Oxymorons & Hangovers

Little deals

My unclaimed inheritance spam e-mail says I have money waiting for me from a dead relative! He spells his last name similar to mine… but it’s certainly not correct. Maybe his lawyer just doesn’t pay much attention to legal documents. That must be it… off to click that link!

Ugh. I guess I’d take inheritance spam over any type of ‘enlargement’ spam any day, though.

I’m finally getting back on track with Weeds. I own the first season and when I rented the second one about a year ago, I never finished it. Not because I don’t like the show, I just failed miserably. So a season two DVD showed up in my mailbox and now I’m whipping through the first season with Ree so I can attach her to the show. This should hold us off since the only things we have to follow now are the interrogation tapes of the L Word cast.

This isn’t the first time I mentioned bawling over the music on Weeds but there is a part at the end of one episode where Nancy (Mary Louise Parker) is watching some softcore home video of her and her late husband and Leona Naess’ Ballerina starts playing and there is no stopping me – I cry like an uncontrollable little bitch. Almost as hard as when Lenny dies in Of Mice and Men and I will have you know that part of that movie and me seeing it when I was like nine is the reason I am on medication to this day. Shit fucked me up for good.

After the bank’s little temper tantrum over the weekend, I got a call from the caterer I used for my parents’ anniversary party. They accidentally refunded all of money at some point and I have since (unknowingly) spent it and can they charge me again? So the money I couldn’t use over the weekend is now gone anyway.

For shit.

So my broke ass will host Wii marathons and movie nights! Also I will be accepting sugar mama applications for the remainder of the week, kthx.

(The money thing is so not A Big Deal but three months ago it would have been the end of the world, but for sure. MAH PROGRESS LET ME SHOW U IT.)

-Pretty Lush

PS. Are you wearing green? No?

Done

I haven’t been able to mention yet that I was orchestrating a surprise anniversary party for my parents last weekend since me Ma tends to stop in to O & H (now with a pharmacy!). The original idea of a limo-n-steak dinner developed into a surprise party when I decided I really wanted my siblings involved and there would certainly be bar hopping post-dinner and they are under 21 (which it sucks to be, I'm told). My aunt offered up her house and her pasta salad capabilities, and another aunt took on appetizers and even another aunt took on champagne and glasses. With the help of six amazing women and one blue-eyed wonder child, we birthed a party. The worst part was the rental of the patio heaters that had to be picked up and re-delivered at totally inconvenient times in an even more inconvenient place (La Brea and the 10 freeway among the fabulous multi-colored buildings of Los Angeles). The DJs were amazing, the Italian food I’d catered was perfect (if not in accidental abundance), the balloons and the streamers and the confetti and the lights all provided the perfect ambiance to GET OUR FUCKING DRINK ON and the turnout was just what I’d hoped for. In the art of the surprise party there is always a blow-it. The person who either blows the surprise ahead of time, or shows up just as the guests of honor are coming in. To my knowledge, this didn’t happen. Or my parents act really well. There were a couple stragglers and I expressed more than a little frustration at having to give out the address again and again even though it was on the invite, but coming from the least prepared person in the state, I cannot complain.

And. I gave a speech. With my siblings. That was unplanned. It was weird but I’m really glad we did it.

I also forced my sister to dance a lot, which makes me laugh and I hope she doesn’t hate me for it.

At one point the DJ announced that the happy couple should take the floor for a dance. Ree stepped in quickly and whispered a request. Just as my parents thought they’d likely be embracing for Bryan Adams or something, Sir Mix-a-Lot came on and they were fucking all stars and they rocked that shit.

For the last month this party was the central focus of my brain and while it didn’t allow for any other stressors, I am so glad it’s done. Ree and I celebrated Sunday morning after I’d finished vacuuming confetti off the patio by resuming our Sunday tradition of champagne brunch. Kiddo cleaned her plate, which always pleases me, and I delighted in my usual taco breakfast and tortilla soup dessert. The last two Sundays were sans brunch and it throws off the whole damn day. This week Cheese Guy waved enthusiastically from his omelet station and I breathed a sigh of relief to be back to normal.

