Two Tales of Weekend Debauchery

Tale One: It ain't a party till someone breaks a tooth!

So Friday night was Girls' Night In at my friend Sarah's house. Laurie and I decided that we'd make a night of it and go out for sushi beforehand, which we did, and it was fantastic. Seriously, thanks to Laurie, I'm now in love with sushi and could eat it every day. I'm not talking about hunks of raw fish, don't get me wrong; I'm talking about the adorable little rice, avocado, shrimp, crab, seaweed, and tempura concoctions that you dip in soy sauce and wasabi (Bev likes her sushi spicy!) and eat with chopsticks. But ANYWAY, I digress.

We had a lovely meal and great conversation, as always, then we headed on over to Sarah's and met up with some other girls. We met a new chick who seems nice, and I like making new friends, so that's cool. We were drinking dirty vodka martinis; which is basically just Kettle One vodka shaken up with olive juice and with a couple of good quality green olives in there. I love olives, I love salty foods, and of course I love(d) vodka, so I had... a few. Ok, I had three (ish). Yeah, I was pretty sauced, but I wasn't driving and I was being my usual sociable and charming self (heh), so it's all good, right?

At one point we had to look something up online, don't remember what, and Sarah made the mistake of leaving herself logged in to Facebook. People who know me know to NEVER, EVER DO THAT. We updated her status tout de suite, and then we might have joined a couple of groups that I thought Sarah might be interested in. You know, like "Sarah is now a fan of pussy," "Sarah joined the group 'Pig Fuckers United,'" and Sarah just became friends with "Randy Lickers."

In retrospect, I guess I had it comin'.

Next thing I know, I'm standing in the kitchen talking to my new friend Jen & we're still giggling over our little adventures in Facebookland. La la la... everything's dandy... when suddenly 5'9" of liquored-up brunette hit me from behind and pulled me over onto the floor. HARD. All I saw was the shocked looks of people around us and then the ceiling, and my teeth smacked together with such force that I instantly knew something bad had happened in there. I tasted a little piece of something... at the time I feared it was a filling that had been jarred loose. I now know that it was actually a piece of my freaking back MOLAR that had been broken off by the impact of my friend's surprise tackle. Fucking great. I guess I should be grateful that it wasn't a hip or something, because I am clearly getting too old to drink heavily.

That's when Sarah's husband came down and gave us the bum's rush, and we went back to Laurie's house. Where apparently, we hung out for a little longer, but I couldn't say I remember that part. Nor do I remember the part of the evening when Laurie claims I said, "I am just gonna lie down for a minute," and then I crossed my hands over my chest and lowered myself straight back onto her couch, in her words, "like a vampire lying back into a coffin." Nice.

I spent the next day lying around pledging to never drink again. Those salty drinks sapped my body of every last drop of moisture! I looked something like this all day on Saturday, though I certainly was not rockin' out to my boom box.
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In a related story, I will never drink Dirty Martinis again. The End.



Tale Two: I think you underestimate the sneakiness!

Unbeknownst to us, last night our son sneaked down from bed and hid out in the kitchen while we were watching TV. We were just killing time until True Blood came on, so we watched a DVR'ed episode of Arrested Development. I thought I heard something at one point, and Jim went and investigated and decided it was the cat moving his cat dish. Okay, cool. We reverted back to our TV coma. When it ended, we had about 20 minutes still so I put on Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. We were laughing away, and it was the part of the movie when John Cleese starts giving the Sex Ed class. You know, the part where he starts clinically detailing the acts of foreplay and sex:

"Yes. Good. Nibbling the earlobe, uhh, kneading the buttocks, and so on and so forth. So, we have all these possibilities before we stampede towards the clitoris, Watson."

We were laughing away, and we had just gotten to the part where the professor's wife comes in and they're lying face to face about to demonstrate for the students when I heard a noise from the kitchen.

!!!!!

So I pause it, and of course it's such a ridiculously suggestive freeze frame that I instantly start blushing, and we discover Danny hiding under a kitchen bar stool, watching the TV. Oh, SNAP. Jim starts grilling him about how long he'd been watching, and I went from annoyed to bemused in about 3 minutes... right around the time Danny outed himself and said, "I haven't been here very long. It was the cat moving his dish!" Hahahahahahahahaha! Busted!

In case you haven't seen it, check out the scene here:


The moral of these stories: Choose your drinking buddies carefully, and don't assume your children are asleep at 9:45 PM just because they've been in bed for almost two hours. They are sneaky little mofos.

From The Vault

I got the nicest sympathy card in the mail yesterday from a long-forgotten teacher named Mrs. Elliot. That's her in the picture below, hugely pregnant. I remember when her baby was born (she named her Clarissa, a name I've liked ever since), and I remember going to her house for an end-of-the year party to meet the new baby. Good times. Anyway, she sent me the sweetest card telling me how sorry she was to hear about my father's death, and she included a little print-out of our class photo. I was so touched! First, that she remembered me at all, and second, that she was so thoughtful to send a card and include a picture. We lost most of our photos in a house fire when I was a teenager, so things like this mean even more to me now.

The quality is terrible and was made worse by my crappy scanner, but here it is anyway:



Can you spot the Bev? :)

Have a good Sunday, everyone! I am finally on the mend after over-indulging on dirty martinis on Friday night. Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you the story of how I now hate dirty martinis and how I now need dental work thanks to my drunk-ass friend Sarah. In the meantime, I'm going to go have a nice lunch with Mala & family and then I'm going to make a casserole to drop off at the Jillinator's house. I won't go into it, but her family suffered a very tragic and sudden loss last week, so everyone please think good thoughts for my friend Jill. Love you, girl! oxoxox

Pop Icon Friday

Yaaaaay, it's Friday! *happy sigh* We made it through another week, and what a week! In keeping with the fact that I see death everywhere I look, three big celebs died this week, and no, I'm not still talking about my dog. Last night my Facebook feed was nothing but status reports concerning Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. So, of course, rather than just ignoring it as I probably should, I need to dwell on it for just a mo' because they were important members of the pop culture lexicon, and dwelling is what I do. Bear with me.

Oh, and btw, I have nothing to say about Ed McMahon. He was old. He was on Late Night with Johnny Carson and Star Search. Recently, he wore a neck brace and had money troubles. That's really all I got. NEXT!

