Drunk-Spacing

Last night, lord knows what time exactly:

S said:
sleep tight, and don't dream about cheeseburgers!

S said:
LOOOOOOOOOoooove you.


This morning, right before work:

R says:
lol

S says:
what?

R says:
last night

S says:
omg, i forgot we talked

R says:
your closing statement

R says:
'don't dream about cheeseburgers

S says:
you get very upset when you dream about cheeseburgers

R says:
lol

...

R says:
damn it. i drunk spaced a boy last night:

You've told me you're not very good in the relationship scene. It hit me when Jeremiah gave you his phone number yesterday at the restaurant. If you and I were together in a relationship, i would constantly be jealous of the way other men look at you, and flirt with you. But in the end, if I know that I can hold you at the end of the night, the way I wanted to hold you yesterday, I am willing to give this a shot, if you are.

S says:
shit

Sunny says:
SHIT

R says:
FUCK

S says:
Drunk spacing SUCKS

If Wishes Were Fishes, Then Some People Would be Totally Grossed Out, Because Not Everybody Likes Fishes

Hey, what's the actual way to end that saying? I'm pretty sure that it's got nothing to do with fishes, but I can't remember the actual way it goes.

Dear Fergie,

Please don't use any more euphamisms about female body parts in your songs. This means the songs you do on your own time, and the ones you do with your band. I, for one, don't posses anything I'd ever refer to as either "my hump" or "lovely lady lumps".

I'm also pretty confident that you need to seek a gynaecologist's help with any part of your womanly anatomy that "wanna go down" when someone "come around".

Sincerely,
Sarah

PS: London Bridge? Seriously? You have a part that resembles a this?

Beautiful

Daughter, By Nicole Blackman

One day I'll give birth to a tiny baby girl
and when she's born she'll scream and I'll make sure
she never stops.
I will kiss her before I lay her down
and will tell her a story so she knows
how it is and how it must be for her to survive.

I'll tell her about the power of water
the seduction of paper
the promise of gasoline
and the hope of blood.

I'll teach her to shave her eyebrows and
mark her skin.
I'll teach her that her body is
her greatest work of art.

I'll tell her to light things on fire
and keep them burning.
I'll teach her that the fire will not consume her,
that she must take it and use it.
I'll tell her to be tri-sexual, to try anything
to sleep with, fight with, pray with anyone,
just as long as she feels something.
I'll help her do her best work when it rains.

I'll tell her to reinvent herself every 28 days.
I'll teach her to develop all her selves,
the courageous ones,
the smart ones,
the dreaming ones,
the fast ones.
I'll teach her that she has an army inside her
that can save her life.

I'll tell her to say Fuck like other people say The
and when people are shocked
to ask them why they so fear a small quartet
of letters.

I'll make sure she always carries a pen
so she can take down the evidence.
If she has no paper, I'll teach her to
write everything down on her tongue
write it on her thighs.
I'll help her to see that she will not find God
or salvation in a dark brick building
built by dead men.

I'll explain to her that it's better to regret the things
she has done than the things she hasn't.
I'll teach her to write her manifestos
on cocktail napkins.
I'll say she should make men lick her enterprise.
I'll teach her to talk hard.
I'll tell her that her skin is the
most beautiful dress she will ever wear.
I'll tell her that people must earn the right
to use her nickname,
that forced intimacy is san ugly thing.
I'll make her understand that she is worth more
with her clothes on.

I'll tell her that when the words finally flow too fast
and she has no use for a pen
that she must quit her job
run out of the house in her bathrobe,
leaving the door open.
I'll teach her to follow the words.
I'll tell her to stand up
and head for the door
after she makes love.

When he asks her to
stay she'll say
she's got to go.
I'll tell her that when she first bleeds
when she is a woman,
to go up to the roof at midnight,
reach her hands up to the sky and scream.

I'll teach her to be whole, to be holy,to be so much that she doesn't even
need me anymore.
I'll tell her to go quickly and never come back.
I will make her stronger than me.
I'll say to her never forget what they did to you and never let them know you remember.

