ActionFigureStepho--Home

Accidental poetry.

2008-10-23T18:22:00.001-05:00

Wasn't it Ben
Franklin who said
he pitied people who
couldn't think of more
than one way to spell
a word?
Well,
that's a paraphrase.
And come to think of it,
it may not have been
Ben Franklin.
Hmmm,

story fail!

How I ended up with a futon...alternately titled don't turn down free furniture.

2008-10-03T20:50:00.004-05:00

It has been brought to my attention that I don't post enough of the minutia of my life. I've been silent because life has been pretty general and Midwestern, but you asked for it, so before this post is done you will rue the day you asked for more of me and my whining. RUE IT!

As many people know, I have four cats. This isn't necessarily something I brag about, but I feel that it is important to the general tone of the story. Three of the four cats are very clingy, and will often roll up on a ball of orange and calico colored fur and groom each other until their fur is damp. It's equal parts cute and creepy. One day I noticed that Sprocket's gums were red, and he was missing some tiny top teeth. Loooong story short, they all have gingivitis. The antibiotics have helped, but if it's a recurring problem they might one day need to get their teeth pulled, which I guess is no big deal and might actually make them healthier in the long run without the recurring infections. Still---expensive. And bizarre. They all need to get jobs. Well, except for Louise, the smart one who managed NOT to get gum disease.

This story is eerily similar to an incident in which a friend of mine broke up with her boyfriend, and he ended up sleeping with someone in their circle of friends who slept with another person who broke up with someone in the circle who went and slept with another, until everyone in their social group ended up with chlamydia except for MY friend, who was smart enough not to join in the post-breakup disease fest.

But anyway, back to the post about my cats. (Are you ruing your desire to read this post yet? Really? Not yet? Well, you asked for it.) One of the more terrifying parts of going to the vet is that Sprocket is sort of a special needs cat who looks the part. He has a cloudy eye, the newly missing teeth, and he had a grooming problem earlier in the season so we trimmed part of his tail. Well, that looked dumb, so I let Skipper trim the rest of his tail fur right down to the skin. Because, you know, that wouldn't look dumb at all. So he's a fluffy orange cat with one busted eye, no front teeth and a poorly shaved tail. Strangely, the vet didn't even ask. She just wanted to know if his eye had always been cloudy, or what (it has.)

You may be wondering what this has to do with my love of free furniture. I assure you, I'm working my way there. See, much like my cats, the furniture in my house is what I like to think of as previously loved. When we first moved into the house, it was summer and 100 degrees outside, so we moved our red sofa and TV into the basement and used that as our living room. It was nice and cool, and it got even cooler a few weeks later when the basement flooded.

The sofa (which is still in the basement) is reddish leather that came from a hippie couple we knew who traveled the country in one of those short school buses which they converted into a camper. The leather is so bad that the back of the couch is just falling off. When we moved it from apartment to house, I tried to duct tape the back on so that we wouldn't lose any more stuffing/pieces of frame. When the Great Flood occurred we were forced to move to the living room and live above ground like normal people. Unfortunately the oddly shaped hippie couch wouldn't fit up the stairwell again. So we lived for months without a couch because couches are expensive and we needed a new fridge. Which is another story.

Jenny's mom happened to have a spare couch laying around, a wonderful unused thing that started its life as a lovely pink and blue plaid, and was later partially covered in warm florals, and finally was slip covered in hunter green microfiber. After a thorough febreezing (at this point, Jenny also had four cats) it was living room ready. And what a couch it is! I love this couch. Jenny doesn't understand why we think it's so great, but then, she wasn't sitting on folded blankets on her hardwood floors for months. The couch may be older than I am, but it's nice and firm. Not overstuffed. No stupid side cushions that always need fluffing. Long enough to sleep on. It's great. And it was free!

One of the reasons I was glad to get a couch is that people often sleep over. One time we laid out blankets and Skip and Jen actually slept on the hardwood in the living room. They must have been pretty tanked, because it would have been more comfortable if they'd just slept in the car, or out on the lawn. We have a guest bed, but it's very small and it's in the attic which isn't insulated and can get very, very hot.

