kdiddy.org

Big Work Thing went…okay. There were a couple of snags that could have been prevented if I had been a little more vigilant during the planning process. Nothing life-ending, but embarrassing nonetheless. Yet another good thing about me cutting back to one class per semester in the fall. My brain is obviously revolting against me and trying to make me look foolish.

Anyway, I got home from the Big Work Thing and changed out of my dress clothes…and immediately got my period. It was rad. So I’m totally relaxed now, except for my uterus. That old girl is just cramping away. The bitch.

Despite my rather radical beliefs, I’m very conservative about some things. For example, when I cook, I MUST have a recipe and I will not deviate from that recipe unless there’s a very good reason, ie, I’m out of an ingredient or I’m drunk. Similarly, my clothes are my clothes and I will not alter them to suit whatever kooky mood I’m in. I may have once made a pair of jean shorts by cutting up an old pair of jeans, but that’s about it.

Last year, when we went to Detroit, I got a nice, very old-school-looking t-shirt from the roller skating rink we went to. The only problem with it was that the shirt itself was poorly made and the neck came up around my throat. This made the shoulder seams bunch up oddly. All of these things combined made me gag when I wore it.

But today I went a little crazy and actually took a pair of scissors to the shirt.

Please also note my hair. I spent a good 35 minutes with the flat iron. I’m wearing the shirt and the hair to AVA tonight, where Rick Wilhite of fair Detroit will be playing records. Not sure what I’m going to wear on the bottom. Maybe I’ll just stick with these boxer shorts I’m currently rocking.

Somewhat related, the baby and I made a video greeting for Tracey today for her birthday, but I didn’t send it to her. When I got a look at myself, my face, I was stunned. I look so…tired. And old. And swollen. And worn out. This past year aged me so much. I’m freaking out somewhat. Sure, I can definitely do things like eat better and do yoga and get more sleep and stress less now that the semester is almost totally over. But I feel like maybe I wasted the last year of my “youth” spreading myself too thin. What if I’m just “old” now?

Promises to keep, 1500 words before I sleep.

The baby’s tee ball practice was called today since it was all rainy and muddy. I was only slightly annoyed that I woke up at 7:30 for nothing because I drank about 3 gallons of coffee. Taking advantage of my vibrating state, I started cleaning the kitchen and the bathrooms. Inspired (!), the husband started cleaning, as well.

Since we’re so busy during the school year and since we’re also just generally lazy, cleaning isn’t really a priority around here, so things were a little dodgy to say the least.

I was motivated enough to address the clogged drain in the upstairs bathroom sink. I had been merciless with Drano in recent weeks, muttering a quick apology to the environment before pouring bottles and bottles of the pale yellow sludge down the drain. But after a few hours of mild improvement, the drain would revert to its slow-running state, making the bowl of the sink a constant, pasty reminder of all of the times that we brushed our teeth.

I tried some green, hippie trick for clogs that involve pouring 1/2 cup of salt down the drain and rinsing it with boiling water. That didn’t help, either. So I found a dusty old rubber glove and started tugging at the drain plug. When I finally got it loose, I found myself gawking in horror at the substance that coated the stem of the plug. It was dark grey, and slimy, and decorated with a few hairs of various lengths. I felt myself beginning to panic, so I grabbed a paper towel and just started wiping the badness into the garbage can. I then mustered up the courage to shine a flashlight into the drain.

I feel it is my duty to inform you that the gate to hell is located in my drain.

I did some more of the salt and boiling water and moved on with my life, satisfied but very, very queasy.

I watered our pathetic little Madagascar dragon plant and decided to put it on the front porch to give it some fresh air and sun. It was only when I opened the front door did I remember that I was wearing only underpants and a Barry White tshirt.

I can’t imagine why our neighbors don’t talk to me.

A late-20s admin-type with creative aspirations stands at her office’s microwave and fumes silently at the leftovers therein.

“I can’t believe it’s going to take two minutes and thirty fucking seconds for this shit to heat up. Does it not know that I’m BUSY? BitchCurry better RECOGNIZE!”

Whatever, shortly after that it was hot enough to eat. I, too, can command the wind, sir.

