Sean Combs must have an incredibly boring life. He changes his name with alarming frequency. Now he's calling himself Diddy Dirty Money, or some variant of that.
I get bored sometimes. Perhaps I should change my name. Maybe..... Malificent? like that evil witch lady on Sleeping Beauty. Or I could be Fruit Loop Mamma Jamma Root Beer Float. Yeah. Let's just go with that one.
Call me Root Beer Float.
The Root Beer Float.
So today The Root Beer Float decided that she was waaaaaaaaaaaay too tired to be trusted with everyday tasks such as "driving" or "making decisions" or "packing the diaper bag properly". Today I feel so tired that I almost feel drunk. You know that feeling, where everything is funny and the word "magnet" sends you into hysterics and fits of giggles.
My husband and I are talking about how I want to have awesome birthday parties for our son, and he, not listening says "birthing parties? you want to have birthing parties"? At this point, i rolled up a sock and a soiled bib and threw them violently in his direction for not paying enough attention to what I was saying. I feel like my point would have come across with more force and effect if my aim was better. I didn't hit him with either projectile. It wasn't even close. How sad.
I'm kind of sad that when I was pregnant with my son that my belly button didn't pop out.
I'm starting not to be proud of the decisions that I'm making so I think it's time for bed.
Goodnight y'all.
Sorry for tonight's let down. At least I feel let down.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
getting my Julie Andrews on
i'm inspired today to list some of my favorite things about life. now, this is by no means all of them, and they are not in order. and away we go:
1. Unicorns. there's something soothing about a majestic, gentle creature that has a large deadly spike sprouting from it's cranium. like it could hand you a bag of jellybeans and if you didn't say "thank you" then it would impale your ungrateful ass. it's beauty and justice all in one glittering package.
2. Things that are orange, except for oranges. I'm talking Oompa Loompas, Goldfish crackers, traffic cones, Dreamsicles, it's all good. True story; once after a concert i heisted an orange traffic cone from the parking lot. my plan was to put it in my room, maybe put some flowers in the top like it was some kind of Department Of Transportation vase. You know, dress up my room; make it real classy. However, my parents- who were clearly disappointed that I'd failed to learn that "stealing is wrong" lectured me into a guilty stupor, and the next day after church i drove the hour and a half to the parking lot and put it back. when i got there all of it's little friends were gone, though, so i just kind of did a drive-by-cone-plop and hightailed it out of there. Moral of the Story: love your traffic cones, but love them from a distance.
3. Squeezing pimples. ok. sure, maybe it's disgusting but there is something wholly satisfying about watching a stream of icky white/yellow/orange/black goo come out and knowing that that pore is now free to breathe. i'm sorry, i probably made some of you throw up a little bit in your mouths just then. i'll wait for you to rinse your mouth and get control over your heaves..... doo do do dodo doooo.... ok.
4. Spinach. i used to put heaping mounds of boiled spinach on my fork and then pretend that i was a brontosaurus eating sea plants while i munched it, letting the leaves hand out of my mouth. i was happy, but i'm sure my parents were giving themselves Facepalms and turning shades of red from embarassment. i had no qualms with Dinosaur Eating in public places; i did it often.
5. People Watching. My favorite place for this activity is probably Wal-Mart. you get all kinds of crazy people at Wal-Mart. Dreadlocked white boys that look like they're having a bad acid trip, spandex clad would be Biggest Loser contestants, oodles of crying children, obviously drunken underage high school kids trying desperately to "rein it in", ritsy rich ladies looking frantic and hurrying to get their Nyquil or what-have-you and get out of there, and of course at least 10 people that look like they could probably die at any moment scooting along in those powered wheelchair/vespa hybrids that they hand out at the front door. It's a veritable Mecca for oddness. and definite proof that America is in fact a melting pot of people and culture. so in a way, Wal-Mart is the most patriotic store i know. it goes America all over everyone's asses. with low prices. and a smorgasbord of smells from rotting milk to fresh bread to ripe, ripe college students that really really need to bathe themselves.
6. Really fat cats. i'm not talking italian mobster "cats", but actual fat cats. like, prop themselves against the wall in sitting position so they can breathe cats. what can i say, a Garfieldesque kitteh is ok by me. they're all lazy and cuddly and too mellowed out to worry about climbing onto the top of the fridge to knock your glass vases onto the floor to get revenge on you for not feeding them "on time". they just tucker out on the floor or your lap and lapse into a comatose state. it's all of the Cuddle and Fluff and none of the Cat Scratch Fever or Make My Day Biting. perhaps i should change my kitties diets from their healthy cat food to a steady diet of brownies and lasagna. hmm. maybe i should change my diet to brownies and lasanga. then all i'd need is to find someone that can turn me into a cat. maybe a plastic surgeon. the one that did this:
7. Ninja Cupcakes. well, cupcakes in general. all cupcakes. my favorite are extra-moist-orange-vanilla-cupcakes-with-a-surprise-maraschino-cherry-center-and-lemon-frosting. however, Ninja cupcakes are both deadly, and delicious.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. The baby books say i should try and get Ronin to fall asleep on his own in his crib but that just sounds exhausting. Maybe i'm too lazy. it's so much easier to just let him fall asleep in my arms and then move him to his crib. this "parent" stuff is rough. awesome, but rough.
2. i'm in the 130s!! today i weigh 138.8 and i'm excited. my hope is to be at 135 by Christmas next weekend. y'all wish me luck!
3. a fish is not a duck. no matter what they say on the Travel Channel.
4. to quote a wonderful wonderful ladyfriend and reader of mine, "Qristyl" does not equal "Crystal" and if you think that it does, you are an idiot and should rethink becoming a parent.
5. the sound of my feet rubbing across my bedsheets is akin to the sound that velcro makes when it's pulled apart. i should probably get on that and fix it. fix it until it's fixed.
6. Taylor Swift is great and everything, but she is death to my creative processes. i can hardly think with her chipper twang in my ears. gotta switch back to Deathcab.
7. i think that i might be able to master the tuba. it doesn't seem that difficult. i think i might need to be a bit more "surly" though. or "portly".
8. i think that maybe i'll try and be a vegetarian for a week, see what my body thinks about it.
9. i can make a better subway-style sandwich at home than at the actual Subway. and for pennies on the dollar, or however that expression goes. now if i could just keep my cat Mischief from stealing the sliced turkey from out of it when i'm not looking. that cat is appropriately named.
10. it's hard to have thoughts sometimes. just in general. more-so, ones that actually have clout or meaning. geez that's a funny word. clout.
I LOVE YOU GUYS!! leave comments, i love to hear them.
1. Unicorns. there's something soothing about a majestic, gentle creature that has a large deadly spike sprouting from it's cranium. like it could hand you a bag of jellybeans and if you didn't say "thank you" then it would impale your ungrateful ass. it's beauty and justice all in one glittering package.
2. Things that are orange, except for oranges. I'm talking Oompa Loompas, Goldfish crackers, traffic cones, Dreamsicles, it's all good. True story; once after a concert i heisted an orange traffic cone from the parking lot. my plan was to put it in my room, maybe put some flowers in the top like it was some kind of Department Of Transportation vase. You know, dress up my room; make it real classy. However, my parents- who were clearly disappointed that I'd failed to learn that "stealing is wrong" lectured me into a guilty stupor, and the next day after church i drove the hour and a half to the parking lot and put it back. when i got there all of it's little friends were gone, though, so i just kind of did a drive-by-cone-plop and hightailed it out of there. Moral of the Story: love your traffic cones, but love them from a distance.
3. Squeezing pimples. ok. sure, maybe it's disgusting but there is something wholly satisfying about watching a stream of icky white/yellow/orange/black goo come out and knowing that that pore is now free to breathe. i'm sorry, i probably made some of you throw up a little bit in your mouths just then. i'll wait for you to rinse your mouth and get control over your heaves..... doo do do dodo doooo.... ok.
4. Spinach. i used to put heaping mounds of boiled spinach on my fork and then pretend that i was a brontosaurus eating sea plants while i munched it, letting the leaves hand out of my mouth. i was happy, but i'm sure my parents were giving themselves Facepalms and turning shades of red from embarassment. i had no qualms with Dinosaur Eating in public places; i did it often.
5. People Watching. My favorite place for this activity is probably Wal-Mart. you get all kinds of crazy people at Wal-Mart. Dreadlocked white boys that look like they're having a bad acid trip, spandex clad would be Biggest Loser contestants, oodles of crying children, obviously drunken underage high school kids trying desperately to "rein it in", ritsy rich ladies looking frantic and hurrying to get their Nyquil or what-have-you and get out of there, and of course at least 10 people that look like they could probably die at any moment scooting along in those powered wheelchair/vespa hybrids that they hand out at the front door. It's a veritable Mecca for oddness. and definite proof that America is in fact a melting pot of people and culture. so in a way, Wal-Mart is the most patriotic store i know. it goes America all over everyone's asses. with low prices. and a smorgasbord of smells from rotting milk to fresh bread to ripe, ripe college students that really really need to bathe themselves.
6. Really fat cats. i'm not talking italian mobster "cats", but actual fat cats. like, prop themselves against the wall in sitting position so they can breathe cats. what can i say, a Garfieldesque kitteh is ok by me. they're all lazy and cuddly and too mellowed out to worry about climbing onto the top of the fridge to knock your glass vases onto the floor to get revenge on you for not feeding them "on time". they just tucker out on the floor or your lap and lapse into a comatose state. it's all of the Cuddle and Fluff and none of the Cat Scratch Fever or Make My Day Biting. perhaps i should change my kitties diets from their healthy cat food to a steady diet of brownies and lasagna. hmm. maybe i should change my diet to brownies and lasanga. then all i'd need is to find someone that can turn me into a cat. maybe a plastic surgeon. the one that did this:
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. The baby books say i should try and get Ronin to fall asleep on his own in his crib but that just sounds exhausting. Maybe i'm too lazy. it's so much easier to just let him fall asleep in my arms and then move him to his crib. this "parent" stuff is rough. awesome, but rough.
2. i'm in the 130s!! today i weigh 138.8 and i'm excited. my hope is to be at 135 by Christmas next weekend. y'all wish me luck!
3. a fish is not a duck. no matter what they say on the Travel Channel.
4. to quote a wonderful wonderful ladyfriend and reader of mine, "Qristyl" does not equal "Crystal" and if you think that it does, you are an idiot and should rethink becoming a parent.
5. the sound of my feet rubbing across my bedsheets is akin to the sound that velcro makes when it's pulled apart. i should probably get on that and fix it. fix it until it's fixed.
6. Taylor Swift is great and everything, but she is death to my creative processes. i can hardly think with her chipper twang in my ears. gotta switch back to Deathcab.
7. i think that i might be able to master the tuba. it doesn't seem that difficult. i think i might need to be a bit more "surly" though. or "portly".
8. i think that maybe i'll try and be a vegetarian for a week, see what my body thinks about it.
9. i can make a better subway-style sandwich at home than at the actual Subway. and for pennies on the dollar, or however that expression goes. now if i could just keep my cat Mischief from stealing the sliced turkey from out of it when i'm not looking. that cat is appropriately named.
10. it's hard to have thoughts sometimes. just in general. more-so, ones that actually have clout or meaning. geez that's a funny word. clout.
I LOVE YOU GUYS!! leave comments, i love to hear them.
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Argentina
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Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Just kidding!
google adsense is still a punk so i'm going to keep this blog after all.
so DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!!!
love,
Krista
so DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!!!
love,
Krista
Saturday, December 11, 2010
the root of all emo.
you know, sometimes when i sit down to write these it's a tad scary. i put my fingertips to the keys and in my mind i hear "oh God, what do you figure will spill out of me now? for heaven's sake, don't write about your mutant urethra, don't write about your mutant urethra, don't write about your mutant urethra..."
that's the feeling i have tonight. but i'm listening to Jimmy Eat World and Mumford & Sons and drinking me a chilled glass of riesling so i don't really care. i'm happy and by George that's all that matters.
i think that perchance i went a teensy bit overboard at the gym today. i spent.... too much time on the running contraptions; i burned over 800 calories. i was going to go for 1,000 but i figured i might snap into full-blown anorexo-limia if i did so i exercised (ha, pun!) great restraint and called it quits at 800. i was watching America's Next Top Model. what can i say, i like watching those skinny bitches quarrel while i sweat. somehow it makes me feel like a better person knowing that i don't throw hissy fits because someone stole a granola bar from me.
i love me some Jimmy Eat World. little did i know, until i read the band bio the other day that these guys INVENTED emo music. i mean, it makes sense. they are very clearly geniuses. and every year at this time, i bring them to the forefront of my Ipod along with my Death Cab for Cutie, Snow Patrol and Fiona Apple and we slip into sweet brooding melancholy together. also i eat too much sugar. but it's part of the Fall/PreWinter personality transformation. ya gotta trust the process.
speaking of which, i got a new Ipod. it's teensy and neon pink (hopefully an eye-catching color so i won't lose it), and cute. i need a good name for it. i'm thinking Shrinky Pinkton. please send your ideas and votes to Ldskrista03@yahoo.com
cute, huh? yeah.
oh cool. i can add pictures to my blog. * must keep in mind to use in future *
10 Reasons I Win At Life Today:
1. I parked at the far end of the Target parking lot today and ran to it. Health Win!
2. I was able to get Ronin to sleep the second time in less than 5 minutes.
3. I did not get stabbed today.
4. I did not stab anyone today. Even though Mike thought it would be funny to pour ice cold water on my head while i was in the shower. I have other ways of punishing him.... but I did not stab him.
5. I did not spontaneously combust today.
6. I paid $41 for a new Ipod shuffle. not. too. shabby. however, in retrospect, it doesn't fit my car radio adapter or my Bose Ipod speaker..... shyte. pish. balls.
7. I decided that my new curse word of choice would be "balls". and i've used it with a satisfying frequency today; because yes, it is very possible to overuse the word "balls".
8. i'm still trying to muscle my way through this glass of riesling. it's kicking my butt. seems like after every sip i take it magically refills and laughs at me. which is just plain impolite. what a rude glass of wine. carmudgeony vino.
9. i let a Land Rover into traffic ahead of me. i usually scoff at expensive cars and tell them to buzz off, but i was feeling generous today.
10. oh, i forgot. i have a bar of chocolate in the pantry. that goes well with white wine, right? i should go masticate that, on the pronto. right now. right away. without delay. ahora.
keep it real, my friends. sorry this one wasn't funny. i'll do better next time. feel free to send me suggestions, topics, questions, disses, curses, or recommendations to my email, Ldskrista03@yahoo.com , or to my facebook page (krista hinds custer) or here as a comment.
love, peace, and expensive goose grease.
that's the feeling i have tonight. but i'm listening to Jimmy Eat World and Mumford & Sons and drinking me a chilled glass of riesling so i don't really care. i'm happy and by George that's all that matters.
i think that perchance i went a teensy bit overboard at the gym today. i spent.... too much time on the running contraptions; i burned over 800 calories. i was going to go for 1,000 but i figured i might snap into full-blown anorexo-limia if i did so i exercised (ha, pun!) great restraint and called it quits at 800. i was watching America's Next Top Model. what can i say, i like watching those skinny bitches quarrel while i sweat. somehow it makes me feel like a better person knowing that i don't throw hissy fits because someone stole a granola bar from me.
i love me some Jimmy Eat World. little did i know, until i read the band bio the other day that these guys INVENTED emo music. i mean, it makes sense. they are very clearly geniuses. and every year at this time, i bring them to the forefront of my Ipod along with my Death Cab for Cutie, Snow Patrol and Fiona Apple and we slip into sweet brooding melancholy together. also i eat too much sugar. but it's part of the Fall/PreWinter personality transformation. ya gotta trust the process.
speaking of which, i got a new Ipod. it's teensy and neon pink (hopefully an eye-catching color so i won't lose it), and cute. i need a good name for it. i'm thinking Shrinky Pinkton. please send your ideas and votes to Ldskrista03@yahoo.com
oh cool. i can add pictures to my blog. * must keep in mind to use in future *
10 Reasons I Win At Life Today:
1. I parked at the far end of the Target parking lot today and ran to it. Health Win!
2. I was able to get Ronin to sleep the second time in less than 5 minutes.
3. I did not get stabbed today.
4. I did not stab anyone today. Even though Mike thought it would be funny to pour ice cold water on my head while i was in the shower. I have other ways of punishing him.... but I did not stab him.
5. I did not spontaneously combust today.
6. I paid $41 for a new Ipod shuffle. not. too. shabby. however, in retrospect, it doesn't fit my car radio adapter or my Bose Ipod speaker..... shyte. pish. balls.
7. I decided that my new curse word of choice would be "balls". and i've used it with a satisfying frequency today; because yes, it is very possible to overuse the word "balls".
8. i'm still trying to muscle my way through this glass of riesling. it's kicking my butt. seems like after every sip i take it magically refills and laughs at me. which is just plain impolite. what a rude glass of wine. carmudgeony vino.
9. i let a Land Rover into traffic ahead of me. i usually scoff at expensive cars and tell them to buzz off, but i was feeling generous today.
10. oh, i forgot. i have a bar of chocolate in the pantry. that goes well with white wine, right? i should go masticate that, on the pronto. right now. right away. without delay. ahora.
keep it real, my friends. sorry this one wasn't funny. i'll do better next time. feel free to send me suggestions, topics, questions, disses, curses, or recommendations to my email, Ldskrista03@yahoo.com , or to my facebook page (krista hinds custer) or here as a comment.
love, peace, and expensive goose grease.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
curse you Q Tips
i've spent too much time today wondering why they call a Q-Tip a Q-Tip. where does the "q" come in? what does it stand for? it's got me perplexed. and little things like the origin of cosmetic paraphenalia nomenclature should not so completely consume my day.
i big shout out and "thank you" to one of my biggest fans and loyal readers Shelly. this saint of a woman sent me a box of Nutella. i move that she be cannonized and submitted for ACTUAL sainthood immediatly. Make it happen, Interweb Genie!!
Thoughts on two actors.
