Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Ahhhhh.... April!


April is a delightful month. It has April Fool's Day. It’s full of rain and snow and hot days. It’s full of spring fever. It’s the month in which taxes are due. It pretty much has everything, including the birthdays of Vera and Stu (isn’t it funny how most people use a blog to talk on and on about their kids while I talk on and on about my goofy neighbors?) See Vera’s birthday is the 25th and Stu’s birthday is the 27th. Spouse and I have a similar birthday arrangement. My birthday is the 20th and Spouse’s birthday is the 23rd (I’m not going say which month because then you all would know my zodiac sign and quite frankly that would reveal too much about me). Anyway, Spouse and I have birthdays in close proximity as well and this is why we’re neighbors (you know it’s one of those gated community things where the “covenants” of the community state specifically that you must be married and have your birthdays within days of each other… days being under 7).

Why are the birthdays of Stu and Vera so significant that I would spend time out of my busy day writing about it? Because each year, the two of them attempt viciously to one-up each other and wow it’s fun to watch (this is where I came to realize the more-money-than-sense characteristic of the two – see “Insanely Jealous”).

I cannot exactly recall the one-up-manship of the years, but it usually goes like this… Stu buys this - then Vera buys THAT. The next year, Stu will cheat and give her a THAT two days early so as Vera can get a head start over the next THIS. As we all know by now, Stu gave Vera an Infinity G35 a week ago, 10 days early. Vera, even with the extra time, you aren't going to one-up that! Unless of course you give him a month’s worth of lap dances.

See, that’s the beauty of my mediocre taxes-in-the-basement income. One of us doesn’t have the means to play the one-up game (see “means” are good even though they sound “mean”). Spouse can give me a Saturn this year for my birthday and in turn I can give him a Pluto (it’s not a planet anymore so I can get it on sale).

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Tax Time Playlist

April 17, 2007

The IRS has gone soft. The deadline has been extended two days... so I've had to do taxes in my basement two extra days (I do taxes in the basement year-round, but May to January taxes are fictional). Let's have a playlist, shall we?

  1. Why Don't You Get a Job - The Offspring
  2. Givin' the Dog a Bone - AC/DC
  3. Paranoid - Megadeth
  4. Get Your Filthy Hand Off My Desert - Pink Floyd
  5. All the Money or the Simple Life Hone - Dandy Warhols
  6. Wicked Game - Chris Isaak
  7. Don't Panic - Cold Play
  8. Come Undone - Duran Duran
  9. Part of the Process - Morcheeba
  10. Whole Wide World - Wreckless Eric
  11. Why Do I Keep Counting? - The Killers
  12. How Many More Times - Led Zeppelin
  13. Rape Me - Nirvana
  14. Draw the Line - Aerosmith
  15. One Way Or Another - Blondie
  16. Turpentine - Brandi Carlile
  17. Somebody's Cryin - Chris Isaak
  18. Forced In - Muse
  19. I Fought The Law - The Clash
  20. Let It Be - Beetles

Monday, April 16, 2007

Media Boycott


The state of Virginia had a tragedy today. I’m calling for all 5 of my faithful viewers (do I have that many?) to NOT WATCH OR LISTEN OR READ any of it (especially if it came from Katie Couric). It only encourages the would-be psychos who believe they too can be famous by imposing their dreadful death wish on others.

Feel free to share with your friends, family members and pets. The media makes a lot of money when stuff like this happens (trust me, I’m the wannabe marketing research chic remember?) Ratings increase due to the constant use of "worst ever", or "four days from the anniversary of..." and "the previous record was..." They announce that the current calamity is numero uno at something. Come on? Is this a contest?

In my opinion, a one liner headline is sufficient. If you’re a relative or friend, you will hear the important stuff. AND FOR HEAVEN SAKES DO NOT GIVE US THE NAME!

(That’s me on a rampage, in case you haven’t figured that out yet).

Friday, April 13, 2007

Insanely Jealous


Yesterday was Thursday, April 12, 2007. It was the day before Friday, April 13, 2007 and the day after Wednesday, April 11, 2007. It started out as a normal day but by 4:30pm… I was consumed with the pinnacle of all jealousness. I had become Insanely Jealous.

I don’t normally become jealous. Most of the time, I’m happy with a “This is My Life and That is Your Life” mentality. And I always go by the 80% rule. The 80% rule is defined as: Stop and look at current situation. If you are 80% happy with it, shut up. If not, go complain about it to any and everyone you come in contact with.

