Oxymorons & Hangovers

Tales from the mad dentist's chair

The fall weather is finally is full effect. The cold air and chilled breezes are anticipated all year and I know if I don't enjoy them, it will be summer next week. I've missed the need for hoodies and my crochet scarf hasn't been seen yet this year. I've stopped sleeping with a fan on and instead bundle under the zebra covers. Last night's bundling was made unreasonably uncomfortable as I felt the pressure in my sinuses building, the muscles behind my eyes throbbing per usual, and my throat going raw in a way that made me sure I had come down with something the second I crawled into bed. Being a side sleeper didn't help as there was an hour old tattoo burning on my left arm. Sometime after midnight I did drift off, only to come to around four a.m. for a DayQuil and Ibuprofen cocktail that worked so fantastically, I smiled into my pillow while falling asleep again.

 

The camera on my cell is notoriously crappy and something about the lips in this picture make me cringe, but in person she's adorable and bakes the best lemon bars on the west coast. She took about three hours and was surprisingly easy to endure. I watched several episodes of Family Guy that only barely overpowered the obnoxious and shrill voice of some chick that was there the entire time I was. Not only was she completely out of her mind based on the words that left her ever flapping mouth, she was dumb as a brick. Although my cousin once said, at least a brick will sit still and shut up. She couldn't figure out why someone suggested, "You should get a tattoo of a can of nuts. Maybe some bananas around it. That would be so cool." Spying some of the hideous ink peeking out from various places, I would not put it passed her to do just that. Every time she leaned over me to see my progress, I would assume the deaf/mute role to avoid encouraging her to speak. After my arm was wrapped in plastic, she took it upon herself to smooth the wrinkles from the wrap. My tortured expression led her to annouce, "Don't worry, I'm not into girls." Then I kicked her teeth in, ripped out her Monroe piercing and stuck it into her right eyeball. Everyone cheered. It was a sight.

 I've no doubt Kiddo will name the little girl immediately, but since school is out today (although she was not in Vietnam or any other war to my knowledge and should thus be working like I have to!) she spent the night with her dad because I can't take the day off to stay home and play and rest. I mean, how excruciating would that be? Psh.

This weekend brings the birthday of my hard-working, cute-baby-making, lovely lady friend Kristine. We are to celebrate with Japanese food and beer. You can imagine the fight I put up when told I'm to join her this Friday evening. Birthday shenanigan recap pending.

A photo of my wittle rockabilly princess and I before leaving:

  

-Pretty Lush 

Impulse

My inbox receives a Word of the Day from Dictionary.com every morning and while I’ve finally veered from saving, printing and stashing all of the interesting ones like a greedy word hoard, I couldn’t delete this morning’s word: abulia. It means: ‘Loss or impairment of the ability to act or to make decisions.’ Me likes.

At the game last night, both Jeff and I couldn’t quite bring our full attention to the field. We snacked on Dodger dogs and drank some beer and wandered around and canoodled like affectionate dweebs. The Dodgers did win and we celebrated by sharing an ice cream shake. His wee cousin came along to the game and couldn’t quite wrap his tongue around my name and settled on ‘Jell-o.’ Whenever he wanted my attention, he’d shout, “JELL-O!” in his tiny little boy voice and my ovaries would feel a sharp stab of longing.

(<< art titled Claws by Charley Harper) I’m currently jonesin’ hard for an apartment and a French bulldog. I’ve actually been pretty active about acquiring these, although with minimal effort. I consider any amount of effort to be worthy of being called ‘active.’ I applied to adopt a handsome little French named Olaf from a rescue group and scouted a second option (Roscoe) in case I get rejected. It’s silly but I have mentally manifested Olaf to be the perfect pup (his biography encourages this) and I’m heartbroken already at the thought of not meeting him. I frequently check this website to see his little face and stout, stubby body and I’m overwhelmed with excitement and adoration. Being approved would involve a home visit, which terrifies me even though there is nothing in the home I live in that would deter a final say in whether or not I was qualified to own the little man. It’s just the thought of an inspection that seems… invasive. And judgmental.
On the apartment front, we’ve discovered a couple places worthy of looking in to this weekend. My prospective roomie (Ree) and I are hoping to be out of our current living situations and into a new one by summer. There will be daily tomfoolery and monkeyshines* under our roof, but being that I trust her with all my fibers and my kid adores the snot out of her, I think we’d be a non-homicidal roommate pair. I assume she thinks the same because we’re both pretty jazzed. I envision giant towers of beer cans atop our kitchen counters every Sunday morning and hopefully I can con her into cooking if I do something equality productive but non-kitchen related.

Ree and I are prone to hushed conversations on the phone at work (oh yeah, she resides up the hall forty hours a week) and today, on an apartment hunting mission, she called and whispered, "What kind of amenities do you need?"
"Um. I don't know. Air?"
"Would you like high ceilings?" This is still funny to me... probably moreso to an observer walking by, wondering how in the world high ceilings were anything to whisper about. This should have continued and taken on a breath-y 900 operater tone. "Talk to me about crown mouldings and new carpets... and a patio with grasssss."

*Hey, dictionary.com! Where were you on that gem?

-Pretty Lush

Impulse Buy

From Shana Logic. I was temporarily blinded by the cute and had bought it before I realized what was happening. I'm kind of a necklace whore.

A Culturally Rich Sunday

I just wrote a detailed account of my Sunday journey through Chinatown (& the awesome dragons everywhere), and the overpriced underground parking, and the ten block walk to LA's MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art), and the exquisite colorfulness that is Takashi Murakami and all the glorious and incredible paintings and massive glass/metal pieces on display, and the insanely delicious Japanese lunch in a tiny restaurant somewhere in Little Tokyo... and then the site ate my post alive. Curse expletive curse!

Here:

mmhmm. I wish you were there. 

I just had Chef Boyardee for lunch, because I'm six.

The work load is still in tact and stating one simple fact: job security. No one is dumb enough to take this over. Hell, no one is smart enough to take it over. I don't think any one person could do my various tasks. It would take a multitude of people to figure out a lot of it. And although not everyone is on board, I'm likeable.

Last night I trekked a few miles in the wrong direction of my destination (woe is the lady on the road that can never just get from point A to point B) before landing a front row parking spot outside a snazzy little bar, where my co-worker and I saddled up on the stools and made conversation for upwards of two hours. It's scary how much more in common we have than I ever realized. This either makes me really cool or her really lame. But likely, we're both just cool. My opinion is the only one that counts at O & H, didn't you know?

Some online rentals arrived in the mail last night, so I was able to start watching Disk 1 of Strangers with Candy, an old Comedy Central show starring Stephen Colbert and Amy Sedaris. I think it's obvious why I rented it.

This weekend! Dia De Los Muertos art and music festival, UFC fights, co-worker's end of summer party& good friend Brian's birthday. Kiddo is with her dad, so I may even take a nap. Imagine!

Seductive Sea Nymphs Make For a Promising Weekend

The ONLY show on TV right now! (And I suck at it!) In a catchy commercial song catagory, they asked, "Almond Joys have nuts, but what candy doesn't?" I actually fucking said a Mars bar. Like that song hasn't ever been annoyingly embedded in my psyche! And when they gave the Big Red lyrics, I said Winterfresh.

Happy Mid-Week. Three more days until the Mermaid Art Show at the Cactus Gallery featuring M. Bones. (I hear there's robot mermaids. I'm in.)

And less than a week after that - en route to San Francisco! I was put in charge of the mix CDs.

Why does time slow down when you have something to look forward to? I couldn't fuckin' believe it was already July, and now suddenly it's molasses.