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Saturday, August 14, 2004
For some reason, this cold or allergy or teething reaction (or check all that apply) that Sophie is going through right now has her totally wound up. The Cheezleton family has not had much sleep this week, and two-thirds of us are getting pretty ticked off about it. The other third just drew on the wall.
# posted by Amanda at 7:06 PM |
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Friday, August 13, 2004
I'm at home today with a sniffly sick Sophie. She is in remarkably good spirits considering that she was awake and crying about a gazillion times last night. I'm still bruised and tender from when she bashed the back of her head into my face while she was inconsolably thrashing around this morning. There really is no harder substance known to man than the toddler skull.
If Crusty McSnotty is feeling better this weekend, we will be attending a "toy party" on Sunday. That probably sounds potentially racy (baby-in-tow situation aside), but it actually is a kids' toy party, the point of which is to get together with other mommy types, preview and buy toys, and hang around the chip'n'dip bragging about the amazing things that our little whippersnappers are doing these days.
(Pardon me, is this the line to get the soccer ball decal for the back window of my minivan?)
I have this to offer to the probable conversation about our child geniuses: Sophie has recently developed a habit of licking my leg. She started doing this as a way to get unpleasant things off of her tongue, such as sand or tomato sauce, but now it's something she does without any particular motivation, except maybe to watch me be all squicked about it. Kid just kinda walks up and licks my pants leg. Unfortunately, the result she usually ends up with cat hair in her mouth, which sends her into a total freakout, complete with crying and clawing frantically at her tongue. As soon as the offending cat hair is removed, she leans back in for another lick. The lick-freakout-removal cycle is repeated several more times until we restrain her from having access to my legs, either by strapping her into her highchair or putting her in her crib.
Just sharing that little story in case you weren't already totally convinced that Sophie is going to be the kid who eats paste in her class.
In other news, cat owners take note: Catster is online now, for all your cat's internet dating needs.
Also, a friend emailed me the Cat Litterbox Cake recipe, which - while creepily funny to anyone possessing in-depth experience of cat box horrors - is something I could never, ever bring myself to make, let alone eat. But, y'all feel free to partake.
# posted by Amanda at 1:14 PM |
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Thursday, August 12, 2004
For those of you who were rabid fans of The Daily Adventures of Mixerman's online diary of the original Bitch Slap recording sessions (now available as a book, direct from mixerman.net, GREAT NEWS: new diary entries from the second set of Bitch Slap recording session are being posted now! Read along with me, won't you?
(Mucho thanks to Hannah for the link.)
# posted by Amanda at 8:15 PM |
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Sunday, August 08, 2004
Spotted: A men's clothing store with the rather unfortunate name of "Harold Pener: Man of Fashion". Even more unfortunate? That was probably the actual name of an actual man with the actual nickname of Harry.
(Mull that one over amongst yourselves, reading out loud as necessary.)
Overheard: At the end stage of a going-out-of-business sale at a department store, a customer asked if there were any socks left in stock. "Women's socks?", the cashier asked.
"Any kind of socks," answered the customer.
"Nope, we're sold out."
# posted by Amanda at 8:28 PM |
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Friday, August 06, 2004
It seems that someone has stolen part of our garden hose. Not the whole hose, mind you---just about 12 inches of it. They cut it from a section close to one of the ends. Interestingly enough, the thief (thieves?) left behind the spray nozzle, still attached to the coupler and six inches of useless hose.
Uh, WHAT KIND OF A JACKASS ONLY STEALS PART OF A GARDEN HOSE?! Exactly what use could someone possibly have for just 12 inches of hose? Are foot-long hose pieces a hot commodity these days in Petty Thief World?
Also, how is it that someone who needs to steal hoses OWNS SHEARS THAT ARE QUALITY ENOUGH TO CUT THROUGH A RUBBER TUBE IN TWO PLACES?!
I should probably feel violated considering that the thieves had to travel 175 feet down our driveway to even find the garden hose, but instead I'm just somewhat pissy about it. Yeah, it's annoying to have to buy a new hose, but it's kinda hard to feel threatened by dumbasses who didn't even plan ahead for their future foot-long hose needs by stealing two pieces while they had the chance.
Damn redneck criminals!
# posted by Amanda at 11:23 AM |
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Wednesday, August 04, 2004
With so little happening at work right now, my mind has been pretty free to wander aimlessly during the past few days. Not the semi-outdoor cat sort of wandering where it returns home on schedule, either. Usually I manage to pull it all back together and wipe the drool off my chin before heading home at the end of the workday, but this week, THIS WEEK my mind seems to have gone on a one-way trip. It is the old-folks-escaping-from-the-nursing-home-and-hopping-a-bus-to-nowhere variety of aimless wandering, the kind where you wonder if a search party will have to be called out.
A Few Signs That Having Nothing To Do At Work Is Taking a Very Bad Toll On Me:
1) Yesterday evening as I was backing my car out of my parents' driveway - which is on a pretty significant incline - the brakes were barely responsive. I threw the car into park, yanked the baby out of her carseat and went running back to my parents' house. Naturally, I then began mentally ticking off a list of people who would possibly cut my brakes, because, ya know, it had to be *somebody's* fault that my brakes weren't working. While I was being panicked and paranoid and watching my dad test the brakes in my car, I had the "Eureka" moment that - hey! - the engine was running while my dad was driving, which was not the case when I was behind the wheel just minutes before that. Turns out that I had put the keys in the ignition, but forgot to actually start the car.
2) I've been going to the grocery store fairly frequently during my lunch breaks. It frees up time in the evenings and helps satisfy my daily baked good requirement, which has recently reached a terrifying level. Pretty much count on someone getting hurt if I don't get a cookie with every meal and ice cream before bedtime. Earlier this week - while in the grocery store, mind you - I decided that this desserts obsession is seriously unhealthy and needs to change. I was in the process of pondering a new reduced-sugar diet on the drive back to work when I realized that I had just absentmindedly gobbled halfway through a fresh bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies. Oops.
3) Lately I've been having recurring dreams that I've forgotten to do an assignment for grad school. I actually wake in a panic and start scrambling to get it together in time for class when I remember that I've already graduated. Nearly five years ago, in fact.
Clearly, my brain seems to have left the building. It might be sitting in someone else's parked car somewhere at this very moment. Please let me know if you spot it.
# posted by Amanda at 10:32 PM |
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Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Cherishing: hearing my daughter say "I love Mommy!" for the first time.
Ignorning: the fact that I was second on the list of love proclamations, right after her stuffed bear.
# posted by Amanda at 7:58 PM |
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Lack of things to do at work has stretched right on into Week Two, and will continue for at least another week after this one. La la la... Here's what I did yesterday instead of conducting groundbreaking research in the thrill-a-minute field of communicable disease policy and programs:
Somebody, please, give me some data to analyze before all of my photos are GIMPed into oblivion!
# posted by Amanda at 8:00 AM |
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