Stoopid People Should Not Breed
One of the first babies I took a photo of today had the bad fortune of being birthed by someone so stupid as to name their spanking new baby something that rhymes with 'A Nausea'. No kidding. This kidd is going to rhyme with queasiness for the rest of her life, or if she's SMART she'll change her name when she's an adult and not get hooked up with any guys named Ralph.
On to other crap...
Things that piss me off:
People who pass me in the lane that is ENDING because my going slightly above the speed limit is not nearly fast enough for them, this particularly pisses me off when they come seriously close to HITTING ME in their quest to get ahead of me. Come one people, pass on the LEFT - NOT in the lane on the right that is ending and thus you do NOT have the right away to do such idiocy. But... whatever, I suppose everyone had the RIGHT AWAY to be a moron.
Toll booth people who don't SMILE. Sheesh, if you hate your job that much, find another one - I know that McDonald's is hireing... And according to The Wife, someone with a McCareer in McManagement of a McDonald's (without a degree) can be making a good salary... although I do believe a McJob just serving McFries, etc. still just makes shitty minimum wage. I look good in red with yellow accents - maybe I need a McManagement McCareer.
Back to work now!
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Friday, December 02, 2005
You are The Mad Hatter
One thing is for sure- you're as mad as a hatter.
You have an obsession with time and if tea time
were to ever cease, you would probably be even
more confused.
What Alice in Wonderland Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are The Mad Hatter
One thing is for sure- you're as mad as a hatter.
You have an obsession with time and if tea time
were to ever cease, you would probably be even
more confused.
What Alice in Wonderland Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
How true, how true.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Tales of Remotes and Blood
I got a UNIVERSAL REMOTE a few days ago. It was time, my remote for the DVD player doesn’t work so well since it’s had milk spilled on it. I discovered this after borrowing ‘Boondock Saints’ from Lerxst last weekend (I love that movie, fucking hot men and guns – sexy!) and trying to watch the deleted scenes (naked fucking hot men – oh yeah!) but not being able to get to them due to the milk encrusted remote. The next day I bought a universal remote. Hold on… back story for the next thing to make sense – I happen to be EXCEEDINGLY cheap. I rarely will EVER replace anything unless it’s beyond repair. Case in point, when K and I first got together he had a big television that was nearly as old as he was but it still worked. Over the years the colors started to get a bit funky, but the reception was fine and the sound worked fine so I refused to even consider buying a new one. One day about 7 years later, the TV bit the big one and I HAD to get a new TV – I just happened to know someone who was selling one that was still fairly new (she was getting married) so I got it for hardly anything and that’s the TV we’ve had for the past 6 years. It works fine, as long as you don’t turn the volume up to loud… then the speakers crackle… but it works FINE. We’d still have that one in the living room entertaining us if not for the opportunity to get a BIGGER NEWER TV for FREE! The only thing is that the buttons to control it on are messed up and there is no remote, so one must be careful when turning on the TV or turning up/down the sound so as to NOT get a little shock (just us a pencil!). I’ve had the TV for 5 or so months and thought this was fine, even the Tiny Terrorists knew how to turn on the TV without getting electrocuted. Back to the other day, we are in the store and I’m scrutinizing my remote selections when K says “ I guess you got tired of the prospect of me electrocuting myself every time I turn on the TV.” I said “No, I’m getting the remote so I can see the special features on ‘Boondock Saints’, the prospect of you getting electrocuted while turning on the television never gets old to me.” Priorities… Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery ‘s fine behinds are worth the expense of getting the new remote, K shocking himself (for my amusement) is not.
On to the BLOOD!
So yesterday morning at 5 am I wake to my nose bleeding. I haven’t had a NOSE BLEED in YEARS! It was disturbing and made it all but impossible to go back to sleep. So I went to sit at my computer and shove Kleenexes up my nose until it stopped. I did this on and off several times during the day. Later that night I was at dinner with Porn Star and La SEG when I feel that trickle from my nose and I grab my napkin to tie dye it red with my leaking brain blood. La SEG says “Oh! You’re bleeding!” I say “Oh I know, it’s fine.” And continue bleeding, Porn Star says nothing, she’s seen it several times that day. The waiter looks at me and asks if everything is all right, then walks away when I say I’m fine. JUST WALKS away, doesn’t offer to get more napkins to replace the one I’m currently spewing blood on, he just WALKS AWAY. Porn Star, being the deeply maternal and caring person got up and grabbed me a napkin or 20. Asshole waiter, I know that if it had been our USUAL wait staff, they would have had all the napkins there for me and would have been compassionate to me even if they did run to the back to wonder exactly how much coke I was snorting before I got there to make my have a nose bleed like that.