First of all, when I was a kid I LOVED Michael Jackson. Like, really, honestly loved him & wanted to have his babies and move to Neverland. Little did I know that at age 8 I was already too old for him and (allegedly!) the wrong gender. But, let's put the fact notion that he was a pedophile wackjob out of our heads for just a bit & focus on the muzak, ok?


The Michael I loved was the Michael from the Jackson Five, the Michael whose "Off The Wall" album was in constant rotation on my portable denim-covered record player. On Saturday mornings when I was really young, I'd slip downstairs super early to catch The Jackson 5 Cartoon. Yes, it existed, and I loved it! Hey, don't judge me. I also watched Hee-Haw, so WTF did I know?

To this day, if I'm at a wedding or out on the town (which admittedly isn't all that often now that I'm a boring old mom-type person), if somebody plays Don't Stop Til' You Get Enough, watch the fuck out, because Bev will work it. And if they play Thriller, expect to see some zombie hands.

Speaking of "Thriller", here's a confession I've never shared with anyone that I think you'll find both humorous and mortifying. My sister Debbie will remember this, because she was the only witness to it. I was maybe 8 or so when this happened, and it was Debbie's album, not mine. So I was in her room snooping around, which was something I did a lot back then (sorry, Deebs, you were interesting and I had no sense of personal space!), and I got out her "Thriller" album and put it on. Then I decided to have some fun with Michael, my big crush (shhhhh), so I got in her bed and opened up the fold-out picture of him in the white suit. You know, this one:

I swear to God, nothing happened. We were totally just talking! No funny business. BUT, Debbie walked in and caught me in bed with Michael Jackson, and I don't think she has ever looked at me the same way since.

I could go on and on and on about how much I liked "Bad" and how many MJ pins I had on my corduroy jacket, or how much I envied that trashy girl on the bus who actually had a red vinyl jacket with zippers just like Michael's. Bitch. But I'll stop now, because I've already over-shared and I'm afraid you're all gonna start looking at me funny, like Debbie still does.


Moving on... Farrah. What's to say about Farrah? She seemed like a nice lady, and she was incredibly beautiful, and I loved her on Charlie's Angels. I can't say that she was my favorite, because that honor went to Jaclyn Smith. Btw, I still love Jaclyn Smith, and I even watched that terrible Bravo show about hairdressers because she was on it.

I remember when I was young and my parents had some friends over for dinner, so I was left to entertain myself in the living room with my good friend, Television. What did 9-year-old Beverly Anne choose to watch? Why, The Burning Bed, of course!

Yep, a TV movie about an abused wife who can't get anyone to help her. SPOILER ALERT: After her disgusting drunk dick of a husband rapes her one night, she sets the bed on fire... with him in it. Rock the fuck on, Farrah! HELL YES. Also, Farrah was terrific in the movie, so don't let me hear you say she couldn't act.

So, there you have it: way more information than you needed (or probably wanted!) about me and why I am the way I am. Pop Culture junkies aren't born, they're made; usually out of too much free time, too much extreme weather, and too much access to movies, cable and satellite. I mean, it was northern Vermont, where the winters last 9+ months of the year! What else was there to do but read like a fiend and watch the same 80's comedies over and over again?

Ok, that'll do. Have yourselves a lovely Friday and weekend! I'll be out eating sushi and drinking dirty martinis with some girlfriends tonight. I will raise a glass to fallen icons and that will be that. Death sucks, and I've had about enough of it for quite a while.
Ciao, bella!
oxoxoxo

Man Babies, Sunshine, and a Must-See Movie

I came across a funny website today, so of course I did what any good Facebooker would do and "shared" that shit just as fast as you can say, "Spam." It's a site where some creative Photoshop peeps take pictures of men with their babies and swap their faces. The results are sometimes just okay, but once in a while you'll get one that makes you pee your pants a little, like this one:

GET MORE AT ManBabies.com!

Or this one:

GET MORE AT ManBabies.com!

Some of them just freak me right the fuck out, but they're still funny as heck. So, use their little embedded linkage up there and go take a gander for yourselves. I'll wait.

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Back? Okay, good. Let's see, what else? The sun is out! YES! Here in New Hampshire! "It's a large fiery ball at the center of our universe, but that's not important right now!" Except it is important, because I was starting to get pruney. It has been raining for going on 2 weeks straight, with only a few hours of sunshine here and there to break up the monotony. Oh, and that sunshine also included muggy "tropical rain forest" moisture, so it hardly counts. Now, I know we're heading into our warmest months, and I know by August we'll be begging for rain, but right now... I just want to dry out a bit.

The other day I was thinking about the movie Garden State, which is one of my faves. I used a line from that movie in an email correspondence with Samsmama, and asked if she had seen it. She said no (!) and wondered if she should, so I thought I might as well make an example of her (in the nicest way possible... with love!) and tell you all to watch this movie. It was written, directed by, and stars Zach Braff from Scrubs. This is probably the best thing he will ever produce, and it was his first ever movie. It's kind of neat because he shot it in his home state (NJ, duh) and a lot of his real family members make cameos in it. It's a real labor of love, and it shows.

Plus, it's INFINITELY quote-able. And you know how much I lika de quotes. (No Bev, you?) Also, this movie introduced me (and millions of other people) to the music of The Shins, a terrific band. In fact, I love them so much that my youngest son was born to their album "Oh, Inverted World."

Here, watch the preview if you still need convincing:


It's touching and hysterically funny all at once. Watch it this weekend. You can thank me later.

If you watch this clip, I guarantee two things:

1. You will laugh
2. You will boogie in your seat.

I love the Flight of the Conchords. Yes, yes I do.



She's so hot she's making me sexist! Bitch!

I'm feeling better today, peeps. Last night I mopped up the traces of dog blood from the floor (don't ask), sent his dishes through the dishwasher and packed them away, and then I burned some white sage to cleanse the house of negative energy (you knew I was a hippy freak, so don't judge). We had take-out for dinner; I was lazy and didn't cook a thing. After the kids were in bed Jim went and did his thing (read: took a hot bath) and I lay flat on my back on the couch and watched my "vamporn," True Blood. DAAAAAAAAAMN, Eric got a haircut, and he is now even more FINE, am I right? Loved the scene with Bill and Jessica's family, too. Wicked. Cool.