The L Word season finale commenced that night, with Italian leftovers and more champagne and eight girls crowded into the abode’s living room. I thought there were way too many characters that had left gaping holes in the ongoing L Word story – where the fuck has Carmen been? Can I get an update? Ivan? Papi? Adelle? The list goes on. And they covered almost all of these in Bette and Tina’s goodbye video, which I thought was a great idea. I shrieked for Ivan (mmm) and gagged at ‘Mangus’ but thoroughly enjoyed the episode until the end. Dude. I am flabbergasted by this blue shirted character (presumably female) that emerged from the bushes at gunpoint. Ree called it last night – Adelle. And now this ongoing webisode shit, while I’m not complaining because I need ANSWERS, people, is going to be a pain in the ass because my internet connection is shady at best. We were able to load the clip last night, of Tina in the interrogation room and OH MY GOD. EW.

Alienate already diminishing readers? Check!

-Pretty Lush

Instead of skanking...

From the Mouth of a Six-Year-Old:

“Mom, when Rheanna killed that spider last night, I was feeling apprehensive.”

This has been From the Mouth of a Six-Year-Old.

 

Kiddo would sustain on whup cream alone if I let her.

I forgot to mention the fact that for about fifteen minutes, I was in front of my speech class with my group trying to re-orchestrate our parts around the fact that one girl didn’t show up. One of the guys turned and whispered furiously, “She’d better be having a baby.” It was strangely calm – I remember my stomach turning when I had to present anything in school. I had to do a ten minute speech on an entrepreneur of my choice (Richard Branson) during sophomore year in high school and it was the first speech I ever gave that I didn’t completely fucking panic about. Figure that was about nine years ago (oh my gah) and it’s only gotten easier. I was shocked.

Next up: demonstrative speech. Followed by: Persuasive speech. I’m getting all gay marriage rights on those cats for the latter.

Kiddo and Ree and I played Wii last night. There is a dancing challenge on the Raving Rabbids game where you use the remote and the Nunchuck to follow the dance moves on screen. My neighbor took video of us waving our hands in the air and thrusting around. I nearly nail Kiddo in the head with my remote. It’s quite the hilarious work out.

I’ve been watching Trust Me. I’ve been nostalgic for Love Monkey for too long, so when I saw the trailer for a show with Tom Cavanagh in the work place, I figured, close enough. And it’s actually quite good.

While on a quick break from the Vonnegut stack I got in the mail from my friend Kevin, I picked up Odd Thomas, by Dean Koontz, because it's been on my shelf for over a year. Koontz is great for story telling and convincing the reader of the impossible  through very intelligent prose. There was a period of time that I couldn't get enough of him - then I see sentences like, "The bumps on my skin indicated that I should have feathers and a beak..." instead of, I HAZ GOOSEBUMPS, and I remember why I can only do one or two of his novels a year. (Believe it or not, I went through this insatiable stage with Danielle Steel too.) Which isn't to say I have a leg to stand on but for some reason that sentence really pissed me off.

Yeah, I think it's hilarious too, that I of all people, just criticized a well known, very talented writer. BA HA. HA.

The Specials are playing on my work computer and I’m yawning. There should be no yawning in ska.

-Pretty Lush

Successful six & super Sunday

Kiddo’s birthday involved multiple party store trips, where I accidentally picked up some items for the upcoming Superbowl party and Valentine’s poker party. By the morning of, all that was left to do was pick up the balloons, game prizes and food. In some twisted scheme, Kiddo’s dad and I pulled off a successful sixth birthday party. I had pulled all but seven hairs from my head and for nothing. Kiddo’s BFF from school came. We’d been dying to meet him and it turns out his mom is just as cool as he is, and they live about fourteen steps from our front door. I sense play dates in the immediate future.