Never forget what they did to you and never let them know you remember.

I Hate to do This, But

This weekend, I started getting spam in my comments. I know it's spam, because they all said what a great blog I have, and how great my site is. That's a sure sign of someone trying to kiss up. Also, they included links to things like waterbed sheets.

So I deleted their comments and made it so you have to sign in to comment on my blog. When I opted for the word verification a few months ago, I swore that I would never do this, but there you go. My standards for myself have once again been lowered.

Also, I'm trying out this new Blogger Beta, and so far it's been kind of fun. I like figuring out how to do stuff, and this has amused me all morning. I'm going to love having labels for my posts. That way, anyone can click on a link and be taken to all of my Drunken Shenanigans posts. Weeee!

That One Book...

Do you have one book that you can read over and over again without fail? There are a few Stephen King novels that I don't seem to get tired of (Bag of Bones, Eye of the Dragon, etc.), but the one that stands out the most is one that I read when I was even younger.

I was going through a stage when I would read a book in a matter of hours. There were a few years in middle school when I would go through two or three books a day. Now, these weren't Dickens or Hemmingway, mind you, because that's never really been my style. I read most of the Sweet Valley High books when I was ten, and then moved on to scarier things - you know, R. L. Stine and then to John Saul and Anne Rice. (Those took me slightly longer, which is what I was looking for - I hate the feeling I get when the book is ending and I won't get to spend anymore time with the characters inside. Since then, I've learned to read a few minutes a day and stretch things out a little.) I was somewhere between R. L. Stine and John Saul when I found L. J. Smith's book, The Initiation.

I can't remember what year it was, but it was the summer time. The third full week in July, the week that my family and our friends go camping by Lake Metonga. We were picking up some last-minute supplies at Kmart, and I ran (as always) to the book section to pick something out. I wanted to take something with me to read. I just knew the fifteen books from the library weren't going to be enough. I don't think I touched those other books for a few days. I read this book, and then I reread it, and then I read it again at least three times. I couldn't wait to find out what would happen in the next book. It was torture, looking for The Captive everywhere my mom would drive me, trying to find it somewhere so that I could keep reading... I finally settled on reading the third book second, because the second was nowhere to be found. Confused? Sorry.

I found these books in a box in my old bedroom on Friday night, and I've read a book a day since then. Well, a book a few hours - I wasn't reading all day long - but I'm finally finished. They're just as good when you're twenty-six as they are when you're twelve.

If you can, find them and read them. It doesn't take very long, and it's worth it.

Quick Question:

Does anyone else have problems posting pictures using IE? Am I the only one who has to have Firefox onhand specifically for putting pictures on my blog? (Except for you, Brown. Sisters in toiling, that's us.) Does anyone know how to fix it? Is it some sort of setting I've got set wrong? Any expert opinions?

Ok, so it was a few questions. Carry on*.

*I know that that really makes you want to discuss Project Runway, but can you not do it here? I'm the worst fan EVER and I missed the show for the second week in a row. Luckily for me, I got caught up on last week's episode, but despite the fact that they play the show every waking second, I seem to keep missing it. Please don't tell me who won, please.

A Few Pictures

Last week, we had Lisa and Todd over to watch the Packer game. After the game, we decided to torture the cat. Here are some action shots:







I call them action shots because there is a camera cord in each and every one of them. That's because I was drunk when taking pictures. I took my customary picture of Bruce passed out in a chair:



And then there was a picture of my brother and I with our asses hanging out. (Most unflattering.) I won't be showing that one. After our ravaging of him, it's surprising that Linus still feels comfortable lounging in the Stroh's box. Rather it would be, except I've always thought he was kind of, well, slow:



And a gratuitious shot of Huckleberry:



Have you ever put a dill pickle in your beer? Genious!



And then I took a few self-portraits. This is the only good one:



And here is a picture of how many beers (determined by number of caps, you see) that I'd drunk before I took the self-portrait. (It also explains the drunk-eye.):

Reading, Talking, Begging

So, once again I'm begging for some new dish: please fill me in on the great blogs you read on a regular basis, because the ones on my "friends" list of blogs aren't posting nearly often enough (minus you, Jess, and you, Susan) for my liking. I'm not going to say a word about the "best bloggers*" out there, because they've always been too slow for my liking.