Tomorrow is my day off, and I haven't made plans. I am toying with a couple of ideas, but haven't felt like committing yet. It's a good feeling, and I'm enjoying these last few days of complete freedom. J and the kids will be out of school next week and then things get more complicated and busy, so I'm savoring my last total "me" day.

I'm about ready to bounce on home! It has been a very quiet week at work. My boss is out of town and I've had about an hour's worth of actual work to do in a given day. Combine that with this dreary gray weather we've been having, and I'm a little bit zoned out. Who needs drugs when I can make my brain feel dull and numb just by sitting quietly in a gray fog for two days? Well, drugs would still be more fun, but whatever. They're hard to get... um, I mean bad for you... so I'll just stick with being naturally comfortably numb for the time being.

Sad Kermit

ETA: I edited this post because I didn't want you all to think I was suicidal. Hahaha. (I'd say NTTAWWT, but yes, there is something wrong with that, so YTISWWT?) I'm just a little blue today because my dog died, goddamn it. That son of a bitch universe keeps hittin' me, but I keep gettin' back UP! To quote Malomatic, "BOOO-YA!"

IS THAT ALL YOU GOT? Wait, don't answer that. Fate, consider yourself un-tempted, k? Anyway, I'm fine, I'll get over it, just a bit of a downer.

So, I give you Kermit the Frog covering Elliot Smith's song, "Needle in the Hay." The song was used in one of my favorite off-beat dramedies, The Royal Tenenbaums.



and for shits, giggles, & comparison's sake, here's the scene from the real movie:


Catch up with you later, taters.
After all, tomorrow is another day....

Corn Dogs, Air Show...my cup runneth over

I hereby dedicate this post to the lovely Samsmama, who has been to an air show, and who also enjoys the occasional foot-long corn dog.


Ribfest was a blast! We met up with Mala, Laurie, and their respective friends and families and started right in with the eating of the ribs and the drinking of the beer and the bounce-housing of the children. First thing, we stopped and got the kiddos a couple of corn dogs to appease Frank, whose only request of me was to see me eating a corn dog. Why? I dunno. I really couldn't say. I have no ide-- hey, wait a minute! Frank! You perv.



Hey look! Balls ---->




<---- Does this look wrong to anyone else? No? Just us? Oooookay, then. Hey, Mala spotted it, not me!




Seeking shade... because yes, it turned out to be a sunny day! Woohooo!!! The rain held off all day, and I even got some color. Ok, color for me means that I now have a white band around my arm where my wristband was and the tip of my nose is Rudolph-red, but whatev. For me, that's practically bronzed!





A rare quiet moment for our sons.




Yup, there was an airshow. It was pretty good, too, because several times we were ready to grab the kids and run. It's just not fun unless you're convinced you're going to die in a a fire ball, am I right?


Mala's husband showing off his new big inflatable guitar. What?

Speaking of husbands, they ditched us for a good portion of the day to go on a tour of the brewery. J texted me throughout. Figures -- the teacher is the worst pupil of the bunch! He sat in the back and sent me text messages along the lines of, "I don't care when Anheuser met Busch. Where's beer?" and "Still no beer. WTF?" One-track mind? Maybe.

At any rate, by 5:30 we were ready to roll on outta there, and we wavered between rallying and going up to Mala's place to dump our kids with a sitter and go out to dinner and a comedy show, having people back to our place to play Rock Band (as planned), or just taking my tired, sticky children (and self) home and crashing. Three guesses which one of those I picked.... Yes, I was in my pjs on the couch by 6:30, folks. I went to bed crazy-early! Sadly, I think my party animal w/ tons of stamina days are behind me. The heart is willing, but the flesh is weak... so very weak.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there! Hope you all have a great day and get your corn dogs eaten. My husband and sons rocked it out on the Wii for a while after enjoying breakfast in bed, and now he's sittin' around in his Grateful Dad shirt, goofing off. It's that kind of day; rainy and gray and chilly.

Hope everyone has a nice Sunday! *MWAH!*

F is for Friday...

that's good enough for me!

Are you singing the Cookie Monster song? Well, ya should be.

I'm sooooo glad it's Friday, folks. I seem to be coming down with something; got a tickle in my throat and I sound a little Kathleen Turner-ish, which is the good part of getting sick, IMO. It's also STILL BLEEPING RAINING, and looks like the whole weekend will be a wet one 'round these parts. I'm really, really, really getting sick of rain. However, it could be worse and we could be getting tornadoes or record heat like other parts of the country. So, there's that.

Tomorrow is the annual Rockin' Ribfest at the local Anheuser Busch Brewery. We stumbled across it last year for the first time; it was one of those beautiful sunny Saturday mornings when we had no plans, but wanted to do something fun. I went online and found out about it, we went, and had just about the best day ever. They have all these kids' activities set up - bounce houses galore, face-painting, carny food, etc., plus live bands all day, an international rib competition (the Aussies were our faves last year - YUM!), and of course... BEER. We're not big Bud fans (AT ALL), but they had Red Hook and a few others that were tolerable, so we managed to muddle through without microbrews for a day. Ha ha... we're beer snobs, yes.

So, this year we're going with a couple of other families, which will be great... except that it's gonna effing RAIN all day and be 60 degrees instead of sunny and warm. &*%@#! But, we'll survive. I'm hitting Target later to get myself some cute rubber boots, and I plan to fully embrace the damp. Quack quack, and all that.

Sunday's Father's Day, but we don't have any big plans beyond the obligatory (and admittedly cliche) breakfast in bed. I need to run out today and pick something up for the J, but I'm not going nuts. I'm hoping that we can just have a quiet day at home for a change, because I'm burned out and need some serious "couch" time. "TV" time. "Nose in a book" time. "Please everybody stop talking to me" time. In other words, good times.

I'll leave you with some random pics taken within the past week or two.

Hey baby, come here often?


My big kid!


His Native American name is, "Wind in his Mullet"

Have a fantastic weekend, everyone!!
oxoxoxo

Wonderful Wednesday: A recap

Yesterday was indeed wonderful. Well, it started off less-than wonderfully when my youngest son got up at the ass-crack of dawn and proceeded to scream like a banshee for over an hour because he was... wait for it... TIRED. But, let's not dwell on that, mmmkay?