I got a UNIVERSAL REMOTE a few days ago. It was time, my remote for the DVD player doesn’t work so well since it’s had milk spilled on it. I discovered this after borrowing ‘Boondock Saints’ from Lerxst last weekend (I love that movie, fucking hot men and guns – sexy!) and trying to watch the deleted scenes (naked fucking hot men – oh yeah!) but not being able to get to them due to the milk encrusted remote. The next day I bought a universal remote. Hold on… back story for the next thing to make sense – I happen to be EXCEEDINGLY cheap. I rarely will EVER replace anything unless it’s beyond repair. Case in point, when K and I first got together he had a big television that was nearly as old as he was but it still worked. Over the years the colors started to get a bit funky, but the reception was fine and the sound worked fine so I refused to even consider buying a new one. One day about 7 years later, the TV bit the big one and I HAD to get a new TV – I just happened to know someone who was selling one that was still fairly new (she was getting married) so I got it for hardly anything and that’s the TV we’ve had for the past 6 years. It works fine, as long as you don’t turn the volume up to loud… then the speakers crackle… but it works FINE. We’d still have that one in the living room entertaining us if not for the opportunity to get a BIGGER NEWER TV for FREE! The only thing is that the buttons to control it on are messed up and there is no remote, so one must be careful when turning on the TV or turning up/down the sound so as to NOT get a little shock (just us a pencil!). I’ve had the TV for 5 or so months and thought this was fine, even the Tiny Terrorists knew how to turn on the TV without getting electrocuted. Back to the other day, we are in the store and I’m scrutinizing my remote selections when K says “ I guess you got tired of the prospect of me electrocuting myself every time I turn on the TV.” I said “No, I’m getting the remote so I can see the special features on ‘Boondock Saints’, the prospect of you getting electrocuted while turning on the television never gets old to me.” Priorities… Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery ‘s fine behinds are worth the expense of getting the new remote, K shocking himself (for my amusement) is not.
On to the BLOOD!
So yesterday morning at 5 am I wake to my nose bleeding. I haven’t had a NOSE BLEED in YEARS! It was disturbing and made it all but impossible to go back to sleep. So I went to sit at my computer and shove Kleenexes up my nose until it stopped. I did this on and off several times during the day. Later that night I was at dinner with Porn Star and La SEG when I feel that trickle from my nose and I grab my napkin to tie dye it red with my leaking brain blood. La SEG says “Oh! You’re bleeding!” I say “Oh I know, it’s fine.” And continue bleeding, Porn Star says nothing, she’s seen it several times that day. The waiter looks at me and asks if everything is all right, then walks away when I say I’m fine. JUST WALKS away, doesn’t offer to get more napkins to replace the one I’m currently spewing blood on, he just WALKS AWAY. Porn Star, being the deeply maternal and caring person got up and grabbed me a napkin or 20. Asshole waiter, I know that if it had been our USUAL wait staff, they would have had all the napkins there for me and would have been compassionate to me even if they did run to the back to wonder exactly how much coke I was snorting before I got there to make my have a nose bleed like that.
You are the Christmas Star.
What Christmas Ornament are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
That's me, I'm a SUPERSTAR!
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Loveable Eccentric You scored 17 neuroses and 26 psychoses! |
You sure do have your quirky ideas, but you're usually pretty emotionally stable, so we just kind of laugh them off and pretend we didn't hear you. Good luck with that time machine! |
My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Are you Neurotic or Psychotic Test written by chickennibbler on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
Anyone surprised???
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Shhhh... The Cat's Are Listening
Or
Something Truly Random From The Depths Of My Depraved Mind
I think my cats hate me, well not both of them but one of them, my cat. I think she does hate me that's why she wakes me up at an unholy hour of the morning just to purr at me and lick my face. Maybe she doesn't hate me, though maybe she's just confused and thinks her purpose in life is to shed and to act as my personal alarm clock... Alarm Cat. I hate her for this.
The other cat loves me. She thinks she's mine. I don't love her in that way. She's not my cat. She needs to love her owner like that and leave me alone. Sleeping under my bed at night is just stalking and I should probably take out a restraining order on her.
