Domestic Disaster Time!

The lovely Audrey at Barking Mad is hosting a fun contest celebrating(?) domestic disasters. Since I can't really think of any disasters involving other appliances or whatever, I'll go with a cooking disaster. There are actually two disasters in this story, but one is far worse than the other. If you're on my Facebook friends list, you probably remember me gnashing my teeth over what happened.

This past Christmas, I decided to make tamales for my family and friends, following my aunt's recipe. I gathered the ingredients together, and bought the premixed masa (the dough) to save some time. It was frozen solid in the tub, but I figured it wouldn't hurt it, since I wasn't going to make the tamales for another week or so. It was also white, which confused me for a bit, because masa is usually a grainy yellowish color. I figured it was just a different type of corn.

So the weekend of making tamales rolled around. Saturday I prepped the meat filling. It turned out beautifully. Confident with that success (because the last time I made tamales, the meat was horrible) , I got everything ready for wrapping and steaming on Sunday.

Sunday rolled around and after softening up the corn husks, I started wrapping tamales. The masa sort of looked and smelled funny when out of the tub, but I still didn't think anything of it. After wrapping two dozen, I filled my steamer pot with water and started stacking tamales in it. This was the first disaster. The steamer part that sits above the water CAVED IN and dumped two dozen tamales in the water. I was upset, and rightly so, since rolling tamales is hard work! However, I didn't give up, salvaged about a dozen tamales, and finished rolling the rest. I managed to stack them back in the pot without it collapsing (I'm a trusting soul). I turned on the burner and walked away, because four dozen tamales will take an age to cook.

An hour and a half after starting them, I did a quick check. The masa still looked mushy and almost liquidy. Figuring condensation was wreaking havoc on them, I turned down the burner. Another hour and a half passed. I checked them again. Still oozing. This is when I started to worry, because they should have been done by then. I pulled a few out, and, to my horror, the masa just GUSHED out of the top of the corn husks. I dug down further and found a few that had solidified. I tasted it and wanted to retch. The masa WAS BAD! Bad as in, "This stuff is rancid!" I think I started crying. All that hard work wasted. Half of the delicious pork shoulder that I labored over and babied and seasoned was gone, lost in a sea of slimy masa.

After cursing for awhile, I tossed the tamales down the garbage chute. They weren't fit for consumption, not even for my worst enemies.

And I've pretty much vowed to never attempt tamales again.

Birfday!

So I'm 32 now. I guess I should feel older and wiser now. All I feel is.....drunk. That might have something to do with the fact that I've been steadily drinking generic rum mixed with generic Crystal Light for the past three hours or so.

Eh, I don't feel any different. Still cynical and pissed off and grumpy about everything, more so than usual lately. I think that may be the one change for me. I'm like the honey badger now, I just don't give a shit. You don't like me, fine. Fuck you. You want to mess with me and talk shit and all that. Fine. Fuck you.

I didn't do much for my birthday. Just hung out at home. Was gonna trek down to the MSI and look at the kickass stuff from WWII, but then the temperature started dropping. And dropping. And I was like, "Fuck it." I didn't want to be outside for longer than necessary. So I slept. Then did a major sprint to the store to get some lunch. Sushi. Yum.

Got me some stuffed pizza for dinner. Did a minor celebration with my family. Good enough. All my good friends wished me a merry birthday on Facebook. It totally brightened my day because my friends kick ass. People say that you can't have true friends online. I say that's bullshit. Most of my good friends, including MY HUSBAND, came from the internets. So yeah. Theory is crap.

So that's it. I should expound on how I'm more awesome and SMRT because I'm 32, but I don't give a fuuuuuuuuuuuck. My alcohol is more important right now.

Meh-ry Christmas And Other Musings

Torturing myself with Christmas carols. Reminds me of happier times. It also makes me sadder than hell because I miss my family.

Last week was the anniversary of my grandmother's death. This would be my paternal grandmother, since both of them died in December. I did not mention it last week nor write about it because I wasn't home. I think that is a good thing. I'm thinking about it now, and all it is doing is dragging my soul down. My heart just feels heavy. I miss her. I miss my maternal grandmother.

We watched "A Christmas Story" tonight, and all I wanted to do was bawl because the Old Man reminds me so much of my grandfather and how he used to be around Christmas.

Blah. The waterworks are starting. I don't want to do this, but if I keep it bottled up, I'm going to be depressed throughout the holiday, and I really don't want to ruin it for my son or husband.

