Category: I’m Crazy (Page 7 of 9)

We had a productive weekend – Friday night, we attended the BotaB3 – Battle of the Ad Bands, 3 – downtown, along with the pre-party that included unlimited beverages, pizza, and Guitar Hero. I did pretty well, though it’s really unnerving to do something familiar (play GH3) while a lot of people are watching you and the photographer is snapping 800 pictures of you.

As my co-worker (and bass player for our company band) put it, “Welcome to playing guitar in a band.” DUR.

Their band is “Love Tusk” and they deliver on what they promise: To rock your face off. I haven’t been so entertained since – I don’t know when! And the three Bacardi & Diet Cokes helped make everything amusing. (James was driving.) Because I :did: need a laugh or six – it had been a pretty grueling day, and I had a joyous project awaiting me at home.

The project, you ask? Tripper diarrhea, everywhere in the big carpeted room downstairs. Oatmeal carpeting, if you’re asking. Light. Not that I’d ignore dog poo and hope future guests would just ignore the lumps, but a darker-colored carpet would have certainly been less stressful. (It came with the house!)

I had gone downstairs Friday morning to grab something from the laundry room – of course, he followed, as it is against his religion to be separated from you if you leave the main floor, and in the two minutes I was down there, he had an Accident of Epic Proportions. Foulness. And I was already running late. So all I could do was fight my gag reflex and shrug – it’s not like the poop was going to roll around by itself. Sigh.

So I bought myself a mack-daddy Bissell on Saturday at Target. I’ve always skimped in the past, gotten some smaller device that promised undeliverable miracles, and since the last device was stolen in the burglary, we’d never replaced it. It hadn’t cleaned the stains anyway. Sigh. Little did I know. I had finally made the right move.

This machine not only got all the diarrhea stain out (and believe-you-me, I went into this project skeptical AND heavily armed: gloves, numerous plastic bags, paper towels). It also got out the 4-year old urine stain from when Polly had peed right in front of the door and we’d unsuccessfully tried to get it out. (We gave up and put a small entry rug over it.) So. I’m happy with it. I did about half the stairs going up to the second level, and I can’t wait to tackle the other stains up there. Joy from a carpet cleaner, crazy, I know! I used their expensive Pet & Soil cleaner (I figured what the hell, at that point.) My brain had been thinking we’d have to pay someone professional to come in (and what a PITA that would be, not to mention, NOT CHEAP). So I still feel like it was all worth it. Not that I’m anxious to use it again on any poopy accidents! Bleah!

I also got a TON of DPN holders made this weekend (my lord, if you knitters are still reading me, what fortitude and patience and strong stomachs! Thank you!) and I’ll get them up in my Etsy shop in the very near future. Yay! Now, I’m off to hang with the Sock Club ladies at The Studio, and I should stop singing out loud at my desk because, well, I am NOT ALONE here. Just further cementing everyone’s unspoken opinion that I’m utterly crazy. But fun! Crazy and fun. Now, equipped with a mack-daddy cleaning device. And available as a groupie for the Love Tuskers when needed.

There’s no way I can recap everything that’s been going on. Suffice it to say that the highlight of my week has been hearing the story of a guy who left his personal copy of “Balls Deep” in his work laptop, unaware his computer was being taken by IT while he was being laid-off. (Said movie is not about soccer. Or volleyball.) That and the story of another person who was in a freak yachting accident in Venezuela that left her unable to walk, and they had to use a scissors-lift to help her board the plane & it got stuck. I haven’t laughed so hard since I-don’t-know-when.

We did discover that Tripper also is not a fan of Jane’s Addiction. Specifically “Been Caught Stealin'” – the song starts with dogs barking, and he went all over the yard barking and looking for the interlopers. I missed it, because I was out drinking with a veritable gaggle of former co-workers, swapping war stories and laughing at other people’s expense. (Isn’t that the best currency?)

