Oxymorons & Hangovers

Reactivating the twitches

I'm not writing as much, to your relief. (Except for the one stalker I know of. She is not relieved. She is pining for me, people.) Because moving and settling has made me redundant and I say the same things every day.

Officially, there is a bed in a my room and a blind in my window. It is now sexually functional and I consider myself done moving. The rest will be considered repairs and upgrades. Stay tuned.

Last night, Kiddo and I are settling in to bed and I'm fighting this new blind that won't go up so I can shut the window. (No complaints, that gorgeous bitch was free.) Suddenly from the faux wood depths emerges the creepiest looking spider. Que full blown panic mode. I'm not so much scared of bugs as I am sickened of them. My skin crawls and I twitch in their presence. Even writing this is making me itch like I'm growing yeast. (ohmygod, ew) Kiddo starts giving me this panicked lecture, wherein she's attempting to be calm because I cannot stomach her stage five freak outs and she knows this. "IT'S OKAY MOM, IT'S JUST A SPIDER AND SPIDERS DON'T HURT YOU MY DADDY SAID THAT DADDY LONG LEGS DON'T HURT YOU EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE REALLY BIG AND MOM I'M BACKING UP NOW - IT'S MOVING!!!" I slowly slide the mattress away from the wall to avoid spidey guts in my sleeping space and grab a shoe I never wear. (Knowing there are bug guts on my shoes makes them unwearable for a period of time, and no I won't clean them.) So I'm standing on the bed, squatting down low so I can reach the thing/jump off the bed fast and Kiddo is not panicking behind me. "Just get him real hard, Mom. Make sure you get him." And I'm deep breathing and counting it off and 1-2-3 WHACK on my blinds, spidey crumbled onto the floor. VICTORY, YOU EIGHT LEGGED FREAK BITCH.

Then I twitched all night long.

I finished The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon in two days, mostly at work, because sometimes with books, I'm all, godspeed! It was hard to get through but mostly enjoyable. I get wet to finish/start new books, I swear.

Funniest joke today, possibly ever, as I am a sucker for this one liner shit: A termite walks into a bar and asks, "Is the bar tender here?" Oh, you don't get it either? So far my mom was the only one. Tender like meat, fool.

Tonight is some amateur comedy thing at the Improv. A friend of a Kim is playing and I hope it's not newb-bad but underappreciated-good, you know?

-Pretty Lush

Mini pomp & circumstance

These weekdays are running into each other. Everything is a little blurry and I'm not even hungover. I work, cook/clean, rearrange and put away, knock out. It's redundant but there's thismuch more progress every day and so I regain bits of sanity. My room got an overhaul last night with Ree's help and it's almost a functional place. The walls are still blindingly white though. At one point we were holding my quadrillion pound TV and laughing so hard that we almost dropped it. Ree asked, "What's IN this thing?" I, ever bright, said, "It's full of titanium." And she corrected, "Uh, that would make it lighter." She metal-skooled me, that bitch.

Kiddo is talking and exclaiming about her new house! and new school! all the time, so I'm almost positive that this tremendously difficult five-year-old life thing isn't so bad for her right now. She's been eating really good and I think we're on the verge of another growth spurt (she's very tall for her age) and there are loose front teeth. I told her if she only lost one of them, I would punch the other out. She recoiled so violently with a look that said, 'Are you effin' kidding me?' that I immediately threw in, 'Just kidding, baby! Just kidding!' Really, by now, the way her personality has developed and been influenced by me and my family, I thought she'd just raise an eyebrow and dare me. Or throw the line she's always saying, "Oh come on, Mom."

The new school has a class of graduates, moving from preschool to kindergarten. They all had pictures on the wall in their cap and gown and when I picked her up yesterday I was excited to see that they'd already included her:

Those squinty smiles don't show off her blue eyes, but who am I to complain? MY LITTLE GRADUATE! 

All week Threadless.com is having their $10 sale. If I wasn't so broke I'd be on that. My favorite shirts are from there and I love some of the new designs.