Matthew Broderick; what happened dude? you charmed us all with your witty retorts and cheeky quips in Ferris Beuller's Day Off, and then you went all Bat-Shyte-Brain-Damaged and forgot how to stand in front of a camera and act. i keep handing you chances, i keep trying to stomach your misfortunate sinking ship of a career but you're not giving me much to work with here. perhaps you've floundered because even though you are probably 67 by now, your fresh young face still comes across as an unproved lad of 17 and i cannot take you seriously as an adult as a result.
i came across a movie of you yesterday with Alec Baldwin in it and i thought; "hey... Alec Baldwin's in this one... can't be too bad..." and i forced myself to stare at it for about 20 minutes before i turned the appropriate shade of green and, in my mind's eye, proceeded to shower my living room electronics in "disappointment vomit".
Bottom Line; it might be time to just give it up, Matthew. maybe go into retail. i think you'd do very well as a friendly Petco grooming technician. maybe a Jamba Juice Smoothie Sultan.
Marky Mark; you are my new favorite actor. you deliver lines with such grace and majesty, it makes me feel like you are truly, truly "a peacock" who "needs to fly on this one". i think my appreciation for your art began whilst i watched you talking to trees in that Shamalamalan movie where the plants turned murderous and needed to be appeased. i look forward to your work with shrubbery. and marmots. possibly fudge. i believe that you could be a top-notch chef too, in addition to being God's Gift To The Silver Screen if you gave it a go.
That's it. i challenge you to a Bake Off. can't wait to put your Hazelnut Biscotti Mini Torte in my mouth. it would be Mastication Admiration.
i'm now willing to accept the fact that my Ipod, my trusty MintI FreshPod is gone. possibly dead and gone. but more likely some cracka-ass cracka stole it. i checked the lost and found at the ymca today, and the lady behind the counter just laughed at me when i asked her if someone had turned it in... my eyes brimming with tears and my voice strained with loss and pain and threadbare hope.
so, in my grief, i've written this small goodbye.
MintI FreshPod, 2007-2010.
You were a friend, a trusted companion, a go-to Boredom Erradicator, and a sweet hip shade of pastel green. You contained everything from Jay-Z and Kanye ICan'tSingWithoutAutotune West, to Imogen Heap and Damien Rice. (or "ya-ya" music as my dad calls it.)
I admit, I wasn't as good to you as you were to me. I dropped you on occasion; hell, i drop-kicked you more often than not. mostly on accident. i tucked you into my spandex tops at the gym. i soaked you with sweaty, sweaty, sweat-sweat. you got countless foodstuffs and dead skin cells mashed onto you and for all these crimes, i apologize.
Perchance if i'd been nicer and a tad more nurturing and "responsible" or whatever then maybe you wouldn't have run off with the first jackass you saw. i bet you're on the streets, turning tricks for money and snorting blow. you always did have a self-destructive streak. it was only a matter of time before you got sucked into the seedy underbelly of this renagade town.
but i digress. you encouraged me to keep going. i got knocked down. but i got up again, cuz you neva gonna keep me down. and you told me that "i can see yo' halo". but most of all, you kept it real. you always spit da truf. and da truf is dat "girls, they wanna have fun".
And so it is with heavy heart, guilty mind, and empty earballs that i say adieu to my minty green friend. Rest in piece my friend. or pieces. i dunno, maybe you got smashed to all smithereens. who's to say. Farewell.
*sidenote: if you would like to donate to the "help Krista buy herself a gently used Ipod" fund, the orangey-yellowy button is at the top right of the page. thanks!*
dry your tears, my friends. let's move on.
um, i might be sterile. so, i hope y'all are getting your fill of my adorable son, Ronin on my facebook page cuz he might just be the only rugrat that this uterus pops out. he's pushing 10 months old, and i haven't reacquainted myself with my Aunt Flo' yet, so i'm starting to think that it's just never going to happen again. i can already feel the cobwebs forming on my fallopian tubes and dust settlling in my ovaries. sheesh. i guess those five boxes of Anticipatory Tampons i've been hoarding are just going to go to waste. any suggestions as to what i should do with 300 or so unused tampons? please email your suggestions to Ldskrista03@yahoo.com
Christmas is right around the proverbial corner, y'all. Come sit on my knee and let me spin you a yarn. or as you Yankees would say, let me tell you a story.
Christmas was always a magical time for me growing up. i LOVED it. i made cookies for santa, slept on the couch after i passed out from exhaustion caused by anxious bouncing off the walls and waiting up for hours to catch a glimpse of the Man In Red, the whole nine yards. one year i got the brilliant idea that Santa's reindeer probably needed feeding too. after recruiting my younger sister and partner in crime, and armed with Ziploc Snack Sized baggies, we scaled the two tall oak trees in the yard to harvest what my little brain had deemed the only suitable fodder for North Polean Reindeer.
Tree Bark.
We spent hooooooooours up there stripping the supple bark away from the tree trunks and branches and stuffing it all into baggies. after a few days i concluded that we had enough tree bark put away to feed the small army of reindeer that would be stopping by to drop off our Good Behavior Incentive Packages soon. on Christmas Eve i put the pouches onto the fireplace next to the plate of cookies for Santa and took up my usual post on the couch to wait for The Jolly One.
The next morning i awoke to find the cookies gone (of course, no surprise there. though now that i'm older i wonder why i never ate Santa's cookies? i mean, i never even made an attempt. and they were free cookies, too. hmm. kids are funny). when my eyes fell on... hmm.. that's an odd expression. "my eyes fell on...blahblahblah". that'd be pretty gross for eyeballs to actually fall on things that you're looking at. Love at First Sight? contemplate and discuss, my friends.
but i digress.
my "eyes fell" on the Reindeer Tree Bark Food bags to find that.... GASP*!!!! there seemed to be bite marks around the corners where the reindeer had bitten the bags to get at the bark!!!! Holy Cannoli the Reindeer had EATEN the food i left for them!! i was so so very proud of myself and happy that these gentle beasts had accepted my offering. it was a perfect Christmas miracle.
years later, i was told that my loving mother had cut the scalloped shape into the bag to give the illusion that it had been torn by reindeer teeth, and that the oak trees outside had died a horrible death due to me depriving them of their respective protective layers of bark. Tree fungi are vicious little bitches, aparently.
at least i kill for good, and never for evil. i guess Santa never held it against me. after all, he is my dad.
Merry Christmas, y'all. and a Happy Chanukah to my Jewish home-fries!!
i big shout out and "thank you" to one of my biggest fans and loyal readers Shelly. this saint of a woman sent me a box of Nutella. i move that she be cannonized and submitted for ACTUAL sainthood immediatly. Make it happen, Interweb Genie!!
Thoughts on two actors.
Matthew Broderick; what happened dude? you charmed us all with your witty retorts and cheeky quips in Ferris Beuller's Day Off, and then you went all Bat-Shyte-Brain-Damaged and forgot how to stand in front of a camera and act. i keep handing you chances, i keep trying to stomach your misfortunate sinking ship of a career but you're not giving me much to work with here. perhaps you've floundered because even though you are probably 67 by now, your fresh young face still comes across as an unproved lad of 17 and i cannot take you seriously as an adult as a result.
i came across a movie of you yesterday with Alec Baldwin in it and i thought; "hey... Alec Baldwin's in this one... can't be too bad..." and i forced myself to stare at it for about 20 minutes before i turned the appropriate shade of green and, in my mind's eye, proceeded to shower my living room electronics in "disappointment vomit".
Bottom Line; it might be time to just give it up, Matthew. maybe go into retail. i think you'd do very well as a friendly Petco grooming technician. maybe a Jamba Juice Smoothie Sultan.
Marky Mark; you are my new favorite actor. you deliver lines with such grace and majesty, it makes me feel like you are truly, truly "a peacock" who "needs to fly on this one". i think my appreciation for your art began whilst i watched you talking to trees in that Shamalamalan movie where the plants turned murderous and needed to be appeased. i look forward to your work with shrubbery. and marmots. possibly fudge. i believe that you could be a top-notch chef too, in addition to being God's Gift To The Silver Screen if you gave it a go.
That's it. i challenge you to a Bake Off. can't wait to put your Hazelnut Biscotti Mini Torte in my mouth. it would be Mastication Admiration.
i'm now willing to accept the fact that my Ipod, my trusty MintI FreshPod is gone. possibly dead and gone. but more likely some cracka-ass cracka stole it. i checked the lost and found at the ymca today, and the lady behind the counter just laughed at me when i asked her if someone had turned it in... my eyes brimming with tears and my voice strained with loss and pain and threadbare hope.
so, in my grief, i've written this small goodbye.
MintI FreshPod, 2007-2010.
You were a friend, a trusted companion, a go-to Boredom Erradicator, and a sweet hip shade of pastel green. You contained everything from Jay-Z and Kanye ICan'tSingWithoutAutotune West, to Imogen Heap and Damien Rice. (or "ya-ya" music as my dad calls it.)
I admit, I wasn't as good to you as you were to me. I dropped you on occasion; hell, i drop-kicked you more often than not. mostly on accident. i tucked you into my spandex tops at the gym. i soaked you with sweaty, sweaty, sweat-sweat. you got countless foodstuffs and dead skin cells mashed onto you and for all these crimes, i apologize.
Perchance if i'd been nicer and a tad more nurturing and "responsible" or whatever then maybe you wouldn't have run off with the first jackass you saw. i bet you're on the streets, turning tricks for money and snorting blow. you always did have a self-destructive streak. it was only a matter of time before you got sucked into the seedy underbelly of this renagade town.
but i digress. you encouraged me to keep going. i got knocked down. but i got up again, cuz you neva gonna keep me down. and you told me that "i can see yo' halo". but most of all, you kept it real. you always spit da truf. and da truf is dat "girls, they wanna have fun".
And so it is with heavy heart, guilty mind, and empty earballs that i say adieu to my minty green friend. Rest in piece my friend. or pieces. i dunno, maybe you got smashed to all smithereens. who's to say. Farewell.
*sidenote: if you would like to donate to the "help Krista buy herself a gently used Ipod" fund, the orangey-yellowy button is at the top right of the page. thanks!*
dry your tears, my friends. let's move on.
um, i might be sterile. so, i hope y'all are getting your fill of my adorable son, Ronin on my facebook page cuz he might just be the only rugrat that this uterus pops out. he's pushing 10 months old, and i haven't reacquainted myself with my Aunt Flo' yet, so i'm starting to think that it's just never going to happen again. i can already feel the cobwebs forming on my fallopian tubes and dust settlling in my ovaries. sheesh. i guess those five boxes of Anticipatory Tampons i've been hoarding are just going to go to waste. any suggestions as to what i should do with 300 or so unused tampons? please email your suggestions to Ldskrista03@yahoo.com
Christmas is right around the proverbial corner, y'all. Come sit on my knee and let me spin you a yarn. or as you Yankees would say, let me tell you a story.
Christmas was always a magical time for me growing up. i LOVED it. i made cookies for santa, slept on the couch after i passed out from exhaustion caused by anxious bouncing off the walls and waiting up for hours to catch a glimpse of the Man In Red, the whole nine yards. one year i got the brilliant idea that Santa's reindeer probably needed feeding too. after recruiting my younger sister and partner in crime, and armed with Ziploc Snack Sized baggies, we scaled the two tall oak trees in the yard to harvest what my little brain had deemed the only suitable fodder for North Polean Reindeer.
Tree Bark.
We spent hooooooooours up there stripping the supple bark away from the tree trunks and branches and stuffing it all into baggies. after a few days i concluded that we had enough tree bark put away to feed the small army of reindeer that would be stopping by to drop off our Good Behavior Incentive Packages soon. on Christmas Eve i put the pouches onto the fireplace next to the plate of cookies for Santa and took up my usual post on the couch to wait for The Jolly One.
The next morning i awoke to find the cookies gone (of course, no surprise there. though now that i'm older i wonder why i never ate Santa's cookies? i mean, i never even made an attempt. and they were free cookies, too. hmm. kids are funny). when my eyes fell on... hmm.. that's an odd expression. "my eyes fell on...blahblahblah". that'd be pretty gross for eyeballs to actually fall on things that you're looking at. Love at First Sight? contemplate and discuss, my friends.
but i digress.
my "eyes fell" on the Reindeer Tree Bark Food bags to find that.... GASP*!!!! there seemed to be bite marks around the corners where the reindeer had bitten the bags to get at the bark!!!! Holy Cannoli the Reindeer had EATEN the food i left for them!! i was so so very proud of myself and happy that these gentle beasts had accepted my offering. it was a perfect Christmas miracle.
years later, i was told that my loving mother had cut the scalloped shape into the bag to give the illusion that it had been torn by reindeer teeth, and that the oak trees outside had died a horrible death due to me depriving them of their respective protective layers of bark. Tree fungi are vicious little bitches, aparently.
at least i kill for good, and never for evil. i guess Santa never held it against me. after all, he is my dad.
Merry Christmas, y'all. and a Happy Chanukah to my Jewish home-fries!!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Urine: Proof of a Good Time
first and foremost, a HUGE happy slightly slimey shout-out to Pam, my 16th Follower here on Blogger. welcome to the tiny family of blog readers that i'm very proud to call my own. we often have pillow fights. be ye warned.
so i was wondering what to write about, and a particular subject came to mind. i shall ramble about it now.
Urine.
oh urine.
such a troublesome substance. lately, it seems that i am so full of joy and happiness and muscular relaxation that i cannot contain my urine. i get to laughing and it just alllllll commeessssss ouuuuuuttt. now, nine times out of ten i am successful in punching my husband for being too brutally funny, marshalling my powers of concentration and sphincter tightening and just barely make it to the bathroom in time. but it's that pesky 10% fail rate that really cheeses my cracker. i can remember several of these such instances. just the other day, i failed at "containment" and yelled from the bathroom, in defeat and rage, to my husband (who was laughing at me) to just go get me some goddamn clean pants.
several years ago, when i was 17 or so, i took ballet. you know, pointe shoes, leotard, tights, the whole nine yards. one particular evening my best friend in the class, Elise and I, were stuck in a vicious giggle rut and were cutting up wayyyyy too much and just having the best time. and then.... then, we went TOO FAR. i felt the ominous slosh of Emergency Pee Time. i tried to make it across the dance studio floor, squeezing my legs together, fumbling towards the bathroom like a zombie praying mantis, but i couldn't make it. i collapsed in a pile of dissappointment, laughter, hate, and urine. oh God, so much urine. i just couldn't stop! i tried to make it seem as though maybe i'd started my period... and that's why i'd collapsed? i shooed my classmates and teacher from me as politely as i could, my futile efforts failing to keep them from noticing the man-made lake that i had just built there on the floor. i tried to gather as much dignity as i could from what i had scattered in my bodily fluid, and half crawled to the bathroom. i proceeded to curse myself, and try to towel off my tights with the 1 ply toilet paper... to no avail.
needless to say, it wasn't one of my proudest moments. not my shiniest achievement.
i remember in my early years when i was maybe 7 and having to pee with such a quickness that i had to act on impulse. my knee-jerk reaction was mostly to drop straight to the floor, cross my legs, and wait for my micturition reflex to subside just enough for me to get up and race for the little girls' room. my parents would laugh at their odd child, hurtling towards the bathroom screaming " I GOTTA PEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"
I used to have a theory that blueberry muffins made me susceptable to these bouts of Bladder Failure. which was a shame, because my dad's homemade blueberry muffins just so happened to be my favorite. the family would all be sitting around the dinner table, eating our delicious baked treats, laughing it up, when my laughter would get out of control and i'd dash away from the table yelling "I GOTTA PEEEEE!!!"
my parents still think it's the funniest thing. and i'm almost certain the my husband gets me going on purpose, just so he can watch me squirm as i desperately attempt to impede the inevitable tidal wave release of giggle-induced urine.
i share my story with you tonight in hopes that my message is clear:
There IS such a thing as being TOO Funny. So tell your friends, get screened/tested today, and don't let Emergency Pee/Bladder Failure happen to you and those that you love.
Reasons Why I Win Today:
1. I did not pee my pants, even though my hubby was extra hilarious today.
2. I got a nap in!
3. Even though i called my son a Troll today for keeping me up so much last night, i did not treat him like one, so I'm still an awesome mommy.
4. No one called me a crooked politician today.
5. No one kicked in my knee caps today.
6. I usually watch The Biggest Loser on Tuesday nights and stuff my face with ice cream whilst i do so. Tonight, there was no Ice Cream Face Stuffage.
7. I just used the word Stuffage.
8. i finally kicked my ass into gear and wrote a blog! *self five*
9. I did not rob a bank today. though truth me told i contemplated knocking over a Cold Stone Creamery.
10. I have SIXTEEN WHOLE FOLLOWERS ON BLOGGER!!! Pam, this one was for you. Hope I made you proud.
Hope y'all stay dry,
*The Flexible One*
so i was wondering what to write about, and a particular subject came to mind. i shall ramble about it now.
Urine.
oh urine.
such a troublesome substance. lately, it seems that i am so full of joy and happiness and muscular relaxation that i cannot contain my urine. i get to laughing and it just alllllll commeessssss ouuuuuuttt. now, nine times out of ten i am successful in punching my husband for being too brutally funny, marshalling my powers of concentration and sphincter tightening and just barely make it to the bathroom in time. but it's that pesky 10% fail rate that really cheeses my cracker. i can remember several of these such instances. just the other day, i failed at "containment" and yelled from the bathroom, in defeat and rage, to my husband (who was laughing at me) to just go get me some goddamn clean pants.
several years ago, when i was 17 or so, i took ballet. you know, pointe shoes, leotard, tights, the whole nine yards. one particular evening my best friend in the class, Elise and I, were stuck in a vicious giggle rut and were cutting up wayyyyy too much and just having the best time. and then.... then, we went TOO FAR. i felt the ominous slosh of Emergency Pee Time. i tried to make it across the dance studio floor, squeezing my legs together, fumbling towards the bathroom like a zombie praying mantis, but i couldn't make it. i collapsed in a pile of dissappointment, laughter, hate, and urine. oh God, so much urine. i just couldn't stop! i tried to make it seem as though maybe i'd started my period... and that's why i'd collapsed? i shooed my classmates and teacher from me as politely as i could, my futile efforts failing to keep them from noticing the man-made lake that i had just built there on the floor. i tried to gather as much dignity as i could from what i had scattered in my bodily fluid, and half crawled to the bathroom. i proceeded to curse myself, and try to towel off my tights with the 1 ply toilet paper... to no avail.
needless to say, it wasn't one of my proudest moments. not my shiniest achievement.
i remember in my early years when i was maybe 7 and having to pee with such a quickness that i had to act on impulse. my knee-jerk reaction was mostly to drop straight to the floor, cross my legs, and wait for my micturition reflex to subside just enough for me to get up and race for the little girls' room. my parents would laugh at their odd child, hurtling towards the bathroom screaming " I GOTTA PEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"
I used to have a theory that blueberry muffins made me susceptable to these bouts of Bladder Failure. which was a shame, because my dad's homemade blueberry muffins just so happened to be my favorite. the family would all be sitting around the dinner table, eating our delicious baked treats, laughing it up, when my laughter would get out of control and i'd dash away from the table yelling "I GOTTA PEEEEE!!!"
my parents still think it's the funniest thing. and i'm almost certain the my husband gets me going on purpose, just so he can watch me squirm as i desperately attempt to impede the inevitable tidal wave release of giggle-induced urine.
i share my story with you tonight in hopes that my message is clear:
There IS such a thing as being TOO Funny. So tell your friends, get screened/tested today, and don't let Emergency Pee/Bladder Failure happen to you and those that you love.