Maybe they work together. Maybe they work for aliens and at night when the aliens conduct their nefarious experiments they get the cats to do the work for them.
Probably not, cats are unreliable. That's why there aren't seeing eye cats or drug sniffing cats. Cats have no work ethic and would call in sick every other day. Freeloaders.
Whatever... CATS, Stop waking me up, get out from under my bed and stop puking in 'secret' places at night.
I'm thinking maybe I'm not really down about the holidays, but I'm just seriously bored. And somehow that may be even sadder than being depressed. Maybe all the activitiy of late that has now come to an end has left me with nothing to do (other than laundry and cleaning and brushing my cats) and now I'm just bored and I need a hobby or just to finish all the laundry. Maybe the fresh clean smell of fabric softener will brighten my mood. Maybe I need more Zoloft... though it's been a couple of years since I was on Zoloft, but I do remember having a certain feeling of joy with every load of laundry I folded when I was on Zoloft. Joy and a certain feeling of needing to take a 10 hour nap. And I would paint. Maybe I just need to paint. I don't know, I'll try the laundry, and the painting and more coffee and then I'll let you know if I'm just bored of really depressed.
I watched a weird but oddly wonderful movie tonight. Secretary. I absolutly loved that movie. Probably because I was a secretary for 11 years and I had a few boss's that I would have gladly bent over the desk for... definitly if one looked like James Spader. I liked that movie and I can't believe that I've never seen it before tonight, except that I don't go see movies in the theater very often (that whole ADD thing makes it hard to sit through one) and as of late the only movies I get to see in the theater tend to be G rated and their target audience isn't me but my progeny.
Okay, that's all now. Move along now, nothing to see here.
Or
Something Truly Random From The Depths Of My Depraved Mind
I think my cats hate me, well not both of them but one of them, my cat. I think she does hate me that's why she wakes me up at an unholy hour of the morning just to purr at me and lick my face. Maybe she doesn't hate me, though maybe she's just confused and thinks her purpose in life is to shed and to act as my personal alarm clock... Alarm Cat. I hate her for this.
The other cat loves me. She thinks she's mine. I don't love her in that way. She's not my cat. She needs to love her owner like that and leave me alone. Sleeping under my bed at night is just stalking and I should probably take out a restraining order on her.
Maybe they work together. Maybe they work for aliens and at night when the aliens conduct their nefarious experiments they get the cats to do the work for them.
Probably not, cats are unreliable. That's why there aren't seeing eye cats or drug sniffing cats. Cats have no work ethic and would call in sick every other day. Freeloaders.
Whatever... CATS, Stop waking me up, get out from under my bed and stop puking in 'secret' places at night.
I'm thinking maybe I'm not really down about the holidays, but I'm just seriously bored. And somehow that may be even sadder than being depressed. Maybe all the activitiy of late that has now come to an end has left me with nothing to do (other than laundry and cleaning and brushing my cats) and now I'm just bored and I need a hobby or just to finish all the laundry. Maybe the fresh clean smell of fabric softener will brighten my mood. Maybe I need more Zoloft... though it's been a couple of years since I was on Zoloft, but I do remember having a certain feeling of joy with every load of laundry I folded when I was on Zoloft. Joy and a certain feeling of needing to take a 10 hour nap. And I would paint. Maybe I just need to paint. I don't know, I'll try the laundry, and the painting and more coffee and then I'll let you know if I'm just bored of really depressed.
I watched a weird but oddly wonderful movie tonight. Secretary. I absolutly loved that movie. Probably because I was a secretary for 11 years and I had a few boss's that I would have gladly bent over the desk for... definitly if one looked like James Spader. I liked that movie and I can't believe that I've never seen it before tonight, except that I don't go see movies in the theater very often (that whole ADD thing makes it hard to sit through one) and as of late the only movies I get to see in the theater tend to be G rated and their target audience isn't me but my progeny.
Okay, that's all now. Move along now, nothing to see here.
D is for DUH!