Seriously, everyone should start posting more. I miss you all.

*They should probably be named the "most famous" or "more highly read than the others" blogs, but really, that's too many words. I like to be concise.

Did anyone else used to read the "Sweet Dreams" series of teen romance novels? I swear I must have gone through the entire series when I was a wee lass. I hadn't thought about them in ages, until I read a book earlier this summer entitled, "P.S. I Love You". There was a book by that name in that series, and I loved it. It was recently mentioned in a post at Go Fug Yourself, and it brought it all smashing back. I love those girls, not for their scathing reviews of random celebrities, but for their constant references to the exact past I grew up in.

Wow, was this post random or what?

The Linus, He Likes Nobody

At one point, the Linus and the Uncle had a run-in:


At some point, this run-in got ugly:


Really ugly:

(Click on the picture for some great footage. Action Linus! Action Uncle!)

At some point, the Linus' belly got dirty:


Really dirty:


I only know that it was probably the Uncle's fault.

No Time + All the Time

The best thing about moving back home (to the house of my parents) is that I have no time to feel bad about where I am or what I am doing. I can languish in my self-proclaimed "OK Job", and leave everything else behind me. It's theoretically possible that I could support our (two-beauty, two-beast) family on my (meager and kind-of-pathetic) 10-hours per week. I know it's not ideal, and yet I feel I was gifted the opportunity to work where I've been working, and I shouldn't squander it. I also feel like I've been actually doing something for the past two years, and that is totally unlike any job-like experience I have had to date. Unless you count making sure that the parking lot for the gas station is spotless at all times, which I can say for a fact makes a difference in the world.

The worst thing about living at home is the sheer amount of dishes that can accumulate if your mom isn't washing them almost every day. I'm feeling all-the-time guilt about the dishes that are here. And seriously? We've been eating less. Where did they all come from? I have no clue.

Miller Brewing

Hi!

Last weekend we went to see my brother in Milwaukee. While we were there, we stopped at the place he was staying to pick up the stuff he had to move. (Hello, moody Tivoing dishwashing obsessive! Thanks for letting Robby stay!) We put the stuff into the car and moved it to the house of the girl who went to Europe with him last winter. (Hello, crazy centipede-capturing, picturesque-computer-owning guy! Roommate to my brother's friend!) It was fab. The guy with the centipede, though? I hate centipedes. Peter is a whack-job for keeping one in a jar like that. It was very nasty.

Then we all went on the Miller brewery tour. It was great. First of all, they're not like the Busch people - they totally understand that the reason people go on the tour is to drink beer. They don't take themselves too seriously - while they were all about the "In 18-something, Frederick Miller did something" references, they stopped themselves short of going into his family heritage in favor of more humorous references to the "Champagne of Beers". It was very worth-while. I recommend it.

We got to see lots of things, including the place where they package the brew. They would have been packaging the brew when we went through, but they weren't, because it was the day they do repairs:



Then we saw the warehouse, where they store about 500,000 cases of beer every day. (This is convenient, the tourguide told us, because Chicago consumes aproximately 40% of that beer every single day.) It was awe-inspiring:



Then we went to drink beer. I got a good picture of Bruce and Robby:


*Edited to show a non-fuzzy picture of the two of them.

And one of me and Robby, too:



Let's please not forget the moment when Robby totally abandoned all thoughts of comfort to lay front-down on the pavement to get the best picture ever in front of a Miller High Life bus:



Then we drank a couple of more beers. I can tell you without a doubt that after this weekend, everyone who's been aching for more pictures of my gorgeous brother will get them. We're going to dress up as pirates on Saturday. Doesn't that sound exciting? I thought so.

Tomorrow I'm Working 10 Hours

I know that's not "a lot" for some of you, but I'm generally more lazy than most, and also I think it's the most hours I've ever worked in one stretch.