Kiddo’s dad and I got her a Wii so she can enhance and (rightfully) brag about her mad tennis and bowling skillz. We’ll move it to living room sometime this week and Ree and I will inevitably have all-night tournaments. I cannot WAIT to buy Game Party.

Cupcakes consumed, wishes made, balloons released… Some friends and cousins came back to the abode after we’d cleaned our mess at the park. I ordered the pathetic Penn/GSP nightmare and refuse to speak of it.

Sunday began with the almost-usual champagne brunch, where the staff is getting familiar with us not quite by name, but as the girls who need dangerous quantities of champagne, or the girls who put cheese on everything. Which is fair considering one of the employees is known to us as Cheese Guy. They’re a lovely crew and their tortilla soup is unrivaled. Kiddo did math problems in a new activity book because she’s a wonder child.

I’ve never been a professional sports fan unless by association with my dad’s love of the LA Kings and the fact that I accompanied my parents to numerous hockey games as a lad back when they held season tickets. Last year I discovered the Dodgers and, well, I’ve written off saying professional sports are not for me seeing how I yearn for baseball season with feverish passion. However I don’t have a football team. Though almost always an underdog fan, for my safety, I joined Team Steelers and donned an appropriate borrowed jersey.

That game fucking rocked. Ree and I hosted, which involved her running the BBQ and me drinking beer in the house and taking credit for appropriate football decked plates and napkins. I almost spit beer for that Doritos commercial with the crystal ball.

Superbowl preceded L Word, when my phone vibrated with Alice’s mass text to all regarding Shane and Jenny. I signed up for some weird text updates and was giddy excited when that one came through. Then Tara, where I blew up again with Diablo’s clever updates.

I think I love Sundays.

-Pretty Lush

PS: Here we go again, aaaaaaah shiiiiiiiiit!

For once

It was a very American evening at the abode last night. Main ingredients: frozen pizza, beer, and inauguration on DVR. The recording was seven hours and we skipped through most of it. It was interesting to see so many familiar faces (and so many that I should be familiar with but am not). Even Giant Bedazzled Bow made it out to DC despite the frigid temperatures, with Aretha Franklin as her escort. Obama wonderfully executed a brilliant and concise speech that brought tears to my eyes, which means I’m hormonal but also offers further proof that I’m getting emotional this year. Whether or not one supported him, there is no denying the immense weight of this country’s current condition and he is doling out hope in high doses. All is said and done and I am excited to watch him at work.

I’m on top of the world today. It’s common to see, hear or read my constant stream of expletives and pointless moaning about how much I don’t like playing grown up. It’s fucking hard and underrated and I am shocked at how few suicides there are in the working class. (I think I’m only kidding.) But I finally took a tight grip on the hand that was extended out to me and borrowed some money to use as a float before I sink in interest rates. What remains to be paid has been automatically scheduled online in accordance with my direct deposits for the next few many months. I booked a shockingly cheap hotel room off the strip in Las Vegas for another family trip next month. (…with my Floridian relatives! I get to see them twice in less than a year’s time!) I’m ahead on my homework, reading and extra credit. Kiddo, roomie and I went shopping last night and restocked our pathetically low resources. I’m even having a decent hair day.

There’s more but the reigning point is that – I’m caught up. Of course there’s never a time that everything that could be done will, but I’m floating since approximately eleventy tons have lifted from my shoulders and neck. (Though this should not stop anyone from offering a good, hard shoulder rub.)

I had a doctor’s appointment today for my first birth control shot. There was a difficult language barrier with the RN who asked me to pee in a cup for a ‘preg-a-nance’ test but I grasped the concept and did my thing and thought how nice it was to not have to worry about THC evidence. When I first started working at the kind of jobs that require drug tests, there was always a nails-in-palm clench as I waited and wondered if I’d had enough cranberry juice to flush my system. Don’t raise an eyebrow – I never failed one test with that method.