Reasons Why I Win Today:
1. I did not pee my pants, even though my hubby was extra hilarious today.
2. I got a nap in!
3. Even though i called my son a Troll today for keeping me up so much last night, i did not treat him like one, so I'm still an awesome mommy.
4. No one called me a crooked politician today.
5. No one kicked in my knee caps today.
6. I usually watch The Biggest Loser on Tuesday nights and stuff my face with ice cream whilst i do so. Tonight, there was no Ice Cream Face Stuffage.
7. I just used the word Stuffage.
8. i finally kicked my ass into gear and wrote a blog! *self five*
9. I did not rob a bank today. though truth me told i contemplated knocking over a Cold Stone Creamery.
10. I have SIXTEEN WHOLE FOLLOWERS ON BLOGGER!!! Pam, this one was for you. Hope I made you proud.
Hope y'all stay dry,
*The Flexible One*
Saturday, November 6, 2010
i see what you did there
i'm on to you, fast food chains. i see what you're doing with your clever "limited time only our cheap food is even cheaper" ponzi schemes.
Wendy's. Let's talk. you have 7 items for 99 cents. McDonalds, you're luring us in with promises that we can finally win at Monopoly. and now Burger King, you're giving away some kind of X-Box game apparatus thingamajiggy.
i see what's really happening here. you are attempting to dupe us into buying your surplus food that's sitting around in your warehouses so that you won't have to pay the extra taxes on them if you still have it after the first of the year.
clever.
and it only took me 26 years to figure it out.
in other news, my Ipod is gone. let me specify. my THIRD Ipod has gone missing. it's small, and pastel green and cute and stuffed with all my favorite music and it's gone. my poor MintI FreshPod. here it is, Autumn and i'm high and dry without my Fall music; Deathcab for Cutie, Landon Pigg, and Snow Patrol. what's a girl to do. i've been listening to the local radio stations for the last few days and i want to scrape my face off of my face. if i have to hear that whore Kesha one more damn time she's going to get a Surprise Vocal Chord Sever in the middle of the night.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. thanks to pregnancy/motherhood i am now officially, OffICiALLy, out of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. i am a D cup. Respect. Recognize.
2. on a similar note, Ronin does this thing where he likes to "scritch" on me while he's breastfeeding; it tickles sooooooooooooo much and it's all i can do to keep from laughing. sometimes i let out a giggle and it startles him; he looks up at me as if to say "what is WRONG with you, woman?"
3. i accidentall locked my cat in the bathroom tonight for about an hour. poor kitteh.
4. um... this post is kind of lame. sorry folks.
5. 3 days until i go to TEXAS for a month! i LOVE going back to my native land. Texans are the best kinds of people. Recognize!
6. my husband does this new thing where he likes to make me laugh until i have to pee. i love it, but it's so frustrating trying to sprint for the bathroom before i leak everywhere. we're so romantic.
7. i have never licked a frog. i have had one pee in my palm though...
Wendy's. Let's talk. you have 7 items for 99 cents. McDonalds, you're luring us in with promises that we can finally win at Monopoly. and now Burger King, you're giving away some kind of X-Box game apparatus thingamajiggy.
i see what's really happening here. you are attempting to dupe us into buying your surplus food that's sitting around in your warehouses so that you won't have to pay the extra taxes on them if you still have it after the first of the year.
clever.
and it only took me 26 years to figure it out.
in other news, my Ipod is gone. let me specify. my THIRD Ipod has gone missing. it's small, and pastel green and cute and stuffed with all my favorite music and it's gone. my poor MintI FreshPod. here it is, Autumn and i'm high and dry without my Fall music; Deathcab for Cutie, Landon Pigg, and Snow Patrol. what's a girl to do. i've been listening to the local radio stations for the last few days and i want to scrape my face off of my face. if i have to hear that whore Kesha one more damn time she's going to get a Surprise Vocal Chord Sever in the middle of the night.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. thanks to pregnancy/motherhood i am now officially, OffICiALLy, out of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. i am a D cup. Respect. Recognize.
2. on a similar note, Ronin does this thing where he likes to "scritch" on me while he's breastfeeding; it tickles sooooooooooooo much and it's all i can do to keep from laughing. sometimes i let out a giggle and it startles him; he looks up at me as if to say "what is WRONG with you, woman?"
3. i accidentall locked my cat in the bathroom tonight for about an hour. poor kitteh.
4. um... this post is kind of lame. sorry folks.
5. 3 days until i go to TEXAS for a month! i LOVE going back to my native land. Texans are the best kinds of people. Recognize!
6. my husband does this new thing where he likes to make me laugh until i have to pee. i love it, but it's so frustrating trying to sprint for the bathroom before i leak everywhere. we're so romantic.
7. i have never licked a frog. i have had one pee in my palm though...
Friday, October 29, 2010
a kumquat, by any other name...
feeling eclectic, feeling electric, excited to get my....fuzzy on and i feel like i should actually write something. so i'm just going to write everything and anything that comes to mind.
i get... sooooooooooo much dried baby yogurt on my face by the end of the day. it's surreal. it's uncalled for. and mostly, it's sticky. i need a miniature personal squeegee to hang around my neck so i can scrape it off of my chin and cheeks during the day.
i love you. all of you. so there. just shoving my love into all of your faces on the bloggie. jamming up all of your interwebs with my affection. you read my words, and you tell your friends, and you don't send hate mail. it's those little things that get me through the day.
so. blogging is supposed to be about honesty, right? so maybe i should be honest. i found myself yesterday in the Rite Aid parking lot racing inside to buy some water on my way to the gym. i was hurrying so that i could drink it, and make it to the gym in time to make myself throw up before my dinner digested cuz i felt so gross and out of control for eating so much for dinner that night. it was then, walking back to the car, drinking my water, when i said aloud to myself "i think i have a problem". good for me. self-five. i went through the therapy for my bulemia months and months and months ago, i took the antidepressants, but now i'm off of them and i'm all neurotic feeling and i'm back to the barfing. but at least i recognize that perhaps i have a habit that is unhealthy and undesirable. now, as for the remaining 11 out of 12 steps, meh. i'll get to them. eventually.
ok. i'm done with that topic!! please, no concerned comments and "don't hurt yourself"s. i know y'all care and i'm very informed about my predicament. i love y'all. with fervor.
i can't bring myself to eat a Kumquat. i know it's a fruit, but no one makes kumquat juice, no one makes kumquat fruit filled pastries, so... i'm disinclined to think that it's tasty. no one talks about them either. what did the Kumquat ever do to humanity to deserve such disdain? why is the kumquat such a largely ignored fruit? i wish i cared enough to find out. like i said; i can't bring myself to put one in my mouth. maybe if they changed the name to something more appetising.
i don't like talking on the phone. i like texting though. i'd much rather text someone than talk on the phone. or talk face to face. there's just something about a vocal phone conversation that rubs me the wrong way. i guess it's cuz i hear inflections and emphasis on what the other person says, but i can't see the body language. and 80% or so of allllllllllllllll communication is comprised of body language. so it... confuses me? i suppose that's the best way to put it. i will avoid phone calls like the AIDS-Leprosy-Malaria-Plague, but i'll text all day long.
who was the genius that decided that Zombies eat brains? i just don't think there is any science to support that. why not fingers? or cerebral spinal fluid? or toe jam? or belly buttons? i'd like to invent a monster that goes around sucking out and devouring peoples belly buttons. a Morckshux. that's what i'm calling it. it's like a Unicorn, but with spikes all over it, and crazy cat shaped irises, and instead of a mane and tail it's blue fire that turns whatever it touches to goo. the dreaded belly button consuming Morckshux. named Trevor.
my new best friend, Trevor.
so i used the bathroom at a barnes and noble last week. looked to the right and saw a smear of boogers on the wall. i'm gonna say it right now. EVERYONE picks their nose. and if you're thinking to yourself "well i don't" then you are a goddamn liar. you KNOW you pick your nose. it's part of life. no matter what, it's gonna happen. fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and i gotta get this itchy prickly monstrosity out of my nostril and away from my superior nasal chonchae cuz it's irritating the hell out of me. everyone does it. don't even try and front like you're a non-picker because they don't exist.
if i was a lesbian, then i'd totally be all over Rachel McAdams. or possibly Kim Stoltz (even though she belongs to a good friend of mine). perchance Mila Kunis, the chick that played Jackie on That 70's show. come on ladies, who do you have lady crushes on? leave your pick as a comment.
i...... want..... to eat everything in the house.
my lips and calves are numb. the rest of me is fine, but my lips and calves are numb. hmm. intrigue.
i should probably call it quits and go to bed while the going is good and before my typing skills diminish any more than they already have. i'm hitting the backspace key every third or fourth letter and it's getting tiresome.
y'all have a lovely night, and delightful weekend, and please send comments. they brighten my day and give flight to my heart. later beeeeaches!!!
i get... sooooooooooo much dried baby yogurt on my face by the end of the day. it's surreal. it's uncalled for. and mostly, it's sticky. i need a miniature personal squeegee to hang around my neck so i can scrape it off of my chin and cheeks during the day.
i love you. all of you. so there. just shoving my love into all of your faces on the bloggie. jamming up all of your interwebs with my affection. you read my words, and you tell your friends, and you don't send hate mail. it's those little things that get me through the day.
so. blogging is supposed to be about honesty, right? so maybe i should be honest. i found myself yesterday in the Rite Aid parking lot racing inside to buy some water on my way to the gym. i was hurrying so that i could drink it, and make it to the gym in time to make myself throw up before my dinner digested cuz i felt so gross and out of control for eating so much for dinner that night. it was then, walking back to the car, drinking my water, when i said aloud to myself "i think i have a problem". good for me. self-five. i went through the therapy for my bulemia months and months and months ago, i took the antidepressants, but now i'm off of them and i'm all neurotic feeling and i'm back to the barfing. but at least i recognize that perhaps i have a habit that is unhealthy and undesirable. now, as for the remaining 11 out of 12 steps, meh. i'll get to them. eventually.
ok. i'm done with that topic!! please, no concerned comments and "don't hurt yourself"s. i know y'all care and i'm very informed about my predicament. i love y'all. with fervor.
i can't bring myself to eat a Kumquat. i know it's a fruit, but no one makes kumquat juice, no one makes kumquat fruit filled pastries, so... i'm disinclined to think that it's tasty. no one talks about them either. what did the Kumquat ever do to humanity to deserve such disdain? why is the kumquat such a largely ignored fruit? i wish i cared enough to find out. like i said; i can't bring myself to put one in my mouth. maybe if they changed the name to something more appetising.
i don't like talking on the phone. i like texting though. i'd much rather text someone than talk on the phone. or talk face to face. there's just something about a vocal phone conversation that rubs me the wrong way. i guess it's cuz i hear inflections and emphasis on what the other person says, but i can't see the body language. and 80% or so of allllllllllllllll communication is comprised of body language. so it... confuses me? i suppose that's the best way to put it. i will avoid phone calls like the AIDS-Leprosy-Malaria-Plague, but i'll text all day long.
who was the genius that decided that Zombies eat brains? i just don't think there is any science to support that. why not fingers? or cerebral spinal fluid? or toe jam? or belly buttons? i'd like to invent a monster that goes around sucking out and devouring peoples belly buttons. a Morckshux. that's what i'm calling it. it's like a Unicorn, but with spikes all over it, and crazy cat shaped irises, and instead of a mane and tail it's blue fire that turns whatever it touches to goo. the dreaded belly button consuming Morckshux. named Trevor.
my new best friend, Trevor.
so i used the bathroom at a barnes and noble last week. looked to the right and saw a smear of boogers on the wall. i'm gonna say it right now. EVERYONE picks their nose. and if you're thinking to yourself "well i don't" then you are a goddamn liar. you KNOW you pick your nose. it's part of life. no matter what, it's gonna happen. fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and i gotta get this itchy prickly monstrosity out of my nostril and away from my superior nasal chonchae cuz it's irritating the hell out of me. everyone does it. don't even try and front like you're a non-picker because they don't exist.
if i was a lesbian, then i'd totally be all over Rachel McAdams. or possibly Kim Stoltz (even though she belongs to a good friend of mine). perchance Mila Kunis, the chick that played Jackie on That 70's show. come on ladies, who do you have lady crushes on? leave your pick as a comment.
i...... want..... to eat everything in the house.
my lips and calves are numb. the rest of me is fine, but my lips and calves are numb. hmm. intrigue.
i should probably call it quits and go to bed while the going is good and before my typing skills diminish any more than they already have. i'm hitting the backspace key every third or fourth letter and it's getting tiresome.
y'all have a lovely night, and delightful weekend, and please send comments. they brighten my day and give flight to my heart. later beeeeaches!!!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Dear Things and Stuff...
Dear Snickers Ice Cream Bar,
Oh Siren of my Stomach, how I adore you. You are such a delight! Your delicate chocolate shell encases 100 less calories than your denser, less frigid counterpart. I just wish there weren't so many of you in the freezer. The song of FOUR Snickers Ice Cream Bars is hard to resist when I'm on a diet and I think about eating and how hungry I am nearly every minute. yes, even while i'm sleeping.
With affection,
Krista
Dear Lady at Target Yesterday,
One of my greatest frustrations is NOT being able to soothe my child when he's crying. So I did NOT appreciate your actions yesterday when Ronin was SCREAMING in the check out line. It was all I could do to keep from blowing up at you in a fit of rage when you paid for your purchase in LOOSE CHANGE, then bent over Ronin's stroller to "talk" to him, preventing me from getting to the credit card payment thing so that i could pay for the Gerber Veggie Dip snacks that would have satiated my crying son and alieved my tension. I have mixed feelings about my decision to yell at you, but mostly I don't regret it.
Self Righteously,
Young Frustrated Mama
Dear Son,
Please stop hating me and just eat your food. You can't be breastfeeding forever. I'm afraid of your teeth that I'm sure are on their way in.
Love,
Mom
Dear Comb-over Man,
Just shave it off, buddy. That little wispy coif isn't fooling anyone.
Sincerely,
Krista
Dear Old Navy,
You are impressing the hell out of me. Not only did you make a yellow shirt that i look really good in, but you made a little flannel onsie, cargo pants, and one of those Fargo-esque furry hats with BEAR EARS on it in my son's size. He is the CUTEST little Outdoorsman in the described outfit, and it is all thanks to you. Thank you for making my little man look like a Little Man.
Gratefully,
Krista
Dear Snickers Ice Cream Bar,
I give up. Get In My Fundus!!!!
Munch,
Krista
Dear Ronin's Bedtime,
GET HERE already.
~Krista
Dear Chick-Fil-A,
you know, every time i order fast food through the drive through, i expect a certain percentage of error. a forgotten packet of barbeque sauce, a lack of napkins, an intrusive tomato slice when i ordered a chicken sandwich "neat". today, however, you shocked me with your inadequacy. i opened my bag-o-goodies to inspect the grilled chicken salad i ordered only to be greeted by half a head of hair. seriously. there was so much hair. i expected some hair, but it looks like the individual that was filling my order has an acute case of alopecia. and the Alopecia Drive-thru Technician aparently thought i'd like a few shreds of dried up grass in there too. For real, Chick-Fil-A, slow your roll and FIX your SHIT.
Severely Grossed Out,
Krista
Dear Grim Reaper,
YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!! hahahaha.... pun.
~Krista
Dear Stretch Marks,
you were cool and all when i was pregnant and 60 pounds heavier than i am now... but lately you just look ridiculous. therefore, i'm issuing an eviction notice. you have 60 days to vacate and be back to my normal, delightfully taut skin. Ha!! just kidding. i'm not so naive as to think that i'll ever have that "soft supple" look ever again. that is best left to the sluts on the interwebs and all the chicks out there that are fat-less. lucky bitches.
your frenemy,
Krista
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. it's uncanny how many times a day i misspell my OWN name. maybe i should just change my name to krsita.
2. i've lost 3 pounds in 2 weeks so by my calculations... bEEp BoOp BeEP beeP BOOp bEeP BeeP..... it will take 13 weeks to get down to my goal weight which puts us at....*calendar-flippings-through*..... 123 pounds on 13 January 2011. totally doable.
3. remember those big balloon/rubber balls that you'd blow up and they had a rubber band attatched to them so you could kind of spring them off of your hand? yeah. i never liked those growing up.
4. my son could make a fortune doing Interpretive Dance. he is an excellent squirmer.
5. i kind of like tinkering around with the piano....
6. i'm going to invent a little gun that you zap your muscles with and it makes them not feel terrible and ache-y anymore. because my leg muscles feel terrible and ache-y.
7. Monster has a new drink out- zero sugar and zero calories. fairly tasty. it's grrrrrrrrrrrrape!
8. i wish that i had packed a t-shirt for this trip to Virginia. i find myself with nothing to lounge about in come bedtime and it's awkward.
9. where did the word Skivvies come from? and why does it mean underwear?
10. um.... does anyone actually read this anymore besides my mom, Shelly and Tash? and if so, why doesn't anyone comment anymore??? *tiny cry*
peace, beef, and brussel sprouts. time to have some Amaretto and OJ!!