I think I'm also crying because I'm listening to religious Christmas carols, and all they're doing is reminding me of how much I lost when my faith went PFFFFFT. It's a bitch at times to think about it, especially during the holy days for my old religion. Other times I could give a fuck about it all. Ah, conflict. Why can't I be normal?

Merry fucking Christmas.

Google Earth And Depression

The weirdest shit can make you depressed. It's true. I was bored and messing with Google Earth. I started looking up places in my hometown and the area surrounding it. And I just got hit with this overwhelming feeling of homesickness and depression.

I guess maybe it is the holidays coming up that is making it worse, along with some pretty sucky anniversaries. The knowledge that, once again, I will not be with my family during Christmas just makes me teary eyed. I miss them all, more than I care to admit, I guess. Yes, I have my husband and my son, and even the doggeh (who is trying to climb my leg right now.....like most pets, he senses sadness) to celebrate the holidays with, but I need my other family members. This includes all my close friends in California, because we all act like family anyways!

There is so much I'm feeling right now, and I don't know how to put it into words. My throat is sore from holding in the crying. I usually don't cry. My Paxil has made me pretty immune to certain feelings. Yet tonight, I really feel like letting loose and bawling.

I suppose I'm not making sense. I don't care. I need to write or else I'll go batshit insane.

Fuck it. I'm going to go shower now and possibly cry. Maybe tomorrow I'll resume my (supposedly) normal life.

Mmmmm.....Depression

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me (besides the obvious). I just feel like complete shit all the time. I'm constantly stressing about money, even though I know we're covered, thanks to help from my parents. Without them, the kid wouldn't be getting a Christmas, and we wouldn't have money to go grocery shopping this weekend (and probably the latter part of next month as well).

So maybe it isn't money, per se. Maybe I'm just depressed over the fact that I can't stretch our money more. Maybe I'm just depressed because, at the age of 31, I still have to rely on Mommy and Daddy for money. Maybe it's the fact that I can't get work of any kind, which makes me feel utterly useless. Babysitting is out, because everyone has childcare already, although I've put it out there that I'm available for emergencies and whatnot. I've applied all over the neighborhood, but no go. Kinda weird, considering the holidays are coming up and people are usually hiring. Not in Hyde Park, though. I can't go any farther than the neighborhood because of my own childcare issues, so working Downtown is out.

I just need.....something. I don't know what. I feel so miserable because of all this stress. I really try to hide it, but damn. Everyone has their breaking point. I'm not sure I've reached mine yet, but it is awfully close.

I could also just be feeling the depression because December is coming up, and it's just a really shitty month in the scheme of things. God knows I only go through the motions of the holiday for the kid. Not much to celebrate nowadays with everyone gone. A month where I lost both of my grandmothers. A month that would have seen my grandfather turn 75. Sheeyit. I can do without it, thanks.

I'm not sure what the point of writing this was. Maybe I just needed to ramble on and vent some of my depression on the interwebz. Hell, I'm sure most of the people that read this know exactly how I feel.

Fuck Off

Since I'm feeling pretty shitty right now, I'm just going to lay this out there. If you think you know more about my finances than I do, you're more than welcome to come and school me on it. And when you fail fucking miserably at getting blood out of a turnip, I'm going to laugh at you.

Don't ever presume that we have no money just because we blow it on stupid shit. Don't ever think you know more about us than you do. And if I ever see that fucktard asshole that made the comment about my husband never having money, I'm going to go apeshit ballistic on his ass. Guess what, asshole? We're making a graduate student stipend meant for ONE stretch out for three people. So why don't you go fuck yourself with a chainsaw? Furthermore, it's none of your fucking business. And if you feel so strongly about my husband having more money, then why don't you fight for grad students to make more money rather than act like the biggest prick in the universe about everything.

You know what? I already feel crappy about our situation because I know that a lot of our money problems were brought on by me. I don't need some ignorant dickhead that has fuck all to do with our family make comments about our finances. What? You didn't think my husband was going to tell me what was said? Yeah right. And while he may take it in stride, this feels like the biggest "FUCK YOU" directed at me and our kid, like we're bringing my husband down or something. That shit stings. It also makes me wonder what else is said about us and really really REALLY makes me wary of all of my husband's friends and coworkers.

So yeah. Sorry guys who are my husband's friends and coworkers. I like you, but I don't trust you for shit now.

I'm out.

Zombies And The Rapture

On any given night, I'll have weird assed dreams. Most of the time I won't remember them until like hours later, if at all. Sometimes I'll just have the general feeling of having a weird dream, but nothing that I remember. Unless I'm taking Melatonin.