The whole jealous thing started at 5:45am. I showed up at the Thursday run location and wouldn’t you know it… the Thursday Day Run Homeowner had her own Port-O-Potty on wheels. I have always wanted my own Port-O-Potty. It would be the ultimate in nuisance gifts. I could deliver it for birthdays, weddings, and BBQs! But more importantly, I could use it on the holiest of rabidrunner holidays….APRIL FOOLS DAY! Which reminds me that I want to own/operate/control my own “Rent-A-Goat” service. Here’s how it works. I have a goat name Sergio. You have a spouse that turns 50. You rent Sergio and tie him to a stick in your yard with a sign that says “The Ol’ Goat’s Turned 50.” Genius, I know.

Even though I’m a Genius, I’m still a little jealous. On the way home from the run, I’m on the I-15 again (but alone so I’m not in the carpool lane ), and wouldn’t you know it - a Silver Cayman S decides to make its grand entrance right besides me. I politely slowed down so this vehicle of fine proportion and engineering would go ahead of me and I could drool over it’s magnificent behind. Once again, I get jealous and that car I’m driving - which 10 minutes earlier was sufficient for the 80% rule - was no longer sufficient. By now, I’m more than a little jealous.

One of my running buddies is attacking the Boston Marathon on Monday. She’s running it alone, which is a drag because the Boston Marathon is a riot (one of those “Come On Feel the Noise” riots). Bunches of us decided to take pictures of ourselves, cut out our shapes and laminate ‘em so as she could carry us with her. So I drop one of my yahoos off at a birthday party then drive to her house. She opens the door and a hired hand is cleaning her house top to bottom. She’s going to Boston on vacation, she has someone clean her house weekly and her yard is professionally manicured. Let’s apply the 80% rule again – I haven’t been anywhere in a year, my house is atrocious and the yard is worse than atrocious (grossly wicked, vile, heinous, frightful, fulsome, pungent, wretched). I’m pretty dang jealous.

Later that evening, Spouse and I had our first date in a long time, so I went home and prepared for our “outing”. You know, powdered the nose, traded in and out of various clothes and shoes to see which outfit would compliment my celestial companion perfectly (gag). Actually, I was doing a quick booger check and flossed the teeth. But as I was doing so, the Spouse of Vera (also known as Stu Pidasso) rang. He had purchased a car for Vera’s upcoming umpteenth birthday (she’s pretty old). Not just any car, mind you, it was a black Infiniti G35. He wanted help getting it home and wanted a garage to hide it in. In so many words I said that I had a date with Spouse and would help with transporting the piece of crap if no one else could and volunteered to sacrifice the dyke mobile’s spot in the garage (that would be my Subaru Outback, you know the one that is only 40% sufficient due to the Silver Cayman S, see above if you forgot). I hung up the phone and dialed spouse. I began to critique the car-giving-for-birthday situation with words like “I wouldn’t go for that” and “why did he choose black (my favorite car color)” and “Obviously Stu has more money than sense”. (The latter comment is something I use often when speaking of the fairy tale couple.) During that conversation, I realized that the critic in me was a direct result of my becoming INSANELY JEALOUS.

Sunday, April 08, 2007



We woke up yesterday and we were all like “we should do something that’s like you know fun”. So like we decided to go skiing or something. We tried to get ready and I’m all “where’s your shoes” and the 5-year-old’s all “I don’t know”. So I’m all “go find them” and he’s all “I can’t find them” and I’m all “where did you take them off” and he’s all “in my room” and I’m all “no you didn’t because they’re like not it there now!” So we looked for them everywhere and they were like totally gone and he had to wear his sandals. Then we went to Park City for some sun and skiing and we were there like 3 hours and like the 3 year old was so into it and he like wanted to keep going faster. It was like so much fun we were like “whoa”. We were getting on the lift and like I looked over the edge of the like gate thing that keeps people inside the chairlift gates and I was all “Hi Dad” and then we hurried onto the lift and a little later, we were skiing and like totally ran into him again! Our buttses were like so stiff and like so sore from like snowplowing with the little guy that we couldn’t handle it any more and had to like stop for food. I went to this awesome place in St. George when I was there for the marathon and I like eat there every time now when I like go down there. They said they were opening a joint in Taylorsville and like I couldn’t remember the name so I called information and I was all “do you have some place with a name like “parrot”? And they were all “yeah the name is like the ‘Parrothead’ and here’s the number.” And I was all excited because I thought that I would like be SOL for this restaurant. So I called the number and said, so are you like somewhere near me? And they were like yeah, we’re on the corner of 45th South and like 800 west. So I’m all, the food is so good and I’m all “let’s go.”