Oh Siren of my Stomach, how I adore you. You are such a delight! Your delicate chocolate shell encases 100 less calories than your denser, less frigid counterpart. I just wish there weren't so many of you in the freezer. The song of FOUR Snickers Ice Cream Bars is hard to resist when I'm on a diet and I think about eating and how hungry I am nearly every minute. yes, even while i'm sleeping.
With affection,
Krista
Dear Lady at Target Yesterday,
One of my greatest frustrations is NOT being able to soothe my child when he's crying. So I did NOT appreciate your actions yesterday when Ronin was SCREAMING in the check out line. It was all I could do to keep from blowing up at you in a fit of rage when you paid for your purchase in LOOSE CHANGE, then bent over Ronin's stroller to "talk" to him, preventing me from getting to the credit card payment thing so that i could pay for the Gerber Veggie Dip snacks that would have satiated my crying son and alieved my tension. I have mixed feelings about my decision to yell at you, but mostly I don't regret it.
Self Righteously,
Young Frustrated Mama
Dear Son,
Please stop hating me and just eat your food. You can't be breastfeeding forever. I'm afraid of your teeth that I'm sure are on their way in.
Love,
Mom
Dear Comb-over Man,
Just shave it off, buddy. That little wispy coif isn't fooling anyone.
Sincerely,
Krista
Dear Old Navy,
You are impressing the hell out of me. Not only did you make a yellow shirt that i look really good in, but you made a little flannel onsie, cargo pants, and one of those Fargo-esque furry hats with BEAR EARS on it in my son's size. He is the CUTEST little Outdoorsman in the described outfit, and it is all thanks to you. Thank you for making my little man look like a Little Man.
Gratefully,
Krista
Dear Snickers Ice Cream Bar,
I give up. Get In My Fundus!!!!
Munch,
Krista
Dear Ronin's Bedtime,
GET HERE already.
~Krista
Dear Chick-Fil-A,
you know, every time i order fast food through the drive through, i expect a certain percentage of error. a forgotten packet of barbeque sauce, a lack of napkins, an intrusive tomato slice when i ordered a chicken sandwich "neat". today, however, you shocked me with your inadequacy. i opened my bag-o-goodies to inspect the grilled chicken salad i ordered only to be greeted by half a head of hair. seriously. there was so much hair. i expected some hair, but it looks like the individual that was filling my order has an acute case of alopecia. and the Alopecia Drive-thru Technician aparently thought i'd like a few shreds of dried up grass in there too. For real, Chick-Fil-A, slow your roll and FIX your SHIT.
Severely Grossed Out,
Krista
Dear Grim Reaper,
YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!! hahahaha.... pun.
~Krista
Dear Stretch Marks,
you were cool and all when i was pregnant and 60 pounds heavier than i am now... but lately you just look ridiculous. therefore, i'm issuing an eviction notice. you have 60 days to vacate and be back to my normal, delightfully taut skin. Ha!! just kidding. i'm not so naive as to think that i'll ever have that "soft supple" look ever again. that is best left to the sluts on the interwebs and all the chicks out there that are fat-less. lucky bitches.
your frenemy,
Krista
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. it's uncanny how many times a day i misspell my OWN name. maybe i should just change my name to krsita.
2. i've lost 3 pounds in 2 weeks so by my calculations... bEEp BoOp BeEP beeP BOOp bEeP BeeP..... it will take 13 weeks to get down to my goal weight which puts us at....*calendar-flippings-through*..... 123 pounds on 13 January 2011. totally doable.
3. remember those big balloon/rubber balls that you'd blow up and they had a rubber band attatched to them so you could kind of spring them off of your hand? yeah. i never liked those growing up.
4. my son could make a fortune doing Interpretive Dance. he is an excellent squirmer.
5. i kind of like tinkering around with the piano....
6. i'm going to invent a little gun that you zap your muscles with and it makes them not feel terrible and ache-y anymore. because my leg muscles feel terrible and ache-y.
7. Monster has a new drink out- zero sugar and zero calories. fairly tasty. it's grrrrrrrrrrrrape!
8. i wish that i had packed a t-shirt for this trip to Virginia. i find myself with nothing to lounge about in come bedtime and it's awkward.
9. where did the word Skivvies come from? and why does it mean underwear?
10. um.... does anyone actually read this anymore besides my mom, Shelly and Tash? and if so, why doesn't anyone comment anymore??? *tiny cry*
peace, beef, and brussel sprouts. time to have some Amaretto and OJ!!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
here's a list of small paragraphs
A good friend of mine sent me a message requesting psyche-revealing answers to the following questions.
so Shelly, here's lookin' at you, kid.
1. what is your favorite word? and she starts off with a tough one. hmm... if i could only pick one.... well, it used to be Moisture. there was also a time when Pants was my number one. however, lately i've been leaning towards SOUP. but only when you say it kind of creepily. with a slight "h" in there. like "ssshoUUp.."
2. what is your least favorite word? probably Licorice. it conjures up a hateful smell, a disgusting taste, a slimey sight, and the memory of that evil Lord Licorice from Candyland that would always fuck shit up for me. it's a hateful, hateful substance and ergo a dispicable word.
3. what turns you on? honestly, being kissed on the neck, a good cologne (like Hugo Boss), hands on my hips, and knowing that i turn him on.
4. what turns you off? body odor, when i feel fat, if i'm having a bad hair day, being told that "sure, i guess i can try and rally for you", and sexual advances when i'm actively trying to get stuff done; for example, cleaning the house.
5. what sound or noise do you love? i love Ronin's laughter and his mumbling which just so happens to sound like him saying "mom".
6. what sound or noise do you hate? i very frequently hear a high pitched whine... and from anatomy & physiology classes i'm left to infer that it means that my cilia in my cochlea are laying down/dying so i'm losing more of my hearing. Silver Lining; soon i won't have any least favorite sounds! also, i don't like the sound that parachute pants/warm-up pants make when i walk in them. i feel like i'm the noisiest walker around, and that everyone is staring at me and my painfully 1980's dated attire.
7. what is your favorite curse word? it's a toss up between nigga and bitches. *to clarify- nigga is said only to my dearest friends and only out of love. :) but bitches is just fun to say... go ahead, try and say it without smiling. now try saying it more like beaches. go ahead, tell me you're not grinning like a fool with his pants on the ground, nigga!
8. what profession other than your own would you like to attempt? dude, i would LOVE to be in Cirque De Soliel!!! i'd be a contortionist, or a dancer, or one of those contortion-y ribbon dancing ladies. also, it might be cool to be a personal trainer A La Jillian Michaels on The Biggest Loser. i adore how completely vicious she is, and yet how her heart of gold still shines through. either profession though would give me a rockin' bod. for shiz, biiiitches.
9. what profession would you like NOT to do? i would not like to be a garbage collector, the janitor at a strip club, or porn/street-whoring. i have the feeling like any of those three give me a good chance at contracting some sort of life threatening Super-chancre-herpes-gonorrhea-syphillis-AIDS-pneumonia and i just can't chance it.
10. if heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? it would probably be along the lines of "hey! you're here! oh good. i saved you a triple-beef-extra-bacon-extra-cheese zero-calorie cheeseburger and a full-flavored-lose-ten-pounds-now whole cheesecake. i think you're hilarious, you're a wonderful person, you did a great job loving your family, friends, and everyone you met, you have one hell of a kid, and enjoy Eternity doing whatever you want! also, here is your VERY OWN UNICORN! his name is Trevor. i love you, kiddo! glad you made it."
you may applaud now.
also, if anyone has other questions you'd like to shoot my way; either leave them here as comments, hit me up on my email (on my profile page), or send me a message on my facebook account.
with love to my niggas and bitches,
Krista
so Shelly, here's lookin' at you, kid.
1. what is your favorite word? and she starts off with a tough one. hmm... if i could only pick one.... well, it used to be Moisture. there was also a time when Pants was my number one. however, lately i've been leaning towards SOUP. but only when you say it kind of creepily. with a slight "h" in there. like "ssshoUUp.."
2. what is your least favorite word? probably Licorice. it conjures up a hateful smell, a disgusting taste, a slimey sight, and the memory of that evil Lord Licorice from Candyland that would always fuck shit up for me. it's a hateful, hateful substance and ergo a dispicable word.
3. what turns you on? honestly, being kissed on the neck, a good cologne (like Hugo Boss), hands on my hips, and knowing that i turn him on.
4. what turns you off? body odor, when i feel fat, if i'm having a bad hair day, being told that "sure, i guess i can try and rally for you", and sexual advances when i'm actively trying to get stuff done; for example, cleaning the house.
5. what sound or noise do you love? i love Ronin's laughter and his mumbling which just so happens to sound like him saying "mom".
6. what sound or noise do you hate? i very frequently hear a high pitched whine... and from anatomy & physiology classes i'm left to infer that it means that my cilia in my cochlea are laying down/dying so i'm losing more of my hearing. Silver Lining; soon i won't have any least favorite sounds! also, i don't like the sound that parachute pants/warm-up pants make when i walk in them. i feel like i'm the noisiest walker around, and that everyone is staring at me and my painfully 1980's dated attire.
7. what is your favorite curse word? it's a toss up between nigga and bitches. *to clarify- nigga is said only to my dearest friends and only out of love. :) but bitches is just fun to say... go ahead, try and say it without smiling. now try saying it more like beaches. go ahead, tell me you're not grinning like a fool with his pants on the ground, nigga!
8. what profession other than your own would you like to attempt? dude, i would LOVE to be in Cirque De Soliel!!! i'd be a contortionist, or a dancer, or one of those contortion-y ribbon dancing ladies. also, it might be cool to be a personal trainer A La Jillian Michaels on The Biggest Loser. i adore how completely vicious she is, and yet how her heart of gold still shines through. either profession though would give me a rockin' bod. for shiz, biiiitches.
9. what profession would you like NOT to do? i would not like to be a garbage collector, the janitor at a strip club, or porn/street-whoring. i have the feeling like any of those three give me a good chance at contracting some sort of life threatening Super-chancre-herpes-gonorrhea-syphillis-AIDS-pneumonia and i just can't chance it.
10. if heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? it would probably be along the lines of "hey! you're here! oh good. i saved you a triple-beef-extra-bacon-extra-cheese zero-calorie cheeseburger and a full-flavored-lose-ten-pounds-now whole cheesecake. i think you're hilarious, you're a wonderful person, you did a great job loving your family, friends, and everyone you met, you have one hell of a kid, and enjoy Eternity doing whatever you want! also, here is your VERY OWN UNICORN! his name is Trevor. i love you, kiddo! glad you made it."
you may applaud now.
also, if anyone has other questions you'd like to shoot my way; either leave them here as comments, hit me up on my email (on my profile page), or send me a message on my facebook account.
with love to my niggas and bitches,
Krista
Obsession: the cure to the Obesity Epidemic.
the secret to weight loss is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
i've been trying for 7+ months now to lose the baby weight and i've finally found a way to do it.
i live, sleep, eat and breathe Obsession. when i wake up i prepare myself for dissappointment in the breakfast department. no pop tarts, no cinnamon rolls, no apple pie, no 8 cupcakes from the baking foray the night before...
just plain ol' fiber packed cereal and light soymilk. maybe coffee.
then i spend the next few hours trying to distract myself from how hungry i am. i run around with my son, i log my caloric intake and sob internally, i go up and down the stairs repeatedly and seemingly aimlessly in an attempt to destroy the calories from breakfast, and i foolishly dream of cupcakes.
then lunch time. i pick and choose my meal, attempting to find something that fills me and still meets the parameters of the calories that i've allowed myself to eat by 1pm. this usually ends up being way less than i feel like i should be ingesting.
so i die a little bit inside.
afternoon.... i hope and pray that the Angel Baby takes a nap so that i can sleep away some of the time between my pitiful meager lunch and the looming glory of dinner....sometimes he does and it's splendid. other times i agonize for hours, doing squats here and there, leg lifts while i watch Ronin play with his toys on the floor, donkey kicks to fix my "saggy booty" as my lover so gingerly labeled it.
every now and again, i hit the gym and frantically/manically attempt to pulverize my fat with as much cardio as i can squeeze in between the time i get there and the time that the nursery attendants come inform me that my darling child has transformed into a screaming banshee. those are the glorious days; the days when i can feel the jiggle being released from my body in the form of pain and sweat.
but all these days end the same. i put my Superior Man-child to bed and stay up doing crunches and booty-squeezy things for about another hour or so, feeling fat and hating...so much... that i am.... so large.
now. this may seem like an overreaction, but that's because no one but myself can truly understand the love affair that i have with food.
except doughnuts. and licorice. those are pure satanic fodder, no matter what my husband would have you believe.
i do, truly, love food. i love that creamy, smooth feel of perfectly baked cheesecake hitting my tongue. i love the salty cheesy warm hug that a cheeseburger gives my mouth. i love the satisfying mastication of pasta and its rich and hearty weight as it hits my stomach and lets me know that it's all okay because soon i won't be hungry anymore. i love the gooey chocolatey goodness of a hot-out-of-the-oven homemade chocolate chip cookie. and i love the fluffy sugary bliss of a citrus cupcake (orange cake, maraschino cherry pushed into the middle as a surprise, lemon frosting, and sprinkles) as it hits my tastebuds and sends me into a feeding frenzy.
so this "not eating whatever my body demands" and "watching my calorie intake" just sucks balls.
every day i feel like having an infantile temper tantrum. but i don't. because i don't want Ronin thinking that that's the proper reaction to not having 4 Meat extra cheese pizza.
sheesh. even as i type this i'm salivating.
Krista's Thoughts (waaaaaaaay) Before Bedtime:
1. so some math symbols, pi (3.14......) and i (the square root of -1) got into a fight the other day. i didn't hear all of it, but i did here the end. i said "be rational!!" and pi said "get real!!" . guffaw. i love math jokes.
2. ladies, if you cherish your carefully sculpted abs, then NEVER let anyone slice through them in attempts to pull your offspring out of you. i mean, if you can help it.
3. i proclaim DEATH to this 48+ hour headache. i'ma try the tylenol again, but if it doesn't go away i'm getting the chisel and going after it Dr. Stein style! and if it works, i could be the best doctor in Orange County! (get it? get it?)
4. i love a mild Boston accent.
5. i'd be such a good mom if only i wasn't so much of an airhead. i went to Northern VIRGINIA in the FALL. OCTOBER. and didn't pack any long pants for my son. NONE. oh. my. god i'm retarded. it was supposed to be in the low seventies, and i get here and it's "a high of 55 degrees today" and i'm looking like a terrible mother because my poor perfect offspring is forced to romp around in a one-sie and shorts. thank God for daddy bringing long pants by, and Old Navy for having the things that i forgot.
6. iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm so hungry i'm having trouble having thoughts about anything else.
7. hmm.... Sarah Jessica Parker really does have a horse face.
8. i think i'd like to have a bear as a pet. a nice gentle bear that i could saddle up and ride. we'd saunter into town and growl at everyone and they'd be forced to give us free cheesecake. and liposuction.
9. if a vampire gets a splinter, does he "die"? cuz... it's kind of like a mini-wooden stake... discuss.
10. i got whistled at today as i was pushing Ronin to the park in his stroller. YES!!! i can still be sexually objectified by men!! i haven't completely lost "it"!! i can still be considered as desirable enough to merit a casual out-the-window-drive-by whistle!! woot! so maybe there's hope for me yet. i'm nowhere NEAR being as hot and tempting as those slutty little perfect bodied women that i envy soooo much.... but at least i'm not a lost cause. some day, some glorious day, i'll be physically attractive enough to "get off" to. i still have my goals and hopes and dreams.
i've been trying for 7+ months now to lose the baby weight and i've finally found a way to do it.
i live, sleep, eat and breathe Obsession. when i wake up i prepare myself for dissappointment in the breakfast department. no pop tarts, no cinnamon rolls, no apple pie, no 8 cupcakes from the baking foray the night before...
just plain ol' fiber packed cereal and light soymilk. maybe coffee.
then i spend the next few hours trying to distract myself from how hungry i am. i run around with my son, i log my caloric intake and sob internally, i go up and down the stairs repeatedly and seemingly aimlessly in an attempt to destroy the calories from breakfast, and i foolishly dream of cupcakes.
then lunch time. i pick and choose my meal, attempting to find something that fills me and still meets the parameters of the calories that i've allowed myself to eat by 1pm. this usually ends up being way less than i feel like i should be ingesting.
so i die a little bit inside.
afternoon.... i hope and pray that the Angel Baby takes a nap so that i can sleep away some of the time between my pitiful meager lunch and the looming glory of dinner....sometimes he does and it's splendid. other times i agonize for hours, doing squats here and there, leg lifts while i watch Ronin play with his toys on the floor, donkey kicks to fix my "saggy booty" as my lover so gingerly labeled it.
every now and again, i hit the gym and frantically/manically attempt to pulverize my fat with as much cardio as i can squeeze in between the time i get there and the time that the nursery attendants come inform me that my darling child has transformed into a screaming banshee. those are the glorious days; the days when i can feel the jiggle being released from my body in the form of pain and sweat.
but all these days end the same. i put my Superior Man-child to bed and stay up doing crunches and booty-squeezy things for about another hour or so, feeling fat and hating...so much... that i am.... so large.
now. this may seem like an overreaction, but that's because no one but myself can truly understand the love affair that i have with food.
except doughnuts. and licorice. those are pure satanic fodder, no matter what my husband would have you believe.
i do, truly, love food. i love that creamy, smooth feel of perfectly baked cheesecake hitting my tongue. i love the salty cheesy warm hug that a cheeseburger gives my mouth. i love the satisfying mastication of pasta and its rich and hearty weight as it hits my stomach and lets me know that it's all okay because soon i won't be hungry anymore. i love the gooey chocolatey goodness of a hot-out-of-the-oven homemade chocolate chip cookie. and i love the fluffy sugary bliss of a citrus cupcake (orange cake, maraschino cherry pushed into the middle as a surprise, lemon frosting, and sprinkles) as it hits my tastebuds and sends me into a feeding frenzy.
so this "not eating whatever my body demands" and "watching my calorie intake" just sucks balls.
every day i feel like having an infantile temper tantrum. but i don't. because i don't want Ronin thinking that that's the proper reaction to not having 4 Meat extra cheese pizza.
sheesh. even as i type this i'm salivating.