  

Oh yeah &... I quit my job. My comfortable little position at the office... all snug and contured, the way I like, the way I know. I put in my two weeks. I start at the new place on June 16th.

-Pretty Lush 

New newness

Regarding my last posts of wannas and wishes, my friend doctashock of The Alternakids says, "There ain't nothin' to it, but to do it." I say this like a mantra to myself because it's catchy, but also because -- how true. How dare I stand in my own way? It's quite like a Mighty Life List (seen in the side column of Maggie Mason's page) but some of these things are within my reach now, and not a year's pay from now (see: Dublin). Anyone up for lessons with a stick shift?! Materials needed: car with stick shift, you provide. Compensation: whiplash. It's going to rock.

(Note! In the fourth picture on this post, I am successfully lifting one eyebrow! SUCCESS!)

Sometimes (always) I'm the funniest person I know but I have to keep that to myself because I have jokes that are considered, mmmm, how you saaay, 'gentle comedy.' I was sitting back with a beer in my parent's backyard with some folks when someone said they needed a hair cut. I thought to myself, Which one? I had to put my head down, I laughed so hard. I CRACK ME UP.

< Toasting raspberry champagne with friends on our first night. This preceeded poker and really drunk, really silly girl stuff.

The awesome abode is coming along. It has reached maximum capacity for stuff. I don't know where anything is and sections of the place would get me fined by OSHA. (That is, of course, if I had employees. And I think that I should.) My teeny tiny attached bath requires wiggles and bends to get from the shower to the dresser drawer for clothing needs. To hang with us, you must be both flexible and risky. But it is all slowly piecing together and becoming habitable. Having totally exhausted ourselves this weekend, I suggested we set a timer for only one hour after work tonight. When it goes off, we clean no other surface, rearrange no other furniture and put away no other miscellaneous item. I hope that I'm surprised by how much can be accomplished in one hour.

The cable was installed on Saturday morning by a very patient, very kind dude. It requiring rerouting and other cable talk but in the end, we have more channels that I have ever had the privilege of watching. Including NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC. This is more exciting than having the Spice Channel. One of my favorite memories was a weekend spent at a friend's house where we had some late night shenanigans involving Joe Rogan and then spent the entire next day on the couch watching Nat Geo. We ordered in and barely budged or spoke. There is so much fascinating shit. (I'm seeing, in my brief channel surfing, that BBC has some interesting stuff too...)

Speaking of tube - tomorrow night Reality Channel is replaying Last Comic Standing. According to his mass e-mail, Adam Richmond is featured and you would not regret watching that shit. (That part is according to me.) I promise.

Kiddo started at the new school today. I dressed her in a black sailor dress with high top Converse and pigtails. I repeated how beautiful she was on the big day, and reiterated the idea that there were all kinds of new friends to be made and HOW EXCITING, RIGHT? She really didn't need my neurosis. She jumped up and down at the front door, saying, "Mo-oom, can we go to my new school now?" Except I failed at life because I promised I'd give her her favorite Lunchable for the first day and I did no such thing. I was overwhelmed with guilt, and of course, she didn't even remember. I will be driving in excess of one grillion MPH to pick her up and get all the details and hot gossip. If she loves this place, I've done something right. This really is all consuming... I've been thinking about her all day.

It's common knowledge that I don't like little dogs. I do not get their purpose and see no reason to ever be nice to them They'd serve more purpose on a kabob. Don't get me started on chihuahuas. So now I live with one, right? Well he's part Chihuahua, part mutt. In the time that I've known Ree, Rylie has really grown on me but there are times that I wonder what his monetary value would be in a Korean market. (Ree: if you're reading this, I swear I'm kidding! Readers: *shakes head* Ree: I swear!! Readers: *shakes head*) It wasn't until last night when I came home to an empty place with Kiddo, that I realized how much I dig him. He couldn't exactly kill off the intruder that I swear is in the house every time it creaks, but he'd certainly deafen the creep with his barking. And who is going to break in on a gal with a noisy dog? That's like rule number one in the B & E book of codes. Aside from feeling a little safer with him around, he cuddled so sweetly with Kiddo in her bed and she rubbed him down so affectionately that I may have started to like him more than Tigah, her usual (stuffed) cuddle buddy. When Kiddo was promptly knocked out, Rylie was cuddled between my legs and the couch, resting his chin on my leg and I looked at him and thought, oh fuck. It happened. I adore you. When he's all smooshed up on me with love, my heartthing gets all melty for him but DON'T TELL ANYONE.