Oh – and file this under “Like I Needed More Stuff To Do” – I started making double-pointed needle holders. Mostly because I was going nuts with this tie I was knitting for James, and the stitches kept slipping off while I was toting the project around in my bag. Because things with me tend to take on levels of grand proportions, I suddenly found myself, mid-week, in the throes of mass-production. (They are simple to make? But they take time. And drilling. And patience!) Turns out, I’m on to something here, and I sold my first batch to The Studio. I’m going to make more, and depending on interest, put them on Etsy as well. I’ll yammer about it more when the time comes! But they’re super cute, and I’m calling my little bidness “Wants & Kneeds” (so don’t steal the name, it’s now under creative licensing copywrite, m0fos) They are “Quirky Panaceas for the Avid Knitter” and I have the line from my dad on the back: “It’s better to have, than to want.” It feels nice including him on it, in a funny way. And now we have two cottage industries running amok at our house – knitting stuffs and tomato and pepper plants!

TGIF! The weekend’s always short, so have fun!!!

I’ve been thinking about those 100-things-memememememe thingies, and how I’ve never done one but what I might say if I did, and that led to me thinking about the Ways In Which I Am Different From Most, and while I know we all have a shared existence and our humanity knits us together, the fact that as a child, I picked out a retro toilet seat for our outhouse still pops up as one of those “Hey-O” yodeling-old-lady-waving-at-the-waitstaff sorta facts that makes me feel a little bit different, a little over on the fringe of the universe. Not that it’s bad or wrong, of course. You, readers, you get “it”. “It” being “me”. You know things around here aren’t always uniform, or even partially dressed. And yet, you still return. That’s nice! I do try to be a good hostess, and one of the things I was instructed upon, early-on in life, was to never run out of food at a party. To me, it is the Cardinal Sin of Entertaining.

The other thing I was taught, at some point in my teens, was How To Avoid A Masher. That was exactly how my mom put it. And that I needed to learn it. NOW. We were visiting family friends, and I stood there with an utterly confused look on my face. I said, “What’s a ‘Masher’?” and our friend’s husband said, “THIS!” and he grabbed me in a bear hug, bent me over backwards, and pretended to kiss me.

I almost peed my pants in terror. Mashers! Who knew! Where did they lurk? How surprised would they be if they dropped me? (How surprised would I be?) By the time I was back on my feet, blinking at everyone laughing, I realized that most Mashers would ultimately fall into the category of “People You Know.” So it was in that small kitchen, I learned how to deftly and swiftly turn my cheek as pursed lips approached me, to kiss the air by the Masher’s ear, and pull back, exclaiming in delight while fiercely creating distance between my face and the Masher’s. Funny, the life lessons that stick with you. Admonishments to save money? Nah! But how to avoid sneak kissing attacks? Check! And, oddly enough, I recall that on that trip, I purchased an army green overall outfit, and a tan mesh cloth belt thingamajig, plus numerous pairs of delicious plastic earrings. It was, indeed, the 80’s. Mashers and Madonna and Michael Jackson.

I also have thought about the Dichotomy of Me. For instance, I am unorganized, I have plenty of clutter, but god help everyone if one particular thing is “off”. We were sitting in James’ grandparents’ living room this past weekend, and they have furniture and items that span the decades. In particular, a very large lamp, with an equally enormous lampshade, sits by one of the couches. James was seated by it, and I picked the recliner on the other side of the lamp. I noticed the lampshade was all akimbo, the bottom of it at a wonky angle to the horizontal plane of the end table. Immediately, I adjusted it back to level. We continued to watch this really cool show comparing Man to Apes, and I turned to say something to James, and noticed the shade was, once again, at a completely strange angle. Almost unconsciously, yet compulsively, I readjusted it and kept talking to him. A small gnome (one assigned to the OCD Task Force) in the back of my brain scribbled on a post-it: “Something wrong with lamp. Shade keeps tilting. May need further investigation.”