Could someone please remind me to pick up smokes on the way to work?

Our Boys

They are either growing up super fast or going utterly batshit because there's just too much space in this new house! To put it another way, they're either getting all their grown-up teeth before we even notice or they're just not getting the concept of having that much more area to pee in*, and are therefore just plain a little nuts at the amount of space they have to be in constant control over.

*I'm trying to quietly allude to the fact that while Huck has been rejoicing at the amount of space (three floors!) to pee on, Linus is content to pace back and forth between stories and jump at the slightest noise.

In other words, Huck is becoming a man while Linus becomes a middle-aged cat with an anxiety disorder.

Here's a picture of Huck's teeth that I took early last week:


You see that little bitty baby tooth there? Surrounded by all the grown-up-giant adult teeth there? Do you see his big eye staring you in the face? Say hello to Huck! He's very nice about being manipulated into grimacing for your enjoyment.

Here's a picture of Huck's teeth that I took this evening:



You see? You see how he's growing up ever-so-fast? He's even swallowing all his teeth, much to the chagrin of Bruce who wants to keep them and show them to him on his 5th (35th in dog years) birthday to show him how little he was once upon a time. It's been suggested that if he really wanted to, he could find them again, but Bruce is even more anti-poop than I am. And that's saying something.

Linus is totally freaking out. I thought that having more spaces to hide would make him a more relaxed cat, but instead, he spends his daylight hours avoiding us. When he's not avoiding us, he's actively trying to bite me using whatever means necessary. He will go out of his comfortable laying position to seek me out to bite me more. The only time he tolerates me is in the morning when I'm too sleepy not to hate him for wanting me to interact with him. More space is not good for this cat.

So that's an update on The Beasts. How are yours doing?

PS: Guess what my next project is? It's making sure that this guy, Huck's favorite toy from his absolute favorite Uncle Cam:



Making sure he gets his hoo-hah fixed. Because, although I am in no way ashamed of the female anatomy, I don't believe stuffed blue elephants deserve to have their hoo-hahs hanging out all over the place. Witness:

Pills

A few nights ago, Bruce moved my computer into the basement of the house. It's preeeetty awesome, because this way I can be online while he's online and no one gets their eyes clawed out. The day after that, though, I started wheezing.

I'm not so sure it has anything to do with the locale of the computer, but I typically like to find anything possible that could be the cause of my feeling shitty rather than believe that I'm actually ill in some way. Right now, I'm leaning towards allergies.

Last night I took two (generic) benedryl before bedtime, and although it dried out all of my orafices so much that it felt like I was sleeping in an infomercial dehydrator, I'm feeling a little better this morning. Although cranky. Taking (generic) benedryl at night always makes me cranky, but I've used it before when I had to get up early and I wasn't falling asleep like I should. It's the same thing they put in Tylenol PM, so it's not like it's not proven to work. Last night it had the added benefit of making me pass out and sleep hard (when I wasn't having strange dreams about waking up in a sand storm, that is). I've also been taking (generic) Claritin during the day, and it's going to start working any day now, but Benedryl is stronger by far, and if I take it at night (because I know it's going to make me pass out), it boosts up the (generic) Claritin.

During the height of my cough, I took a few Walgreens-brand "mucus relief", which contained a cough suppressant and an expectorant.

There are also the vitamins we have been taking. Whenever B and I get low on our food, or we're too poor to be eating right, and we start craving things like cucumber and salavating over the thought of fresh carrots, I know we need to be getting a few more vitamins in our diets, and I bring out the ol' vitamins. I get a (generic) diet-aid multi-vitamin, and Bruce gets a (generic) One-A-Day Essential, and we both take a vitamin E and a B-complex vitamin (which I also try to remember to make us take after a night of drinking).

Two days ago when I noticed my throat hurting like hell and my wheeze, I took a few ibuprophen to help with the inflamation in my throat. It really cut back on the swelling that was making it hard to breathe, and it took away some of the swallowing-granules-of-glass feeling I was having.