So I've just had an incredible moment of realization. That I'm too fucking stupid to do 1st grade homework. In looking over Super Girl's homework I realized that I directed her to do a whole page of it WRONG. Not so WRONG that she'll get marked off but WRONG enough that her teacher will wonder if I smoke crack while she's getting a fine education paid for by my tax dollars. What did I tell her to do? I can not tell you as you would feel the need to talk smack about how STOOPID it was for me to even THINK that was how it was supposed to be done. AND then you'd tease me about the fact that it did not occur to me that what I was telling her to do was inaccurate and more work than what was neccessary until AFTER the fact, without forgetting to give me shit for letting my offspring do her homework in PEN therefore making it impossible to erase my idiocy and leaving it as proof forever that I don't understand 1st grade homework. Now I know why my mother never helped me with my homework.
So I've just had an incredible moment of realization. That I'm too fucking stupid to do 1st grade homework. In looking over Super Girl's homework I realized that I directed her to do a whole page of it WRONG. Not so WRONG that she'll get marked off but WRONG enough that her teacher will wonder if I smoke crack while she's getting a fine education paid for by my tax dollars. What did I tell her to do? I can not tell you as you would feel the need to talk smack about how STOOPID it was for me to even THINK that was how it was supposed to be done. AND then you'd tease me about the fact that it did not occur to me that what I was telling her to do was inaccurate and more work than what was neccessary until AFTER the fact, without forgetting to give me shit for letting my offspring do her homework in PEN therefore making it impossible to erase my idiocy and leaving it as proof forever that I don't understand 1st grade homework. Now I know why my mother never helped me with my homework.
Have a Holly, Jolly… Eh, Whatever…
So I haven’t really gotten much accomplished today and that’s kind of sad. I’m not terribly motivated to do much, though I do have a mountain of laundry just waiting to be washed and folded and many many places in my humble abode that need a good cleaning, dusting and vacuuming, but here I sit in front of this damn computer typing away. Honestly it only takes me 10 or 20 minutes to write this so no more than the time it takes to suck down a nice hot cup of coffee (which I AM doing right now – must have caffeine!).
This is so crazy, the holiday time; this is both my FAVORITE time of year and my MOST DREADED time of year. I love spending time with friends and family and I love all the festivities with the progeny, but I HATE all the commercialism and stress. And quite frankly, I have ENOUGH day to day stress without the holidays. AND, I’m just feeling down right now. I whined to The Wife earlier so I probably already used up all my WHINE time and should just shut the fuck up and move on. I mean I have the BEST and MOST WONDERFUL friends in the whole damn world around me, so many people who I could call in the middle of the night and cry on their shoulder if needed, that alone should leave me with enough warm fuzzies to carry me through the rest of the year if not the whole next year, but I’m still feeling down. Maybe it’s just holiday grumpiness or maybe it’s that I’m a little down that I have no one to share the holidays with – no I’m not talking about friends, I’m talking about hanging the mistletoe over the bed and sharing in some holiday naked spank-tastic fun on that special gift giving night. I have no one to buy a cute little thong with a driedel on it and ask them to play some games with me. This would not suck so badly IF K was in the same boat! Yeah, I know, what a bitch of me, but ya know that they say ‘misery loves company’, you can just call me M and come on over for some cookies. K has a boyfriend to share the holidays with and snuggle with and give inappropriate gifts too late at night while warming the lube and handcuffs. Me, I have Bob, Bob and Bob Jr. to change the batteries in. None of the Bob’s shop. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t want to read about me whining about not having a SPECIAL someone to share the holidays with – I’m not talking SEX, I have plenty of places to get that, just someone to worry about giving the PERFECT gift to (A blow job, right?). Eh, whatever, enough of that, on to other reasons I dislike the holiday!
After my parents divorced, the holidays pretty much sucked. Apparently my dad was the one with the Santa connection. That sucked because mom didn’t seem to have the pull with Santa that dad did or Santa just didn’t like poor kids with pot head relatives and psychotic grandmothers, because he never got me what I asked for after that. Fucker. I’ll never forgive him for the year he brought me the giant yellow stuffed chicken and he brought my sister the every so beautiful giant ballerina doll! WTF? A giant fuzzy yellow chicken??? What little girl wants that? Asshole. Another year he got D and I green bowls with eyes and feet! Bowls! Of all the things! I remember asking for a Barbie NOT a stupid fucking BOWL! The next year the mutha fucker brought me a Strawberry Shortcake doll. Sheesh, I was like 10! He should have just put a sign on my jacket that said I needed to get my ass kicked because I was a pussy. Every year it was like Santa himself was just looking for a way to insult us. Santa is a bastard who only likes the rich white kids!