Melatonin is an over the counter drug that helps you fall asleep. Now, I could go and get a prescription sleep aid, but this is somewhat easier and works like a charm. I'm not sure if it does damage to your body (it probably does if you become dependent on it), but man, I fall asleep fast when I pop one of these pills. The drawback (or not?) is that you will have incredibly intense (and obviously weird) dreams. You will also not forget them. Which is why I'm blogging about this.

My dream starts out somewhere in the future, in Detroit of all places. I'm older, like really older. I'm in a weird type of house/trailer, talking to an unknown man. I look outside and notice strange things going on. Lights coming down from the heavens, people being lifted up and taken away. Somehow I knew it was the Rapture.

I noticed that some were being left behind. Then a light came down on me. A voice was telling me it was time to go. I didn't want to go, so I begged for a few minutes to say goodbye to people. It was granted, and I ran and hid in a dark room. I was refusing to leave, hiding from God(?), I guess. I knew that if I left this house/trailer, I would be Raptured.

Eventually, I came out of the dark room and looked down on the city. Cars abandoned everywhere, buildings on fire, fucked up roads, basically what Detroit looks like on a regular day (shut up, you know I have to mock Detroit). Then I noticed that the people who were left behind were acting strange. Funny looking. Almost like.......zombies. I went to the front of this house/trailer (which now magically turned into a hotel....dreams are never logical), and looked out on a wide street. Zombie people sitting in cars, out walking around, terrorizing what was left of normal humanity.

At this point in the dream, a bunch of other people appeared, and we decided to try and make a break for it, since the scene was getting so weird. We ventured out to find a car so we could drive somewhere, ANYWHERE, that seemed normal. I must mention that in the dream, I was asking to be Raptured now. I did not want to deal with zombies or other weird things. But I was too late and had blown my chance. So I was stuck in a post-apocalyptic hell.

We eventually found a car and tried to start it. Of course, like in a bad horror flick, it wouldn't start. The zombie hooligans were starting to close in. The weird thing is though that they weren't trying to eat our brains. They were just.....creepy. Like lost souls, I guess. The car finally started, but we couldn't really drive anywhere, because cars were in the way and there were very few normal people left to move them. So all we could do was go back to the house/trailer/hotel and wait. Then.......I woke up.

And this is why you should not become dependent on Melatonin to sleep.

Whiny Post

I haven't been feeling stellar lately. You might have noticed from my past posts that I've been feeling exhausted all the time. What I haven't really mentioned is that it is getting to the point where I'm just tired from the time I get up to until I go to bed. I feel lethargic, lazy, and just so damned depressed. I have no desire to do anything. Not cooking or cleaning or even paying attention to my family. My mind is a mess. I don't sleep very well at night.

I don't know what is causing this. I don't know if it is all psychological or if something is actually wrong with my body. What I do know is that I just got fed up with it today and made an appointment to have a full on physical. Walking a couple of miles shouldn't wear me out, like it did today. I walked the dog, walked to the bank, came home, ate some breakfast, and then had to go lie down because I was wiped out. I still feel crappy, and I have a million things to do, like putting away the laundry that has been sitting here since Saturday.

I can't keep on like this. I want to be able to get up in the morning and make it through exercise without feeling like it's going to kill me. I want to be able to pay attention to my child and play with him and take him places without lapsing into a coma afterwards. I want to be able to clean my house without having to take a break every thirty minutes. Hell, I just want to be able to stay up in the morning without having to take a nap.

I just want a freakin' normal life. I know I'm never going to be the type to get up and be all bouncy about exercising and being active, but for fuck's sake, can't I have a little bit more energy?

Last Day

As I said last night, this post will be coming early. I still have to go hem my kid's costume because I bought it several sizes too big, thanks to a misleading review. It fits fine in the waist and stuff, especially because I pad it out with the belly (he's going to be Mario), but the length is waaaaaaaaay too long. So I'm just going to safety pin the bottoms, because I'm too fucking lazy to do an actual hem. And I don't have the right color thread.

My side is feeling somewhat better, thanks to Ibuprofen, so maybe it was just something I pulled.

I just worked myself into a depression right now, so that's fun. I called the collection agency today to arrange payments for the hospital bills. While the people were actually very nice, I won't know until tomorrow or Friday if they'll accept what I'm offering to pay. All of the laws that my friend pulled up (thanks, Kim!) don't apply to us because we're not residents of California. However, I may be missing something, so I might speak to a lawyer friend about it if they don't accept my payments.

While I was typing the above paragraph, my friend called and made me feel better about things. So, long term depression averted.