Tonight I’m going to exercise, make Kiddo’s lunch ahead of time and watch the Wrestler. I didn’t think the mundane could ever make me feel so optimistic, but I’m almost positive that I’m happy.

-Pretty Lush

LOOK WHAT RHEANNA JUST FOUND! Fuck, I'm crying.

My lingering headache

This week’s best secret:



Nights this weekend were spent in the company of various awesome humans; mornings, coddling hangovers. It’s resulted in an overall lethargy and general lack of sleep look but through practice, I’ve mastered this. It’s been a long time since I got up and got out. On Friday night, we opened the abode doors to anyone and everyone and drank ourselves silly.

Number of noise complaints: one.
Number of friends I hadn’t seen in over a year: two.
Number of people staying for guest services of the abode: three.
Number of people it took to catch Lucy when she bolted out the front door during pizza delivery: five.
Numbers of drinks I had to take during Never Have I Ever…: 58430965346!

On Saturday I spent time with new co-workers, saw the phenomenon of the world condensing in a tiny underground bar in a Costa Mesa when I ran into two kids I went to elementary school with in Whittier. There was live music and dancing and general good times. At some point I played with a teeny tiny Boxer puppy who stole almost all of my cold heart when he army crawled towards me on command.

Panacea of hangovers: tortilla soup and mimosas, gossip with best friend.

Most of Sunday, post-soupy goodness, was spent on the couch watching reruns of the fifth season of L Word. We got to the point where Adelle gets the geek-to-chic makeover that involves the redundant, cliché, infuriating move of: glasses removal. Also, the movie Traffic, and I kind of loved hard on Benecio.

I went looking for Lucy yesterday and she had made comfy on my bed – her black fur, white bib and pink collar matching almost exactly my zebra and fuchsia colored bed. Which got me all swoll with happiness cuz she’s SO FUCKING CUTE. I need rehabilitation before I become a full blown ‘pet parent’ instead of dog owner.

Cheers: Pepsi is the official beverage of blasphemy! Supporting all the crazy gays! YAY!

Tomorrow I get to go with a hot date to A Night of Funny People. Judd Apatow hosts and there will be stand up by Patton Oswalt, Seth Rogan, Jonah Hill, Adam Sandler, Leslie Mann, and Aziz Ansari. ‘Plus special guests.’ HAP-PY.

When Kiddo came home from her dad's last night, she grabbed my leg and said, "I missed you so much." Kid just has no idea how high that got me. 

-Pretty Lush

Only six more hours

I finished Bobby last night. It had waited patiently in the DVR cache for weeks. By the end I had sat up completely and hunched forward. The first hour and a half are good but I found myself distracted by all the well known faces and trying to place their names and previous movies. The last half hour is chilling and brilliant, with actual footage of Robert Kennedy giving a speech on election day that flashes to the current actors reacting to it.

Then I watched Biography on Sarah Silverman and she is kind of my hero, a little. I forgot how funny her show is so I added it to record the series. My DVR is an eclectic mix of WWII docs on History channel, shows documenting the gritty underbelly of humans like Lock Up, Gangland, Intervention, and I Survived, movies I’ve yet to watch like The Science of Sleep, stand-up I haven’t finished like Chris Rock and Ricky Gervais, and then my guilty pleasures like Will & Grace and Sex & the City. I haven’t watched this much TV in my life. I worried yesterday that Kiddo was watching too much when she completely tuned me out in favor of Wubbzy. Then I realized she had cleaned up all her toys and art supplies, made my bed and her bed and finished a new book to add to her December book list before even relaxing with her feet kicked up. So I left Wubbz alone, despite the annoying voice.

I don’t know if you guys know this but Barack Obama left a compliment on my blog.

Today is the last day of work before the five consecutive days off I got for Christmas. It’s just what I always wanted. I’ll probably spend the whole time at my parent’s house, sleeping in my old room, shuffling Kiddo around on family visits. The less strenuous, the better. I’m contemplating the maximum amount of time I could spend in pajama pants.