So! Lets add them up, shall we? I take (1) multivitamin, (2) vitamin E, (3) B-complex, (4) (generic) Claritin, (6) two ibuprophen, (8) two (generic) Benedryl, and (9) one "mucus relief" (grossest name ever) for my cough.

Who needs to eat?

Why Don't You Marry Her?

Along with Lisa, I've been working on my self-esteem over the past three years. I say three because although she's been helping me off and on for over ten (can you believe it Lease? Ten years?) we've only really been connected for good for about three of them. There were times in there, crazy exes and crazy stupid college mistakes and nasty guys neither one of us should have found attractive and yet we fought over them sometimes, etc... we've been very close for about three years now.

The past year-and-a-half when I was living in Hickstown, USA, I really noticed how much of my self-esteem rests on her shoulders. I'm sorry to burden her with this, but it's the truth - a lot of my self-worth comes from knowing someone that awesome thinks that I'm pretty funny and cool. There are a lot of things about our relationship that some people might find daunting, like the unspoken competition that sometimes gets the better of us, but I think a little competition really spurs us on to great things. Unless there's a Mike Price involved, and then it's just wrong. In all senses of the word.

So, on Sunday night Lisa commented on how alike her and Bruce are, and how alike I and Todd are, and it made me think. I'm thinking that it makes no sense really for us to be with people we're exactly the same as, and all sense for us to pick someone who compliments us in the ways that Lisa and I compliment each other. For example, if Lisa and Bruce were together, they would spend all their time worrying about various money situations, and rarely let loose and really have fun. If Todd and I were together, we'd be homeless and begging quarters off of people to drink with in order to be the life of the party all the time. No one wants to spend time with either of those couples. It makes perfect sense to me that I would find a guy like Lisa to marry, and that Lisa would find a guy like me to marry. Of course.

After all, we always were the best couple in town.

[I may have been drunk when I wrote this.]

Happy Birthday to... "OH..."

Speaking of what great things are likely to happen on my birthday, I thought I'd expand on the various highlights of my birthday weekend. I like to think of it as my own personal Diary of Indignities.

Saturday
Mom: Here's dinner!
Me: Oh! Zucchini casserole! My favorite!
Mom: I made cake, too!
Me: Wow, thanks, Mom!
Mom: Yeah... (blank face, followed by surprise)... OH! Yeah...

She totally didn't connect my birthday with the baking of the cake.

Sunday
Bruce: (listening to Lisa telling a story at the bar, turns to me, laughing) You know, I always listen to your stories, and they're ok, but then Lisa tells them, and I realize they're hillarious!!!
Me: (I'm sure you can imagine my expression)

Aren't birthdays the bestest?

Happy Birthday to Me

So far our plan is to wait for Todd to get off of work (either four, five, or six o'clock, we're not entirely sure) and then go to the View, where I will get free drinks. Free drinks!

Last night I got free drinks, too, but that's cause this one guy at the bar thought I was pretty and needed beers bought for me on my Birthday Eve. He was nice, and although I don't think he was too thrilled by the idea of hanging out with my husband and I, I did offer. I'm not sure he was looking for a new best friend, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Considering the amount of Free Beer (not to mention the dollar beers) I drank last night, the thought of tonight's Free Beer is making me slightly ill. Now that I'm old (26, for those of you keeping track) I can't be doing the go-out-every-night-of-the-week thing. Nor the start-drinking-before-you-stop-being-drunk-from-the-night-before thing. That one's hard to master, and I think that after you let it go, it's gone for good. But poor Bruce hasn't been away from the house for any extended period of time in over a week, and I think he needs the fresh air.

And hey, Free Drinks! Who would turn that down?

Buffy, and Other Shows I Never Thought I'd Like

I always assumed that because Buffy the Vampire Slayer was such a cult hit, and also possibly because there was a cast of skinny hot people, that I wouldn't like it. Turns out, I flipped past one scene in season five one day (rerunning on FX, of course) and I was pretty much hooked for good. For those of you who are curious, it was that episode where Riley* [eta: leaves and I turned it on just as Buffy was arguing with Xander and he was telling her all about why she should make Riley stay, and then she runs off to catch the helicopter and make him stay after all even though he's been getting his blood sucked at that vampire whorehouse and she's standing down there and the helicopter is up in the sky and she's screaming his name and not once does he look down to see her there. Who doesn't look down? Despite that, and the fact that I didn't want to like it, I was hooked.]