So when my friend, Lovell, called to tell us that he was moving to Florida and was getting rid of his junk, including a futon, we were very excited. For some reason Bryan has always wanted a futon. Kind of like a little boy who grows up and always wants to have a shiny red sports car, only much much cheaper to insure. We planned on putting our new-to-us futon in the basement and using it for both fun and profit. I thought Lovell was being pretty generous, but he seemed eager to downplay his contribution to our Castle of Free Furniture. He kept repeating to me that it was a shitty futon. A shitty OUTDOOR futon. A shitty outdoor futon with a plywood base. As though we couldn't just replace/wash the mattress or something. We drove out to Cleveland Heights, and sure enough, there it was on his porch. Apparently he and his fiancee would sit out there on the crappy futon and drank pitchers of margaritas while melting candles into little tiny penis shapes. There were dozens of these wax sculptures, littering the porch floor and their coffee table. (Their shitty OUTDOOR coffee table.)

We got the futon into the hatchback and were all set to go when we realized that 1) a folded futon is STILL too long to fit into a Chevy Aveo hatchback and 2) we did not have any bungee cords. We did what any group of twenty somethings with messy cars would do (insert old-timey suspense filled organ music here)--located a mic cable and used that. It worked great. Until the lid started flying up and the whole mess started to slide out the back while we were on the road. We had to stop a few times and re-strap it down, and I ended turned around in my seat for the last 15 miles, just holding onto the thing and throwing my weight back every time it shifted. I know I sound bitter, and believe me, I was, but I must say that Bryan's MacGuivering with the mic cords was pretty impressive.

It's actually not that bad, for all of Lovell's cautionary posturing. The mattress isn't fabulous, and because of the plywood you can only lay one way when it's reclined. Still---free futon! Am I wrong in saying that there is no such thing as a bad shitty outdoor FREE futon?

I will end this post with a picture. Steve likes it too. I don't even want to know what he smells. It might spoil the surprise for whoever gets to sleep on it next.

Happy Birthday Bryan!

2008-10-02T17:52:00.001-05:00

Hurrah!

Sorry you woke up at 6:15 from the dog barfing chewed up kleenex all over the floor. And sorry that I made the situation worse by yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" when you stepped in it.

OMG, Wii Fit!

2008-08-24T10:45:00.002-05:00

The Wii fit arrived yesterday. I've played it a few times before, and have experienced firsthand the creepy noise it makes when you step on the balance board ("ooh!"), the way it forces you to set fitness "goals" and the way it makes comments such as "wow, balance isn't your strong suit, is it?" The Wii Fit is kind of an asshole. Nevertheless, it's an asshole that provides feedback on how well you are doing certain exercises, and allows you to pair certain exercises in conjunction with another for a better workout. It measures results and is fun, rather than repetitive and boring. A good tool, or so I imagined.

Well! Tool is CERTAINLY the right term! Garvin just logged in and it asked him "What do you think about Stepho's posture lately?" The Wii GOSSIPS between users! And not only that, he had to ENTER IN HIS ANSWER. Meaning when I log in, it's going to say something snotty like "sooo, Garvin thinks your posture sucks. Maybe you should do more yoga."

Furthermore, the Wii is connected to other Wiis via the internet. I wonder if our Wii is chatting with Jeli's Wii. "Did you know that Stepho always chooses +4 pounds for her clothes, even when she's in her underwear?" "Yeah! Sue/Jen/Ali does the same thing!"

Ha ha ha! Garvin just stepped on and it told him he gained three pounds (probably from drinking two large glasses of water right before stepping on.) He just had to enter a reason and listen to a lecture on Base Metabolic rate. Ha ha ha ha ha! Serves you right, Gossipy McGossips!

I wonder if, when it asks me to explain my bad balance, I can enter in "cat insists on sitting on left side of balance board?"

No updates

2008-08-08T20:07:00.003-05:00

I don't really have anything to update about, but that's boring. I suppose there are a few updates in my life but they're all pretty egocentric and have nothing to do with society at large. Therefore, I will make up updates and you will like them.