Today concludes my NaBloWriMo participation. I'm glad it's over with, but I'm glad it also stirred up my love of writing again. I did learn that I cannot blog every day. That's just not me. But I feel that I can muster up posts here and there without it throwing me into panic mode about "ohmygodwhatshouldiwriteihavenoideas!". I also learned that I should just let the ideas come to me as needed, without forcing, because that makes my writer's block a million times worse.

So with this, I sign off my month of writing with this video. This holiday isn't complete without watching it. Happy Halloween!

Please Don't Be That Again

Today I noticed that I had a pain in my lower abdomen. The right side, to be precise. I thought nothing of it for the whole day, figuring it was just PMS or maybe a cramped muscle or something. It was only after I went to lie down for a bit did I think of it: what if my lap band fell apart again?

This issue happened twice before, and it was unpleasant since I had to go in and have surgery so it could be repaired. Basically, the port line had detached and was dangling down into my pelvic area, tickling me in a not so good way and causing all kinds of discomfort. Yeah, so much fun.

I'm pretty sure I went white (whiter than I am) when the thought of a detached band line went through my head. I really, really, REALLY don't want to go back for anymore surgery. As far as I'm concerned, I am DONE. Do not want. I don't want to smell that frickin' antiseptic smell or experience the fun of barfing while I'm half-looped on anesthesia (ugh, that happened the last time).

I'm scared that that might be the problem. And I'll be more than a little pissed if it turns out that the line is the culprit. However, I'm trying to be optimistic. Maybe it's just something minor. Maybe it will disappear tomorrow (oh please oh please oh please). Maybe my body is hating on me for being so active this weekend. Maybe my intestines are staging a coup because I ate a McRib last night.

In other news (that is much more pleasant), we went to a puppy Halloween parade today. It was nice. This is the thing I love about my neighborhood: random weird celebrations. Quite a few people showed up with their doggehs, and most of them were in costume. I have to say that I laughed my fat ass off at some of the costumes. A Min-Pin dressed as a chicken. A Spaniel dressed as a squirrel. And my absolute favorite: a mutt dressed as a pimp. Ratdog wore his hot dog costume to the park, and more than a few people, in cars and on foot, stopped to get a chuckle at the tiny little dog buried under the giant hot dog on his back.

Yeah, he's so not thrilled.

So tomorrow will be my last day of blogging for a month straight. I'll probably write the post early since we'll be out getting candy for us the kid. It should be an interesting time. I only hope that I'm feeling better by tomorrow, because I don't want to see any doctors. I already have to go next Monday for a yearly girly bits exam. I sure as shit don't want any other appointments after that fun.

Randomly Boring Stuff

I really don't think I'm cut out for blogging every day. Not enough ideas. Here's some random shit.

• I'm freezing my ass off.
• I got up way too early today.
• McRib sandwiches still suck.
• They cut my husband's pay by $100. Without telling us. Actually, it wasn't cut so much as it was sucked up by fucking insurance. Rates went up.
• My whole body aches.
• I just watched an old PBR commercial with Patrick Swayze. That was fucking awesome.
• Tomorrow is a Halloween dog parade for the doggehs that live in the neighborhood. Ratdog is going as a hot dog. He hates that costume.
• My child is being seven shades of annoying this weekend. Too much excitement for Halloween, I guess.
• Speaking of, they're no longer allowed to dress up for Halloween nor have parties at school. What a massive crock of shit. Ooh, they got a goody bag on Thursday. THURSDAY! Big fucking deal.
• I really want it to snow. Once it does, I'll be bitching for sun and warmth.
• I need to freakin' shower.
• I feel so bloated from that damned McRib. Liquid diet tomorrow. Ugh.
• I downloaded an app on my phone that is 80s television show theme songs. I haven't gone through all of them yet, but I saw some good ones, like Airwolf and the Wonder Years.
• I was thinking of this clip right now. Well, not the whole clip, just a specific bit. It starts at 6:05.

Alright, I'm out.

Super Mega Awesome Nothing Post

I'm tired. Baking a chocolate cobbler for the husband because he's PMSing or some shit. Here is a random survey.

1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
Didn't go. Too fat, too shy, and I sort of didn't stick around for those years.

2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?
I don't even remember who my first love was, so no.

3. What was your FIRST job?
Babysitter. The pay was great, but the kids were the demon spawn from hell.

4. What was your FIRST car?
The shitacular Jetta.

5. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
My husband. He forgot his keys.

6. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
Neil Patrick Harris. Don't even ask.

7. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Some evil hag known as Ms. Manders. Lady was a mega bitznatch.

8. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
August 2003, from San Jose, CA to Phoenix, AZ, to Raleigh-Durham, NC. And then back again.

9. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk
Michelle Gutierrez. I lost contact with her ages and ages ago.

10. Where was your FIRST sleep over?
My friend Michelle's house.

11. Who was the first person you talked to today?
The husband.

12. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time?
My own. :-D

13. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Wondered why the fuck I was thinking about Neil Patrick Harris.

14. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Oldies concert in San Jose.

15. FIRST tattoo?
None yet. Want a devil on my ankle with my son's name under it. Still too fat though.

16. FIRST piercing?
Ears at six weeks old. :-O

17. FIRST foreign country you went to?
None yet. Probably never, unless it's Canada or Mexico. I hate flying. Maybe take a cruise. Hmmmm.

18. FIRST movie you remember seeing?
Porky's. I was supposed to be watching E.T. God bless Drive-in theaters.

19. When was your FIRST detention?
Hell if I remember. I think high school. Probably for ditching.

20. Who was your FIRST roommate?
My husband, I guess.

21. If you had one wish, what would it be?
Money. Lots of money. Or maybe world domination.

Money.....I Don't Has It

I was going to try and cop out and write a totally crap blog tonight, but I'm still feeling sort of punk about this all.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been worrying about money. I guess it would be more correct to say that I've been worrying about how the hell I'm going to organize the holidays and pay for stuff. Not really for us, but for the kid. I like making him happy on Christmas, because he rarely asks for stuff during the rest of the year (unless it's his birthday). He's one of the most unspoiled kids I know. I can take him walking through stores, including toy aisles, and he won't bat an eyelash. It's wonderful. But yes, I do like making his Christmas a little spectacular.

So this brings me to why I'm so worried. This may be tacky, but I'm going to divulge a little of our financial information so that you may better understand why we are broke all the time. Last year, we had a lot of problems, mainly me having to visit the doctor while I was in California. We burned up a lot of credit cards that way. Then there was the trip out there, which I do not regret at all, considering the circumstances. That killed more credit cards. Then it was just a lovely circle of robbing Peter to pay Paul. I finally gave up the ghost on that and went into debt management, because all of the interest was not helping reduce balances. So now I pay almost $350 a month to have these cards paid off with little to no interest charges. We should be done by 2016.

Then we have the other cards that do not participate in debt management that we're paying. That's another $120. You can also add the emergency veterinary credit card (yes, they do exist) that we had to get in September to take care of the doggeh. That's another $25 a month. And then there is the clusterfuck of hospital bills that I could not put on credit cards because it was too high: almost $10,000.

The hospital bills have become a major pain in the ass. In August of 2010, I arranged to pay $251 a month for four years to get them paid down with no interest. This worked while I was burning up credit cards paying for everything else. Once I was unable to do that any longer (this past summer), I knew I was up shit creek in regards to this stupid bill. So I called and explained. They didn't care. They reduced my payment to $200 a month for six months. Yeah, that's going to fucking help. So I turned them over to my debt management program, hoping they would be able to stifle these assholes. Nope. Last month, they turned me over to collections. And now we're accruing interest.

Keep in mind that I was not trying to get out of paying this bill. I've done that shit before and it didn't do my credit any favors. It also caused me to pay well over $2000 more than the original debt. So I know. I just wanted a freaking break, but the hospital couldn't (or wouldn't, is probably the case) lower the payments and give me longer to pay. So two weeks ago, I sent out letters to both the hospital and the collection agency explaining my point of view and asking if the collection agency would be willing to work out payments. They are. I'm hoping they'll take $100 a month, even though $75 of that will be eaten up in interest fees each month. Joy.

So you can couple these bills with the rent, the assessments, the utilities, and the measly $7.99 a month we pay for Netflix streaming. This leaves almost $600 left over for gas (which, thank god, we only need like once a month) and food. And I'm sure you all know how much food costs nowadays. Yeah. Not pretty. Then there is the random stuff, like field trips, school pictures, car registration, clothing, and yes, sometimes outings. I should know better and just forego them, but I kind of want my child to have SOME fun now and then.

So right now, I'm at the end of my rope and quite resentful about having to pay all these bills. It's probably an immature way to react, but I really do just want to lie on the floor and kick and scream.

I also know that other people have it WAY harder than us and we're lucky as fuck to have an assured roof over our heads and insurance on the car, plus free medical care for me and the boy. It could be a lot worse, I know.