I had my very first ever REAL psychic reading yesterday. I had one before, but that woman was clearly a phony and a dingbat, because the experience I had yesterday was in-fucking-credible. The real deal, yo. No doubt in my mind. Note: the psychic will hereby be referred to as A because I am too lazy to spell out her whole name, k? I won't go into the full details because I don't want to bore you stiff, but here's the Reader's Digest version:

First thing A says to me is that her spirit guides say I'm a lovely person. Ahhhh, thanks, guys! (preening) She says something like, "You're just good, you're just a good person, and believe me, I cannot say that about everyone who sits in my chair." She gestured towards the door, through which Mala had just made her exit, and said, "I can see why you're friends. You are a giver, and so is she." Awwwwww.

Next she went into this whole thing about how I'm such a sensitive person (STFU, it's true. I may have the whole tough girl persona going on, but I bruise easily, inside and out), and people have always criticized me for being so sensitive, but she said that most of the time I'm actually right. A says I am an excellent interpreter of what people are really saying. (HA! I knew it!) But, that doesn't mean I handle it so great, so need to work on not holding in my feelings until I explode on folks out of anger. Check.

She said several other things that were accurate about me and my loved ones, specific details that blew my mind b/c no one could know them, especially a perfect stranger who only knew my name. She knew about a random health thing my husband had a couple of years ago, about a friend I talk to a lot, my crap job, a shitload about my kids and what kind of people they are/will become. She knew I'd been married for seven years, knew what kind of person my husband is, and said we had a good marriage. All true.

But here's where she blew the freakin' doors off. My dad came through. LOUD AND CLEAR. My grandmother too, but A said he literally pushed her aside and said, "She's here for me." YAY! Some things she identified that made it 100% crystal clear that it was really him:

- What he died of, specifically: "Feels like a heart attack, but it wasn't sudden. He had time to prepare and time to say goodbye. I have shortness of breath, and I am thinking emphysema or lung cancer." FYI - Dad had lung cancer, but died of a heart attack a month after finding out.

- the numbers 3 and 5 in reference to when he died. He died 3 weeks ago, in the fifth month, the month of May. This, btw, blew A's mind. Apparently it is highly unusual for a spirit to come through so soon after passing. She said it usually takes 6 months to a year for them to get things figured out over there, so she was astounded that he was there so powerfully. I wasn't surprised - that's just my dad. ;-)

- He had two children, but also identified a miscarriage my mom had before I was born. Um, wow. Nobody knows that. Nobody.

- He planned it so my sister and I wouldn't see us die. He didn't want us to see that.

- My grandmother was there when he passed and helped him cross over. She was also around him for several days leading up to his death.

- He will be there for "The Milestone." This is something we talked about a lot; he was sad he wouldn't see his grand kids graduate from HS and college, and we said, "Well, at least you'll see Danny graduate from Kindergarten!" Well, that graduation is today, and apparently Dad's planning on attending.

- Tons of stuff about my mom, details about his belongings, (i.e. sell the truck, don't move, get a housekeeper).

- A said that his sense of humor is still intact. He said something like, "I've got the damn dog!" THAT IS SO DAD. I asked which dog, and he said, "the one before the last, your mother's favorite," and "the one we were all so sad to lose." He meant our collie, who we lost after a house fire when I was a teenager. The dog got freaked and ran off and we never saw him again, which was really the final kick in the nuts after losing all of our worldly possessions!

- He loves his grandchildren immensely

- There was nothing we could have done to prevent his death. Now that he has a larger picture of the grand scheme of things, he knows it was his life's plan all along.

- He gave A the image of brush/trees, and regret. So funny! Before he got sick, he and his friend were planning to come down and help us clean up our brush. We had a lot of tree damage from an ice storm last winter, and he was going to come help out. He never got to, and he said to me several times in our last month together that he regretted not helping us with that. Apparently, he still does.

Pretty amazing. I wasn't at all surprised, somehow. Sure, I'm shocked and amazed that something like this is even possible, but I've always believed strongly that after death we just take on another form. I don't believe in heaven or hell or anything like that, just an indefinable change. Now, I have confirmation, and I feel really peaceful about it all. Rock on!

Moving on... this post is already way too long... SORRY!

After, Mala and I had a nice lunch and enjoyed some rare sunshine. It has been a very rainy June here in New Hamster. After some burgers & sangria, we decided to phone in the rest of the afternoon. Literally. Here's Mala making her daughter VERY unhappy by arranging for after-school care. Poor little Morgie, shuffled off to childcare so Mommy can get her drink & pampering on!

We went to Mala's mani/pedi place, which was appropriately called "Ok Nails." Just ok. Nothin' fancy. But, it was actually quite fancy - they had such strong accents that Mala and I were like, "Sure, whatever!" Next thing you know, we're drinking some sort of fizzy pink wine thing in vibrating chairs (hence the blurry cell phone pics), having our hands dipped in hot parafin wax, and they're drawing little Asian flowers on our toenails. Guh? Hmmm, I guess I said yes to that? Whatev, it's kind of cute.

Then, while under the hand dryer, Mala totally got hit on by an Asian dude who may or may not have had Downs Syndrome. NTTAWWT. I had the giggles by that point, so watching her field questions about her heritage was quite amusing. Him: "You must go tanning a lot." Her: "Um, nope, just part Native American." Him: "You like tanning?" Her: "No, just drinking." HEE!

Possibly the most disturbing part of the whole experience was the fact that the girl who did my nails talked like a Vietnamese prostitute. She called me nothing but "Baby," and told me she loved me several times, and kept repeating, "I only do for you. Only for you, baby." Oh, and it was important to her that I remember her name (Lee) and repeat it a lot. SAY MY NAME, BEYOTCH!

So, that's my day. Pretty freakin' wonderful, eh? Mala and I agree that it's probably a good thing that I work 4 days/week or we would be raging alcoholics with beautiful nails and credit card debt out the wazoo.

Have you seen this blogger?