On Monday I discovered an island. I was at my office, and I decided to take a walk down to Quiznos to get some forty cent ice tea. Random thought: would 50 Cent the rapper but less hip if he called himself 40 Cent? Anyway, I tripped on my way down the stairs and instead of landing on metal and people, I landed on a stretch of forested dirt surrounded by a lake of Champagne. The natives were all dressed in Armani and had really sharp haircuts. I felt quite out of place in my deceptively sized pants (sooo not the size the tag says they are) and "wear to work" top I got at Target for $3. I looked up and asked them if they had 40 cent ice tea, and they told me that in their land, ice tea costs $15. They picked me up off the ground and kicked me back into the lobby. And that's how I ended up with stains all down my front. Don't listen to those naysayers who swear it was because they saw me drop a chili dog.

Yesterday morning I grew a third arm. I swear it's true! When I woke up this morning it was gone.

Tomorrow I'm going to change my name. I know, I know, I didn't even legally change my name when I got married. (Seriously---why do people just expect that a woman should do that? Maybe I expect that a man should always be 6'1" and buff and bring flowers everyday and he will have a voice like Josh Groban. That just goes to show you where your expectations will get you.) But tomorrow I will change my name. I'm going to be Bryan. And Bryan is going to be Stephanie. Oh...he doesn't know this yet. Let's make it surprise.

Oooh! Also, I started an organization. I can't believe I haven't blogged, what with all these new updates. I'm starting an organization where people can sit around, drink coffee, and whine about people who whine. Won't that be fun? Half an hour of each meeting will be devoted to talking about how we're so much better than everyone else. And the laugh half hour will be about how we should be the ones in charge of running things. We eat soup, in addition to drinking coffee. Membership costs $20. You should probably just mail it to me now.

Boooooooo.

2008-07-12T20:58:00.002-05:00

Yesterday when moving my car, I noticed the prndl stick was sort of sticky. It was difficult to switch from Park to Reverse to Drive. It's been slowly getting sort of difficult to move, and I don't drive my car very often anymore, so I assumed it was gunked up and I'd just lube the heck out of it. Today I tried to start the car, and surprise, nothing happened. The electrical system was working, but the brake wouldn't really depress. I wonder if one of the cables or sensors connecting the brake to the gearshift has been declining (rusting?) and the non use sped that up. Anyway, the point is that I can't turn my car on, so I'm going to have someone come give me a hypothetical diagnosis and see if it's anything we can fix by simply rehooking a line or something. If not, I will get it towed to the dealership where I will proceed to drop a shitload of money into the car to get it operable again.

Thank God Garvin and I are carpooling right now.

I'm aggravated because I'm still making payments on my car. I know that maintenance and repairs are a part of car ownership, so that's not what bothers me. The car's actually been pretty good. Still---it sucks to sink money into something not fully paid off. I will continue to throw money at it until the frame falls apart, or I have to shove it off a bridge for insurance money, because this whole car payment thing is just not fabulous and when I'm done I want to put it off as long as possible.

Also, we found a plum tree in our yard, and two days later the plum tree fell over. Skip and Bryan hacked it up today with an axe. Easy come, easy go? I liked that tree, and now we'll need to find something else to support our grapevine, since the grapes were growing into the tree. The grapes are just starting to form, and I don't want to bruise them. Stuffed grape leaves, anyone?

I played Wii fit for the first time today, and it was fun, although the Wii is rather judgmental. It makes you set weight goals! Seriously? No. I made my goal to not change for a year, even though it yelled at me that my BMI is sickly and shrunk my Mii to an atrophied little stringbean. Wii fails to take into account the three body types. I resent the video game assuming I'm a mesomorph.

First society, now Wii fit! Uncool, dudes.

Let's celebrate England's national traitors on this Pegasus Friday!

2008-07-04T08:57:00.004-05:00

Here's how I imagine this whole rebellion thing got started:

Some dudes were sitting around on the docks one night after partaking of some of this country's fine "tobacco" cop. Have you ever wondered if "tobacco" is a euphemism for "marijuana?" Imagine that it is.

Dude one: "Maaan, my stomach doth feel the acheth of emptiness. Dost thou knwoest of a Taco Bell nearby?"

Dude two: "Thou art trippin, good Sir. Taco Bell has not been invented yet."