Happy holidays. Wishing you much relaxation, love, booze and cream cheese.

-Pretty Lush

Fuck count: 7

The holidays have not yet jaded me. I’m very much anticipating whatever exclamation it may be that Kiddo produces when she opens the pink DS her dad bought. This kid lives and breathes for the moment that a DS comes into her life. For a kid who is not monetarily spoiled by any means, this little extravagance will go a long way. By no means has she been subtle about this desire for a little hand held game. Drawing is an everyday activity and countless DS drawings have sprung up around the house. She adds those two letters to my grocery list, to the caption of every picture she draws and to all seven Christmas lists she made, although the final draft on fancy themed paper included only two things: DS & cupcake maker.

I need to reiterate that being five-years-old is the coolest thing a child can achieve. Kiddo is so fucking funny and smart and entertaining and fun that I often give serious consideration to doing this all over again, at a time when it makes sense.
And then I laugh maniacally and take another long pull from the hooch.

Over the weekend my mom hosted an annual holiday party with her high school girlfriends and I offered my help in cleaning up the house. I was not aware that she would advocate slave labor all up on my poor, selfless ass. When she asked me to hang a tarp over a very tall canopy with the assistance of only two not-so-tall thirteen-year-old girls, the daunting task seemed almost too much and I seriously considered what the status of our relationship would be like if I just snuck the fuck out.
Eventually the tarp was hung, the house was clean, and about a dozen forty-something women showed up. They were brash, loud and fucking hilarious. I was mildly intimidated but also very envious that this group even associates two decades after high school and I can count on one hand the number of people I still talk to from any of my schools. (Although I did just add a friend from seventh grade on MySpace. Score one more for me.)

I finally got the oil change that my car was on its knees for. The tech not only complimented how my septum piercing ‘looks nice’ but also the color of ‘blue and green’ eyes. The way he lingered after the usual air filter explanation, I almost thought he was considering making a move. While I was by no means interested, it made me smile. Because I’m easy like that. There is a small part of every woman that does enjoy feeling pretty. I think it was the scarf.

My co-workers are so goddamned nice. I’ve been given a lot of presents and treats by these cool cats and I have nothing to give in return because I didn’t anticipate being so spoiled. One of the gifts was a white scarf that was all too appropriate since I'd recently decided I would wear a scarf every day, ever. It only took me twenty-three years of winter to realize they're my very favorite and I dream of argyle scarves and chenille scarves and striped scarves... the possibilities! So I donned the new white scarf very enthusiastically and I think I radiated sexy in it. Sexy enough to get hit on by a mechanic anyway. And I'll be the one to determine that that is plenty sexy.

My sister did most of my wrapping already. There's a few straggling gifts in the mail, one I'm almost positive is not coming at all and that seller will suffer the wrath of NEGATIVE FEEDBACK. I do not fuck around with feedback. You don't just throw caution to the wind, not with feedback. That is some serious stuff. And if I don't get my hard to find, super rare and very awesome blankity blank (who knows if the receiver stalks O & H) I will probably sue Amazon and for all that they're worth. Not to mention the FEEDBACK. Fuck, I will be so pissed. Really, guys. Like, uber-mad. My eyebrows will furrow like no one's business.

Okay, I got carried away. I can be pretty ruthless, I know.

The season three Dexter marathon went swimmingly and five of us cozed into the couches and my dog bothered everyone because she's a little retard child that needs attention and! Rita got knocked up! And I pissed! Because that is nuts!

I cannot WAIT for baseball season.

I watched Gross Point Blank over the weekend because I'm the only one that hasn't seen it. Best soundtrack EVER.