Krista's Thoughts (waaaaaaaay) Before Bedtime:
1. so some math symbols, pi (3.14......) and i (the square root of -1) got into a fight the other day. i didn't hear all of it, but i did here the end. i said "be rational!!" and pi said "get real!!" . guffaw. i love math jokes.
2. ladies, if you cherish your carefully sculpted abs, then NEVER let anyone slice through them in attempts to pull your offspring out of you. i mean, if you can help it.
3. i proclaim DEATH to this 48+ hour headache. i'ma try the tylenol again, but if it doesn't go away i'm getting the chisel and going after it Dr. Stein style! and if it works, i could be the best doctor in Orange County! (get it? get it?)
4. i love a mild Boston accent.
5. i'd be such a good mom if only i wasn't so much of an airhead. i went to Northern VIRGINIA in the FALL. OCTOBER. and didn't pack any long pants for my son. NONE. oh. my. god i'm retarded. it was supposed to be in the low seventies, and i get here and it's "a high of 55 degrees today" and i'm looking like a terrible mother because my poor perfect offspring is forced to romp around in a one-sie and shorts. thank God for daddy bringing long pants by, and Old Navy for having the things that i forgot.
6. iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm so hungry i'm having trouble having thoughts about anything else.
7. hmm.... Sarah Jessica Parker really does have a horse face.
8. i think i'd like to have a bear as a pet. a nice gentle bear that i could saddle up and ride. we'd saunter into town and growl at everyone and they'd be forced to give us free cheesecake. and liposuction.
9. if a vampire gets a splinter, does he "die"? cuz... it's kind of like a mini-wooden stake... discuss.
10. i got whistled at today as i was pushing Ronin to the park in his stroller. YES!!! i can still be sexually objectified by men!! i haven't completely lost "it"!! i can still be considered as desirable enough to merit a casual out-the-window-drive-by whistle!! woot! so maybe there's hope for me yet. i'm nowhere NEAR being as hot and tempting as those slutty little perfect bodied women that i envy soooo much.... but at least i'm not a lost cause. some day, some glorious day, i'll be physically attractive enough to "get off" to. i still have my goals and hopes and dreams.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Gooooooood Morning Turkey!!!
i've got readers from some awesome places; Denmark, Turkey, Malaysia, China.... i feel so international and super-starry.
it's hard to write while a 7 month old baby claws at your skin, drools all over you, and attempts to scoop out your eyeball with his freakishly strong fingers. i guess he feels like i'd make a cool pirate. or that i'd look good in an eye-patch. he's probably a zombie. that's the more likely explanation.
Husband wants to have a thousand babies. so he can give his genes "a giant jump on the future" as he puts it. i told him it's a tall order. too tall for a girl as short as i. i mean, i gave him one and it nearly killed me. i might be able to pull off two, three if he's lucky. but he's going to have to sperm-bank-donor-surrogate-lady the other 997 babies. maybe we could hire that "19 kids and counting" chick. she seems to have this Mass Child Creation/Production down to a science. but i am NOT changing all those diapers. i'm much rather change the litter boxes for one thousand cats.
Uck. wait, no. maybe neither of those.
Though I think that the worse scenario would be changing diapers on a thousand kittens. that's way too many sharp pointy things aimed at my nurturing hands as they attempt to change the diapers.
my husband is so very helpful. he decided to aide me in dinner-making this evening. i had two steaks in the fridge that had been marinating since yesterday night, and they were good and ready for cookin.
so Husband takes them and BOILS them in OIL. boils them.
in oil.
that was three hours ago and the house is still full of eye-stinging-poison-smoke. my husband is trying to kill me. and all because i gave him a teensy bit of life-threatening food poisoning during Birthiversary week. and because I refuse to pop out the other 999 babies that he has his heart set on.
I feel like this is a very disproportionate reaction.
we now have a Mr Coffee. i finally feel like an adult. i've found that i rather enjoy having a cup of coffee in the morning. well, maybe "enjoy" is the wrong word. i'm glad that i have a drug that is legal that i can pump into my guts that will effectively counteract my exhaustion from lack of sleep due to my son's aversion to nocturnal rest. Mike says it sounds like i'm describing myself as one of The Undead. Maybe i am a zombie. Ronin is a Zombie Baby after all. and he decided today that not only does he like to eat my chin, but he thinks it's hilarious when i eat his chin.
And now, a few letters.
Dear Rachel McAdams;
Please be my not-so-secret girlfriend. You seem completely accessible, and i'm pretty sure that you'd think that i'm The Proverbial Shit. So, don't tell Ryan Gosling and i won't tell Mike and we can live happily ever after going shopping for killer deals cuz i don't like spending money, and eating homemade cupcakes.
Think about it,
Krista
Dear Biscoff Cookies,
Oh tasty little lumps of love, you are divine. you were, up until yesterday, my only reason for flying Delta. my family thinks that i took airplanes to see them but you and i know the real truth. i was just using "visiting" as an excuse to get free coffee and a package of you to dip in it. my WONDERFUL husband got me a WHOLE big package of you for my morning coffee so that i can eat you and get all fat. well, fatter.
With shame-tainted love,
Krista
Dear Curling,
You are not a sport. If anything, you should be relabeled "Agressive Sweeping". with big marbles.
No need to argue with me,
Krista
Dear Tv Show The Biggest Loser;
You are inspiring to me. I promise that this season that i'll be... alternatively inspired than in previous seasons. I promise to get up and move around while i watch instead of camping out on the couch for two hours eating whole pizzas and towers of oreos. I promise to still be critical of the Bitchy Girls and laugh at the individuals who "give up" and who try to "play the game" instead of getting healthy, but i will not eat a cheeseburger whilst i do so. This way i'll feel less like a Judgemental Lard and more like a Self-Righteous SuperModel. Hell, maybe i'll even develop a sweet case of anorexia nervosa while i watch this season. We'll just have to see how i feel. Love you!!
Yours as long as NBC blesses us with your presence,
Krista
Dear Breastmilk,
I wish you filtered out "get skinny now" pills. because i'd love to "get skinny now". Work on that. or go away. whichever one you want, but freakin pick one.
Sincerely,
Krista
Hoffman,
Dude, i'm still mad at you for urinating over everything in my dream the other night and preventing me from getting my sexy on with two other sexies. How dare you. Punk.
Go to hell,
Krista
y'all come back now, y'hear?
it's hard to write while a 7 month old baby claws at your skin, drools all over you, and attempts to scoop out your eyeball with his freakishly strong fingers. i guess he feels like i'd make a cool pirate. or that i'd look good in an eye-patch. he's probably a zombie. that's the more likely explanation.
Husband wants to have a thousand babies. so he can give his genes "a giant jump on the future" as he puts it. i told him it's a tall order. too tall for a girl as short as i. i mean, i gave him one and it nearly killed me. i might be able to pull off two, three if he's lucky. but he's going to have to sperm-bank-donor-surrogate-lady the other 997 babies. maybe we could hire that "19 kids and counting" chick. she seems to have this Mass Child Creation/Production down to a science. but i am NOT changing all those diapers. i'm much rather change the litter boxes for one thousand cats.
Uck. wait, no. maybe neither of those.
Though I think that the worse scenario would be changing diapers on a thousand kittens. that's way too many sharp pointy things aimed at my nurturing hands as they attempt to change the diapers.
my husband is so very helpful. he decided to aide me in dinner-making this evening. i had two steaks in the fridge that had been marinating since yesterday night, and they were good and ready for cookin.
so Husband takes them and BOILS them in OIL. boils them.
in oil.
that was three hours ago and the house is still full of eye-stinging-poison-smoke. my husband is trying to kill me. and all because i gave him a teensy bit of life-threatening food poisoning during Birthiversary week. and because I refuse to pop out the other 999 babies that he has his heart set on.
I feel like this is a very disproportionate reaction.
we now have a Mr Coffee. i finally feel like an adult. i've found that i rather enjoy having a cup of coffee in the morning. well, maybe "enjoy" is the wrong word. i'm glad that i have a drug that is legal that i can pump into my guts that will effectively counteract my exhaustion from lack of sleep due to my son's aversion to nocturnal rest. Mike says it sounds like i'm describing myself as one of The Undead. Maybe i am a zombie. Ronin is a Zombie Baby after all. and he decided today that not only does he like to eat my chin, but he thinks it's hilarious when i eat his chin.
And now, a few letters.
Dear Rachel McAdams;
Please be my not-so-secret girlfriend. You seem completely accessible, and i'm pretty sure that you'd think that i'm The Proverbial Shit. So, don't tell Ryan Gosling and i won't tell Mike and we can live happily ever after going shopping for killer deals cuz i don't like spending money, and eating homemade cupcakes.
Think about it,
Krista
Dear Biscoff Cookies,
Oh tasty little lumps of love, you are divine. you were, up until yesterday, my only reason for flying Delta. my family thinks that i took airplanes to see them but you and i know the real truth. i was just using "visiting" as an excuse to get free coffee and a package of you to dip in it. my WONDERFUL husband got me a WHOLE big package of you for my morning coffee so that i can eat you and get all fat. well, fatter.
With shame-tainted love,
Krista
Dear Curling,
You are not a sport. If anything, you should be relabeled "Agressive Sweeping". with big marbles.
No need to argue with me,
Krista
Dear Tv Show The Biggest Loser;
You are inspiring to me. I promise that this season that i'll be... alternatively inspired than in previous seasons. I promise to get up and move around while i watch instead of camping out on the couch for two hours eating whole pizzas and towers of oreos. I promise to still be critical of the Bitchy Girls and laugh at the individuals who "give up" and who try to "play the game" instead of getting healthy, but i will not eat a cheeseburger whilst i do so. This way i'll feel less like a Judgemental Lard and more like a Self-Righteous SuperModel. Hell, maybe i'll even develop a sweet case of anorexia nervosa while i watch this season. We'll just have to see how i feel. Love you!!
Yours as long as NBC blesses us with your presence,
Krista
Dear Breastmilk,
I wish you filtered out "get skinny now" pills. because i'd love to "get skinny now". Work on that. or go away. whichever one you want, but freakin pick one.
Sincerely,
Krista
Hoffman,
Dude, i'm still mad at you for urinating over everything in my dream the other night and preventing me from getting my sexy on with two other sexies. How dare you. Punk.
Go to hell,
Krista
y'all come back now, y'hear?
Sunday, September 19, 2010
WARNING! icky content. and boiled taquitos.
my husband asks me to do things.
odd things.
and then he has the audacity to be surprised when i actually do these things. for example, once he dared me to spit in his mouth, claiming that terrible things would happen if i did. but i'm no Wimpy McYella so i did. he had the audacity to get mad at me after i'd expectorated into his orifice. his surprise was unfounded; i told him i'd do it.
today i asked him how he wanted his taquitos cooked. boiled? baked? fried? grilled? and he said he wanted his taquitos boiled.
"now honey, you know better than to ask me to do things like that, cuz i'll do it"
" i want one boiled taquito. i want to see you go insane trying to boil a taquito. i don't think it will turn out well for you."
"honey, i won't go insane. it can't be that hard to boil a taquito. all you do is put it in boiling water and wait. i just don't think it will end well for you."
these are the things that i do. this is my daily life.
my husband and i need to stop getting sick. our house is filling up with soiled tissues. it's like a chorus of french horns sounding in our living room. rivers of snot are flowing like honey. icky sickly runny honey.
so last night i went over to my girlfriend Carina's house and hung out with the girls. amidst the playful chatty banter i asked Christine if perchance she had had a Mandatory Sex Party while she was house sitting for me earlier this summer as i had found a girls shirt, a guy shirt, and a random unisex hoodie strewn about my digs upon my return. Carina piped up and asked Christine if she was missing a pair of pants, as she had found some left at her house as well.
so either Christine is a subconcious house-sitting-subtle-stripper, or she's having secret Mandatory Sex Parties at her friends' houses when they go out of town.
i had a WEIRD dream because of that conversation. there were like 10 girls, me, and 7 guys in a big hotel suite. myself and a girlfriend of mine ( i won't say who, cuz she might be reading this) were going to have a menage a trois with my hubby. so she got started and i was about to hop on in when our buddy Hoffman started strutting through the suite peeing on everything and everyone. a ruckus ensued, i had to kick several people out (Hoffman, 2 or 3 loud noisy guys, and 4 or 5 of the bitchier chicks), and i was all dissappointed cuz it didn't get to get my bow-chicka-bow-wow on. REALLY dissappointed. hmm...
i woke up and..... what a dream to have. i'm still a tad bit dissappointed, truth be told.
it's probably the only Mandatory Sex Party i'll ever have. and i didn't even get to enjoy it... cuz there was urine everywhere.
f***ing Hoffman.
Mike and i dissagree on how marriage works. i maintain that this is how it goes:
*I am always right, and all bad/icky things are always his fault, and he's always wrong.
he says that that is just not the case. Mike claims that:
*Krista is always wrong, and he is always right two weeks later with the same exact idea.
Krista's Tip of The Day:
Don't sleep with live baby ducks on your pillow. It will, without a doubt, turn into a tear jerking, messy, guilt ridden affair. You'll wake up, expecting to hear it's sweet little "cheep"s, only to discover that the room is silent. You'll turn on the light, rummage through the covers on your futon in a tearful panic, and find your poor Cornelius lifeless and cold in the folds of your comforter. Later, while you're stretching at the gym with your Army co-workers, and crying like a little whimpering kindergartner, your supervisor will pull you aside and ask you what's wrong. You will commence blabbering that
"I WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND MY PET BABY DUCKIE WAS DEAD AND I ROLLED ON HIM AND I FEEL TERRIBLE AND I DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY HERE AND I'M ALL ALONE AND HE'S ALL I HAD AND NOW HE'S GONE AND I'LL NEVER HEAR HIS SWEET LITTLE CHEEPS OR GET TO WATCH HIM WADDLE AFTER ME BECAUSE HE'S DE-E-E-E-E-AD....."
Supervisor will swallow her laughter over your reasons for being so destroyed this morning, cuz she's a pro, and she'll send you home to collect yourself, pull yourself together, and dry up your Crying Too Hard Snot Faucet Nose.
so save yourself the trouble.
don't sleep with your baby duck in your bed. it won't end well for Little Cornelius.
odd things.
and then he has the audacity to be surprised when i actually do these things. for example, once he dared me to spit in his mouth, claiming that terrible things would happen if i did. but i'm no Wimpy McYella so i did. he had the audacity to get mad at me after i'd expectorated into his orifice. his surprise was unfounded; i told him i'd do it.
today i asked him how he wanted his taquitos cooked. boiled? baked? fried? grilled? and he said he wanted his taquitos boiled.
"now honey, you know better than to ask me to do things like that, cuz i'll do it"
" i want one boiled taquito. i want to see you go insane trying to boil a taquito. i don't think it will turn out well for you."
"honey, i won't go insane. it can't be that hard to boil a taquito. all you do is put it in boiling water and wait. i just don't think it will end well for you."
these are the things that i do. this is my daily life.
my husband and i need to stop getting sick. our house is filling up with soiled tissues. it's like a chorus of french horns sounding in our living room. rivers of snot are flowing like honey. icky sickly runny honey.
so last night i went over to my girlfriend Carina's house and hung out with the girls. amidst the playful chatty banter i asked Christine if perchance she had had a Mandatory Sex Party while she was house sitting for me earlier this summer as i had found a girls shirt, a guy shirt, and a random unisex hoodie strewn about my digs upon my return. Carina piped up and asked Christine if she was missing a pair of pants, as she had found some left at her house as well.
so either Christine is a subconcious house-sitting-subtle-stripper, or she's having secret Mandatory Sex Parties at her friends' houses when they go out of town.
i had a WEIRD dream because of that conversation. there were like 10 girls, me, and 7 guys in a big hotel suite. myself and a girlfriend of mine ( i won't say who, cuz she might be reading this) were going to have a menage a trois with my hubby. so she got started and i was about to hop on in when our buddy Hoffman started strutting through the suite peeing on everything and everyone. a ruckus ensued, i had to kick several people out (Hoffman, 2 or 3 loud noisy guys, and 4 or 5 of the bitchier chicks), and i was all dissappointed cuz it didn't get to get my bow-chicka-bow-wow on. REALLY dissappointed. hmm...
i woke up and..... what a dream to have. i'm still a tad bit dissappointed, truth be told.
it's probably the only Mandatory Sex Party i'll ever have. and i didn't even get to enjoy it... cuz there was urine everywhere.
f***ing Hoffman.
Mike and i dissagree on how marriage works. i maintain that this is how it goes:
*I am always right, and all bad/icky things are always his fault, and he's always wrong.
he says that that is just not the case. Mike claims that:
*Krista is always wrong, and he is always right two weeks later with the same exact idea.
Krista's Tip of The Day:
Don't sleep with live baby ducks on your pillow. It will, without a doubt, turn into a tear jerking, messy, guilt ridden affair. You'll wake up, expecting to hear it's sweet little "cheep"s, only to discover that the room is silent. You'll turn on the light, rummage through the covers on your futon in a tearful panic, and find your poor Cornelius lifeless and cold in the folds of your comforter. Later, while you're stretching at the gym with your Army co-workers, and crying like a little whimpering kindergartner, your supervisor will pull you aside and ask you what's wrong. You will commence blabbering that
"I WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND MY PET BABY DUCKIE WAS DEAD AND I ROLLED ON HIM AND I FEEL TERRIBLE AND I DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY HERE AND I'M ALL ALONE AND HE'S ALL I HAD AND NOW HE'S GONE AND I'LL NEVER HEAR HIS SWEET LITTLE CHEEPS OR GET TO WATCH HIM WADDLE AFTER ME BECAUSE HE'S DE-E-E-E-E-AD....."