Dude one: "Surely this dock must harbor a delicious import from afar. Here! What is in this crate?"

Dude two: "Tea."

Dude one: "TEA?! Nay, I requireth something gooey and melty. What lies in yonder crate?"

Dude two (giggling to himself); "Tea."

Dude one: "Silence! Heeeeey....what if we, liketh, dumped ALL the tea into the harbor? Then we could bath our musky, unwashed colonial bodies in it and we could, liketh, ABSORB THE TEA?!"

Dude two (collapsing into laughter): "Awww, man....let's doeth it!"

The rest is history.
If it HAD happened like this, I'm pretty sure I would have paid more attention during fifth grade social studies.

Ring my bell.

2008-06-29T17:41:00.002-05:00

Now that it has been made both official and semi-public, I'm very excited to announce that Skip and Jen are engaged! For those not in the know, Skipper is my little brother, and Jen is one of my cherished lady friends. Skip's had sort of this creepy, stalkerish crush on her since he was ten, and now they're going to march down the aisle. Or elope. Either way, I've decided they are going to buy one of the houses on our street and we will all have regular cook outs. Also, when Steve escapes we can call them and say "hey! Keep your eyes out for Steve!" And then Jen and I will open a yarn store, and Skip and Bryan will offer computer services and sandwich makins. Or maybe we'll all just move to Appalachia.

Changing subjects, a few months ago I attempted to call Bryan on his Skype number and connected with a very nice woman in Arizona. Apparently he'd switched numbers and I was not aware of it. She and I had a lovely conversation about how she used in live in Ohio, and I hung up feeling very connected. I'd forgotten all about it until last night, when I received THREE phone calls at four a.m. All from the old Skype number. I'm not sure what happened, but maybe she saw that I'd attempted that number frequently in the last month and she was calling to find out who the heck it was. It would make since, because of the time zone difference. Still, I answered twice and got nothing. Then I put my phone on silent and I missed one last call. I'm sure she got my voice mail and thought "oh, silly me, it's that nice lady I spoke with last month." Still---I am very tired now.

I have Jerome and Harold snuggled up on my lap, and my arms are stretched over them to type. Jerome is grooming Harold (she thinks he's her baby. Or boyfriend. I'm never sure with cats) and Harold is licking my arm. Thank goodness I haven't waxed it recently, because in case you were not aware, cats tongues are really scratchy.

IT'S PEGASUS FRIDAY!

2008-06-27T19:41:00.000-05:00

Left to my own devices.

2008-06-21T09:36:00.002-05:00

Last night Garvin had to rush straight to a rehearsal dinner for SCO-double-tizzle's wedding, so we decided to take separate cars to work. He ended up staying out with the menfolk all Friday while I got to go to Lovell's going away party all by myself in Cleveland Heights. I had a really good time. I don't always get a lot of time to myself, and while I enjoy spending time with Garvin, it was a perfect night to rock out my Pegasus Friday t-shirt at a small bar in a nice part of town, than take a long, beautiful drive home through the city and its ritzier suburbs with my windows down and the mild weather pouring, the Beatles playing on my radio. Also, while at the party there was much conversation about the whole Pegasus Friday thing, and I got to meet a lot of Lovell's co-workers who are all down with the Peg.

It was different at home without him. As much as he seems to think I'm St. Francis with the cats, he really does have a calming effect on them. As soon as they realized that I was the only person home they started knocking stuff over. I'd yell "WHO'S DOING WHAT?" and stomp into the room and then WHAM! Something would fall in the room I'd just left. I woke up with the screen we'd removed from the window for the AC unit on top of me. Someone must have tried to walk the edge and knocked it onto the bed. I'm surprised I slept through it and didn't wake up with little screen marks on my face, but oh well.

The real issue has been my need for endless litany. When someone else is here I chatter at them nonstop. "Hey did you hear that Jamie Spears had her baby? Oh crap, I forgot to pick up a wedding gift. Do you think that there's a difference appropriateness-wise between wearing rubber flip flops or those fake leather looking ones? Should I wear bangs? I like tamales, can we have them for dinner?"