I have a quick rant. I am VERY anti-racism. I will play into the stereotypes in good fun. (I'm not gonna point any fingers but some ethnicities have startling statistics behind the wheel. I'm just sayin'.) But I am not opposed to the various cultures and races abundant in California. EXCEPT. Here's my rant. When, in a predominantly English speaking state, when my very decent English cannot be understood and someone makes ME out to be the rude one because we can't communicate. This morning I said 'excuse me?' at least four times and my breakfast order was still wrong and the gal at the drive-thru was really fucking rude. I AM SO NICE AND PATIENT, WHAT WENT WRONG. I almost asked. But she wouldn't understand. But I need the world, starting with my blog readers, to know that: I know I'm weird and unapproachable and all of that (I'm told) but sometimes it's not me. IT'S YOU.

And while we're at it, it's SUPPOSEDLY. Supposably is not a word in any language, ever, so KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF.

Much love, holiday cheer and proper grammar,
-Pretty Lush

Joke's on you

What's strange is that I've been writing in my online journal more often than I ever have since I started using it in 2000. When I click compose here, I go blank and the cursor becomes an antagonizing fuck and I find myself fuming at it. I suppose it's easier to spill my real guts than it is to attempt a casual, near-witty, public writing exercise.

I just signed up to help decorate what is apparently the biggest beast of a fake tree for my office on Monday. This brings back miserable memories of about three years ago when I helped decorate a schmancy country club for extra pay. The money was above average but the designers were militant and there is only so much seriousness I have reserved for stringing billions of colored beads around a fake tree. They fed us this gory taco salad for lunch. I’m not a fucking bunny though and I don’t really do the lettuce thing so not only was I irritated with the ordeal (which lasted approximately twelve hours, that's all) but I was starving. The work tree should be significantly less traumatic and includes pizza. I will stop complaining right… nnnow.

Work is also hosting a toy donation for a local children’s shelter. At my old job, I scavenged the lists for the young girl that wanted a journal and for three years, somewhere in Orange County, a pre-teen got a sweet, blank book that I can only hope they filled to capacity.

Unknowingly, or unthinkingly, I tore open an Amazon package yesterday that contained Santa’s generous gift of a Wall E DVD, right in front of Kiddo. Luckily she didn’t see it because I’m a fucking sleuth ninja cat and I was able to hide it up in the closet without question. There are a lot of presents gathering up there, waiting to be wrapped and delivered. That is very exciting. I LOVE giving presents. Everyone will love them and holiday cheer will be in full effect because of my generosity, which knows no limits. JUST KIDDING, I’M TOTALLY LAZY AND SELFISH. ‘cept not.

I finished the first season of Dexter. I can only hope that the character development of Deb gets a move on before I have to clothesline the bitch for playing such a stupid role. We were on point in the beginning – she was a redhead, I was aroused. And then it all went to shit. The scene that has her flipping a tit over Dexter wanting a DNA test for his supposed real father was so infuriating, I yelled obscenities at her. Onward with Season Two.

I could go for some hot chocolate right now. I’m wearing a glowing white shirt that would definitely be doused in it because my luck is a law of physics. But you know what, universe? I’m not gonna have any hot chocolate. So you can’t fuck up my clean, white, shirt. I will resist ferocious hot chocolate cravings and fool your plan! OOH, IN YOUR FACE!

Sorry, I was silly drunk last night and the effects are taking over the rational part of my brain, which is already the smallest part.

-Pretty Lush

Doubled Over

I'm being punished from the inside. I don't know what I did to wrong my uterus, but it is out to get me and seems to have made an ally with my lower back muscles. I'm all for the wonders of the Monthly but I'm curious how this seemed fair when humans were engineered. Er, developed from pond scum, rather.

There were fabulous chicken tacos at my house last night and I discovered True Blood On Demand per the recommendation of a good friend. This should give me hours of tube time because I dug the show. I haven't lusted for a blonde the way I was for Anna Paquin since ever. Even as Rogue she didn't do this much for my loins.

Pumpkin hot and cold coffees! And ice cream! I forgot these wonderful parts of fall but now I'm on a quest to devour it all with Bean Baxter at my side.

 

Dutchess Lucielle McSugarbritches, aka the kitty puppy 

-Pretty Lush