Archive for the ‘life n’at’ Category

667, the neighbor of the beast

Saturday, December 6th, 2008

Oh, I don’t have much time to chat here, but I think it would be a blogging crime of the highest order if I did not mark the significance of this date.

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See this guy? You all know him as The Baby. Well, he turns 7 years old today. Can you believe that shit?

It’s hard for me to do comparison pictures since 2001 was quite a few years before we leapt into the 21st century and got a digital camera. I scanned a few pictures some time ago but never really dove into that project. So his baby pictures aren’t readily available to the online public. I mostly show this one, which is one of my favorite pictures ever, even though it’s more a picture of my armpit cleavage than anything else:

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The baby wanted to look at his baby pictures the other night so we lugged the photo album out. He marveled at the size of my pregnant belly and couldn’t help but coo over how cute he was as a brand new kid. He also asked me, “Why did you look like that?”

See, I had an emergency c-section and it really wiped me out. I was completely dopey for the first few hours after the baby was born. There aren’t many pictures of me in that state and of course none are online but I can recreate it for you:

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Later.

can you thtand it?

Tuesday, December 2nd, 2008

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The baby finally lost his other front tooth. It hung in there, literally, for a couple of weeks. I kept trying to pull it but there was one little piece that wouldn’t let go, but a stray smack to the face in gym class today did the trick. (I am not a fan of the kid who delivered the dental blow but I’ll let it go this once.) It’s hard to see the nice big gap the way he’s smiling, but trust me. The cute. It’s ridiculous. And I totally hadn’t thought of the endless entertainment of making him say “s” words until he mentioned wanting to read a “Dr. Theuth” book. And since I’m such a nice mom:

I’m taking requests.

Anyway, I’ll probably be pretty scarce ’round these parts until next week. Classes end this week, then the baby’s birthday is on Saturday, I’m going to a baby shower on Sunday, then I have a final and an article due on Monday. Then I’ll probably collapse for a day or two.

it’s not a mistake if we already do everything rong

Friday, November 28th, 2008

My plans for today included laundry, eating, maybe going to the nail shop, taking a nap, and whatever the female equivalent is of laying on the couch and scratching one’s balls.

Instead, the mail came. And in the mail there was a letter from PNC Bank’s collections department.

Oh, yes they did.

I haven’t blown up like that in awhile. I was shaking. I was screaming. I confessed to wanting to do very illegal things to every PNC branch in the city. I called several different numbers (because of course they kept bouncing me around) and bitched at every single customer service rep I talked to. I don’t normally do that, because I know that most people are just doing their jobs and trying to scrape by themselves. But I now have a pretty decent amount of contempt for all bank employees, since this is some divide and conquer bullshit. Give broke people a somewhat decent job screwing over other broke people, all the while gambling away their retirement funds…it all makes me sick.

But what I found out from one poor woman who had the shitty fate of talking to me was that when I settled my account once and for all (or so I thought) about a month ago, the money that I handed over never went through and I was once again responsible for $137.74. That amount includes a $29.95 fraudulent charge that I disputed, the investigation fee (since they somehow found in favor of the merchant, which is a whole other WTF), and a couple overdraft fees thrown in for good measure.

“So I give your institution money that I can’t afford to hand over and which your institution does not deserve, all in the name of just getting you out of my life, and you guys lost that money?”

“Well, ma’am…” she said WITH ATTITUDE.

“Oh, well, that’s a real crackerjack operation you guys are running over there. Seriously. Awesome fucking work. I’ll go to the branch AGAIN and settle this AGAIN.”

When I got to the bank, I sat down with a guy (let’s call him “Skippy”) I’d dealt with at least two other times in this debacle and who had been a douche to me before. I considered the possibility that I would leave that building in handcuffs and charged with assault and like, terroristic communist threats or something.

As Skippy explained to me, when I settled my account the last time, they sent the general ledger credit slip to their collections department and that department rejected the slip for some reason. Skippy insisted that I had done nothing wrong and could consider myself free and clear.

“Oh. So you guys made a mistake.”

“Eh, no, it’s not a mistake,” Skippy replied. The collections department rejects these slips for any number of reasons, like the teller didn’t sign her name clearly enough or didn’t list all of the information on the slip.

“So you guys made a mistake.”

“No,” Skippy insisted. They had done everything correctly with my payment, just in a way that resulted in me getting a threatening letter from the collections department.

“I’m sorry, Skippy. I may be a writer and not a financial whiz like you kids here, but that sounds like you guys made a mistake.”