I will say that it was a lot easier to get stuff done this morning. I woke up early, washed every piece of bedding in the house, washed the dishes, gave itchy Steve a bath with some calming oatmeal shampoo for his flea bites, picked up my prescriptions, filled my gas tank, bought some food, got cat food and picked up some hydrocortisone spray for Steve's bitten up areas. Oh, and I partially fixed the bathtub drain.

So I'm feeling pretty good. Aside from the occasional yelling at the animals and the fact that I smell like dog shampoo, vinegar and bleach. Garvin just informed me that he's on his way home now, and I hope he gets here soon, because someone just knocked everything off the shelves in the bathttub and partially took down the curtain. Maybe they got into the liquor cabinet or something?

I need a personal shopper.

2008-06-18T18:18:00.002-05:00

This morning I faced a severe inability to dress myself. All my shirts were too short, none of my camisoles were long enough, or the shirts were too tight in the sleeves, whine whine whine. I was having some serious issues. So serious that I ranted at Bryan from the moment we got up until the moment we pulled in his parking lot. Non stop. Work, clothes, housework, people and their bumper stickers...anything and everything. Finally I kissed him goodbye and went up to my office, feeling a wee bit better.

That's when one of my bosses pointed out that my sweater was on inside out. Fail!

I've been in a lot of pain lately, so I'm going to go ahead and blame the mood and mental deficiencies on that. I strained a muscle in my neck (who can say how? Slip 'n Sliding?) and am covered with a delightful mottling of bruises from Joe C's party, including some fun finger marks all around my upper arms from being hauled out of Joe's hot tub by a rather inebriated girl. I'm sure the pain has not helped my attitude.

On a final note, we have too many cats. One of the little fuckers---and I'm not naming names, but I'm thinking that it was the fat, orange one---managed to overturn AND break a table in our absence. I'm amazed, but also annoyed. This must be what parenting is like.

wOOt.

2008-06-09T18:27:00.003-05:00

I just rocked the socks off a routine dental cleaning.
No new cavities...except...the ones I didn't fix back in 2006. *shifty eyes*
But no NEW ones! Also, the hygienist was impressed at how good my teeth looked considering I have missed a dental appointment or two *cough.*

Anyway, usually I end up with a lecture and a "you need to floss more/better/spend lots of money" speech, but today I got an "it looks like it can wait until you check out your new insurance" speech and a congratulations on my outstanding maintenance.

So I'm happy.
Now...time to internet wrestle.

Let's improve our stamina while not wearing pants.

2008-06-03T20:08:00.003-05:00

Holy crap, thirty minutes of old-school military style aerobics just handed me my ass. I'm going to improve my health the old fashioned, whip your own butt into shape my way by using the resistance of my own body, instead of letting the running fanatics I know guilt me into thinking that I need to jog to be healthy.

I hate running. I think it's boring, it's too high impact for me to feel comfortable doing regularly without fearing for my joints, and I have to expose my pasty legs outside in shorts to do it. Forget that.

I always liked calisthenics in gym class, and I can do this in the privacy of the house while I'm watching TV. It'll fit right in with the pilates based workout I already do. Then I don't have to worry that I'm not getting my heart rate up enough when we're out walking with the dog.

Not to mention that I'll be increasing my flexibility and upper body strength all at the same time. And the best part of all---I can do this workout without having to put on pants!

Harold is fat.

2008-05-22T19:24:00.003-05:00

Harold and Sprocket are around 11 months old, and it looks like they've pretty much stopped growing lengthwise. However, Harold has continued to get rounder and rounder, while the other cats seem a little trimmer than usual.

Last night he took a nap on my chest, and after a few minutes of being unable to suck in a full breath I realized it was time to put Harold on a diet.

I put out two cups of food twice a day---four cups a day for four cats, which is technically the exact amount of food that they should be eating for their sizes. But while the other cats eat and run, Harold will eat. And eat. And eat.

So we're isolating him. We're measuring out the food and putting him in the bedroom to eat alone. Then we'll hide the rest of the food when he comes out. Until the other cats learn to eat on a schedule instead of grazing, if they want to eat more during the night we'll have to shut Harold up in the room and re-feed them.

Tonight he ate 1/4 of a cup. When he cries for food we'll give him the rest. He is on a strict one cup a day diet.