MISSING

Answers to: garrito, burrito, garritoto, garritutu, garritofu
Blog Name: "Hey, A Shiny Object"
Raison d'etre: Making fun of shit, being a lovable curmudgeon
Last seen: 2 months ago, when he told us all he was preparing to get married. This is the Blogosphere's equivalent of "going out for cigarettes."

Possible reasons for disappearance:
* Still having mad newlywed sex
* Contracted Swine Flu while honeymooning in Mexico
* Abducted by aliens
* New wife discovered his loyal female blog following and was not easily amused
* Became a time traveler and is now trapped in the 14th century
* Doing hard time for pimping
* Suffered a traumatic brain injury after being kicked by a mule; consequently lost his sense of humor and ability to taste
* Got a life/just got sick of this shizz

If anyone sees this blogger, approach him cautiously and assume that he is armed. Give him a bologna sandwich (NO CRUSTS!) and a rubber chicken and apply cool compresses to his genitals immediately.

It's totally me.

So, the weekend was good. On Saturday we went to our friends' house for their daughter's 6th birthday party. It was a great time, and the kids were cute in their superheroes costumes. Danny immediately became red and sweaty in his Power Ranger costume, because that is just how we are built. Any form of exertion and I am red in the face, which meant that gym class was super fun for me as a kid! It's not that I can't keep up, I've always done fine, but I look like I'm about to have a heart attack while exercising. Once again, being fair-skinned is awesome!

The Jillinator had asked us to stay after the party (for the "real party"), which meant that I had to be the lurker mom who never left. My husband showed up 3 hours late, just as the last stragglers were leaving, but I had been there the whole time. I was just starting to think maybe I shouldn't have committed to sticking around when we put the little kids to bed and busted out the wine, and then the fun began.

Jill and I had some very interesting discussions, none of which I can share. Sorry! But suffice to say that when Jill calls my cell phone, her ring tone is "Super Freak" by Rick James... and I had no idea how appropriate that choice was until Saturday night. WHOOOOO, doggy! I knew I liked that chick! We ended up hanging out on her bed, drinking our vino, for about 2 hours. The guys were downstairs shooting the shit (and maybe playing Wii, I don't really know), and we just laughed and laughed and talked about dirty, dirty things. It was awesome. Well, it was awesome right up until I got up to go to the potty and FELL OFF THE BED. Yes. And that bed was high, and the hardwood floor was hard, and I landed like a ton of bricks.

Jill's husband heard the thud and came running up the stairs (my own husband was all, "Eh, she's fine!" Nice.), and he helped me up and dusted off my wounded pride. We then gathered up our sleeping children and Jim drove us the 4 minutes back home, where I apparently took out my contacts and then immediately forgot that I'd done it, so I stood there for 10 minutes poking myself in the eye and complaining that they were stuck. The next morning, I was still convinced that they were in there somewhere, so I started poking myself again. Jeeeeeezus. It wasn't until I checked the container and saw them floating around in there that I realized I had actually succeeded in getting them out the first time. Fuuuuuck me.

My entire left side is sore as a mutha and I have a gigantic bruise forming on my hip. It's hip, shoulder, elbow. I am sooooooooo cool. (rolling eyes)

So that was Saturday.

Sunday Jim made banana pancakes for the boys and I had myself a little egg sandwich wrap, and then we just took it easy, and by "taking it easy" I mean that I hid in my bedroom and napped for quite a while. Then we drove up and met my mom at a restaurant for "lupper," and then came back home. I watched True Blood last night and it was pretty great. There was a HOT Bill & Sookie sex scene. It's official: Anna Paquin is a butterface. She was naked as a newborn last night and her body is pretty bangin', (and I say that with a solid record of heterosexuality backing me up). Too bad her face is... let's just say... errrrm.... Oh fuckit, there's no good way to say it: she's fug. But, whatever, she's still a good Sookie.

So that is that. On Wednesday Mala and I have plans to go see a real-live psychic, so I'm excited about that. We booked these appts. ages ago because this chick is so hard to see. She's apparently freaky-good. Mala's gone a bunch of times and every time her mind is BLOWN, and one of Mala's HS friends, who is a skeptic like me, went and also thought she was the real deal. I hope I like the experience! I hope she doesn't see anything awful. I don't have many skeletons in my closet but still... it should be interesting! You know I'll keep you all posted. ;-)

Randomnicity

Since I am too burned out on this Friday morning to make a post containing any real substance, I will bore you with the fleeting thoughts of my rain-addled brain. And you will like it, by God. Don't make me come over there.

Let's see. I need to remember to call the cable company and order HBO today. True Blood starts up again on Sunday night and I. AM. PUMPED. I have no idea why I'm such a freak about vampire stuff; I never was before the whole Twilight/Dead Until Dark phenomenon took hold of me, but I am pretty sure it has something to do with the sex aspect of it all. Sigh. I am such a perv, you guys. Sometimes I surprise even myself. Also, I think it's getting worse as I get older! Is that normal? Do I care? Probably no on both counts.... At any rate, True Blood is a sexy-ass show with sexy-ass vamps who like to screw and bite people, and I am all about it. Oh, and now we know that Anna Paquin (Sookie) and Stephen Moyer (Bill) are totally doing it IRL, so that's kind of hot, right? Buh-RING IT!

Next: Some celebrities should not speak. Every time I turn around I am reading some terrible quote from Shia Labeouf, for instance. Now, I had no real opinion about him before; he's not hot, so he was kind off my radar. But now that we know certain things about him, he creeps me right out. For instance, we know:

- He is poorly endowed
- He wants to have sex with his mother
- His parents used to smoke weed & get it on right in front of him, events for which he now credits his "R-rated sense of humor."

I am too lazy to validate all of these stories with links, so you're gonna have to take my word for 'em. You can also look at the "Shia LaDouche" category over at Dlisted since I'm pretty sure I read it all there.

What else? The weekend looks like it'll be decent. Tomorrow we've got a b-day party for one of Danny's classmates, and we're friends with her parents so hopefully it'll be a good time for all involved. D's excited to wear his Power Ranger costume because it's a Super Heroes party. I can't stop calling it a Pooper Heroes party, because I have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy, but you knew that.

Speaking of that, I took one of those silly Facebook quizzes last night and it told me I have a 100% dirty mind. Ha. Like that's news! Duuuuuhhhh. But honestly, how dirty do you have to be to see a woman's crotch in this picture? It SO does not look like a lamp until you squint and slap yourself in the head for being such a dirty birdy. RIGHT?

