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On our way home last night, we were behind a car whose license plate read, “EMIN3M.”

The 1337 nature of the plate got me to thinking that someone must already have EMINEM and that there are probably people with variations like 3MINEM and 3MIN3M. And also that there are people who like Eminem’s music and like it enough to pay homage to him on a license plate and how messed up is that?

We took down our Christmas tree last night. We had stripped it of its decorations (like the shameful hussy that it is) a while ago but were waiting for recycling day to come back around before putting it out. Of course, we stopped watering it some time ago…cause we like fire hazards.

But watching the husband lug the tree to the front door was pretty amusing since he managed to knock over some chairs in the process. It looked like the husband was the bouncer at an arboreal bar & grill and our tree was some leprous, drunken patron, leaving bits of himself all over the place as he was “escorted” from the place. Our dining room floor resembled a forest for a little bit and when the husband came back inside he had pine needles stuck in his beard. I didn’t tell him that, though. I like my men as rustic as possible.

Do you ever have one of those mornings where you think, “Nothing. None of this is working. I must quit everything?” And I recognize that that statement sounds very woeful, but I’m coming from a very frustrated, irritated point of view in which my willingness to give a shit has simply ceased.

See, the husband’s classes started up again today and suckily enough he has a 9 a.m. class on Mondays and Wednesdays. 9 a.m. classes don’t go over very well in our family because a) we’re not morning people, b) the baby’s bus sometimes doesn’t arrive until 8:30, and c) we live in a cheap part of town, meaning we sacrificed convenience and are usually faced with horrendous traffic. Added to all of that is the fact that one of the main boulevards in Pittsburgh is closed for the next year for repairs, so our usual morning commute clusterfuck has been replaced with the new ’08 model clusterfuck: The Motherf@($*#((%@)$%*%))@!!!!one! 3000.

This morning, we gritted our teeth through the traffic which was way worse than usual, probably because all of the Pitt students are back in the mix. By the time we got to Oakland, it was about 8:58 and I still needed to be dropped off at work. So the husband was already seething and muttering about how we were going to have to radically alter this routine before Wednesday. We pulled up to a red light at the intersection of Forbes and Craig, right in between Starbucks and Kiva Han, the cool indie coffee shop where all of the English and film majors and white Zapatistas go and say cool things like, “Yeah, me too.” *

So, we’re sitting at the red light and all of the artsy and academic types that populate Oakland are blearily shuffling on the sidewalks, absorbing the Mondayness of it all. And the light changes to green. And then this fucking shithead starts to cross the street. Very. Slowly. And he had timed it so that he was walking right in front of our car as the light turned green. And he has his Starbucks cup and his backpack and his floppy hair and just totally did not care that it’s 9 a.m. on a Monday morning and people have to be places because he only has to drink coffee and be a shithead. The husband laid on the horn because what the fuck?

Then. That kid. Spit. At. Our. Car.

The husband rolled down the window and screamed a string of obscenities at him. Ordinarily, I would have tried to reign him in a bit but that kid totally deserved it. And all of the artsy and academic types looked up, startled, and were probably irritated with us but whatever.

The 9 a.m. class. The traffic. The closed boulevard. The Starbucks-spitting shitheads. The lack of apostrophes.

I want them all to die.

Happy Monday!

* Louis C.K.

The kindergarten classes at the baby’s school had a little Thanksgiving pageant thing today. I was pretty excited for it…so excited, in fact, that I left the house without some key accessories: my purse, which housed my wallet and my phone, and my camera. I also left some yummy leftover spaghetti at the house that I had planned to eat for lunch but, figuring I would have my wallet, decided on my way out the door that I would just buy something for lunch.

I blame this partially on the fact that I had a paper due today and when I left the house this morning it was only 1/3 done. That kind of thing is distracting. For what it’s worth, I just turned the paper in and I’m pretty confident that it sucks. But mentally I’m in no position to make it any better. Oh, well.