Skippy, ever the optimist, maintained that they had fucked up in the correct manner, and that if I received any more letters detailing their stellar operations to let him know, so that he and I could again discuss the details of the awesome way that they continue taking money from me and being idiots.

What’s really fucked up is that there is no “closing” my account with them. If PNC insists that I arranged payment to a merchant through them, they will re-open my account to “honor their agreement,” once again putting me in arrears. And considering I already had one fraudulent charge to a business that I’d never heard of and never received anything from honored by PNC, it seems reasonable for me to worry that they have the power to conjure up any number of charges that they can honor and bleed me for money for who knows how long.

All in all, trying to close my account has cost me close to $2,000, mostly in fees and trying to clear the new and exciting negative balances that they keep dreaming up. I never did get my hands on my economic stimulus. All of that went to PNC.

Do you want to know why we’re in an economic crisis right now? Because the people who run our financial institutions and businesses are shitty business people. They are stupid. They don’t understand how economics work and think that their crafty methods of screwing people over are brilliant moves. We have a generation of failures running this country.

just, you know, for the record

Wednesday, November 26th, 2008

‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house…

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Dudes were sleeping and drooling all over that heinous couch.

The pie crusts were baking, the mum without care…

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…for she knew that wine would always be there.

I would totally translate the whole thing into “‘diddy” but I’m a tad too tired at the moment. But I will say that I am thankful for my family, for my opportunities, for writing, and for having time to think with a full belly. We saw Synecdoche, New York earlier and I’m thankful to know that I’m not the only one who thinks such weird things. I’m just glad that Charlie Kaufman puts them down on paper and has beautiful actors speak them for the screen. I’m thankful that art helps me to feel human. I’m thankful for my son, seeing the best pieces of me in him, knowing that I help people to experience him and all of his amazing thoughts and actions. I’m thankful for the husband and our life together.

And I’m thankful for Sidney Crosby and Yevgeny Malkin. 😉

kdiddy: extreme wifey edition

Wednesday, November 26th, 2008

Started this last night…

So, first things first: how are you guys? I’m okay. I’m very tired right now. But at least tonight I don’t have to talk myself out of going on a stabbing spree. That was last night, before I remembered that, once a month, my normal, bearable contempt for my fellow humans turns into BLINDING STABBING RAGE FLAMES! FLAMES! ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE! I did teach the baby some new and inventive ways to use the word “motherfucker” in a sentence, so I can’t say I haven’t been productive.

Speaking of the baby, he turned to me earlier and said, “Daddy makes you unhappy and poor.” I laughed heartily and then gave him a raise. He’d earned it…the cute little motherfucker.

Anyway, yes, the subject of this post. I’ve gone wildly Stepford the past few weeks. I think it all started when I said to my mom, “You know, I made some pretty tasty pumpkin puree and froze it. I could make the pumpkin pie this year.” Apparently what is an offer in my world is a throwing down of the gauntlet in the world of my mom and my grandmother. They’ve given me multiple opportunities to back out. Whatever, man. My pie’s going to be fucking awesome.

The last time I made cookies, I noticed that my cookie sheets were pretty gross. I’ve had them about 2.5 years and they’ve seen plenty of mishaps. I’ll still use them, but for more dirty jobs…say, catching whatever bubbles out of a casserole dish. So I bought some new cookie sheets and some of those nifty Silpat thingies so I don’t have to struggle with tearing parchment paper into strips to fit the sheets. Those came yesterday today.

So, to go with my upcoming pie baking and Cookie Baking Extravaganza ’08, I bought some aprons. Oh, yes.

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WE ARE THE ROBOTS!

This darling thing and another Christmasy one that reminds me of one that my mom used to wear came from Boojiboo on etsy.

I’ve been on a small etsy/handmade binge lately. My buddy Cristina and I went to the Handmade Arcade a few weeks ago. I got a few Christmas gifts and a few things for myself, most notably this purse:

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It’s by these folks, Ray-Min, and I absolutely adore it. It’s made out of vintage upholstery fabric. Know what that means? SCOTCHGARD!

I’m also rocking this necklace from etsy seller HouseThatCrowBuilt:

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Jen posted it to We Covet a few weeks ago and I snapped it up immediately. Admittedly, that’s kind of a dick move since I write for that site, but whatever.

To top off my wifey-ness, I made a Bundt cake the other night. A Banana Caramel Bundt Cake to be exact. The bottom (top?) burned a little bit. I don’t know why. But other than that it’s pretty awesome.

It’s the little things. I get out of work at 3 p.m. today, which is awesome, but I noticed this morning that the day or two before a vacation I get very, “Who gives a fuck?” about getting out of bed on time. Like, we’re going to be off of work and school in a day so why bother going now? Clearly, I have some work to do in the whole maturity area. Also, the Boulevard of Allies reopened the other day and our commute is no longer a gigantic joke.