What's to be said about two noise complaints in two nights? I should bake for my neighbors. (HAHA! Just kidding! I don't hate them!)

-Pretty Lush

I'll never wear lipstick again

In my constant looping thought process and assessment of the life I'll be leading shortly, I realized 'new change' is an oxymoron. Here's how I got there:

• New apartment, in new hood, which requires new grocery store, pharmacy, twenty-four hour take-out joint, and dive bar, at least
• New school for Kiddo, three months prior to kindergarten (luckily the school will also be the post-kindergarten hang out spot - so it's not entirely like switching her school three times, just mostly like switching her school three times [someone please direct me toward the therapy this guilt will inevitably lead me])
• New route to work, school, Kiddo's school, all including freeway & traffic
• New bills

& finally?

• New job (& my wonderful boyfriend and I broke up - can't comment)

Yesterday I was offered a position/wage that I couldn't possibly turn down. More on this later, as I haven't told the people who most require this knowledge, ie, my manager and co-workers.

I moan a lot about not reading enough. It's a passion of mine, I have a feverish desire for books and I want to be in them, always. I'm just in motion (be it my pinwheeling arms trying to regain balance or A GRIP ON MY LIFE) and never have time to really dent the books I'm always reading. So I'm still buried in A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore. It was strange and unlikely to appeal to me at first (what with the paranormal, which seems up my dark and twisted alley but it's usually not) but I kept at it and I just love it. It's hilarious and offers constant descriptions of San Francisco. I'm a total sucker for deep city culture (achieved only by authors who live/have lived there, I'm convinced). A lot of Poppy Brite's stories take place in New Orleans (or Missing Mile, who's with me?!) but it was her series of Liquor, Prime, and Soul Kitchen that have gotten me obsessed with being a tourist in the remains of the French Quarter and stumbling along the narrow Bourbon St.

Point being: I read a lot today. And it was nice.

To preface the funniest line I read today or possibly ever, Charlie is the owner of an apartment building that Ms. Ling rents in, and his dogs are humping him: "Ms. Ling couldn't help but do a a quick appraisal of the monetary value of the slippery red dogwoods currently pummeling her landlord's oxford-cloth shirt like piston-driven leviathan lipsticks." The violent/hurl laugh result almost made a Diet Coke explosion.

Between three girls, two cars and one truck - we have to get from meeting point A to big, heavy TV pick-up point B, transport to truck, unload at new place, and return owners to correct vehicles. You're on the edge of your seat in anticipation for that outcome, I know. Calm down, seriously.

-Pretty Lush

Big kid now

New happenings, people. Exciting new prospects that will either make or break me. When you stifle your excitment for fear of disappointment, you really only reverse the plan... contributing energy to the idea or analyzing that what-ifs are just self-conscious ways of being excited. I've said this once today and I'll say it again: if that made any sense, we need to get together for a drink.