The pageant was extremely cute. I know it’s instinctual to groan at the idea of kids dressed up in homemade costumes and singing songs all off-key and distracted. But as a parent it was the best thing I’ve seen all year. I absolutely can not wait to go to every single one of those corny things.

The baby was a turkey and many of the songs that they sang were about eating turkey or the turkey’s sneaky methods for avoiding the oven. They sounded cute but really what kind of morbid shit is that? It’s all very close to this.

There were also pilgrims and, of course, “Indians.” I really couldn’t believe when the principal referred to them that way. Perpetuating Thanksgiving myths is one thing. Using terms for people that are known to be offensive is another.

I was very sad not to have my camera, nonetheless. But I managed to persuade some staff members to hook me up with some doubles and whatnot.

On a completely unrelated note, there is apparently a stomach virus going around these parts. This I am not at all cool with. Several faculty members were out yesterday and my officemate just went home sick after ralphing in the bathroom. I now get to be paranoid because I’m irrationally terrified of the stomach virus* and being that close to someone who might have it makes me very, very uneasy.

However, said officemate had lunched on leftover shrimp from Red Lobster, so I’m hoping it was just that. And seriously, how little regard can you have for your gastrointestinal integrity if you’re eating leftover shrimp from Red Lobster. Ugh. It’s like a 20/20 undercover report just waiting to happen.

I’m mostly worried because I’ve been talking about how much I’m going to eat on Thursday for about two months and if I have to miss it, or worse, barf it all up unintentionally afterward, I’m going to be extremely pissed.

*Everyone hates me for this.

My afternoon class was canceled so that means that I don’t have any classes this week. Yesssss. It was a highly needed reprieve, too. This morning, as I was dragging the baby to the bus stop, I was thinking, “God, I just don’t want to do anything anymore. I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to go to class, I don’t want to be married, I don’t want to be a mom, I don’t want a house, I don’t even want to be a daughter. I just want to stay in bed all day and watch whatever is on TV.”

Healthy, yes? But apparently, all it took was for that 1:30 – 2:50 block to be freed up and I’m all on top of life again.

The baby also told me this morning that he didn’t think he should go to school because he wasn’t feeling well. I asked him what was wrong and he said, “I feel like I’m losing my mind.” Uh, okay.

The wedding on Saturday was very nice. On the drive up, the husband and I ranted about stuff. The ceremony was very short. The minister was a little strange, though. He kept stumbling on his words (“Who brings this woman to be buried…I mean, married,”), and when he asked for the rings he said, “Can you bring me those rings so I can bless them?” Christ, dude, act like you’ve done this before or at least be a little cheerier.

I didn’t take too many pictures because my batteries died, even though when my mom borrowed it last week she said she put new batteries in. I don’t know why she has to be such a dirty liar. I will post this one that I took of this really awesome garage door that was smack in the middle of Creepy Church Country, OH. What is up with Ohio and Jesus? They love that dude there. Multiple churches on every block. Like Lewis Black said, “He is the Coca-Cola of Ohio.”

On our way to the reception, the husband spotted a record store so we stopped in there for a few minutes, such is his addiction. He did manage to find a rare record so I guess it was worth it.

The reception was nice. The minister showed up in a pastel blue and yellow plaid suit and muttered grace. There was another woman there who wore this red satin dress for the ceremony and then changed into this yellow chiffon number for the reception. Diva! Someday I want to be badass enough to need a wardrobe change.

The DJ was kind of meh. He kept playing line dance songs, like whatever idiotic Dirty South-lite crap has come out in the past six months. That was fine, but it was an older crowd. The mostly sat around looking amused. Until he played the Electric Slide. Then things got serious. At the beginning, he had all of the married couples come out on the dance floor for this thing he likes to do called “Lessons in Love” or something. He played “Here and Now” by Luther Vandross (Luther!) then slowly eliminated all of the couples by years of marriage until there was one couple left dancing. The DJ asked them how long they had been married and the wife said, “I don’t know, sixty some years?” Ha! The husband and I got eliminated in the first round since we’ve been married less than five years, but it was nice to dance with that dude for a second.