*Just then, I wanted to call him Ben for some reason. I suspect that I was subconsciously trying to guess his last name, my mind called up "Radley", and went to "Boo" automatically, and that Ben was the closest sane name I could conjure up. My mind sometimes works in mysterious ways, and while that alone isn't exactly creepy, the fact that I backtrack along my train(s) of thought and share them with the internets at large, well, that's a little weird.

After our last run of Buffy (I own the entire series on DVD, and usually once a year I subject Bruce to watching them in total), we decided that we wanted to watch Angel. I started up a Netflix account, and we can't get them fast enough. That's about all there is to that. I didn't think I would like Angel (mainly because I thought they took all of the characters I didn't really care for that much on Buffy and puked them up onto a new show on the WB, and I wasn't crazy about watching a show consisting of the nasty by-products of the show I love) but I'm really getting into it. Not as much as B, he blasphemously said today that he likes it, and I quote, "I almost think it's be-." That's when I froze him with my laser death ray of stone-making, and he wisely stopped that sentance before I had to kill him. I like the show, but I can't say I like it that much. It's good TV. It's better on DVD. I recommend it. They really took the characters I didn't so much like and made them into some people I can really get into watching for hours on end, if that says something, and I think it does. It says lots of things. Good ones.

At work (yes, I have a job, even after moving), the pharmacist and I got to talking about watching TV on DVD (what? It gets boring back there sometimes.) and she mentioned that she's got almost all of the Gilmore Girls on DVD. I'm always up for something new, and she said that the dialogue and the acting was really good. We just finished a two-day marathon of the first season, and I have to agree. I've not always been the biggest fan of girls, actually, for a while I really couldn't stand any girls that weren't Lisa, but recently I've been turning over a new leaf. I sort of like girls now, and this show is pretty damn good. You should watch it. The best part is, it's still on the air, so no disappointing cut-off dates or anything. The other best part (for us, at least) is that the pharmacist said, "I hope you like it, there's more where that came from!" I love that. Seriously, I thought it was going to be a little too teen-drama meets single-mom angsty for my tastes, but it really doesn't hit the cheesy gag-reflex. It's heartwarming, but not like that. I recommend it.

Our Neighbor, Our Bartender

That's right, the duplex directly to the north of us (as opposed to the duplex directly to the east of us, or the rental-house to the southeast of us) has recently gained an upstairs occupant. My first clue was the truck parked in the driveway. The downstairs people have a minivan and a small old white chevy of some sort. My mom's first clue was the guy laying under the truck. She thought he was dead. Bruce noticed that he was gone a few hours later, and we decided that it was either an elaborate plot to make someone disappear, or that he was too drunk to get in his truck to sleep.

So this morning I was really happy to see that my new neighbor is the really nice girl who tends our favorite bar in town. She was unloading some stuff from the bed of her truck, and I welcomed her to the neighborhood (Her: "I'm your new neighbor!" Me: "Great! Cool!" I'm such a dork.) and very gracefully asked her who it was that was sleeping under her truck the other night? Because my mom thought they were dead.

Actually, she didn't know where the guy had been, just that they'd been drinking until around seven in the morning that day, and her friend got all snakey around five and disappeared for about an hour. When he reappeared, he had gravel all up and down his arm and embedded in his forehead, and he was about to pass out. She gave him some blankets (no furniture yet, this guy was supposed to help her move) and tried to brush off most of the gravel, and then he slept. He left later that morning without a word and hasn't talked to her since.

So that's the story of the guy who was sleeping (or maybe dead) under the truck the other morning. I'm so happy she moved in. I'm so happy that it's a party girl, and not an unhappy drunken couple who's making each other miserable all the time. I'm glad it's her because she's very nice and fun and she's not a mobster making people disappear.