A few minutes later, I turn back to talk to him and – yep – the lampshade was once again jacked up. Now I’m a bit exasperated, and as I frown and return the shade to parallel the floor, I start to mutter and curse, something about what the fuck is wrong with this lamp, I keep moving the shade and yet it keeps going back and, and my husband is looking at me and then bursts into laughter. Because, yes, of course. HE is tilting the lampshade every time I turn around. Because he knows I am obsessed, and will not let it go. Had he kept a straight face, it may have taken one more adjustment before I clued in to the fact he was messing with me. I gave him that – it was damn funny. (But I still fixed the shade, and it got left alone after that. Phew!)

So, even though I’m not ready for one of those big long lists of how we’re all alike and how I’m different, these are the ones floating at the top today….

Saturday night was the Kansas City Addy’s – an award show for all the local agencies. This year’s event was tremendously fun, especially compared to last year. The venue was great – Bartle Hall – and it was definitely more social. I ran into numerous former co-workers, and people I hadn’t seen in years, met some new people and I am not kidding when I say half of these people complimented me on my eyeliner.

Yep. Eyeliner.
(see the sparkle?)

So, I’m almost 40, and I decided to glam it up a bit – the theme was James Bond/007, so I could get away with a little youthful dorkiness, right? I used some very sparkly dark purple glitter over my liquid eyeliner (have I lost my male readers yet?) and then She-Laq over it, so the glitter wasn’t going anywhere. Seriously, glitter is the most fun, ever. It’s even a really fun word to say…. glitter…. OK! Backing up though, before the event, and before the fourteen-mile walk to the event (hi, blisters), we had a small agency happy hour at a nearby hotel (if by “nearby” you mean “fourteen miles by walkway”), and that is where I discovered my new favorite drink: The Singapore Sling. Honestly, I picked it because the name is fun, and the first ingredient on the bar list was GIN. So few frou-frou cocktails use gin, most are vodka or rum based. When I ordered my :cough: third one (which was also my last), the bartender asked me if I enjoyed it. (Mistress of the Obvious! Yes!) She then when on to say it was a distinguished drink, with a distinctive taste, and not everyone cared for it. Boy howdy, use those words around me and I puff up like a pelican. They’re so … rarely used to describe me. Right up there with “Shy” and “Refined” and “Organized”.

Anyhoo, now I want to make these myself, and I discovered this nice source online that seems to be The Authentic Version – now I have to figure out how to get a Benedictine Monk into a bottle, and where one buys the stuff, but I figure my local Gomer’s would have it.

Oh, one last FYI about the glitter. It’s a bitch to get off your eyelids with that She-Laq. Ah, the price of beauty and distinction…..

(With one photo, I provide evidence to the contrary.)

That would be shorthand for, “Thank The Freakin’ Lord The Damned Writer’s Strike Is Finally Over” Day.

This article on TV Guide is being continually updated as the networks release the schedules for new shows. Hopefully this will hasten the end to American Gladiators and So You Want To Marry A Millionaire Assmunch On National Television And Are Willing To Eat Bugs To Win kind of shows.

We’ve definitely been playing lots more Wii during the strike, and I must say, I brought this game home last night:

The animation is amazing. And I have not laughed that hard, for that long, since I can really remember. James pointed out that the games really don’t involve much skill. Perhaps that is why I love them so. It’s just stupid funny. It will be a great party game, watching four adults “wash clothes & hold them up to check if they’re clean enough”…. all the while the rabbids are making crazy noises and looking ridiculous. There was one game where you are in an Old West setting and doing a quick draw against a cowboy rabbid. OMG. I laughed so hard I threw James off his game, along with my own. It’s not technically challenging or addicting the way Guitar Hero III is, but it definitely has its place! And yes, it does appear from that video box cover that it’s rated for users three and older. I’m regressing. But I’m laughing the entire way there.

My morning commute took oh- about 40 minutes, when normally it runs anywhere from 15-25 minutes, depending on the time I leave. The main reason for today’s slowdown, was, of course, the snow and then the nice sheet of frozen sleet under said snow. If anyone from KCMO Public Works is reading this blog, here’s a heads-up: the intersection of Ward Parkway & 75th street? Specifically the parts of Ward Parkway, north-bound, but south of the intersection? NEED SAND. Bejowski. I’ve lived here 10 years. This intersection is on the gentlest of inclines, but because the incline is there, and it’s well-traveled, most vehicles get stuck in their own ice, formed while waiting at the light. So two of the three lanes? NOT MOVING.