Also, I apparently cry at weddings very easily now. Awesome.

I fell asleep in the car on the ride home (3 glasses of red wine) and when we got home we watched The Wickerman, which was pretty messed up.

Is it time for turkey yet?

I went to Student Health today for a UTI. I feel 19 again! Heh.

The husband and I watched a Paul Mooney stand-up special on Showtime last night. Oh my god. I was in tears, it was so funny. We saw him live a couple of years ago and I nearly peed myself. He’s hilarious…and insane. When we saw him he wore this military coat and a big hat with ear flaps the whole time.

I really don’t know how people work from home. Aside from all of the distractions luring me away from being productive, there are other people who live here. And those other people are…how can I put this nicely and in a way that doesn’t diminish my love for them?

Those other people are obnoxious.

I have a new freelance gig and had squeezed in a phone interview yesterday. When I called the guy I got his voice mail, so I left a message telling him to call me back. He did a few hours later.

My voice recorder kicked the bucket a few weeks ago and I didn’t really grasp how much I would miss it until I was on the phone with this guy, furiously typing away notes, when the baby came upstairs.

He has a “sandwich” he had made for me and wants me to “eat” it right away. My silent shoos kind of work…but then he goes to the bathroom where the husband is taking a shower. So the husband starts yelling at the baby to close the door before the smoke alarm goes off (a charming quirk) and the baby starts whining back and they’re being incredibly loud. The guy on the phone is talking and talking and I’m saying “Mmhmm. Mmhmm,” even though I can’t hear anything and trying to close the door which doesn’t really close because our house is old and crooked. The baby sees this and pushes his way through. I give up and go back to my computer…and the cat is curled up on the keyboard.

I’m going to have, like, one vague quote for this article and whatever my cat managed to type out with its stomach. Great.

My cat is chasing his tail. Is that normal? It’s amusing enough to watch. He sits down, turns around and stares at his tail, which he twitches ever so slightly, then pounces. The tail is controlled by HIS brain, correct? I should probably stop spiking his water bowl with rum.

I am currently holed up in my bedroom “doing homework.” The Steelers/Browns game is on and I…I just can’t watch. I’m too stressed out as it is and Ben Roethlisberger gets my blood pressure up. And the husband’s behavior during a game is really, really jarring.

I actually had a few blissful moments to myself this morning. The husband played records last night at Remedy in Lawrenceville, so the baby spent the night at my mother-in-law’s. The club was pretty fun, though the turnout was pretty pitiful. Does no one go out anymore?

The mother-in-law dropped me off at the club since the husband had to go earlier. When I got there, the bouncer asked me for my ID and then said, “Are you here for the comedy?” What? When I got upstairs there was, in fact, a stand up comedian performing and I was very, very confused. I stood there for a minute until I finally tiptoed to the back room where the pool table was and found the husband and our friend Tony and, most exciting of all, our friend Jonathan who recently moved back here from Colorado. I was so happy to see him, especially since we’ve been trying to get together for the past, like, two months with no success.

When the comedian was finally done, they got set up and started playing records. I was stationed by the door to collect the $2 cover charge, but that was…kind of a bust. No one was really showing up (a) and (b) everyone that came upstairs apparently worked at the bar. There were more bartenders than patrons. And when I managed to snag one actual patron and told him that it was $2, he asked me if I wanted to play pool. Another guy stumbled up the stairs and when I said, “Two dollars, please,” he replied, “I really need to stop smoking weed.” So, everyone there was either a bartender or mentally impaired in some way. Fun!

But the music was, of course, really great and I was so pleased to bullshit with Jonathan all night. We emo-ly comiserated that we have no friends and hate everyone, so it seems to be really good timing on his part to have moved back here.