I should probably go take some valium now, right?

general update…i hear it’s big with those blogging types

Thursday, November 20th, 2008

The semester is starting to wind down, which means both work and school are getting a tad psychotic. I keep hearing about how awful “Christmas creep” is but I’m going to be honest and say that I am all about Christmas this year. I’ve already started listening to Christmas music because I have this cockamamie theory that it makes me more productive. I listened to Christmas music when I was arbitrarily cleaning my house last week and I was surprised at how motivated I was. I think maybe my mom used to pull that with me when I was little, putting on Christmas music and telling me to help her clean and decorate, the incentive being that if I did, Santa might not give me the shaft. And, you know, I had some serious Tinkerbell and Cabbage Patch habits back in the day.

I’m also very gooily and mushily in love with my husband and son right now, and Christmas music reminds me that I will soon have days and days to cuddle with them and soak them up. I hate being this busy, but it really does make me appreciate how much I love them and miss them.

Anyway, here’s what’s been going on.

My dad is doing well. Very well, in fact. He’ll need to do a round of chemo to ensure that any microscopic spreading of the cancer is killed, but his doctors are very optimistic. Right now, he’s trying to figure out what he wants to do about his job…to retire or not to retire.

The husband finally had the tendon in his finger repaired about two weeks ago after some really ridiculous delays. By the way, anyone in need of an orthopedic should NOT seek treatment from Ronit Wolfstein, who does not return phone calls and schedules appointments and then just doesn’t keep them, which is especially unnerving when she tells patients that they need to have surgery as soon as possible. But whatever. A new doctor was secured, surgery was had, and all is looking good.

The husband has this foam stabilizer thing that looks like a wedge of Swiss cheese to keep his hand elevated. He only has to use it when he sleeps now, which results in some hijinks.

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I took this picture without his consent, but I think I’m justified and I’ll tell you why. We have a full-sized bed which makes things cozy and with this thing sharing the bed, I often wake up gasping for breath in the middle of the night because the husband’s be-cheesed arm has found its way onto my face. Narrowly escaping suffocation every night is pretty exciting.

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The baby finally lost his front tooth, which was dangling by a thread for weeks and just generally looking pretty gross. Now he looks so cute I can barely stand it.

And this kid of mine turns SEVEN in a few weeks, which I really cannot believe. He’s awesome, of course. Mischievous, sure, but smart as hell. He’s doing so well in school. He’s reading like crazy and actually adding inflection and emotion when he reads out loud, which is just so cool. He’s really interested in his Spanish classes and is picking up math really well. He can spell like a mad man and his handwriting is surprisingly neat considering the husband and I both scrawl like serial killer chicken scratchers.

He’s also drawing a lot, which is cool because he really wasn’t into art very much until recently. In preschool, he was way more interested in trucks and trains, and when the teachers would encourage him to try drawing something, he would sigh and scribble a few lines on paper before getting back to stuff with wheels.

Now…well, check it out:

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He has a whole series of attack scenes. I keep waiting for his teachers to call us in for a conference where we’ll be forced to meet with a team of psychologists and some dudes from Homeland Security. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the no-fly list but, eh, we don’t go anywhere anyway. But here we have Godzilla and some other monsters attacking a city (presumably Tokyo) in Japan. How do I know it’s Japan?

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The Lapan Japan sign! Duh!

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Here, some aliens are attacking Washington, D.C. Lots of detail in this one. Let’s take a closer look!

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Ah, there’s the Wigt House, aka the White House. And I think that dude fleeing is George W. Bush. What a little girlie man! If only Bill Pullman were President! The baby is vying for a position in Obama’s cabinet as head adviser on alien and giant, nuclear reptilian attacks.

Another detail of note:

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That’s the Subway that’s two doors down from the White House at 1604 Pennsylvania Avenue. Aliens love them some $5 footlongs.

Also, another gem from his homework:

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I was pretty irritated about including a McDonald’s sign in his homework, mostly because I really hope that our public schools don’t have to turn to frightening corporations to subsidize our learning materials. But the husband pointed out that it’s an exercise working with signs that the kids see. Valid point, I guess. But, as I already noted on the flickr page, if I wrote 1st grade learning materials, food would have snarky quotations and the other option would be constipation.