Sunday we're going up to my mom's house and I will be digging through her piles of disorganized photos so you can all see what a freak show I was during the 70's and 80's. You're welcome. Oh, and I clearly gained my mad organizational skillz from my mom, since I too have drawers full of disorganized, non-scrapbooked pictures. It's a proud tradition, really. I take my slackerdom very seriously. Ok, no I don't. Whatever. What was I talking about?

I'm so sick of my job and my boss that I just might hurt someone today. Honestly, if my boss uses the "royal we" one more time this morning, I might haul off and punch him. On edge? Moi? I don't know what you're talking about! I'm just not in the mood for his crap today, is all, and he's going 1000 mph and is all up in my bidness! Back off, yo, or taste my wrath. FYI, it does not taste like chicken.

On a happier note, Mala and I are planning our next get-away for July. WOOT! I am always happiest when I have something fun to look forward to, and this looks to be a good time. I'll tell you all about it another time. Right now I am hungry, and I need to go enjoy a Diet Coke and smile.

Have a lovely day, TGIF, and TTYL!

5 ways in which I FAIL

No, that's not me, but sometimes it feels that way.

Here's a list of things I suck at:

1. Exercising regularly. I go in spurts; I'll get all gung-ho about going to the gym for a month or two, and then one day I'll just not feel like going so I won't. Then I don't go back for 2 months, for no good reason. I don't cancel my membership, because somehow paying for it each month is like my penance for being a lazy fuck. It's like my own personal self-imposed sin tax.

2. Keeping my car clean. Before I had kids, the inside of my car was always immaculate. I'd bust out the Armoral wipes and always removed trash promptly. However, since having two messy children in the car, things have gone to pot. Once in a while there will be a (an?) horrific odor and I will have to go hunting for the errant sippy cup filled with chunky milk that got wedged under a seat. The backseat area is ankle-deep with books, crayons, coloring books, and Happy Meal toys. Since they've basically trashed the place, I seem to have given up as well, because my coffee holders are grimy, my dashboard is dusty, and there is a Danny-sized hand print on the inside passenger-side windshield that has been there for literally 5 months now. It's disgraceful. I am ashamed of myself.

3. I start writing novels and then lose interest and/or decide they suck, and never finish them. I got to 170 pages on my last attempt. 170 farking pages, people! Oh, and I never let anyone read them, so don't even ask.

4. Phone etiquette. I'm terrible about returning phone calls, and I almost always screen my calls. Especially lately; if you've reached me by phone in the last month, feel special, because you are. Most folks are going straight to voicemail, baby!

5. Keeping in touch. Unless people are on Facebook or email me, I tend to fall out of touch. This is largely because of my phone aversion, but also because I hate writing letters and sending cards. I can usually motivate to send a b-day card to family members, but honestly, not always. I totally suck at keeping up with stuff like that. Thank-you notes? Yeah, don't expect those right away, either.

And there you have it. Certainly, there are many more, but that's it for now, so I'll leave you with this:



Why? Just because, that's why.

Buh-bye now!

Alvin, is that you?

So I have to tell you guys about something hi-freakin-larious that happened last week.

We have this crazy-annoying, borderline feral cat who belonged to Jim before we got married. Jim found him as a kitten, starving and wild, while out hiking in the woods in northern Vermont. He took pity on him and brought him home, and we've been stuck with him ever since. He brings nothing to the table; he sheds, he craps outside of the litter box for no good reason, he requires grooming due to his long mat-prone hair, he bites, and he has mutant extra claws which he uses on everything and everyone. Clearly, he was just not meant to live, but Jim intervened and now Death is just sitting back and laughing at us, perhaps pointing a bony finger in our direction from time to time, because we are too nice to get rid of this insanely annoying creature.

This cat, whom Jim named Lucky but I have since renamed Sucky, goes outside and kills mice and small critters, and that is his one saving grace. We don't like mice, after all, so who gives a fuck? Also, it keeps him busy and out of my house. So here's where the funny story comes in.

Danny likes the movie Alvin & The Chipmunks. I'm sure you clever readers have already seen where this story is going, but bear with me. The other day the kid had just watched that movie again, and he went outside and was running around doing kid-like things, and Jim was out there cleaning up the yard. Read: he has a plastic bag and a trowel and is collecting dog shit so we don't step in it. Yes, Jim gets ALL of the glamorous jobs at Casa de Bev. Anyone who thinks I am out there cleaning up humongous German Shepherd turds does not know La Bev very well.

Jim's got a pretty full bag of poo when he stumbles across a fresh chipmunk carcass. He scoops it into the bag, but Danny has already spotted it. So he comes running over, wanting to see the chipmunk. Jim's like, "Um, I don't think so..." But my kid is nothing if not determined, and he insisted.

Jim opens up the bag and Danny peers inside, sees the mangled chipmunk lying on a death bed of festering dog poop, and starts swaying from side to side and singing in a perfect chipmunk voice:

"Christmas, Christmas... time is near! Time for toys and time for cheer!"



We laughed. So. HARD!!

By the way, if you like hearing about dead chipmunks, (and really, who doesn't?) go read Courtney's blog. She's a tough chick with a gun who likes to show those vermin who's boss. Hint: it's her.

Photobooth Shenanigans

AKA: The wedding reception post mortem.

Note: Blogger ate my first attempt at this post, so I'm a little peeved. I had it all done and then POOF. Gone. Son of a beeswax! So, this might be briefer than the first go-round. Sorry.

After the wedding ceremony, I mingled and chatted with Jim's parents' friends during the cocktail hour. I've met them all several times over the years, but only remember a handful of their names. I suck like that. Thankfully, they're all very kind anyway, so we drank our Pinot Grigio and ate our hors d'oeuvres and had a good ol' time. Yes, folks, I was drinking white wine, which is usually very un-Bev, but it was hot, and it tasted good. Quenching. On a side note, I could eat nothing but appetizers for the rest of my life and die happy. I just love little bite-sized food, and these were particularly good!