Anyway, the husband and I slept waaaay in this morning and after he left for work, I snuggled onto the couch with my coffee and my laptop and turned the TV on. The mother-in-law dropped the baby off a few minutes ago and we’re watching Sleepless in Seattle, which the baby apparently really likes.

He is going out with my mom and dad in a little while and I am doing homework, laundry, homework, laundry, homework, homework, and uh, homework. So exciting! *dies*

Ah, finally!

But you know what else? Today is me and the husband’s anniversary (relationship, not wedding). We have been together for seven years.

I’m impressed with us. *brushes dirt off shoulders*

It’s really weird to think that when we finally got together after roughly a year of indirect flirting and all-night chat sessions on ICQ, I was just a goofy, irresponsible 22-year-old kid and he was just barely 21. Everything is so different now.

I was looking through my LJ for something the other day and found this entry from our 5th anniversary and that sums everything up pretty well.

Our neighborhood had a Halloween parade on Saturday. A bunch of kids came out in their costumes and paraded down the main drag, cheered on by parents, grandparents, shopkeepers, and whatever patrons managed to stumble out of the bars. The baby is going as Godzilla this year, but we couldn’t find a Godzilla specific costume and I am not yet up to the job of constructing costumes, so we borrowed a dinosaur costume from my mom’s friend. It serves the purpose, kinda, but the baby was increasingly irritated with people assuming that he was some chump dinosaur. “I’m GODZILLA!” he would whine. Duh. Trampled Tokyo multiple times…ring any bells?

The baby actually once told me that Godzilla protects humanity from the tyranny of all monsters. Those were the words he used. Who is he?

Anyway, the parade was alright. I took a few pictures of the baby but mostly spent my time snapping shots of the boulevard, which is a good way to see how…odd the neighborhood is. It’s equal parts old world Pittsburgh and honestly-we-don’t-give-a-shit.

For instance:

There’s a drive-thru beer distributor. This is not unique to us, of course, but I think any place that has establishments that combine two things that aren’t supposed to go together (ie, drinking and driving) has a certain je ne sais quoi.

There were some miscreants about. These kids watched the parade with a certain amount of wistfulness in their eyes. I could tell they really wanted to still take part in all of the pageantry, but felt that they were too old now.

Or maybe they were just high.

Firehouse. Mediterranean grocery store containing the bomb pita, hummus, tabouleh, and grape leaves.

Luke Ravenstahl, Mayor of Pittsburgh, looking very…mayoral. I emailed this pic to the mayor’s office but have not yet heard back from Luke saying, “OMG thanks! I’m making it my default pic on MySpace right now.”

Me and Godzilla, who looks pretty gentle. Also, there is not a cheerleader growing out of his head, even though it looks that way. And, yes, I’m wearing a Sean John hoodie. My dad gave all three of us hoodies last year for Christmas and they were all brands that he had seen on drug dealers on The Wire. My dad’s weird. But that hoodie is huge and warm and I love it.

Anyway, speaking of Halloween, I’ve posted a very useful scary movie guide on MamaPop which you should peruse at your earliest convenience. To sum it up for you: Suspiria owns.

Maybe the lack of wholesome cinema in my diet can explain my attitude as of late, which is rather poor. I’ve definitely hit a slump and am viewing all of my duties with contempt. I did not do the readings for any of my classes over the weekend, I did not do laundry, I did not scrub poopy toilets (can’t imagine why not, I’ve been looking forward to it so), and am cranky at work. This morning, I realized, to my great annoyance, that I still needed to pack a lunch for the baby. As I told Angela, I have a very, “You need fed AGAIN? I just fed you yesterday!” approach to parenting at the moment and all this needs to stop because I need to make a living, get my master’s and keep my kid alive. God, adulthood is such a drag.

I guess I need to watch some Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood or something.