I think he'll always be a big cat, but there's no doubt that if I ever need to find Harold, all I need to do is look for the food bowl. Where's Harold? Eating!

We'll see. And now it's off to the scale, to start charting his progress.

Mawwiage is what bwings us togever.

2008-05-08T19:13:00.002-05:00

Today I was thinking about marriage, and what makes one last.
When I think about my parents, two words that come to mind are: separate vacations.
I'm pretty sure that despite all the love and compromise, the real binding glue in the whole equation has been those many little weekend trips far away from each other.

That's also how we're able to tolerate other family members, co-workers and neighbors.

Next time you are thinking of what to give someone you love, why not give the gift of getting the hell out of town?

A haiku to allergy season.

2008-05-06T05:29:00.003-05:00

Spring's changing weather
Releases too much pollen
Hello, puffy face!

I could really go for some bacon.

2008-05-05T18:49:00.003-05:00

I'm at an age where many people I know are going through competitive healthiness.
This is kind of a stark contrast to where I was just a few years ago, where we'd try different shots, brag about who got how wasted, and wake up hungover wondering where our pants were before finding questionable pictures on our cameraphones.

At today's work lunch, the conversation turned to running. As I listened to people talk about how much they ran (or people downplay their running, such as "I only ran four of the six miles...I am soooo not in shape!") I shoveled more mashed potatoes into my face and realized that I couldn't run 25 feet without keeling over like a smoker. I've never been one for endurance. Screw that. Maybe I'd run if I were racing someone to a Denny's. I suppose I ran that time I wanted to watch six episodes of Sex in the City in a row without getting off my ass and I discovered afterwards that I'd had to pee for over an hour. I don't think that really counts.

I also hear a lot of people bragging about how they are alcohol lightweights and get drunk on one drink. Now...ok, I'm not gonna lie, if I drink one really fast, I'm going to get buzzed. But if pace myself and nurse my drinks, I can have several over the course of the evening and not be drunk at all...meanwhile Garvin will be tottering around giggling and yelling "SNAP, LADY!" in my face before turning up the old school rap and prancing around the living room with several cats in his arms.

Of course when I SAY things like "I wouldn't run if you PAID me" or "I had three pounds of sausage yesterday morning!" people assume I'm lying. This is because I'm thin. I'm not thin because I'm a yuppie health freak---I'm thin because 1)I'm 19 (shut up! I am! I'm AT LEAST 19!) 2)I'm an ectomorph and 3)I generally eat three pretty OK meals a day. My processed meat binges are few and far between, and I'm not much for foods with empty calories. Furthermore, it's not like I'm TOTALLY out of shape. I do a gentle lazy calisthenic workout in front of the tv several times a week, and I have to walk several blocks uphill to work, where I always take the stairs. I'm not sedentary. But I'm also not going to be able to run around the block without gasping for breath. I never have been able to, and I've never had the desire to ruin my knees with all that up and down, up and down. I'm more the type to take a long walk with my MP3 player, or to scream at the dog and shake my fist really, really vigorously. Yelling is quite aerobic.

Still---when I hear people downplaying their 13 mile runs, it makes me feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow in a pair of pink sweatpants and Garvin's t-shirt.

Hm, I already dress like that. I imagine myself in a pair of pink sweatpants and Garvin's t-shirt that have gotten REALLY REALLY TIGHT.

Do you think this fitness craze thing is something people in their late 20s/early 30s go through? Am I going to wake up one day when I am no longer 19 and suddenly decide to take up marathon running? Would I have to give up pizza? I don't think I could do that. Do you think these people who brag about their routines are lying?

Ah well. I might not be able to run a mile, but I'm still a kick-ass arm wrestler, and my leg wrestling is nothing short of inspired.

It's a sign.

2008-05-02T16:52:00.003-05:00

Last Thursday I got stuck in the middle of a police chase. I was parked at an intersection, and some cars came screaming around the corner, and the next thing I knew there were lights and sirens EVERYWHERE careening around my car. It was a prostitution sting gone wrong in the middle of the dinner hour on a street with lots of restaurants and pedestrians. Go Cleveland!