So now I have kids and I don’t want the holidays to suck for them. But it’s hard when stores start playing horrific holiday music 3 minutes after Halloween ends! Well that and I’m a Jew so I don’t do all that Santa crap anyway – but K does, for the kids, I just tell them to talk to their dad when ever they mention Xmas. And the kids love Chanukah. But who the hell wouldn’t like a holiday with 8 days of presents and donuts! Beat that Santa Bastard! But I digress..
P is for Penis
Super Girl just finished her homework and I was looking over it and saw what looked like P-E-N-I-S written in one area. I politely asked her what it was supposed to say and she replied ‘parents’ to which I told her she had to correct that word as what she wrote is not a polite word (well really I didn’t want a note from the teacher asking what the hell kind of story I had read to her). Super Girl perked up and insisted on knowing WHAT the word was she had written (I’m sure so she could repeat it 20 times tomorrow morning before she got to school then a few more times so she could be sure to get a call home from school). I didn’t tell her the word, just forced her to write PARENTS. I did however mumble to someone on the phone that P-E-N-I-S was the proper spelling for ‘boyfriend’ hehe… At least it wasn’t D-I-L-D-O.
I’m sorry this post makes no fucking sense. My day has kind of been like that though. Probably not enough coffee.
So I haven’t really gotten much accomplished today and that’s kind of sad. I’m not terribly motivated to do much, though I do have a mountain of laundry just waiting to be washed and folded and many many places in my humble abode that need a good cleaning, dusting and vacuuming, but here I sit in front of this damn computer typing away. Honestly it only takes me 10 or 20 minutes to write this so no more than the time it takes to suck down a nice hot cup of coffee (which I AM doing right now – must have caffeine!).
This is so crazy, the holiday time; this is both my FAVORITE time of year and my MOST DREADED time of year. I love spending time with friends and family and I love all the festivities with the progeny, but I HATE all the commercialism and stress. And quite frankly, I have ENOUGH day to day stress without the holidays. AND, I’m just feeling down right now. I whined to The Wife earlier so I probably already used up all my WHINE time and should just shut the fuck up and move on. I mean I have the BEST and MOST WONDERFUL friends in the whole damn world around me, so many people who I could call in the middle of the night and cry on their shoulder if needed, that alone should leave me with enough warm fuzzies to carry me through the rest of the year if not the whole next year, but I’m still feeling down. Maybe it’s just holiday grumpiness or maybe it’s that I’m a little down that I have no one to share the holidays with – no I’m not talking about friends, I’m talking about hanging the mistletoe over the bed and sharing in some holiday naked spank-tastic fun on that special gift giving night. I have no one to buy a cute little thong with a driedel on it and ask them to play some games with me. This would not suck so badly IF K was in the same boat! Yeah, I know, what a bitch of me, but ya know that they say ‘misery loves company’, you can just call me M and come on over for some cookies. K has a boyfriend to share the holidays with and snuggle with and give inappropriate gifts too late at night while warming the lube and handcuffs. Me, I have Bob, Bob and Bob Jr. to change the batteries in. None of the Bob’s shop. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t want to read about me whining about not having a SPECIAL someone to share the holidays with – I’m not talking SEX, I have plenty of places to get that, just someone to worry about giving the PERFECT gift to (A blow job, right?). Eh, whatever, enough of that, on to other reasons I dislike the holiday!
After my parents divorced, the holidays pretty much sucked. Apparently my dad was the one with the Santa connection. That sucked because mom didn’t seem to have the pull with Santa that dad did or Santa just didn’t like poor kids with pot head relatives and psychotic grandmothers, because he never got me what I asked for after that. Fucker. I’ll never forgive him for the year he brought me the giant yellow stuffed chicken and he brought my sister the every so beautiful giant ballerina doll! WTF? A giant fuzzy yellow chicken??? What little girl wants that? Asshole. Another year he got D and I green bowls with eyes and feet! Bowls! Of all the things! I remember asking for a Barbie NOT a stupid fucking BOWL! The next year the mutha fucker brought me a Strawberry Shortcake doll. Sheesh, I was like 10! He should have just put a sign on my jacket that said I needed to get my ass kicked because I was a pussy. Every year it was like Santa himself was just looking for a way to insult us. Santa is a bastard who only likes the rich white kids!