Supervisor will swallow her laughter over your reasons for being so destroyed this morning, cuz she's a pro, and she'll send you home to collect yourself, pull yourself together, and dry up your Crying Too Hard Snot Faucet Nose.
so save yourself the trouble.
don't sleep with your baby duck in your bed. it won't end well for Little Cornelius.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Birthiversary of Death
usually, i take an entire week surrounding September the 9th in order to properly celebrate my general awesomeness, and the fact that i've been on this Earth shedding my happy aura all over it for another glorious year. because my birthday is BIGGER than just one day. since Mike and i have been married, we rolled our anniversary and his birthday into this week long extravaganza; we got married September 10th, and his birthday is on the 14th. we call it "Birthiversary Week". and it is an overwhelming 7 day expression of love, joy, happiness, and usually way too much sugar.
however.
this year, Birthiversary Sucked Ass. i very nearly died. it was nearly a class 7 catastrophe. oh yeah. and Mike almost kicked off too.
i decided on the 7th to get some Wendy's for Mike and I for lunch; spicy chicken sandwiches - Mike's favorite thing to get at Wendy's. i returned home from the restaurant triumphant, feeling all high and mighty and like the Best Wife Ever for getting Mike something delicious and surprising him.
we ate lunch. i had gotten some chicken nuggets in addition to my sandwich. (enter ominous death music)
i ate one... it tasted funny. like the oil it had been cooked in was at least 8 months old and tainted with metal shavings. but somehow, i muscled through eating the rest of them, save one, which i pressured Mike into eating.
after we ate, Mike went back to work. i spent the next four hours feeling nauseated and having the familar urge to barf and barf thoroughly. Mike got home that evening, i handed off the child, and commenced to spraying the toilet bowl with my innards. this contined for several hours, me barfing, Mike making fun of me, telling me that i have a weak constitution and that i should toughen up, me barfing some more, me barfing into a bucket whilst breastfeeding my son (which takes a certain measure of finesse so as not to vomit on the child), Mike still making fun of me, and me barfing like a champ.
i got the boy in bed, and i had stopped spewing so i went to bed. after all, we had to fly out the next day. then Mike got sick. very loudly. for several hours. HAHAHAHHAHA. i was totally sympathetic while he was ralphing, but now it is hilarious. that's what he gets for taunting me and pointing and laughing while my diseased insides were exploding out of my mouth.
the next day, tired, dehydrated and weak, we hopped on the plane. then we hopped on another plane. sat on the tarmac for an hour before it decided to take off, then hopped on another plane. we got in around 1 am. it was STUPID how tired we were.
the next day, my birthday, we went to my Great Grandmother's funeral. we spent all day it seemed like traveling in a tiny car. with no air conditioning. hell, with no air anything. just 6 people in a tiny sedan, moist, stuffy, cramped, and i got car sick. i felt like death warmed over all day.
the next day was our anniversary. we spent the day having our flight delayed, flying all day, and spending a three hour lay-over in Atlanta.
Ronin was an angel, of course, during all of this. thank God. because i think i might have had to disembowel myself with a sharpened rubix cube if he had been all sick and screamy.
but the trip eventually ended, we got back to Retard-o-Georgia and life is better now.
next year, Birthiversary Week better rock.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. the most terrifying supernatural creature is the Werekitten. you know, like a werewolf but it's a kitten. a werekitten. think about it. one minute it's all "i'm cute and fluffy and batting your strings around" and the next it's ripping your limps from your bloody stump of a body and laughing madly in the moonlight. terrifying.
2. Ronin Sneaky Puked me today. i was carrying him around and we were singing silly songs and all of the sudden there's a fountain of used-to-be-milk all over my pants and right foot. and he just looks up at me and grins. the little rascal.
3. i lost two pounds since last week. which is awesome. although i'm sitting here typing and stuffing my face with peanut m&ms.
4. i got a new phone. for those of you that know me and my attatchment to my old phone, this is SHOCKING news. i've had the same old broken cracked po-dunk phone now for four years. and i really didn't want to get rid of it. i called it Old Trusty. but Mike got a new awesome interwebs capable phone and i got one for free so.... yeah. i only accepted the new phone on the condition that we give Old Trusty a proper Viking Funeral. you know, the old phone in a shoe box, floating down a river, all aflame. Rest in Peace my old friend.
5. my new phone is so awesome i want to make sweet sweet love making with it. or at least just cuddle it. probably just cuddle. don't want to put the moves on my new phone too quickly, can't have it thinking i'm a technology whore.
6. i'm a very specific kind of telepathic. i can somehow, magically, tell what my husband wants to eat for lunch the next day, without him telling me, and i will eat it before he gets a chance to. then he will accuse me of "sabotaging" his lunchings, and i will deny his allegations, and then i'll make plans to eat something else and inevitably he will tell me after i've masticated it that he had deliberate plans to eat it. it's a talent. Mike's awfully cute when he threatens to divorce me over little things like that.
7. i've started having a cup of coffee a day. i've joined millions of Americans and have purchased a coffee maker machine technology apparatus. i now drug myself everyday. i made this decision after several nights of waking up wayyyyyyy too often to soothe a crying child. specifically last night. he woke up EVERY HOUR AND A HALF. it was beyond ridiculous. my son loves me.
8. Mike destroyed yet ANOTHER pair of my glasses this week. my favorite sunglasses. that's why i call him the destroyer. he dances joyfully in my tears.
9. it's been nearly a month since my son has Ninja Peed on me. SUCCESS!!!!!
10. birthdays aren't supposed to suck. it still feels like i haven't had one. Mike insisted that his was no big deal this year, which makes me feel kind of stupid and childish for getting so excited about mine. i didn't even get a cupcake.
and y'all KNOW how i feel about cupcakes.
however.
this year, Birthiversary Sucked Ass. i very nearly died. it was nearly a class 7 catastrophe. oh yeah. and Mike almost kicked off too.
i decided on the 7th to get some Wendy's for Mike and I for lunch; spicy chicken sandwiches - Mike's favorite thing to get at Wendy's. i returned home from the restaurant triumphant, feeling all high and mighty and like the Best Wife Ever for getting Mike something delicious and surprising him.
we ate lunch. i had gotten some chicken nuggets in addition to my sandwich. (enter ominous death music)
i ate one... it tasted funny. like the oil it had been cooked in was at least 8 months old and tainted with metal shavings. but somehow, i muscled through eating the rest of them, save one, which i pressured Mike into eating.
after we ate, Mike went back to work. i spent the next four hours feeling nauseated and having the familar urge to barf and barf thoroughly. Mike got home that evening, i handed off the child, and commenced to spraying the toilet bowl with my innards. this contined for several hours, me barfing, Mike making fun of me, telling me that i have a weak constitution and that i should toughen up, me barfing some more, me barfing into a bucket whilst breastfeeding my son (which takes a certain measure of finesse so as not to vomit on the child), Mike still making fun of me, and me barfing like a champ.
i got the boy in bed, and i had stopped spewing so i went to bed. after all, we had to fly out the next day. then Mike got sick. very loudly. for several hours. HAHAHAHHAHA. i was totally sympathetic while he was ralphing, but now it is hilarious. that's what he gets for taunting me and pointing and laughing while my diseased insides were exploding out of my mouth.
the next day, tired, dehydrated and weak, we hopped on the plane. then we hopped on another plane. sat on the tarmac for an hour before it decided to take off, then hopped on another plane. we got in around 1 am. it was STUPID how tired we were.
the next day, my birthday, we went to my Great Grandmother's funeral. we spent all day it seemed like traveling in a tiny car. with no air conditioning. hell, with no air anything. just 6 people in a tiny sedan, moist, stuffy, cramped, and i got car sick. i felt like death warmed over all day.
the next day was our anniversary. we spent the day having our flight delayed, flying all day, and spending a three hour lay-over in Atlanta.
Ronin was an angel, of course, during all of this. thank God. because i think i might have had to disembowel myself with a sharpened rubix cube if he had been all sick and screamy.
but the trip eventually ended, we got back to Retard-o-Georgia and life is better now.
next year, Birthiversary Week better rock.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. the most terrifying supernatural creature is the Werekitten. you know, like a werewolf but it's a kitten. a werekitten. think about it. one minute it's all "i'm cute and fluffy and batting your strings around" and the next it's ripping your limps from your bloody stump of a body and laughing madly in the moonlight. terrifying.
2. Ronin Sneaky Puked me today. i was carrying him around and we were singing silly songs and all of the sudden there's a fountain of used-to-be-milk all over my pants and right foot. and he just looks up at me and grins. the little rascal.
3. i lost two pounds since last week. which is awesome. although i'm sitting here typing and stuffing my face with peanut m&ms.
4. i got a new phone. for those of you that know me and my attatchment to my old phone, this is SHOCKING news. i've had the same old broken cracked po-dunk phone now for four years. and i really didn't want to get rid of it. i called it Old Trusty. but Mike got a new awesome interwebs capable phone and i got one for free so.... yeah. i only accepted the new phone on the condition that we give Old Trusty a proper Viking Funeral. you know, the old phone in a shoe box, floating down a river, all aflame. Rest in Peace my old friend.
5. my new phone is so awesome i want to make sweet sweet love making with it. or at least just cuddle it. probably just cuddle. don't want to put the moves on my new phone too quickly, can't have it thinking i'm a technology whore.
6. i'm a very specific kind of telepathic. i can somehow, magically, tell what my husband wants to eat for lunch the next day, without him telling me, and i will eat it before he gets a chance to. then he will accuse me of "sabotaging" his lunchings, and i will deny his allegations, and then i'll make plans to eat something else and inevitably he will tell me after i've masticated it that he had deliberate plans to eat it. it's a talent. Mike's awfully cute when he threatens to divorce me over little things like that.
7. i've started having a cup of coffee a day. i've joined millions of Americans and have purchased a coffee maker machine technology apparatus. i now drug myself everyday. i made this decision after several nights of waking up wayyyyyyy too often to soothe a crying child. specifically last night. he woke up EVERY HOUR AND A HALF. it was beyond ridiculous. my son loves me.
8. Mike destroyed yet ANOTHER pair of my glasses this week. my favorite sunglasses. that's why i call him the destroyer. he dances joyfully in my tears.
9. it's been nearly a month since my son has Ninja Peed on me. SUCCESS!!!!!
10. birthdays aren't supposed to suck. it still feels like i haven't had one. Mike insisted that his was no big deal this year, which makes me feel kind of stupid and childish for getting so excited about mine. i didn't even get a cupcake.
and y'all KNOW how i feel about cupcakes.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
you're about as subtle as a flying brick
so i'm watching this new show, True Blood and .... i'm on the second season and it's gettin' weird.
also, i've noticed that since i started watching it my southern drawl comes out a lot more often. this is inconvenient as i have dedicated years to insisting that i don't, in fact, have an accent.
Wendy's tried to assasinate me today. With a spicy chicken sandwich. and poison nuggets. i've felt like puking for hours now with no end in sight. i don't feel like eating ever again. *time lapse* i just barfed twice and now my mouth tastes like raw-chicken-rancid-hot-dog-salmonella.
gross.
also, i've noticed that since i started watching it my southern drawl comes out a lot more often. this is inconvenient as i have dedicated years to insisting that i don't, in fact, have an accent.
Wendy's tried to assasinate me today. With a spicy chicken sandwich. and poison nuggets. i've felt like puking for hours now with no end in sight. i don't feel like eating ever again. *time lapse* i just barfed twice and now my mouth tastes like raw-chicken-rancid-hot-dog-salmonella.
gross.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
sharing... it's a rule now...
5 imaginary bucks to the first person that knows where that comes from. and sorry, Michael, you can't play.
i love that after two years of marriage, Mike and i are still having fun. we still find interesting ways to entertain ourselves and make each other laugh.
like last night when i declared that the entire king size bed was mine, and then he attempted to smother me with pillows and the quilt, and i fought back with Merciless Tickles until we were both just exhausted and giggly.
you know you've made a Good Life Decision when you find it difficult to sleep because you keep thinking about the Pillow Fight you've just had and you keep bursting out in fits of chuckles.
you're never too old for Pillow Fights.
Some of my Favorite Words and Phrases:
1) Pants. when my little sister and i were in our glorious teenage years, we came up with some WEIRD stuff. and one of our favorite things to chant was; Warm... Clean... PANTS.
2) Paradigm. it makes me feel like maybe i'm not a doofus when i use this word, so i try and use it a lot. example: i'm not sure that a pineapple is the best thing to be shoving into our car's fuel tank; we may want to reevaluate our decision-making paradigm.
3) What a Fortuitous Boon. it's just a super fancy way of saying "hooray, i win at life today!"
4) Zanzibar. try not to smile after saying Zanzibar. you can't do it can you? i feel acomplished when i say it. like i'm actually doing something constructive with my life.
i'm turning 26 on Thursday and.... i'm mini-panicking. i'm pretty sure this officially makes me a Twenty Something and i don't exactly know how i feel about that. it freaks me out possibly even more that my little sister will be 24. geez. where is the time going? my son is already half a year old....
i played some poker tonight, and i guess i did ok. it didn't win, but of the 7 of us that were playing, i hung in there until it was me and just one other dude. i went all in on the last hand, and i HAD HIM until the last card came down on the river and his pair ended up beating out my pair. rough luck. i'm proud of myself though. i NEVER play poker, i don't know/remember all the rules, and for half of the game i was playing with/feeding/nursing my son. so..... not too shabby.
i'd really like to be funny and entertaining tonight; but the elements have conspired against me. my dear sweet Great-Grandma died today. her funeral is in Portland on my birthday and i'm heading up there with Ronin and hopefully Mike to pay my respects. i'm so grateful that i got to see her again this summer and that she got to meet and hold Ronin. she just lit up with that little boy on her lap. she was 98 and 1/2. she got to see a lot of life; i hope that i am as lucky.
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. my cats are doing.... something weird... under the bed and it sounds like Mutant Giant Termites trying to tiptoe around so as not to be discovered by me and consequently squuzed when i whap them with my folded up step stool i keep for just such Mutant Giant Termite Squooshing.
2. i have a headache. that's been happening more lately...
3. a lady complimented my son's skin this evening... what an interesting compliment. she said she liked the tone of it. he gets that lovely natural tan from his 1/2 Hungarian daddy.
4. all i want for my birthday is to go out to me and Mike's favorite romantical restaurant, and to eat lots and lots of fancy homemade cupcakes and also an ice cream cake from Cold Stone Creamery. which smashes my Diet to all smithereens.
5. saw a news story about a little chubby 10 or so year old girl named Agatha... and it occured to me that her parents are cruel and probably don't love her very much. Agatha. Agatha. poor lass.
6. ah, just figured out what i'd like for my birthday. a Unicorn. named Trevor. preferably with wings.
7. i'll bet that merry go rounds and carousels have inferiority complexes... because real roller coasters are awesome and they just aren't.
8. i need a cupcake. NOW.
9. i was the white trash woman tonight with my darling boy wearing nothing but a diaper and his own drool because it was so damn hot. it was me. i was that white trash woman.
10. fried zucchini is delicious.
i love that after two years of marriage, Mike and i are still having fun. we still find interesting ways to entertain ourselves and make each other laugh.
like last night when i declared that the entire king size bed was mine, and then he attempted to smother me with pillows and the quilt, and i fought back with Merciless Tickles until we were both just exhausted and giggly.
you know you've made a Good Life Decision when you find it difficult to sleep because you keep thinking about the Pillow Fight you've just had and you keep bursting out in fits of chuckles.
you're never too old for Pillow Fights.
Some of my Favorite Words and Phrases:
1) Pants. when my little sister and i were in our glorious teenage years, we came up with some WEIRD stuff. and one of our favorite things to chant was; Warm... Clean... PANTS.
2) Paradigm. it makes me feel like maybe i'm not a doofus when i use this word, so i try and use it a lot. example: i'm not sure that a pineapple is the best thing to be shoving into our car's fuel tank; we may want to reevaluate our decision-making paradigm.
3) What a Fortuitous Boon. it's just a super fancy way of saying "hooray, i win at life today!"
4) Zanzibar. try not to smile after saying Zanzibar. you can't do it can you? i feel acomplished when i say it. like i'm actually doing something constructive with my life.
i'm turning 26 on Thursday and.... i'm mini-panicking. i'm pretty sure this officially makes me a Twenty Something and i don't exactly know how i feel about that. it freaks me out possibly even more that my little sister will be 24. geez. where is the time going? my son is already half a year old....
i played some poker tonight, and i guess i did ok. it didn't win, but of the 7 of us that were playing, i hung in there until it was me and just one other dude. i went all in on the last hand, and i HAD HIM until the last card came down on the river and his pair ended up beating out my pair. rough luck. i'm proud of myself though. i NEVER play poker, i don't know/remember all the rules, and for half of the game i was playing with/feeding/nursing my son. so..... not too shabby.
i'd really like to be funny and entertaining tonight; but the elements have conspired against me. my dear sweet Great-Grandma died today. her funeral is in Portland on my birthday and i'm heading up there with Ronin and hopefully Mike to pay my respects. i'm so grateful that i got to see her again this summer and that she got to meet and hold Ronin. she just lit up with that little boy on her lap. she was 98 and 1/2. she got to see a lot of life; i hope that i am as lucky.
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. my cats are doing.... something weird... under the bed and it sounds like Mutant Giant Termites trying to tiptoe around so as not to be discovered by me and consequently squuzed when i whap them with my folded up step stool i keep for just such Mutant Giant Termite Squooshing.
2. i have a headache. that's been happening more lately...
3. a lady complimented my son's skin this evening... what an interesting compliment. she said she liked the tone of it. he gets that lovely natural tan from his 1/2 Hungarian daddy.
4. all i want for my birthday is to go out to me and Mike's favorite romantical restaurant, and to eat lots and lots of fancy homemade cupcakes and also an ice cream cake from Cold Stone Creamery. which smashes my Diet to all smithereens.
5. saw a news story about a little chubby 10 or so year old girl named Agatha... and it occured to me that her parents are cruel and probably don't love her very much. Agatha. Agatha. poor lass.
6. ah, just figured out what i'd like for my birthday. a Unicorn. named Trevor. preferably with wings.
7. i'll bet that merry go rounds and carousels have inferiority complexes... because real roller coasters are awesome and they just aren't.
8. i need a cupcake. NOW.
9. i was the white trash woman tonight with my darling boy wearing nothing but a diaper and his own drool because it was so damn hot. it was me. i was that white trash woman.
10. fried zucchini is delicious.
