Hee!

Too bad the sound of balloons (or, you know, inflated condoms) rubbing against each other gives me a headache. So cute!

[YouTube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQALeeHWJyE&e]

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Bitches Ain’t Shit.

Today I was at the soda shop downtown with Jack.

He likes looking at all the vintage Hollywood 8×10’s framed on the wall, pointing out John Wayne and Shirley Temple every time without fail.

A large group of junior high students came barreling into the front door, prompting me to wonder whether I was that irreverent and annoying at fourteen. I felt sorry for the girl behind the counter, who had one sandwich and seven (free) waters to serve. Ugh.

Soon after they entered, Jack and I squeezed past the group and walked outside. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a skinny kid crossing the street with a mop of bright orange hair: shaved on the sides and flopping over one eye. And seriously? This hair was the color of orange that you see in magazine features about “coral” nail polish. Really, really orange. Traffic cone orange.

Thundering steps and a flinging open of the door caused me to reflexively put my arm around Jack’s shoulders and pull him to me. It was three of the kids from inside the shop: Two girls and a guy. The guy called out to the kid crossing the street, “Jason!” The kid stopped, and flashed a peace sign. “Dude, seriously?” yelled the guy, as he turned and walked inside.

“Ugh,” one of the girls said to the other, “it’s so orange. Nice way to memorialize your dead father!”

WHAT?

I mean, SERIOUSLY? Fuck You.

I hate those girls, and I wanted to run to Jason Coral Hair and give him a hug.

Bitches.

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Damn.

Ah, Helen Mirren. 63 years old and infinitely hotter than the 20-something deer-in-the-headlights model on the right.

Yay, bikinis!

(Via)

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Rethinking

Man, When I get too much time on my hands (i.e.: when my children are gone) here’s what happens:

1. My laundry stays caught up. This is a good thing.

2. My house stays very neat. This is not such a good thing, because the second they come home I’m astounded at how quickly it becomes a cluttered swamp.

3. My refrigerator empties out. I don’t drink milk or juice, or use bread or butter or cheese when I cook for myself. Today’s inventory: Peaches, Pesto & Pinot Grigio. HAH! Swear to dog, I didn’t plan that.

4. I get all skinny. See #3.

5. I miss having the boys around to cuddle and hug and kiss and run my fingers through their hair.

6. It reminds me of what my uncle’s fiancée said: That being lonely when the kids are gone will make them feel guilty about leaving. She’s probably right, and I should probably start, like, dating or something.

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Decorum, Please

I’m not sure why, but it really annoys the hell out of me when I get emails requesting a “link exchange.”

Take that back, I AM sure why.

It’s like that MySpace thingie, which also pisses me off that people I don’t know think it’s okay to send me a friend request without the common courtesy of a note of introduction. Like, give me something to work with, people.

Sigh. Maybe I’m just not meta enough, but when I add someone to my blogroll it’s because I like their site. And people who pay attention to their stats will see that i’ve added them and maybe they’ll add me, and maybe they won’t, but that’s oh-the-hell-kay. Whatever!

I guess I just don’t appreciate the blatant, in-my-face, oh-so-close-to-rude suggestions that a link exchange will “benefit us both.” I like my online friends, and I’ve met them all by following links, but I also think that, in this big series of tubes, things will get sorted out eventually.

I’m like a kid when it comes to this: If you tell me to do something, no way am I going to. Just to show you that you can’t boss me around. (Whoa, Mads, you’re all tough and shit. Jeeeeeze.)

And if you really really really want me to be your friend and link to your site and you can’t STAND it, a flattering email will get you far.

Who doesn’t like to get mail?

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Up To

Oh.

I love my coffeemaker. I’m so glad Kelly finally got me to buy it (and it was on sale, so yay.) Also, I got a reusable filter so all you greenies can relax. Pshaw, for serious, did you think I wouldn’t? I recycle. Hell, I compost, bitches. Yay for compostable coffee grounds and yay for coffee in 30 seconds. Yay for the best of both worlds.

Vix and I have decided that, from time to time, repeating something that someone’s just said, but repeating it ghetto is very funny. Like, if I go to Target and my total is 87.13, and the cashier says “your total is 87.13,” I then say, “Aw, yeah, Ehteh-sevuhn-thuh-TAYN! Mmm-hmm…” It’s sort of ridiculous, but it makes laugh and think of ANTM when the models get all up in each other’s faces and heads start to tilt and fingers wag. Because, you know, they’re from the streets and they don’t take disrespect from nobody. Oh, models, you make me smile.

My house is clean and staying that way. I like it. Then I feel guilty because the reason it’s clean is that I’m here without kids. Yesterday I turned on Ben 10-Alien Force just to hear the theme song.

Spanked is out and I received my author’s copies in the mail this week. It is pretty and there’s gonna be a virtual book tour and author interviews, so add it to your feeds.

Kelly comes back from Europe this weekend and will spend many uninterrupted hours here. I am excited about this, and even though I accidentally outed myself (and the blogging thing) to him, he’s sweet and cool and sort of titillated by the whole thing. I sort of can’t wait to get my hands on him. 

So, that’s mostly it. I’m being tres productive and doing some cool stuff. I think I’ll have some more coffee.

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One

It’s twelve hours since I got the phone call from my mom. 

At first I let it go to voicemail, because I was in a noisy restaurant bar with Reece, but she called right back. And told me that my children were still waiting for their father to collect them from the airport. An hour after they’d landed and Miles called me like I’d asked.

Right, so, of course I freaked out, called my ex (no answer, no surprise), called his wife (also no answer), and phoned Miles’ cell (yes, he’s nearly eight and I got him a cell phone… thank goodness.) Reece gave me her phone since my battery was dying and I still hadn’t heard anything except that Daniel’s car broke down on the drive to the airport. Ugh.

I spoke with the airline rep waiting with them, apologized, and asked her to find them something to eat, since it was seven o’clock and they’d eaten lunch at one. 

I called later, after a few vodka crans and Miles said they were at Daniel’s house. Good. But I didn’t speak to Daniel, because nails don’t spit well over the phone. 

On the up, I stopped at a Linens-N-Things on the way home from the airport. It’s one of the ones that’s closing, and I wondered if I could be so lucky as to find the coffeemaker I want on sale. And I did, so now I have a brand-new Keurig in my kitchen, replacing the ancient Krups that always spattered and scalded me and took ten minutes to brew a cup of organic.

Try 30 seconds, motherfuckers.

And I shall be productive today, and I shall not lose my temper with my ex. And I shall clean the shit out of my house, and it shall stay like that because there is no one here to mess it up. Sad face.

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