Yesterday we decided to go skiing. The 5 year old couldn’t find his shoes and had to wear sandals. We skied 3 hours in the sun at Park City. The 3 year old wanted to go faster. It was fun and we said “whoa”. We saw my dad near the lift and while skiing. Snowplowing made our buttses sore. We were hungry. I wanted to eat at a restaurant with the name “Parrot”. I called information and they directed me to the “Parrothead” at 815 West 45th South. I was relieved. The food there is so good. I said “Let’s go.”

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Parenting in the Carpool Lane


I made two 30 mile trips on the I-15 today. That is a total of 120 miles (30 x 4 – the math was added for spice – Vera likes spice). Since this morning, I have had a blog idea fermenting (that means it must be expunged quickly as to avoid rotting, although there is a fine line between rotted good and rotted bad. You know blue cheese, feta, whine, vinegar… a few hours in the sunshine can cause the rotting bacteria to go wayward. I have self-diagnosed ADD (or ADHD depending on the day), so the bacteria running around in my mind needs to be dealt with carefully. Anyway, the upcoming blog (not this one… the upcoming one will take some research and will come shortly) was inspired by a woman who feels that stay-at-home-moms are making a huge mistake staying home (as opposed to working). So I was busy organizing thoughts on this topic when a giant ray of moonshine (get it, fermented?) informed me that stay-at-home-momhood is similar to the carpool lane. Let me illustrate why:

You are stuck.
On many occasions, the snow angels have dumped 3 feet overnight and guess what? You cannot “carpe diem”. You get to lay around all day watching the dust fall inside (from the relentless movement of the children) and watching the snow fall outside. ALL DAY. Friends usually come home to report on the conditions or worse - e-mail photos. Often, I daydream about the day the kids will be in school. I can drop them off and seize the dumpings. It’s so very close… I can see it in the not-so-distant future. I just hope I’m still relatively young once it gets here. Sure, you could bend the rules a little and leave them home with the PS2. However, that is the reason DCFS was invented – for all those wacky ladies who went skiing and left their kids home alone. DCFS would call the cops.

The carpool lane is the same way. You enter it and you have to stay there until the double solid line ends. You can see it… it’s so close… those dashed lines that represent freedom. You know it will come sometime before the next exit. You hope you’re still young once the dashed lines arrive. Sure, you can bend the rules a little and leave the carpool lane, but that’s why they invented UHP. UHP is/are the cops so they would bust you without calling anyone.

It’s a bottleneck
So your first child turns 5 and you get to send them off to school. You are so excited - finally some freedom. (I just noticed that Itunes was paused. No wonder the musicly inspired thoughts weren’t coming! Please hold.) Kindergarten starts and the hurry up and wait routine starts. Hurry up get dressed/ready/fed/. Hurry up get to school. Wait. Hurry up get back to the school before the principal calls. Wait. Hurry up buckle up. Wait. I have a physics experiment for ya’ll. More specifically, Spouse calls it a “Particulate Dynamics” experiment which of course is still physics. Go get some Olive Oil (Olive Oil deserves capitalization don’t you think and it’s so GOOD for you). Put it in a bottle with a smallish neck. Turn it upside down and put your ear to the bottle. Listen to the horror of all that oil hurrying up and waiting.

The carpool lane is the same way. You look through the rear-view mirror and count to make sure you have enough people present to qualify. Then you make the intense transition to the lane and everything is groovy. That is until you come up to some lady in a pink car on her cell phone trying hard NOT to go the speed limit. If you put your ear to my car, you’ll hear the same horror of all those kids hurrying up and waiting (but it’s much, much louder because they have to compete with the Pixies).

You feel as if you’re doing something wrong.
Any time I take the yahoos anywhere, the experience is always accompanied by yelling, running around or touching untouchables… In fact, just today, I was in a coffee shop (hehehe, I’m not supposed to drink coffee. No wonder I felt like I was doing something wrong!) This particular shop had an open fridge-like case in front and the kids were fondling cold beverage after cold beverage. The girl behind the desk said “don’t break that” or “stop, hey, what’s that sound, everybody look what’s going down” or something like that. I just glared at her and said, “Can you hurry it up with my ultra-stiff decaf mocha?” I needed to get out of there before the kids figured out which beverages were girls…

And now the carpool lane comparison… I’m usually in the car without a passenger beside me due to the airbag. The kids are in the back and my windows are tinted (illegally - no wonder I feel like I’m dong something wrong). When I drive by other cars, the people in them give me one of those grueling, “where’s your HOV sticker” looks and this is where I scream out “It’s decaf! I promise!”