Monday, August 30, 2010
let's just grab some 2 dollar panties and get out of here
i have been totally remiss in my duties since i left on vacation two weeks ago.
i apologize.
there have just been so many hijinks that i haven't had the ..... collected sanity to write. i've felt like a laughing eyes-glazed porcelain wombat. just sitting there, a little furry lump in the throws of hysterics.
take Friday night for example.
we decided to travel back to Georgia in two days instead of attempting the 9 hour drive during the night like we did when we drove up. we figured we'd drive halfway, stop for the night, then finish up the drive on saturday.
it went..... well, it went.
infants are NOT designed for extended automobile travel. they're just not wired for it. i know this because Ronin's poop/vomit/pee stream frequency increases dramatically when we drive for more than an hour at a time. i take this as him telling me that i'm a terrible horrible individual and this is what i get for subjecting my angel child to a torture so base and degenerate as this.
also he screams.... and cries... and screams.
so we pulled into some place... Rocky Mount, Mount Rock, Rocking Mountain... something around 6pm-ish. we were tired. we were hungry. we were frustrated because we'd been having a rough time trying to keep the Wunderkind happy during the first leg of our trip.
we headed into a "Texas Steakhouse" type establishment. i took the Screecher into the bathroom and proceeded to change his pee pants. he cried bloody murder so that everyone in the restaurant and the adjoining hotel would know just exactly how displeased he was at the moment.
i got him changed, mike and the babe and i sat down and had dinner, and things looked up after that.
we stole, nay hijacked, a romantic evening.
aparently, there was some Romantic Weekend Getaway thing going on at said adjoining hotel that we decided to stay at. we booked a room, grabbed our essential travel things, and headed up to the room.
*interjection*
Mike explained to me that he is so romantic that he doesn't plan romantic evenings, he steals them from other people; often unbeknownst to them, and usually unbeknownst to himself as well.
*end interjection*
we walked into the room and we were very surprised at what we saw. there were tons of rose petals covering the bed, they were all over the floor and nightstands, and on one of the nightstands there were two glasses and a bottle of sparkling red grape juice on ice.
SURPRISE ROMANTIC GETAWAY ROOM!!!
we asked the dude that brought up a courtesy crib for the Young Prince about the room and what was up wit' dat, and he said he didn't know.
it was an awesome serendipitous High Five from the Universe.
we got the Little Angel to bed, poured us some bubbly and settled down onto the bepetaled bed to read and be snuggly.
it was an awesome night, aside from the couple that came knocking at the door a bit later in the night all upset cuz we got the awesome room cuz the hotel screwed up in our favor.
and we got a military discount.
and we got free breakfast.
and i forgot my little neck pillow, Little Guy 3.0 in the hotel room. a fact i didn't realize until this morning.
i forced my wonderful husband to take me to Bed Bath and Beyond to get a replacement this evening.
i promise that i won't lose Little Guy 4.0
he will NOT be leaving the house to go on vacations with me anymore.
now if i can only beg my wonderful mommy to make me yet another pillowcase for it....
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. My son is so clearly a superior child. he already has me and Mike all figured out and knows how to get what he wants. clever boy...
2. i think my cats missed me. they seem to have gone feral since we went on vacation.... the house was TORN UP when we got home on Saturday. they chewed through all of the baby bottle nipples, they peed on the floors, they somehow got poo on both the counters and the stairs, they ate/shredded our toilet paper, and they spilled the contents of the bathroom trash cans on the floor.... as if to say "welcome home morons. thanks for abandoning us. again. jackasses."
3. i gained two pounds over two weeks. blerg.
4. i dyed my hair dark brown again. gotta put the "winter colors" back on. plus, it helps hide my bald spot.
5. ladies, don't let your husband cut your hair. even if you feel that you've screwed it up so badly that no alteration that he makes could possibly detract from the damage you've already inflicted upon your hairdo. it's a mistake. don't let them near the scissors. there are some times when "help" isn't "help" and this is one of them.
6. let's just get some $2.00 panties and get out of here...
7. Ronin's on his third pair of jammies for tonight. i wish he would just stop barfing up and go to sleep already. i'm running out of clean jammies.
8. so Mike said "perhaps you should write about that brilliant thing you did the other day"... and neither him nor i can think of what that brilliant thing, or ANY brilliant thing that i've done was/is. that's pretty sad.
9. i took a shower earlier in the day. i went into my bedroom. i put clothes on. i dried my hair some... and then i opened my door to go back downstairs and there in the doorway are my two cats, my male kitty in the act of humping my female kitty. they both looked up at me as if to say "um, do ya mind?"... i said "well exCUSE ME", circumvented them, and went about my business feeling a bit violated myself.
10. To the guy at Charlotte Russe in VA who was wearing the blue polo, khakis, drawn on eyebrows, and 6 pounds of bright pink blush: COOL IT with the make up. we get it. you just want to feel "pretty". but come on, put on some bronzer, maybe pencil in a TOUCH of eyebrow color, perchance a bit of lip gloss just for kicks, but there is NO NEED for the Tammy Faye Baker mask. it's not charming.
i apologize.
there have just been so many hijinks that i haven't had the ..... collected sanity to write. i've felt like a laughing eyes-glazed porcelain wombat. just sitting there, a little furry lump in the throws of hysterics.
take Friday night for example.
we decided to travel back to Georgia in two days instead of attempting the 9 hour drive during the night like we did when we drove up. we figured we'd drive halfway, stop for the night, then finish up the drive on saturday.
it went..... well, it went.
infants are NOT designed for extended automobile travel. they're just not wired for it. i know this because Ronin's poop/vomit/pee stream frequency increases dramatically when we drive for more than an hour at a time. i take this as him telling me that i'm a terrible horrible individual and this is what i get for subjecting my angel child to a torture so base and degenerate as this.
also he screams.... and cries... and screams.
so we pulled into some place... Rocky Mount, Mount Rock, Rocking Mountain... something around 6pm-ish. we were tired. we were hungry. we were frustrated because we'd been having a rough time trying to keep the Wunderkind happy during the first leg of our trip.
we headed into a "Texas Steakhouse" type establishment. i took the Screecher into the bathroom and proceeded to change his pee pants. he cried bloody murder so that everyone in the restaurant and the adjoining hotel would know just exactly how displeased he was at the moment.
i got him changed, mike and the babe and i sat down and had dinner, and things looked up after that.
we stole, nay hijacked, a romantic evening.
aparently, there was some Romantic Weekend Getaway thing going on at said adjoining hotel that we decided to stay at. we booked a room, grabbed our essential travel things, and headed up to the room.
*interjection*
Mike explained to me that he is so romantic that he doesn't plan romantic evenings, he steals them from other people; often unbeknownst to them, and usually unbeknownst to himself as well.
*end interjection*
we walked into the room and we were very surprised at what we saw. there were tons of rose petals covering the bed, they were all over the floor and nightstands, and on one of the nightstands there were two glasses and a bottle of sparkling red grape juice on ice.
SURPRISE ROMANTIC GETAWAY ROOM!!!
we asked the dude that brought up a courtesy crib for the Young Prince about the room and what was up wit' dat, and he said he didn't know.
it was an awesome serendipitous High Five from the Universe.
we got the Little Angel to bed, poured us some bubbly and settled down onto the bepetaled bed to read and be snuggly.
it was an awesome night, aside from the couple that came knocking at the door a bit later in the night all upset cuz we got the awesome room cuz the hotel screwed up in our favor.
and we got a military discount.
and we got free breakfast.
and i forgot my little neck pillow, Little Guy 3.0 in the hotel room. a fact i didn't realize until this morning.
i forced my wonderful husband to take me to Bed Bath and Beyond to get a replacement this evening.
i promise that i won't lose Little Guy 4.0
he will NOT be leaving the house to go on vacations with me anymore.
now if i can only beg my wonderful mommy to make me yet another pillowcase for it....
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. My son is so clearly a superior child. he already has me and Mike all figured out and knows how to get what he wants. clever boy...
2. i think my cats missed me. they seem to have gone feral since we went on vacation.... the house was TORN UP when we got home on Saturday. they chewed through all of the baby bottle nipples, they peed on the floors, they somehow got poo on both the counters and the stairs, they ate/shredded our toilet paper, and they spilled the contents of the bathroom trash cans on the floor.... as if to say "welcome home morons. thanks for abandoning us. again. jackasses."
3. i gained two pounds over two weeks. blerg.
4. i dyed my hair dark brown again. gotta put the "winter colors" back on. plus, it helps hide my bald spot.
5. ladies, don't let your husband cut your hair. even if you feel that you've screwed it up so badly that no alteration that he makes could possibly detract from the damage you've already inflicted upon your hairdo. it's a mistake. don't let them near the scissors. there are some times when "help" isn't "help" and this is one of them.
6. let's just get some $2.00 panties and get out of here...
7. Ronin's on his third pair of jammies for tonight. i wish he would just stop barfing up and go to sleep already. i'm running out of clean jammies.
8. so Mike said "perhaps you should write about that brilliant thing you did the other day"... and neither him nor i can think of what that brilliant thing, or ANY brilliant thing that i've done was/is. that's pretty sad.
9. i took a shower earlier in the day. i went into my bedroom. i put clothes on. i dried my hair some... and then i opened my door to go back downstairs and there in the doorway are my two cats, my male kitty in the act of humping my female kitty. they both looked up at me as if to say "um, do ya mind?"... i said "well exCUSE ME", circumvented them, and went about my business feeling a bit violated myself.
10. To the guy at Charlotte Russe in VA who was wearing the blue polo, khakis, drawn on eyebrows, and 6 pounds of bright pink blush: COOL IT with the make up. we get it. you just want to feel "pretty". but come on, put on some bronzer, maybe pencil in a TOUCH of eyebrow color, perchance a bit of lip gloss just for kicks, but there is NO NEED for the Tammy Faye Baker mask. it's not charming.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
romance, swordfish, and matching workout tennis shoes.
my husband is possibly the most romantic man i have ever met.
kudos to me for snatching him up when i did.
we went on a date this week, leaving the young prince at Mike's parents' house so that we could frolick about and be ridiculous without looking like crack-adled slacker-parents.
it was a magical night....
we boarded the metro to go into DC with the intent to "be adventurous, find a random restaurant, and just see what happens."
Mike said that he wanted to play Hide and Seek D.C.
Hide and Seek D.C. is where Mike pushes me out of a moving Metro train, and he continues traipsing about around D.C.'s greater Metro area. I play by either:
A: trying to find/catch up with Mike while he runs around having a pleasant evening
B: become Queen of the Bums as I make friends with all the homeless people i see, eventually giving up the game and succumbing to my new lot in life as the Leader of the Vagrants.
or C: i walk home dejectedly on foot. possibly hitchiking. and definitely sweating too much for comfort.
i told him that i'd rather not play that game.
we got to D.C., found ourselves a random restaurant, sat down at a delightful table across from a large beam that obscured our view, and proceeded to "be ourselves".
the rest of the night went as follows:
we took 20 minutes to order because the menu was considerably confusing, a tad pricey, and we had no idea what wine pairing would possibly go with Swordfish on a bed of sweet potato chunks and barbeque sauce.
Our poor waiter was so patient with us....
we decided to get three kinds of wine each; mike would get three white, i'd get three red, and we'd swap and see what we liked.
the waiter asked for our IDs and while Mike handed over his, i sat there blissfully smiling and staring off into the proverbial cosmos.......
i eventually snapped out of it and realized that i hadn't brought my ID with me. it then took me another minute to realize that that meant i wouldn't be getting any wine.
i proceeded to promise the waiter that i was in fact 25 years of age, and that i'd had a kid, and i'd even show him my c-section scar if that would help prove that i was over 21.
he looked repulsed, but he was a pro so you'd never know that he probably had just thrown up in his mouth.
he smiled sheepishly, mumbled something about getting in trouble if someone saw me drinking without him verifying my age, and told Mike he'd bring him his three white wines right away.
dinner wore on, i snuck my wine anyway, we ate swordfish, we made distorted faces at each other, we hiccuped, we laughed too loud, and Mike threw his fist in the air and loudly proclaimed "ROMANCE!!".
the people at the tables near us weren't having as good a time as we were. i know because they kept looking over at us all jealous and junk.
or maybe they just wished we'd settle down and be respectable adults. we were, after all, in a pretty swanky restaurant.
i mean, we were eating swordfish for crying out loud.
tonight we went to the Cheesecake Factory with my In-Laws. Mike and I sat at the table and sang that Hootie and the Blowfish song to each other; you know, the one about how "i'm such a baby, girl, the dolphins make me cry". Ronin..... our Slimeysaurus ....... magically turned into a Raging Screaming Destroyer of Worlds though. we had to kind of hurry dinner and take turns walking around with His Highness in order to satiate his need to be entertained.
The Roaring Drooling One is now sound asleep in his crib on his tummy, drooling away with his little pajamma'd butt up in the air. it's pretty much the cutest thing ever.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. it's never a good idea when you're introducing yourself to a group of people for the first time to use the word "semen" in reference to how your parents were in Japan when The Bomb was dropped and how technically you were there too... because you were semen. creepy wink.
2. i love when Mike play-yells at me. like when he tells me to "GET IN THE CAR"... or how when i tell him that i don't want to have donuts for breakfast and then he yells "THEN YOU WILL STARVE!!". it makes me giggle everytime. this is yet another way that Mike is the most romantic man i've ever met.
3. i think it's sad that i'm only on number 3 and i'm straining my brain for additional Bedtime Thoughts. sheesh i am losing it.
4. so speaking of losing it, i've lost quite a bit of hair. i made the tragic mistake of looking in the mirror after i got out of the shower, and i have this LARGE patch of spotty hair growth that covers a considerable area near the left side of my face. yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
5. i bought some clothes today that i feel prety in. it's been a LONG while since i've felt pretty. and now i do. even though i'll soon be as hairless as Dr. Evil
6. we should all use the phrase "teeming with hippos" more often in casual conversation. example: "why aren't you eating your cereal, Margaret?" "it tastes funny" "well no wonder, Margaret, it's Teeming With HIPPOS."
7. i think it's cute when gay guys buy matching gym shoes... i saw a couple wearing them and it made me smile.
8. the expression "like taking candy from a baby" doesn't make sense to me. who gave the baby candy? babies shouldn't be eating candy. so taking candy from a baby should be considered to be a good thing. so i applaud those that take candy from babies.
9. my mother in law is asleep in her recliner in the living room.... do i wake her up so she can go upstairs to bed once i finish this? or do i let her sleep because waking her might make her understandably aggitated? oh god. now THAT's a dilemma.
10. please leave me suggestions for topics to write about. i've been.... distracted and busy since i've been on vacation and i think that if i have some direction from y'all that it might kick my rear in gear and get me to write more frequently.
kudos to me for snatching him up when i did.
we went on a date this week, leaving the young prince at Mike's parents' house so that we could frolick about and be ridiculous without looking like crack-adled slacker-parents.
it was a magical night....
we boarded the metro to go into DC with the intent to "be adventurous, find a random restaurant, and just see what happens."
Mike said that he wanted to play Hide and Seek D.C.
Hide and Seek D.C. is where Mike pushes me out of a moving Metro train, and he continues traipsing about around D.C.'s greater Metro area. I play by either:
A: trying to find/catch up with Mike while he runs around having a pleasant evening
B: become Queen of the Bums as I make friends with all the homeless people i see, eventually giving up the game and succumbing to my new lot in life as the Leader of the Vagrants.
or C: i walk home dejectedly on foot. possibly hitchiking. and definitely sweating too much for comfort.
i told him that i'd rather not play that game.
we got to D.C., found ourselves a random restaurant, sat down at a delightful table across from a large beam that obscured our view, and proceeded to "be ourselves".
the rest of the night went as follows:
we took 20 minutes to order because the menu was considerably confusing, a tad pricey, and we had no idea what wine pairing would possibly go with Swordfish on a bed of sweet potato chunks and barbeque sauce.
Our poor waiter was so patient with us....
we decided to get three kinds of wine each; mike would get three white, i'd get three red, and we'd swap and see what we liked.
the waiter asked for our IDs and while Mike handed over his, i sat there blissfully smiling and staring off into the proverbial cosmos.......
i eventually snapped out of it and realized that i hadn't brought my ID with me. it then took me another minute to realize that that meant i wouldn't be getting any wine.
i proceeded to promise the waiter that i was in fact 25 years of age, and that i'd had a kid, and i'd even show him my c-section scar if that would help prove that i was over 21.
he looked repulsed, but he was a pro so you'd never know that he probably had just thrown up in his mouth.
he smiled sheepishly, mumbled something about getting in trouble if someone saw me drinking without him verifying my age, and told Mike he'd bring him his three white wines right away.
dinner wore on, i snuck my wine anyway, we ate swordfish, we made distorted faces at each other, we hiccuped, we laughed too loud, and Mike threw his fist in the air and loudly proclaimed "ROMANCE!!".
the people at the tables near us weren't having as good a time as we were. i know because they kept looking over at us all jealous and junk.
or maybe they just wished we'd settle down and be respectable adults. we were, after all, in a pretty swanky restaurant.
i mean, we were eating swordfish for crying out loud.
tonight we went to the Cheesecake Factory with my In-Laws. Mike and I sat at the table and sang that Hootie and the Blowfish song to each other; you know, the one about how "i'm such a baby, girl, the dolphins make me cry". Ronin..... our Slimeysaurus ....... magically turned into a Raging Screaming Destroyer of Worlds though. we had to kind of hurry dinner and take turns walking around with His Highness in order to satiate his need to be entertained.
The Roaring Drooling One is now sound asleep in his crib on his tummy, drooling away with his little pajamma'd butt up in the air. it's pretty much the cutest thing ever.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. it's never a good idea when you're introducing yourself to a group of people for the first time to use the word "semen" in reference to how your parents were in Japan when The Bomb was dropped and how technically you were there too... because you were semen. creepy wink.
2. i love when Mike play-yells at me. like when he tells me to "GET IN THE CAR"... or how when i tell him that i don't want to have donuts for breakfast and then he yells "THEN YOU WILL STARVE!!". it makes me giggle everytime. this is yet another way that Mike is the most romantic man i've ever met.
3. i think it's sad that i'm only on number 3 and i'm straining my brain for additional Bedtime Thoughts. sheesh i am losing it.
4. so speaking of losing it, i've lost quite a bit of hair. i made the tragic mistake of looking in the mirror after i got out of the shower, and i have this LARGE patch of spotty hair growth that covers a considerable area near the left side of my face. yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
5. i bought some clothes today that i feel prety in. it's been a LONG while since i've felt pretty. and now i do. even though i'll soon be as hairless as Dr. Evil
6. we should all use the phrase "teeming with hippos" more often in casual conversation. example: "why aren't you eating your cereal, Margaret?" "it tastes funny" "well no wonder, Margaret, it's Teeming With HIPPOS."