I'm going on the seventeenth hour of work with three hours of sleep showing their colors under my eyes. Every motion is languid and deliberate and painfully slow. This work day is underwater and it just needs to drown. I'm going straight to an award ceremony for my younger sister at her school. Ya know, on a night without Kiddo when I get to be twenty-three and irresponsible, I can't think of a better way to spend it. I don't acknowledge my sister enough. She's always been the baby sibling. We have ten years between us which was always too much to forge an actual friendship until now, when I'm feeling protective and proud and she's getting to be too independent and unique. How we're related is beyond me. I'd have killed at her age for an older sibling to take me the Whisky A Go Go to see rock bands er something, but when I did with her, all she said was, "It was alright." She's brilliant and creative and talented and growing into this stunning little thing - her skin absorbs sunlight beautifully, her hair is naturally highlighted with multiple shades of blonde and brown, her eyes are bright green and hazel and they freakin' sparkle. She's finally coming out of her shell and developing a sense of humor. This could have stemmed from the ceaseless taunting she's endured as the youngest, with the added note that my brother and I have a shared perverted, dry humor/constant banter. He can be a real asshole about it, but I just fuck with her. I called her yesterday and asked what she was doing. "Walking around the block with my friend."
"What?! You snuck cigarettes, didn't you?" (This couldn't be a further stretch from truth, the girl would have an aneurysm if she accidentally said damn.)
"Shut up. I did not."
"Is it drugs then? Are you experimenting? ARE BOYS THERE?"
"Yeah. The day before my big award ceremony, and I decide to take up pot. Yeah. Right."

Brady child's gettin' fiesty!

I have a major literary crush on an internet friend. Let's geek that up a little more shall we?! I really do - I want to consume everything she/he (ooh, you'll never know) has ever typed and be the first person to obtain brilliance through osmosis.

Did I mention that goddawful sunburn I endured at this year's Pride? Like satan kissed my shoulders. They're peeling and itching. I'm flaking as I walk, like a human snow globe. Don't come near me. You'll snag my epidermis.

You know what someone needs to get on? I want all the details of moving to be taken care of in one phone call. I call you, you turn on my cable, internet, electricity and water. Switch my address on all my bills and subscriptions. And wait for the installers when they give an impossible window of 8-12 on a weekday. Why, so I can take off work for four hours, only for you to show up at 11:59? Pssh. Someone, patent, now. I will share beer upon completion and maybe heat up some frozen lasagna. I'm so frustrated. The little odds and ends are fraying as I drag them in my laziness.

Wah, right? I got this badass apartment and now I have DO things. Fuck off, I know. I'm off to get my big girl panties so I can DEAL WITH IT.

-Pretty Lush

From under the dust & cardboard

Spent most of the weekend moving. It hasn't yet become the arduous task it seems like, although my arms are a little sore. There's still a thrill to it. I did overflow the dishwasher by using a little dishsoap. I could have let it go on and had myself a bubble party in the new kitchen but I had other shit to take care of. My empty current room is depressing, especially the blank walls. I shudder to see so much white. The new place is looking more inhabitable as furniture progresses that direction. There's a dining set, computer desk, rocking chair with ottoman. My books came out of their boxes as soon as possible. If I can con a friend into rocking her stud-finding-laser-leveling McWonder toy on my walls, I'll have shelves shortly. If that thing vibrated, I'd want one in every color.

Could the UFC fights have gone any better? (Yes. Jardine could have won and Leben could have fought.)Penn and St. Pierre in the near future is an exciting prospect. While I kinda like GSP, my money is still on Penn, probably always. The Silva/Jardine fight was insane, watching Keith fall that fast was a little devastating. Seeing Ortiz lose his last UFC fight (and still somehow come off cocky) was all I needed to make the night right. And I have my hopes up for Pulver.

My Denver-bound friend Jennifer had a going away gathering at a sports bar this weekend. It was cool to hang with lush co-workers outside of the satellite office. Hopefully we got enough pictures in to assure we're not forgotten.

Speaking of pictures, I dug through a box that had been in storage for a couple of years and found a shoebox full of old pictures. You'd have thought it was buried treasure, I was so excited. All of Kiddo's first Christmas pictures, old pictures of friends and past relationships.. and I finally got to show Ree what I looked like in high school, when I was super thin and blonde. You'd never know it was me. My hair went from long blonde to short red to mid-length black over those few years. I think I'll scan some good ones soon.

-Pretty Lush