Still, you just have to complain sometimes, or else you wind up freaking the fuck out later on.

Another Survey From Facebook...

...cause I really don't feel like writing anything substantial tonight. Just a small bout of depression that's putting me in a funk. I'll get over it.

1. Do you like Blue cheese?

Oh god, yes.

2. Have you ever been drunk?

That's like asking if the ocean is wet.

3. Do you own a gun?

Me+Firearms+Tendency to be a psycho hosebeast = NO.

4. What flavor of Kool Aid was your favorite?

Purple!

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?

Not really, although my upcoming pap smear is a bit bizarre, since I'm being sent to some clinic in the ghetto.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?

Tasty pig snouts compacted to fit on a bun with mustard, sauerkraut, onions, and relish.

7. Favorite Christmas movie?

"A Christmas Story". Duh. Classic.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?

Chocolate milk, although that might change if I can find the Almond Joy coffee creamer. And it's not too expensive.

9. Can you do push ups?

Probably. Don't want to, though.

10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?

The stuff given to me by my grandparents. I'll even give a shout out to my father-in-law for fixing my grandpa's watch.

11. Favorite hobby?

Drinking.

12. Do you have A.D.D.?

Probably. Or I just don't care about what is going on around me and I tune it out.

13. What's your favorite shoe?

My super mega awesome Zebracorn heels.

14. Middle name?

Rose. Probably because I'm a prick.

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?

Fucking tired, my kid is snoring really loud, and my house smells like chili beans.

16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink?

Water, milk, and booze.

17. Current worry?

How the holy fuck am I going to afford shit for the holidays?

18. Current hate right now?

Bills and collection agencies.

19. What do you wish for in the coming year?

To get some of our debt paid down.

20. How did you ring in the New Year?

Drinking at my friends' house.

21. Where would you like to go?

Someplace where there is jobs and money and free healthcare and a decent government, etc....

22. Name three people who will complete this?

Probably no one, since I posted this on my blog and not on Facebook.

23. Do you own slippers?

They're around somewhere.

24. What color shirt are you wearing right now?

Blue shirt with Mario.

25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?

No clue. I can't afford shit like that.

26. Can you whistle?

I can whistle a jaunty tune, yes.

27. Favorite color?

Black.

28. Would you be a pirate?

I'd rather be a fat ninja.

29. What songs do you sing in the shower?

I don't.

30. Favorite girl's Name?

Don't have one.

31. Favorite boy's name?

See above.

32. What's in your pocket right now?

Lint.

33. Last thing that made you laugh?

Doing a victory dance on my kid's bed. He was being a sore winner when we were playing Connect Four, so my husband played him, beat him, and I gloated like a big ol' bitch. But the best part was definitely the wild white girl booty dance I did while standing on his bed. Little boy was PISSED.

34. Best bed sheets as a child?

My sorta hippie flowered sheets.

35. Worst injury you've ever had as a child?

A tree branch poking my eye while learning to ride a bike. Yup.

36. What are your plans for the future?

World domination.

37. Do you walk around the house naked?

Yes, but only when it's hot.

38. Who is your loudest friend?

Rob.

39. How many dogs do you have?

Just the scrawny bitch that's under my chair right now.

40. Does someone have a crush on you?

Fuck if I know. And if they do, they should let it be known in the comments (anonymously, of course). It'll give my self-esteem a boost.

41. What is your favorite book?

Anything by Christopher Moore. His shit is hilarious.

42. What is your favorite candy?

I TRY not to indulge (key word is TRY), but if I do, I like chocolate.

43. Favorite Sports Team?

Cubbies and Raiders. Yeah, I like loser teams. Eat me.

44. What song do you want played at your funeral?

"Another One Bites the Dust" and "Who Wants To Live Forever" by Queen. Oh, and "Forever Young" by Alphaville. Mainly the first one.

A Bit O' Nostalgia

I'm prepping stuff to make chili beans tomorrow. My grandma's recipe. While sorting the beans, I drifted into nostalgia, of course. Nothing too sad, just some fond memories of her puttering about the kitchen. The woman knew how to cook, and she expressed her love by feeding her family quite well.

Since she was pure Okie, she stuck mainly to the Midwestern classics, which included fried, fried, and more fried. Nah, she actually did make stuff without frying it. Some stuff. A few things.

I remember during the holidays, I would hang around the kitchen and watch her work. She would make EVERYTHING. Sometimes she would allow her daughters to help, but not always. Yet she always let me help her. Go figure. Maybe she realized that I would be an awesome cook someday. I still remember the time she let me make a homemade chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for Christmas dessert. I honestly didn't think it tasted that great, but my grandpa ate it. Maybe he was just being nice.