So now I have kids and I don’t want the holidays to suck for them. But it’s hard when stores start playing horrific holiday music 3 minutes after Halloween ends! Well that and I’m a Jew so I don’t do all that Santa crap anyway – but K does, for the kids, I just tell them to talk to their dad when ever they mention Xmas. And the kids love Chanukah. But who the hell wouldn’t like a holiday with 8 days of presents and donuts! Beat that Santa Bastard! But I digress..
P is for Penis
Super Girl just finished her homework and I was looking over it and saw what looked like P-E-N-I-S written in one area. I politely asked her what it was supposed to say and she replied ‘parents’ to which I told her she had to correct that word as what she wrote is not a polite word (well really I didn’t want a note from the teacher asking what the hell kind of story I had read to her). Super Girl perked up and insisted on knowing WHAT the word was she had written (I’m sure so she could repeat it 20 times tomorrow morning before she got to school then a few more times so she could be sure to get a call home from school). I didn’t tell her the word, just forced her to write PARENTS. I did however mumble to someone on the phone that P-E-N-I-S was the proper spelling for ‘boyfriend’ hehe… At least it wasn’t D-I-L-D-O.
I’m sorry this post makes no fucking sense. My day has kind of been like that though. Probably not enough coffee.
Monday, November 28, 2005
A Happy Coexistance With Insanity
Saturday night was Snazzy Seg’s birthday dinner. Whysper, Porn Star and I all rode together. It was at this little snobby over priced restaurant near down town… wait… wait… let me start from the beginning so you get the full DRAMATIC effect.
Whysper messages me at 6:15pm and tells me she’s on her way over. I get up from the computer (the game was stupid anyway) and decide I best find something to where as she’ll be there in 15 or 20 minutes. I decide on the most fabulous but not fitting skirt as it is FABULOUS and I figure I can find a safety pin to help keep it in the upright and locked position. I put on my nice black sweater and then fix my hair, and it looks amazing, if I do say so myself (no photos of that, I’m a dork ya know), then I plunge into my closet to seek out the PERFECT foot wear for this outfit. I ruled out boots as this skirt is almost floor length on me (damn it for being short!). I did however find some very cool blue suede pumps that I hadn’t worn since I worked in the corporate world. They were a perfect match with the FABULUOS skirt and some fishnets. Whysper arrive shortly after and I gathered my muffins (for the second party) and we left to get Porn Star.
So... now back to the restaurant. I ordered one of my very favorite things in the world – something I get from Sicily’s all the time – tortellini alla panna. We talked, we laughed, we waited for our food. The waiter brought us all house salads, even though a few of us didn’t want them. I got one, I order one, but I got it. And it was icky. Really, it was ICKY. They fucked up the salad. How I do not know, but they did. Ick. I didn’t eat the salad, but I did eat the bread (they were VERY generous with the bread). My entrée finally arrived and I was desperately disappointed with it. It was much like the salad, ICKY. Porn Star and Cousin of Seg were kind enough to let me have some of their baked ziti (which was fairly good), but it was no big deal, I had my sights set on the CAKE! Oh yes the cake. Snazzy Seg picked up her cake from Central Market… a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting and yummy chocolate design on the top. More talking, more laughing, some photo taking and finally it was time for CAKE!
The CAKE was soooo damn good I swear I wanted to have a relationship with it (no, no, I still DO want to!) It was absolutely perfect. I ate my piece and was suddenly regretting that I ate anything at all at the restaurant because I wanted to eat the other half of the cake but I was full so I didn’t. And in retrospect, that was probably a GOOD thing as 20 or so minutes after making love to… er... I mean EATING my cake; I was on a serious sugar buzz after just one piece of cake. Seriously buzzing. I don’t eat a lot of sweets so I get a serious sugar high when birthday cake is involved. Woohoo! I did the same thing last month at my father in laws birthday party. So now I’m buzzing and I know what will make this absolutely PERFECT! Coffee! I mega dose of caffeine! I always want coffee when I’m on a sugar buzz, don’t ask me why but for some reason (probably a smart reason) people never seem to give me the coffee I want.
We leave the restaurant and I ask at least 150 times if we can stop by Starbucks on the way to Sable and Lerxst’s party. At the point that we drop off Porn Star, we hadn’t found a source of caffeine for me and we didn’t find a Starbucks on the way to Sable and Lerxst’s either – though Whysper did make a concerted effort to find coffee for me. When we got to the party I told The Wife all about the restaurant and the bad salad and the icky food and the amazing cake and how I needed coffee and that I thought I was shrinking because my skirt seemed longer now (it was touching the floor). I was speaking in complete paragraphs. And apparently I was amusing. I was asked if I had been drinking but assured them that I had no booze, just SUGAR! SUGAR! SUGAR! SUGAR! And I needed COFFEE! COFFEE! COFFEE!