Ok, enough about my stomach. (blush) After the cocktail hour we moved into the tent, and the band was quite good, as was the dinner and the open bar. Yay! I'll have you know, however, that I didn't over-indulge. I got my buzz on, sure, but I didn't go nuts. Danny was there, after all, and was a dancin' fool. People were actually clearing a circle around him and clapping. He was the life of the party. Hee! I have no idea from whom he got this flair for the dramatic. Heh.

In case you're wondering where my youngest son was (Mala), he was in the bride's parents' house with a sitter. Jim and I checked on him throughout the night, but it sure was nice to have a chance to party down unfettered. Also, Danny could go in there whenever he needed a break, and he did eventually go to sleep in there around 10. YAY!

So they had this really cool idea for their guest book. They had a photobooth set up, and the guests would go in and get their picture taken, then you cut them out and paste them into the guest book and write a little note. Jim and I went and did ours first thing after happy hour, so we look pretty put-together(ish) in our first attempt. Oh, and the bow tie Jim is sporting was part of his groomsman ensemble, but combined with his glasses and his hair (which always reverts back to bowl-cut territory no matter how nicely it is cut; it is straight and thick and he refuses to use hair products!)... well, he kind of looks like Bill Nye the Science Guy a little bit. Bless his heart.



Later on, we found ourselves chatting with Jim's cousin B and his wife, J for most of the night. We go way back, and they got married just a couple of months after we did, and have a son the same age as Danny. They still like to tease me about breaking a model ship at their wedding reception. What? It was this tiny little room in a yacht club with low ceilings, and they had a great band, and we were ALL cutting a rug & knocking shit down. But yes, I was the one who actually knocked a boat off the wall and broke it. Allegedly! What can I say? If you're gonna play Stayin' Alive, expect that I will be throwing an arm out ala John Travolta and plan a-fucking-ccordingly, ok?!

Later on, B started cracking jokes about doing a "wife swap" in the photobooth and making a funny page for the guest book. We all started throwing out funny captions and cracking jokes about it... but next thing you know, I'm actually IN the photobooth with Jim's cousin. OOPS. I kind of looked at him like, "Err, what did you have in mind, exactly?" So we pretended to make out for the camera. PRETENDED. No actual groping occurred! But, the pics were kind of incriminating. Whoopsie! Then Jim took J and his other cousin, D in. In retrospect, I wish we'd brought D in too, so it would have looked less awful!

We put a couple of the pics in the guest book with the caption, "Share and share alike. Keep it in the family!" D'oh!

(shading eyes with my hand) Sorry, A&A! Feel free to rip that page out of your guest book! Please.





The worst part was that on Sunday, after I got home, I got a text from my BIL saying that all of the photobooth pics would be put up online. D'OH! Thankfully, he agreed that they wouldn't be sharing that website with anyone. Egads. Embarrassment galore.

A good time was had by all, clearly! Also, we saw B&J at the brunch the next day and we're all still speaking and even planning to visit each other this summer. So, yay!

Isn't she lovely?

Everyone, please meet my new sister-in-law, Anne:


We had a great time at the wedding last weekend. Our flights went smoothly and the kids were decently-behaved, and my 6-yr-old did us proud as both the ringbearer AND the only child present. That boy can cut a rug, lemme tell ya! More on that later.

First off, here's my charming little devil:

He is holding his new harmonica, one was one of his gifts from A&A for performing his very important duty.

The groomsmen


D walking the aisle. He actually was walking so seriously that he walked right on by the aisle and everybody giggled. Whoops! Once he found the path, he was right as rain!


Here comes the bride!


Jim was asked to read a poem during the service:


Last but not least, here is the only pic (that I can show in mixed company! D'oh!) of me from the whole night. I'm not nuts about it, but there it is. I hate how I'm holding my hand; it looks like I have nubs for fingers. Great - now you're all going to know about that shop class accident I had!


That's it for now. My heart's just not into blogging this morning. The reception got a little crazy and I have some funny stories to tell, but they'll have to wait. Sorry!! I am a tease. You know this about me. You love me anyway. RIGHT?!

Bruised.

So, I've been a little distracted lately. I've had a lot on my mind, good and bad, so I feel like I've just been kind of wandering around in a daze for about a month. Now, when I get in these types of zombie zones, which isn't all that often, and never lasts as long as this one has, I am so out of it that I tend to walk into stuff a lot. Since I am extremely fair-skinned, that means I look like I've been beaten like a broke-down mule right about now.

I bruise easily. I often find them on myself and don't even remember getting hurt! It's just one more little F-YOU from Mother Nature's genetic bag of tricks, I guess, but it could be worse, so I acknowledge and move on.

The other day I somehow managed to walk into the protruding license plate of my car, and I really dinged up my right knee. It's all kinds of purple and blue and now, bits of yellow. Truly, it is stunning. Like a sunset! Of course, at least it's not Summer and at least I'm not going to a rehearsal dinner & wedding this weekend. And at least I'm not wearing strappy shoes, which require bare legs. Because that would suck; I'd have to show everyone how accident-prone and clumsy I am by sporting a massive bruise that has severe track-mark-like qualities about it. (eye roll)

In keeping with our tendencies to show up at these family functions looking like something the cat dragged in (no, not Scrambles the Cat... that bastard is far too lazy to be dragging in much of anything!), my youngest son took a tumble last night and now has the starting of a black eye. YES! He has reached the age when I think helmets should be mandatory at all times. His big ol' noggin just seems to pull him around and he falls head-first into things all. the. time. I suppose having a giant head will do that for you. Srsly, it's like an orange on a toothpick! It's like Sputnik!


At the last wedding, in February, it was my oldest who walked into the side of a building at school and got a gigantic goose egg on his forehead, which then proceeded to drain down his face and pool into double-black eyes and a swollen nose just as the big day arrived. I assure you, his nose and the area between his eyes are not normally that wiiiiiiiiide.

So, we're officially ready to rock n' roll at the wedding festivities this weekend! I am looking forward to the mani/pedi I'm getting tomorrow with one of my SILs and my MIL. Think it would be terribly rude if I wore my iPod? Yeah, probably. All I know is that I'm in NO MOOD FOR BS of any kind. If anyone so much as looks at me funny I will go Ninja Bev on they asses! There's a full moon on Sunday, and I'm already feeling a little loonier than usual, and full moons also seem to pull crazies to me like they're on tracks! Oh, also? I have been getting less than 5 hours of sleep per night for well over a week now, so I'm about ready to punch somebody in the face. Doesn't matter who, but I do have some ideas for who's top on my wish list!