Then, I came in and followed up on a rep who wouldn’t call us back. A co-worker had been calling for months, and finally flipped it to me, who also was unsuccessful, although I am excellent at persistence. Especially when you are irritating me. Persistence and tenacious. Like a ferret learning to eat live mice. (Sorry, there was an article on ferrets in today’s paper. I had no idea. Also, if you’re going to lead with the headline, “Ferrets! Just like kittens, all the time,” you might want to re-think that whole paragraph that waxes on about food, specifically, “let’s feed ferrets pinkies (baby mice) and work ’em up to live ones” because seriously? I lost all interest in having a ferret at that point.) Anyway, this ass munch finally got on the phone with me (after four phone calls, and two emails, in four days) and proceeded to be combative and angry and petulant and then he kinda hung up on me. It was actually mutual. Had I not hung up at that point, I might have said something like, “Sir? You work for the YELLOW PAGES. Do you have a backup plan? Your industry is DYING.”

OK, and then let’s talk about the sad lunch I had. So so sad. Instant grits. I think I prefer grits for breakfast. I did find a random bonus of parmesan cheese in the fridge at work (and uh, I might have swiped a tablespoon of someone’s artificial buttery spread. But it expired yesterday, and there was a lot in there. So my guilt isn’t as concentrated as it would have been if I’d say, taken a tablespoon of sweet cream butter that was fresh & marked as being owned.) Anyway, I had several notions of great lunches, but all of them required I leave the building in one form or another. 99% required driving, and after this morning’s commute? Nope! Anyway, I finished lunch with some Thin Mints. Yep. Poster child for nutrition, riiiight here. Might explain why I feel a little queasy. That or it’s the expired margarine.

So….. after yesterday’s post, an observation was made at how readily I’ll just consume …..drugs. Even the wrong ones. Ayah. Well, I’ll admit, perhaps there is an undue influence of Alice in Wonderland from my childhood going on…. and really, my only explanation at this point is that the month of December really, really sucked. And when you’re caught in the undertow, a lot of automatic piloting takes over. (As opposed to Britney Spears, who does not go into the undertow, but skips right past it to Bar Thyself In A Bathroom And Get Put In Restraints.) I’m excited I figured it out relatively quickly (the horrid cold masked it for a couple weeks), and I’ll be back to my version of normal soon!

Speaking of bipolar-ness and crazy, the weather here? Is nuts. I guess it’s snowing right now. Yesterday and the day before were near 60 degrees. Lemme tell you, as a gal who likes relative consistency and does not enjoy being told to be flexible, I would like the weather to be consistent with the season we are in. Currently, and I feel the need to state this since apparently nobody TOLD the weather, it is WINTER. This does not mean we need a season of ice, of drifts of snow (though I do miss snow to some extent…) But chilly weather is ok. Good even. Our grass is confused. My wardrobe is confused. I am confused. (Ok, maybe that’s the ACE-inhibitors talking.)

Well, I’m off to eat lunch at that restaurant where, after dining there a year ago, my credit card was suddenly used to purchase ads in newspapers all around the country. (I see you out there. You think I don’t learn!) The food is awesome, and I haven’t been back there since The Incident. (Which, by the way, I did some sleuthing on, in an attempt to find the fuckers, but it didn’t pan out. But I’d do it again, and now I have a friend who’s a private investigator, so there. Thieves Be Warned!) However, no worries. I’ll be paying with cash.

LEARNING. It’s the watchword for 2008.

Oh, and I have finished knitting objects, but no pictures. The chevron scarf is DONE and being worn this minute. This is really a half-assed knitting blog, I must say. It’s more about Cacophony Jen and Her Catastrophes and Carousing and Correcting Others. Oh, and Indignation. I still love the Indignation.