I was going to write about how this morning when I woke up the baby he sleepily told me to “put on a talent show,” and how I was like, “I do everything else for you, I’m not fucking tapdancing, too,” and then how later, when I was trying to get him dressed, he simultaneously got a nosebleed, started peeing, farting, and sneezing and then a few minutes later wiped a gigantic booger on the hand towel and how he seems to have grown 3 inches since 7 p.m. last night because his pants are way too short and I’ve been having these really bizarre nightmares that I can’t remember any details of, other than “there were some people.”

But I thought about all of that and I said to myself, “This is all stupid,” so I didn’t post this. So the fact that you’re reading this is truly a feat of science. You should contact the media about your awesome ability to conjure non-existent blog posts.

I think I shall rename this blog fuckihavesomuchshittodo.com because fuck, I have so much shit to do! And it’s all I talk about!

As a special bonus for stressing myself out over crap that I (stupidly) willfully entered into (job, school, motherhood, existence as a functioning member of society), my lip is breaking out into a really sexy cold sore. The upside is that those really disgusting first two days of looking like your local meth addict turning tricks at the Best Western will be spent at home, where I will threaten my family by holding their toothbrushes thisclose to my lip. The downside is that I will look like your local meth addict turning tricks at the Best Western. Also, this shit hurts. Also also, I was kind of hoping for some adult time to alleviate the stress, but nothing says lovin’ HSV 1.

Anyway, we went to see The Roots last night. They were performing for Tech Fair. I’m sad to report that The Roots…kind of suck now, which is unfortunate since I stood around and frantically searched for the other members of my party for nearly two hours and then stood for another two hours while those hip hop darlings did their best impression of a drunken Doors performance circa nineteen-seventy-hell. For awhile I didn’t think it was so bad, but 20 minutes into their psychotic rendition of “Masters of War,” I wanted to choke someone. Granted, I was standing next to a group of young Anna Nicole wannabes and a couple who were making out the whole time, since, you know, “Masters of War” is the classic make-out jam.

I’ve seen these miniaturized pictures before, but for whatever reason I was inspired to try it this morning…probably because I have a ton of work to do and I would like to avoid it.

So, check it out. Here’s the original, a picture I took at the Monster Jam (clicking through to the larger originals might make them easier to see):

And here are the monster trucks miniaturized:

Surely, these aren’t the best examples, but it was so easy and I am completely obsessed with miniaturizing pictures now.

but I’m finally starting to really screw up in my classes. I guess I should be impressed that I managed to keep my head above water for this long.

I suppose I tend to block out how high the demands get at my job this time of year. Now matter how much I think I prepare, I always get blindsided. Now I have 3 major MAJOR things coming up and I don’t know how I’ll have the time to handle all of them plus not fail my classes.

I’m officially completely and totally overwhelmed and panicked.

The baby has been coating everything with snot the past few days and I’m guessing since all three of us are taking turns sniffling, sneezing, and “ugh”ing, that it’s seasonal allergy time in the kdiddy household. I gave the baby a swig of Benadryl this morning to hopefully combat the constant flow of mucous, and only after I had sent him off to school did I notice the “causes excitability in children” notice on the label.

Sweet. The kid’s already on 11 most of the time, which is weird since me, his dad, and even our cat are all

The sister-in-law and I met up with Sara G again last night for some yoga. While trying to coax my foot behind my head with the help of a strap, I gave my ear rope burn. Then the SiL was trying to convince me that we should take up racketball and I told her that that is a guaranteed broken nose for me (or, for that matter, her) as I am not coordinated whatsoever. And you know, I really wonder how I managed to stick with ballet for so long.

Dudes. I have about 3 weeks of this semester left. I am now Lucky in The Three Amigos…”Gonna make it…gonna make it…gonna make it…”

I just bought some Girl Scout cookies off of some people who were rolling huge boxes of them in a wagon outside of my building.

Walking away, I began to wonder if the peddlers were legit.

I’ll feel real bad if I’m eating my Thin Mints tonight and turn on the news to see some tearful Girl Scouts wailing about how someone stole their shipment off the truck or something.

But damn, Thin Mints are good.