7. i think it's cute when gay guys buy matching gym shoes... i saw a couple wearing them and it made me smile.
8. the expression "like taking candy from a baby" doesn't make sense to me. who gave the baby candy? babies shouldn't be eating candy. so taking candy from a baby should be considered to be a good thing. so i applaud those that take candy from babies.
9. my mother in law is asleep in her recliner in the living room.... do i wake her up so she can go upstairs to bed once i finish this? or do i let her sleep because waking her might make her understandably aggitated? oh god. now THAT's a dilemma.
10. please leave me suggestions for topics to write about. i've been.... distracted and busy since i've been on vacation and i think that if i have some direction from y'all that it might kick my rear in gear and get me to write more frequently.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
i don't exactly feel like flowers, fluff and unicorns tonight.
it's been... a day.
today can best be described by the following;
sometimes i feel like a volatile supervillain. usually, i'm my mild mannered alter-ego, Normal Mom. i go about my day, lovingly taking care of my child and being so sweet and supportive to my husband, doing little things around the house being all Plain Jane-y.
but after several weeks/months of this, something changes and the cracks start to show.
i continue to be Normal Mom and strain to keep the pieces of my calm alter-ego facade in tact until i just cain't no more.
and then i explode into B*tchy Kapow!
like today...
things just piled up and piled up... little things, nothing big, but it all added up and it was too much. so i dealt with it the best way i knew how.
it began after dinner. i was walking out to my car with Mike and i saw a stupid grimey blonde hoodlum LEANING AGAINST MY CAR and smoking. my eyebrow twitched and that was it. i lost it. i yelled at the punk to get the fuck off of my car. he mumbled "sorry" and stumbled away.
i felt so liberated, so free. so empowered. so deliciously bitchy. i can now understand why chicks are such meanie-heads, such bitches; it gives you such a high when you're yelling at delinquents with your eyes all bloodshot and junk.
i still have feelings of explode-o-rage, but i'm holding it in. i may or may not have, but definitely did lose my resolve a bit tonight and i had a set-back..... mentally. i won't go into any detail on that. let's just say that i'm not ready to be off of my Zoloft yet, and maybe i shouldn't have cut my dosage in half so soon.
sorry this post wasn't too funny, but i really don't feel like imparting levity tonight. i'm kind of disappointed in myself. on the other hand though, i feel free and mischievious and liberated.
my head is such a messed up place. i need a summer home for my brain.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. The Other Guys was a very... different comedy and very good.
2. There needs to be a Mosquito Holocaust. also a Skunk Holocaust. Possibly a Cockroach Holocaust.
3. The girl sitting next to me at the movie theatre tonight smelled really good. i found myself sniffing in her direction several times over the duration of the movie and wondering if i should ask her what her perfume is called and where she got it.
4. i'm curious to find out if Amaretto and Vanilla Silk would be good; but Mike guilt tripped me out of trying it and now i'm unjustifiably bitter.
5. i dislike when i'm trying to type and people keep asking me questions. it takes ALL of my powers of concentration to put the right fingers to the right keys and to spludge together semi-coherant sentences, and ANY disruption in my focus shoots it all to hell.
6. i'm feeling a MILLION pressures to be skinny again. sigh. it's amazing how many of my actions or non-actions are motivated by guilt and shame.
7. i think i'm going to start planning ahead and mapping out my New Year's Resolutions for the end of this year.
8. i would love to try liposuction, but i have no faith in it. i fully expect that if i spend my life savings on getting my fat sucked out of my jiggly thighs, that the difference would be less than noticeable and that they would regain their puffy bloatedness within the week.
9. armadillos = not cute.
10. i stole a glass from Cheeburger Cheeburger. Mike broke the last one that i'd swiped so i had to replace it. it was my favorite, favorite glass. Mike is not allowed to touch this new one.
today can best be described by the following;
sometimes i feel like a volatile supervillain. usually, i'm my mild mannered alter-ego, Normal Mom. i go about my day, lovingly taking care of my child and being so sweet and supportive to my husband, doing little things around the house being all Plain Jane-y.
but after several weeks/months of this, something changes and the cracks start to show.
i continue to be Normal Mom and strain to keep the pieces of my calm alter-ego facade in tact until i just cain't no more.
and then i explode into B*tchy Kapow!
like today...
things just piled up and piled up... little things, nothing big, but it all added up and it was too much. so i dealt with it the best way i knew how.
it began after dinner. i was walking out to my car with Mike and i saw a stupid grimey blonde hoodlum LEANING AGAINST MY CAR and smoking. my eyebrow twitched and that was it. i lost it. i yelled at the punk to get the fuck off of my car. he mumbled "sorry" and stumbled away.
i felt so liberated, so free. so empowered. so deliciously bitchy. i can now understand why chicks are such meanie-heads, such bitches; it gives you such a high when you're yelling at delinquents with your eyes all bloodshot and junk.
i still have feelings of explode-o-rage, but i'm holding it in. i may or may not have, but definitely did lose my resolve a bit tonight and i had a set-back..... mentally. i won't go into any detail on that. let's just say that i'm not ready to be off of my Zoloft yet, and maybe i shouldn't have cut my dosage in half so soon.
sorry this post wasn't too funny, but i really don't feel like imparting levity tonight. i'm kind of disappointed in myself. on the other hand though, i feel free and mischievious and liberated.
my head is such a messed up place. i need a summer home for my brain.
Krista's Thoughts Before Bedtime:
1. The Other Guys was a very... different comedy and very good.
2. There needs to be a Mosquito Holocaust. also a Skunk Holocaust. Possibly a Cockroach Holocaust.
3. The girl sitting next to me at the movie theatre tonight smelled really good. i found myself sniffing in her direction several times over the duration of the movie and wondering if i should ask her what her perfume is called and where she got it.
4. i'm curious to find out if Amaretto and Vanilla Silk would be good; but Mike guilt tripped me out of trying it and now i'm unjustifiably bitter.
5. i dislike when i'm trying to type and people keep asking me questions. it takes ALL of my powers of concentration to put the right fingers to the right keys and to spludge together semi-coherant sentences, and ANY disruption in my focus shoots it all to hell.
6. i'm feeling a MILLION pressures to be skinny again. sigh. it's amazing how many of my actions or non-actions are motivated by guilt and shame.
7. i think i'm going to start planning ahead and mapping out my New Year's Resolutions for the end of this year.
8. i would love to try liposuction, but i have no faith in it. i fully expect that if i spend my life savings on getting my fat sucked out of my jiggly thighs, that the difference would be less than noticeable and that they would regain their puffy bloatedness within the week.
9. armadillos = not cute.
10. i stole a glass from Cheeburger Cheeburger. Mike broke the last one that i'd swiped so i had to replace it. it was my favorite, favorite glass. Mike is not allowed to touch this new one.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Krista's 12 Step Guide to a Happy and Blissful Life
I tell you what. life after Cupcakes just isn't much of a life at all. I felt the Yearning again today. maybe I just shouldn't watch TV anymore because it is riddled with delicious temptation trigger-words.
so I do this thing when I'm trying to come up with things to write about where i just think up random words in order to jolt myself into being "inspired". tonight's effort wasn't too fruitful. here are the first couple of ideas that i came up with;
raspberries.
cupcakes.
fruit bats.
things that "seemed like a good idea at the time".
Krista's Guide to a Happy Life.
hmm. actually, that last one doesn't seem too terribly bland. let's do it!!
Krista's 12 Step Guide to a Happy and Blissful Life
By: Krista
1) Cut all of your hair off and enjoy a Mohawk at least once in your life. Spike it up so tall that you'll have to scruntch down in your car while driving so that you can avoid squooshing it. the Mohawk will give you 38,643% more confident Confidence and, if worn to a hopping party along with rainbow/plaid shorts and a hot top, will guarantee the spark of a lasting and possibly marital relationship. Trust me.
2) Drive with your left leg out the window as often as you can. However, make sure that you stretch so that A: you don't pull a hammie, and B: you can quickly retract the leg when you see the Po-Pos in your rear view mirror. Because you WILL see the Po-Pos in your rear-view mirror.
3) Eat AS MANY CUPCAKES AS YOU CAN before you hit puberty and your body goes into "whatthefuckishappeningtomeohmygodZIT-CENTRAL" mode. if you have already hit puberty, then my apologies..... have a kiwi?
4) Live Dangerously. If you've never broken a bone, gotten a black eye, had a near-death experience, or stomped in a Fire Ant Bed with reckless abandon, then you are a giant wussie that needs to graduate from wearing Pull-ups and put on your big-kid underroos. Just to be safe, make sure that you break at least 5 bones. And please, do it epically. Your posterity wants exciting stories to listen to. they don't want to hear about how you repeatedly broke your right index finger by slamming it in your car door juuuuuust to get to the recommended Epic 5. Stories with wild animals are good. Ones with explosives, undercover marsupial spies, and strategic wedgie applications are better.
5) Have at least one weird nickname that doesn't seem to fit you at all. HOWEVER, this nickname must be earned (you can't just decide that now everyone must call you Mustard Hammer). Example: my nickname at one point was Foot. i'll let you ponder that one yourselves. and no, it didn't have anything to do with Step 2. Or 4.
6) Marry your best friend. Deal patiently with/Ignore their flaws. Remember that you are, on occasion, an inconsiderate dumbass and that relationships are give and take and even though you may or may not be, but definitely ARE right ALL of the time, sometimes you gotta take one for the team and let your Love Turnip/Cuddly Boop enjoy the feeling of being "correct" about what "that actress's name was in that one thing".
7) Dance Everywhere. Seriously. EVERYWHERE. Wal-mart? Dance. Snow Cone Stand? Dance. Dentist Office? Get down Girl, Go 'head, get down. even if it embarrasses all those that were brave enough to accompany your crazy dancin' ass. who cares? chances are, you'll never see the weirdos that are lurking in the frozen food isle watching you try to do the robot ever again.
8) Go see as many rock bands live in concert as you can. Yell the lyrics. attempt to "mosh". try Crowd Surfing (but only if your wallet is in a safe location and you don't mind being violently, violently violated via numerous tushie/boobie gropes). dance until your legs feel like a mixture of cornstarch and water (SCIENCE WIN!!). Yell/Sing until you have to rely on the American Sign Language that you brushed up on in the car on the way over for your sole means of communication.
9) If you have kids, play with them as much as possible. Don't be afraid to look stupid; they probably think that you're brain damaged already from previous experience. Make weird "would you please just eat your goddamn peas" silly faces. Get down on the ground, roll around with them, make ridiculous noises. If they drool, slobber right back. And don't be afraid to get food/spit/goo on your glasses or have your hair pulled out, even though you're losing your hair at an alarming rate already. And if you don't have kids, have kids.
10) Exercise!!!!! nothing beats a 2 hour trip to the gym, getting all drippy and ripe, and punishing your body- getting that sweet sweet burn that lets you know that you actually DID something today and that those 16 cupcakes you ate the day before surely have to have been metabolized by now. And hey, look at that! You just earned yourself more cupcakes!
11) Call your parents often and tell them that you love them. also, inform them that now that you are a Functioning Responsibility-Champion, that you realize what a brain-dead punk you were when you were younger and still living at home. Also make sure they know that they are Golden Encyclepedias of Knowledge and that you'd be lost without them. Specifically, that you'd be stuck in your kitchen, looking quizzically at a pot of water and 2 eggs, wondering how long it takes to boil them and not have them be all disgusting and play-doh textured once you pull them out of the water. Without your parents, such precious Life and Death questions may go tragically unanswered for the rest of your natural life.
12) Love yourself. if you don't firmly believe that you are awesome, then no one else will think you're awesome either. Well, unless they're into people that frown and schlump about all the time. So give yourself hugs, get a massage every now and again just because you want to, go to Hawaii just for the hell of it and spend waaaaay too much money there, and be bubbly. Talk to everyone you meet like they're an old friend - it's the best way to make old friends.
Questions for My Wonderful Readers (please leave a comment with your answers):
1. did you have any weird fears as a child?
2. if you could grow anything as an additional appendage, what and where would it be?
3. what would you like your dying words to be?
and to answer my own questions...
1. i was afraid of taking a bath with the shower curtain closed. i always had to have it open. that way if anything/one tried to attack me when i was in the vulnerable state of being "moist and lathered" that i could see them approach and i'd have a better chance at survival. I grew up in the Ghetto so my Knock-a-bitch Out Reflex is STRONG. Really. It's true.
2. i'd grow an M&Ms (tm) dispenser out of my right forearm. oh muthalovin YES.
3. i think i'd like to go out yodeling....
so I do this thing when I'm trying to come up with things to write about where i just think up random words in order to jolt myself into being "inspired". tonight's effort wasn't too fruitful. here are the first couple of ideas that i came up with;
raspberries.
cupcakes.
fruit bats.
things that "seemed like a good idea at the time".
Krista's Guide to a Happy Life.
hmm. actually, that last one doesn't seem too terribly bland. let's do it!!
Krista's 12 Step Guide to a Happy and Blissful Life
By: Krista
1) Cut all of your hair off and enjoy a Mohawk at least once in your life. Spike it up so tall that you'll have to scruntch down in your car while driving so that you can avoid squooshing it. the Mohawk will give you 38,643% more confident Confidence and, if worn to a hopping party along with rainbow/plaid shorts and a hot top, will guarantee the spark of a lasting and possibly marital relationship. Trust me.
2) Drive with your left leg out the window as often as you can. However, make sure that you stretch so that A: you don't pull a hammie, and B: you can quickly retract the leg when you see the Po-Pos in your rear view mirror. Because you WILL see the Po-Pos in your rear-view mirror.
3) Eat AS MANY CUPCAKES AS YOU CAN before you hit puberty and your body goes into "whatthefuckishappeningtomeohmygodZIT-CENTRAL" mode. if you have already hit puberty, then my apologies..... have a kiwi?
4) Live Dangerously. If you've never broken a bone, gotten a black eye, had a near-death experience, or stomped in a Fire Ant Bed with reckless abandon, then you are a giant wussie that needs to graduate from wearing Pull-ups and put on your big-kid underroos. Just to be safe, make sure that you break at least 5 bones. And please, do it epically. Your posterity wants exciting stories to listen to. they don't want to hear about how you repeatedly broke your right index finger by slamming it in your car door juuuuuust to get to the recommended Epic 5. Stories with wild animals are good. Ones with explosives, undercover marsupial spies, and strategic wedgie applications are better.
5) Have at least one weird nickname that doesn't seem to fit you at all. HOWEVER, this nickname must be earned (you can't just decide that now everyone must call you Mustard Hammer). Example: my nickname at one point was Foot. i'll let you ponder that one yourselves. and no, it didn't have anything to do with Step 2. Or 4.
6) Marry your best friend. Deal patiently with/Ignore their flaws. Remember that you are, on occasion, an inconsiderate dumbass and that relationships are give and take and even though you may or may not be, but definitely ARE right ALL of the time, sometimes you gotta take one for the team and let your Love Turnip/Cuddly Boop enjoy the feeling of being "correct" about what "that actress's name was in that one thing".
7) Dance Everywhere. Seriously. EVERYWHERE. Wal-mart? Dance. Snow Cone Stand? Dance. Dentist Office? Get down Girl, Go 'head, get down. even if it embarrasses all those that were brave enough to accompany your crazy dancin' ass. who cares? chances are, you'll never see the weirdos that are lurking in the frozen food isle watching you try to do the robot ever again.
8) Go see as many rock bands live in concert as you can. Yell the lyrics. attempt to "mosh". try Crowd Surfing (but only if your wallet is in a safe location and you don't mind being violently, violently violated via numerous tushie/boobie gropes). dance until your legs feel like a mixture of cornstarch and water (SCIENCE WIN!!). Yell/Sing until you have to rely on the American Sign Language that you brushed up on in the car on the way over for your sole means of communication.
9) If you have kids, play with them as much as possible. Don't be afraid to look stupid; they probably think that you're brain damaged already from previous experience. Make weird "would you please just eat your goddamn peas" silly faces. Get down on the ground, roll around with them, make ridiculous noises. If they drool, slobber right back. And don't be afraid to get food/spit/goo on your glasses or have your hair pulled out, even though you're losing your hair at an alarming rate already. And if you don't have kids, have kids.
10) Exercise!!!!! nothing beats a 2 hour trip to the gym, getting all drippy and ripe, and punishing your body- getting that sweet sweet burn that lets you know that you actually DID something today and that those 16 cupcakes you ate the day before surely have to have been metabolized by now. And hey, look at that! You just earned yourself more cupcakes!
11) Call your parents often and tell them that you love them. also, inform them that now that you are a Functioning Responsibility-Champion, that you realize what a brain-dead punk you were when you were younger and still living at home. Also make sure they know that they are Golden Encyclepedias of Knowledge and that you'd be lost without them. Specifically, that you'd be stuck in your kitchen, looking quizzically at a pot of water and 2 eggs, wondering how long it takes to boil them and not have them be all disgusting and play-doh textured once you pull them out of the water. Without your parents, such precious Life and Death questions may go tragically unanswered for the rest of your natural life.
12) Love yourself. if you don't firmly believe that you are awesome, then no one else will think you're awesome either. Well, unless they're into people that frown and schlump about all the time. So give yourself hugs, get a massage every now and again just because you want to, go to Hawaii just for the hell of it and spend waaaaay too much money there, and be bubbly. Talk to everyone you meet like they're an old friend - it's the best way to make old friends.
Questions for My Wonderful Readers (please leave a comment with your answers):
1. did you have any weird fears as a child?
2. if you could grow anything as an additional appendage, what and where would it be?
3. what would you like your dying words to be?
and to answer my own questions...
1. i was afraid of taking a bath with the shower curtain closed. i always had to have it open. that way if anything/one tried to attack me when i was in the vulnerable state of being "moist and lathered" that i could see them approach and i'd have a better chance at survival. I grew up in the Ghetto so my Knock-a-bitch Out Reflex is STRONG. Really. It's true.
2. i'd grow an M&Ms (tm) dispenser out of my right forearm. oh muthalovin YES.
3. i think i'd like to go out yodeling....
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