Then there was the time I made the pumpkin pie and it didn't set right. I was so disappointed, but my grandma didn't even care. She just made me make it over again. And this time, it worked. Now I make pumpkin pie like a champ.

Then there was the time that I burned the curd for lemon meringue pie. Didn't faze her. She just scrapped the curd and made a chocolate filling for it instead. I think she'd be pleased to know that now I can make lemon meringue pie without killing the filling, and that it's so good, I have to make two of them when we're in California, one for my husband and one for my dad. They'd go into steel cage death match mode if they didn't have their own separate pies.

She also made the most delicious fudge ever. That is one thing I have not perfected yet, but I'm still working on it. For the past couple of years, I've been trying to replicate the recipe, but I always wind up with chocolate sludge. Delicious over ice cream, and tastes exactly like what she used to make, but it won't set. Ah well, I'll get it one day or die trying.

It wasn't all sweets, though. Like I said above, I'm making her chili bean recipe tomorrow. With cornbread. She made some killer bacon gravy that is fantastic over biscuits. Fried okra, bread (oh, how I loved her bread), quick baked beans (fuck yeah, bacon!).....the list just goes on and on.

I'm glad I can reminisce about her now without crying. Right now I have a big smile on my face, just thinking about her in the kitchen, cooking enough food to feed a freakin' army. I guess it makes sense that she was so attached to food and cooking. Her life had not been easy (survivor of the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression), so food was no doubt a source of comfort for her. I remember that she would make three full meals a day. No wonder I was such a fatty when I was a kid. I'm sure the making of random snacks and experimenting in her kitchen didn't help.

But I wouldn't trade those memories for all the skinniness in the world.

Random Questions Cause I'm Lazy

I dug this out of my notes on Facebook. Let's see if I can make the answers somewhat more interesting!

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
WTF?

2. How much cash do you have on you?
Jack and shit. We's po'.

3. What's a word that rhymes with "DOOR?"
Whore.

4. Favorite planet?
Pluto! It's a planet, godammit!

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Some random number that I'm not answering. Fucking telemarketers.

6. What is your favorite ring on your phone?
David Tennant saying, "Allons-Y!" Shut the fuck up. It's hot.

7. What shirt are you wearing?
Cubs shirt with the name and number of someone who doesn't even play for the Cubs anymore.

8. Do you "label" yourself?
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint.......

9. Name the brand of your shoes you're currently wearing.
Feet.

10. Bright or Dark Room?
Dark, so I can fall asleep.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Since I took this once before, I'll talk about myself. I think I'm fucking awesome.

12. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Trying to fall asleep, but failing miserably because of the thunderstorm.

13. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?

Can't say (private, nyah!), but I will go back a month or so to one of my favorite texts that I saved: "When you're done moving your plump rump to pedophilic funk, we shall be awaiting you." This was sent by my friend. I was dancing to the Michael Jackson Experience. My friend is devilishly clever. And an asshole.

14. Where is your nearest 7-11?
In an area I wouldn't visit at night.

15. What's a word that you say a lot?
Fuck.

16.Who told you he/she loved you last?
My son. I went in to kiss him goodnight.

17. Last furry thing you touched?
The dog. He's under my chair, trying to kiss my butt.

18. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
Shit, not enough.

19. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
People still use film?

20. Favorite age you have been so far?
23.

21. Your worst enemy?
Sloth. Not the character from the Goonies, not the weird Muppet animal from South America, but actual sloth.

22. What is your current desktop picture?
An altered picture of the "Nighthawks" painting. Two of the people are replaced by Doctor Who characters, and the TARDIS is in the background. The coffee urns look like Cybermen, and a Dalek is in a shop window. Yeah, I'm a nerd. Eat me.

23. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"You're not eating the fucking chapstick!" This was to my dog, who has developed an unhealthy attachment to Burt's Bees.

24. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?

Fuck the flying. I need money.

25. Do you like someone?
Many people. I'm a slut.

26. The last song you listened to?
"John the Revelator" by Depeche Mode

Bleh

I'm done for the day. Woke up too early (thanks, kid) and did too much cleaning. I'm hoping that I'll get to bed at a decent hour tonight. I need sleep. I need to make sure I stay awake tomorrow.

I probably won't. Damned slothy nature.

So this is all you get tonight. Oh, unless you want to figure out why my dumbass dog was trying to eat Burt's Bees chapstick. That's a new thing.