I didn’t get caffeine, I did get alcohol and I did eventually slow down to a pace that was normal. I swear I could feel my hair growing when I was on that sugar high. The party was delightful, Whysper and I left at 3:30 or 4 am. Looking forward to the parties for this coming weekend!
Saturday night was Snazzy Seg’s birthday dinner. Whysper, Porn Star and I all rode together. It was at this little snobby over priced restaurant near down town… wait… wait… let me start from the beginning so you get the full DRAMATIC effect.
Whysper messages me at 6:15pm and tells me she’s on her way over. I get up from the computer (the game was stupid anyway) and decide I best find something to where as she’ll be there in 15 or 20 minutes. I decide on the most fabulous but not fitting skirt as it is FABULOUS and I figure I can find a safety pin to help keep it in the upright and locked position. I put on my nice black sweater and then fix my hair, and it looks amazing, if I do say so myself (no photos of that, I’m a dork ya know), then I plunge into my closet to seek out the PERFECT foot wear for this outfit. I ruled out boots as this skirt is almost floor length on me (damn it for being short!). I did however find some very cool blue suede pumps that I hadn’t worn since I worked in the corporate world. They were a perfect match with the FABULUOS skirt and some fishnets. Whysper arrive shortly after and I gathered my muffins (for the second party) and we left to get Porn Star.
So... now back to the restaurant. I ordered one of my very favorite things in the world – something I get from Sicily’s all the time – tortellini alla panna. We talked, we laughed, we waited for our food. The waiter brought us all house salads, even though a few of us didn’t want them. I got one, I order one, but I got it. And it was icky. Really, it was ICKY. They fucked up the salad. How I do not know, but they did. Ick. I didn’t eat the salad, but I did eat the bread (they were VERY generous with the bread). My entrée finally arrived and I was desperately disappointed with it. It was much like the salad, ICKY. Porn Star and Cousin of Seg were kind enough to let me have some of their baked ziti (which was fairly good), but it was no big deal, I had my sights set on the CAKE! Oh yes the cake. Snazzy Seg picked up her cake from Central Market… a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting and yummy chocolate design on the top. More talking, more laughing, some photo taking and finally it was time for CAKE!
The CAKE was soooo damn good I swear I wanted to have a relationship with it (no, no, I still DO want to!) It was absolutely perfect. I ate my piece and was suddenly regretting that I ate anything at all at the restaurant because I wanted to eat the other half of the cake but I was full so I didn’t. And in retrospect, that was probably a GOOD thing as 20 or so minutes after making love to… er... I mean EATING my cake; I was on a serious sugar buzz after just one piece of cake. Seriously buzzing. I don’t eat a lot of sweets so I get a serious sugar high when birthday cake is involved. Woohoo! I did the same thing last month at my father in laws birthday party. So now I’m buzzing and I know what will make this absolutely PERFECT! Coffee! I mega dose of caffeine! I always want coffee when I’m on a sugar buzz, don’t ask me why but for some reason (probably a smart reason) people never seem to give me the coffee I want.
We leave the restaurant and I ask at least 150 times if we can stop by Starbucks on the way to Sable and Lerxst’s party. At the point that we drop off Porn Star, we hadn’t found a source of caffeine for me and we didn’t find a Starbucks on the way to Sable and Lerxst’s either – though Whysper did make a concerted effort to find coffee for me. When we got to the party I told The Wife all about the restaurant and the bad salad and the icky food and the amazing cake and how I needed coffee and that I thought I was shrinking because my skirt seemed longer now (it was touching the floor). I was speaking in complete paragraphs. And apparently I was amusing. I was asked if I had been drinking but assured them that I had no booze, just SUGAR! SUGAR! SUGAR! SUGAR! And I needed COFFEE! COFFEE! COFFEE!
I didn’t get caffeine, I did get alcohol and I did eventually slow down to a pace that was normal. I swear I could feel my hair growing when I was on that sugar high. The party was delightful, Whysper and I left at 3:30 or 4 am. Looking forward to the parties for this coming weekend!
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