It's not all woe is me, don't get me wrong. I don't have to work today, and yesterday my Boss gave me most of the day off out of the blue! So, I went had had sushi and pinot with Laurie and had just a really pleasant afternoon. Like the old days, before I became the Depresso-Bev 2000. Hee! I will say, I am often thankful that I am naturally a pretty happy gal. I have never suffered from depression or even bad moods that last for longer than a day or two. I think I was born with extra serotonin or something because my moods just kind of naturally float near the surface. I'm lucky that way, and I am grateful for it.

However, I will still inflict pain on someone if I don't get some GD sleep, and soon!!

Have a nice weekend, everyone! I'll post pics of the wedding when I get back, if I don't end up in jail for assault, that is. I'm just repeating the mantra I've had in my head forever now, which I boosted from some gawd-awful Eddie Murphy movie from long ago: KEEP IT TOGETHER... KEEP IT TOGETHER...KEEP IT TOGETHER! :)

Scrambled butt cuts

Scrambles the Cat is my soul pussy.


HA! I love it. He's not sad, he's just chillaxin'. Kickin' it, old skool.

Anywho. How is everyone on this fine morning? I'm doing fine and dandy, thanks for asking. My work peeps came through with a huge bouquet of flowers this morning, which brings my tally up to 6 so far, and means that my home now smells amazing but also looks like a funeral parlor. It's cool, I appreciate them all! I wish I wasn't going out of town for 3, almost 4 days, because coming home to a house full of decaying plant matter is not so bueno, but oh well.

Speaking of that, I think I've got everything done that needs doing before leaving on a jet plane tomorrow eve. I tried on my new dress last night and got two thumbs up from both The Jim and my 6 yr. old son, but that might've just been because they wanted to get back to their raging Wii bowling game. Speaking of that, the big kid's haircut isn't as bad as I first thought it was. It's a little too crew-cut-ish, but he still looks cute. My youngest, however, is sporting a bowl cut entirely too reminiscent of Peter Tork from The Monkees. I don't mind, though. He can rock the bowl cut! It's still better than a butt cut.

By the way -- when I just did a Google image search for "butt cut," guess what the first image was?! Yes, it's our very own Cary as a wee lad. HAHAHA!!!!!! WTF? How fraking funny is THAT?

Oh, and speaking of bad hair. On the phone with my sister last night we got to talking about my From the Vault posts, and how I have my next one all lined up already. We started reminiscing about some of the horrible Sears portraits of the two of us from our childhoods, and she has declared several of those verboten, which bums me out because they're HI-larious. In one, we're both sporting the classic 80's short hair 'do with permed tops, AKA the show poodle 'do. Oh, and ruffled shirts. In another pic, she is wearing a string tie, and has long, straight center-parted hippy hair; I have overly-short, uneven bangs and a cold sore. HAWT. But, I can't show them to you, because I promised not to... so you'll have to use your imaginations. I know you can do it.

That's it for now. Enjoy your day, everyone!

Truthful Tuesday

AKA: It's my blog and I'll rant if I want to.

I came back to work today, and am regretting that decision. My boss hasn't darkened the doorstep yet, but I'm dreading the moment he does. He'll be nice and all, but he's just so self-involved that it's bound to be one of these conversations:

Boss: "I'm so sorry about your dad. Are you ok?"
Me: "Thanks. I'm doing ok. Not great, but ok."
Boss: "When my wife's father died... blah blah blah, lots of redundant crap that's supposed to somehow make me feel sorry for his wife for her loss a YEAR ago."
Me: "Yes, that's very sad. I remember. How's she doing now?"
Boss: "She's alright. She still gets sad... more stupid annoying tripe about himself and their coping mechanisms from the death of an 86-yr-old man a YEAR ago."
Me: nodding sympathetically and making low sounds of consolation.
Boss: "So anyway, about those TPS reports...."

*SIGH*

So far the rest of the office is leaving me alone, thank goodness, but I'm sure that won't last. I'm just glad my crazy cat-lady coworker isn't in today, because all she will do is blab for five straight hours about every person she's ever known who has died, EVER. Because that is exactly how she rolls. Jerk Store! I might just snap and kill the bitch. It's been 6 years of listening to that harpy drone on and on and on, and this might just be the event that snaps my patience in two!

On a funny note, a friend of mine recently suggested that I get an air horn and give her a good blast whenever she starts up. HAHAHAHA! I think that's an excellent idea, but she is old, and I don't want to kill her, just shut her up. Still... I might consider it.

UPDATE: While I was writing this, boss came in, and the conversation went exactly as I had predicted. HA! I rule! Also, I was just thinking that I was a teeny bit peeved that no one from the office bothered to send me a card or some damn flowers, and Boss tells me that he and his wife are having a tree planted in Israel for me. Um, thanks. That's very... thoughtful, I guess. Whatever, dude.

Ok, more truths.... Things that have bummed me out this week:
Ads for Father's Day
My father's empty chair at the lunch table
Mala's woes... I will be busting some skulls if need be. Trust.
Being forced to shop yesterday for clothes to wear to this big family wedding we have this week.

Oh yeah, that's another thing. Jim's brother is getting hitched on Saturday. I LOVE this BIL, love him silly, and I love his bride-to-be (BTB). But, do I feel like schlepping my entire family onto a plane to Philly on Thursday, getting us all looking halfway decent, and putting on a smiley face for the entire group of in-laws and BTB's family all weekend long? HELL to the muthafuckin' NO.

Things that have made me happy this week:
My friends are awesome
Online chats
Plans for future fun
Getting mobile web for my phone (it's the little things)

One last bit of truth for now: My boss is sitting at crazy coworker's desk today for no good reason. He does this now and then, and it pisses me OFF. I mean, the man's got a perfectly good office, yet he sits 4 feet away from me? He's not even working, he's looking at CNN and ESPN. Goddamn it!

I VANT TO BE ALONE!

Ok, anyway. That's what's new today. Aren't you glad you checked my blog? Ha ha... sigh. Ha.