Time to go sort clothes and put them away. As much as I'd like to leave them out, I can't. They're scattered across my bed.

Shit.

Bad Mommy! Bad!

I'm a horrible parent. Supposedly. Why? Because I don't really censor what my kid watches or listens to. I mean, I do have some limits, like I won't let him watch porn or anything too stupid (like Harold & Kumar). Beyond that, we've sat down to enjoy some pretty entertaining movies and music over his short lifespan.

Today we watched a couple of movies that would be questionable to a "normal" parent: The Evil Dead and Waxwork. Both schlocky 80s horror flicks with some minor nudity and a shit ton of violence. Do I think it will cause my child to become a serial killer? Hell to the no. I don't think him watching stuff like this screws him up in any way. We've sat through Friday the 13th, Snakes On A Plane, Kill Bill, Poltergeist, etc. He's normal. I don't believe it warps him in the long run because I've always stressed how this stuff is make believe and is just imagination at work.

As for music, eh. I let him listen to pretty much whatever he wants. His big thing for the past year has been The Beatles (you should have seen his face when I told him I was going to see McCartney back in July). I don't limit it to the mild stuff, though. He's free to listen to rap (I encourage Tupac) or R&B or Oldies or Jazz or Soul.....you get the point. I don't think music would influence him to be a deranged thug anymore than I think a movie would turn him into a wannabe zombie killer with the vocabulary of Samuel L. Jackson.

Lest you think I'm insane for doing this, I'll use myself as an example. My parents raised me the same way I'm raising my son (in regards to media, anyways). Growing up, my favorite movie was "Purple Rain" (I was in love with Prince). Madonna was my favorite singer, and I knew all the words to "Like A Virgin" (shut up). Twenty-seven years later, and I'm fairly normal. Yeah, I had my ups and downs, but it wasn't because of what I watched or listened to. My teenage years were filled with West Coast rap, but I didn't go out and shoot anyone, nor do I have any desire to do so right now.

I'm sure the "experts" will tell me that this is horrible for my child. Whatever. If he didn't want to watch it, he could tell me so. As it was, he was sitting here laughing his ass off at "Evil Dead" because it looks so FAKE.

I'm not sure why I wrote this all out. I think I was bored. But yes, I let my kid watch horrible shit and listen to rap, and he's as normal as can be.

Well, as normal as any kid of mine can be.

Ramblings

Earlier, I asked for blog post suggestions on Facebook. The conversation we had went from slutty Halloween costumes to Hitler to McRibs to Chevy engines. It was spectacular. I wanted to copy and paste the whole conversation here, but that's just too much work. So yeah. Besides, most of you that read this blog are on my friends list, so you can find it fairly easy, I'm sure.

So that's really all I have tonight. I can't really write about my day since I slothed around and slept, thanks to some really rotten dreams. I blame those on my friend because we were talking about ghosts and stuff, and I had a nightmare about living in a haunted house. Kind of funny because I really don't believe in the paranormal anymore, but it was creepy nonetheless. I think Kevin Bacon was involved somehow as well, so it was more bizarre than usual.

I made knockoff Red Lobster cheddar biscuits again. Those things are addictive, but they leave my breath smelling like garlic.

It's fucking cold. I'm going to go snuggle in my bed soon and torture my husband.

I may write about ho-bags Halloween costumes tomorrow.

Phoning It In Again

It's late, I'm drinking, and I have no patience for writing out a real post. Therefore, ramblings!

• I'm drinking the last of my whisky and the last of my 151. I'm sad.
• Coke Zero makes me burp like crazy.
• I have managed to get my husband completely addicted to Words With Friends.
• It is really windy in Chicagoland right now. It sounds like it is going to break a window or something.
• I'm so proud. I started playing this video earlier, and my son came running to watch it. Fuck yo' new music. My kid is being raised on the 80s. And The Beatles.
• Speaking of The Beatles, one of my neighbors had a sweet assed "Yellow Submarine" lunchbox. I was totally going to jack her for it. No, not really. I do, however, want to hunt one down now so I can give it to my kid for Christmas.
• Speaking of Christmas, if anyone wants to buy me this for the holidays, I'll love you forever. Size XL please.
• Why did Pete Burns ruin his pretty face?
• All the videos I have watched tonight have involved guys in the 80s that wear makeup. It was incredibly hot.
• I suddenly want to watch a John Cusack movie. Cusack the pit sniffer. Oy.
• Or maybe David Bowie in "Labyrinth". Rawr.
• Culture Club video now. Boy George is so pretty.
• I'm wasted. Later dudes.