It was actually kind of exciting, although I was horrified by the fact that peoples' lives were put in danger just because some guy wanted to get off.

Anyway...today, I was allowed to leave work early so I strutted my stuff out the front door at four p.m.----broad daylight. Almost immediately I bumped into two drunks. One started heckling me. "Why are you crying? You look like you're crying! It can't be THAT bad!"

I WASN'T crying. I was experiencing a sinus headache and not wearing any makeup. Naturally I felt quite offended and was just about to tell the heckler to fuck himself when he offered me a job---suggesting that I work with his "associate," a similarly drunk man who was giggling quietly to himself.

This was in no way a job offer that a lady would accept.

Basically my point is that I've had two prostitution related incidents in two weeks. Skipper is probably laughing with delight, rubbing his hands together and shouting "I TOLD you that this was your eventual career!"

I can't wait to see what next week will bring.

Awash in babies.

2008-04-26T15:27:00.002-05:00

Paula emailed me the other day asking if she could hire me to knit her baby a little outfit for the winter...little did Paula know that I have been itching to knit baby clothes for a long time. They're small, they're quicker than knitting big people clothes, and they're just so damn cute I can't stand it. I laughed a maniacal laugh and told her I'd do it for free.

Of course, I hesitate to make baby things. Last time I knit myself a pair of socks out of pale blue yarn, people kept looking at me slyly and asking why I needed booties. I would deal with it by looking at the sock in progress, already wide enough for a grown woman's foot and plenty long, and then I would ask them what the hell kind of mutant baby they imagined I would be having if I WERE pregnant, and did I LOOK pregnant, not that you should be one to insinuate anything with THAT gut of YOURS, thank you very much. That would shut them up, as calling people fat generally tends to do. You may think this is overly neurotic and self conscious, but I swear it is not. If you are a knitter yourself, you know that people tend to get pretty nosy about what you are making. I couldn't even make man sized socks without "ooh, are you pregnant, sweetie?"

So now that I will be making actual baby things I will need to be on double defense mode. Also, I found some cute patterns that will rock for Christmas for one cousin and for the upcoming newborn another cousin is about to have. I'm going to be a baby clothing machine, and I'm afraid people are going to nag me more than they already do.

Perhaps I should stop eating at Taco Bell for awhile. I've gained five pounds, and...well...perhaps I should just try to stay skinny for a little while longer. Or I could make myself a t-shirt that says "I'm still menstruating." I could wear it while knitting little hats and footies and pants. It wouldn't be subtle, but it WOULD be hilarious.

Jen's advice is to keep the baby knitting on the down low, but I say screw that. My sweaters are not mobile projects, and they tend to drag in thing like my martini and chili cheese fries.

Oh man, I just had a mental image of myself sitting at the bar in a baggy shirt, knitting on some booties totally drunk, while some poor misunderstanding soul looks on in horror. Fantastic.

Neeeeerd

2008-04-23T17:25:00.002-05:00

One of my mostest favoritist authors, Zelazny was born in Euclid, Ohio.

The other day I learned that in Euclid, Ohio there is a street named "Corwin Road."

(Corwin is the name of the hero/anti-hero in his Chronicles of Amber.)

Is it wrong that I kind of want to drive by and see what it looks like?

When did I start watching ESPN?

2008-04-22T19:31:00.003-05:00

Why do they even bother interviewing college-to-pro athletes? They all say the same thing:

"I'm really excited to go pro, I'm gonna get in there, train hard, and win some games."

Blah blah blah.

Just once I'd like to hear an athlete pubically ponder "do you think the aerobic benefits of having sex with hookers would override the obvious detriment to my reputation?"

Or "I think I'll make weight if I keep riding the H train."

Or maybe "sorry I'm late, I'm just soooo hungover."

I guess the real question is: why am I even watching ESPN in the first place?

Blue Ridge Mountains Ahoy!

2008-04-20T15:19:00.003-05:00

Bryan and I were talking a walk on Saturday when we passed a tiny house on the corner of our street. I've always loved this particular house because of its low slanting roof, natural timber fence and stone walkway. It reminds me of a little cottage of the sort you would expect to see in the foothills.

As we passed, Bryan remarked that HE always liked that house as well, for the same reasons I liked it.

After some brief discussion, it turns out that we both always wanted to live in a cabin in the mountains, where it's foggy in the morning and mild in the summer, and where people don't care whether or not you drive a Lexus or have a fancy job title. We want to live somewhere where it is perfectly acceptable to yell "tarnation!" when you drop your firewood on your own foot, and where you don't have to have the same type of mailbox as everyone else on the block.

I called Skipper and discussed the idea with him. Then we spoke with Jenny and Joe C and Ali. And now I'm looking up the cost of living in Appalachia. I'm thinking we'll see what area has a good cost of living and high forest/mountain to dwellings ratio, but also has proximity to things that we need...such as healthcare and pharmacies and jobs. Then we will give in to our Scottish ancestry and move to the foothills, where we will develop quaint accents and learn how to jig like the moonshiners do.

Who else is with me? Mom and dad?

It's Pegasus Friday!

2008-04-18T18:12:00.004-05:00

Fractal Robo-tripping!

Just some pictures.

2008-04-13T13:16:00.002-05:00

Here are some pics of the day Sprocket climbed up me and decided to take a nap on my shoulders. I bent forward so he would be more secure and remove his claws from me, and he decided to lay down. I couldn't remove him from my back because I refused to put down my beer.

Here's a little of this morning. I attempted to make waffles. Unfortunately, when it comes to the waffle iron I am no GIR, although Steve ate my waffles with Zim-like enthusiasm after a little bit of taunting.

How do YOU feel about inter-species love?

Lastly, here's Steve entertaining himself for five whole minutes.

It's Crazy Round Eye Pizza Time!

2008-04-13T12:25:00.003-05:00

When Lovell, Mike, and I were in ninth grade, we passed much of our time in school by creating little characters, variety shows, stories, poems and fake "game shows" for our own amusement. This was back before any of that ADHD medicine or rampant Prozac dosing, and I'm pretty sure that often times we were a little too creative for our own good. Lovell is good with voices, so he was the character dude. He had a few favorites---a drunken Scotsman named Hamish McMxlvii (inspired by a string of Roman numerals), and a Chinese pizza parlor owner from 1980s New York City. The pizza guy would yell at his imaginary customers in angry fake-Chinese, and would insert recognizable phrase here and there with finger-quotes. "Coca-Cola," "Kentucky Fried" or "crazy round eye" were amongst the favorites.

Looking back, I'm shocked that we managed to get As in all the classes we imagined our way through. Sure, we had to go to the school counselor a few times, but who doesn't have to do that in high school?

Lovell and Mike loved the pizza guy character so much that they often discussed what a REAL crazy round eye pizza would taste like. So one day, in their early twenties, they put together a concoction so unbelievably excessive that it instantly became a favorite food.

Here's a loose recipe:

Start with a pizza crust. Either buy one, or make one and pre-cook it. It MUST be pre cooked. It should be the biggest crust you can find/make.

Get about 14 oz of pizza sass. Make it, buy it, whatever. We found a "cheese" pizza kit at Aldi for $2.22 that came with sass and crust mix, along with a tiny little pouch of fake cheese.

Spread half the sass on the crust. Cook a pound of bacon and a pound of sausage. Crumble both over the crust. Add a pound of sliced pepperoni. You can substitute chicken if you want a white pizza. Whatever. Essentially you want something like three pounds of meat. Cover this with the remaining sauce.

Slice olives, green peppers, onion, pineapple...whatever else you like on pizza. Next time I'm going to add a small can of anchovies.

Top it all with a whole bag of sliced mozzarella cheese, grated parmasean, feta....The goal is for the finished product to be about six inches thick at the center. It should look like a quivering haystack when you are done.

Heat the oven up to 425 and cook for 15-25 minutes.

You'll need a knife and fork to eat this pizza. Serve either with cheap beer or generic soda. MMMM. I already have a southwest version planned out, with a tangy southwest sauce instead of pizza sauce, and maybe some cooked shrimp and sour cream. You probably shouldn't eat ANY version of crazy round eye pizza if you're on a diet or if you think eating to excess is irresponsible. Pffffft.

I can't imagine a pizza delivery person trying to carry a stack of these.