So, that’s pretty much what’s going on. I also wanted to say that I’m sorry I suck so much at responding to comments. I really appreciate you guys that read this nonsense and then take the time to interact with me. I read everything! I’m just kind of shitty about replying. Kisses!

some ‘splainin’ to do

Sunday, November 16th, 2008

There was nothing on TV this morning so I started watching I Love Lucy and while I was watching it, I was looking at Google Reader and there were TWO Lucy-related secrets today. Weird, no?

A friend of the husband’s was in town last night to play records at AVA and he was supposed to stay the night at our house. So, I spent pretty much all day cleaning. Our house is always pretty messy and dusty since we never really have time or energy to clean. The husband is, of course, out of commission with his hand so I was on my own and had a pretty sobering moment when I realized that I couldn’t possibly clean the whole house myself and had to determine which parts were the nastiest/most potentially embarrassing.

About 15 minutes after I finished cleaning the bathrooms and was sprawled out on the bed panting, the husband came home from work and announced that he had to poop. After he emerged, I whined, “I don’t know why you always do that right after I do the toilets.”

“That’s why I don’t like cleaning,” he replied. “It’s a Sisyphean effort. You’re Sisyphus.”

“Yes, and you’re this huge rock that shits all over my squeaky clean toilets.”

And then…THEN. The husband’s friend called and said that he was meeting up with “a friend” in town and would be staying at a hotel, after all.

GAHHHH

Well, at least the house is clean. I guess. Whatever.

In continuing in my Suzy Homemaker routine, I’m baking some homemade Nilla Wafers. They’re my dad’s favorite cookie and his birthday was Friday, so I’m making some for him. I hope they don’t suck.

my 30th birthday weekend via snippets of conversation

Sunday, November 2nd, 2008

I had a birthday party last night…and that’s all I really know for sure. Depending on your perspective, I really did it up right or horribly wrong.

Via text in the midst of everything:
Frank: Woooooooo
Me: Woooooopppopo omg my throat hurts so bad champagne
Me: Looking several kinds of sloppy
Frank: playaz grab your dicks if you love hip hop ladies rub your titties if you love big poppa
Frank: Are you surrounded by criminals high rollers heavy hitters and sheisty individuals?
Me: Something like that. OMFG I’m 30.
Frank: OMG
Frank: Thirty is the new twenty-one.
Me: OMFG Barack Obama
Frank: Omg rave
Me: Lizard britches
Frank: Sloppy cock
Frank: Poopy
Me: Drizzunk. Am totally.
Frank: Excellent
Frank: Slizober
Frank: I should go to sleep before I get in trouble again.
Me: Just puked the rest of my 20s out.
Frank: Augh
Me: Good riddance
Frank: I bet you still look hot
Me: Yeah totally *horf*
Frank: You’ll feel better if you
Frank: Tittys

Then this morning with Tracey:

Sweetney: did you at least have fun before puking?
me: yes very much
Sweetney: oh good!
me: and i must say that i deal with puking much better in my old age
Sweetney: “oh let’s just get this over with already…”
me: i very calmly got up and went to the bathroom off of the dining room and i’m like, “HWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK COUGH COUGH” and the husband goes, “are you barfing?”
“GWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUCHHHH”
Sweetney: hahaha
me: “kelly! are. you. barfing.” it was the dumbest “conversation” ever
Sweetney: hilarious
me: no i’m singing!
Sweetney: that’s from an aboriginal tune, it’s very EARTHY
me: it’s tuvan throat singing! but with extra bile!
Sweetney: hahaa

I’m definitely in the midst of a “never drinking again” spiral of regret and unfortunate sick outfits and my voice is completely gone. But I had so much fun. The husband and some of our other friends played records and were sure to play all of my favorites and it was so fantastic to have so many of my favorite people in one place for the first time in I don’t know how long. I think I got overly mushy near the end of the night and if that made anyone squirm, sorry. But like 75% of what I said was true.

cold november phlegm

Saturday, November 1st, 2008

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Yesterday was mostly pretty awesome. I got so much love and birthday wishes. We got our house looking pretty cool:

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I like having decorations for holidays but I don’t have any…creative vision, I guess. Nor do I have any patience for that sort of thing. Oddly enough the husband usually pulls those things together. He’s fancy like that.

I think this was the first year that the baby really got into trick-or-treating. He came away with a really impressive haul. We had a lot of trick-or-treaters, definitely more than in past years. Weirdly enough, a lot of them complimented me on the jack-o-lanterns, all of which I ended up carving myself while the husband was at the ER with his severed tendons and whatnot (horf). I mean, sure, they looked decent, but they were just the usual triangles and toothy grins. Occasionally, I switched it up with some circles. But these kids were all, “Wow, did you carve these yourself?” I don’t know. Maybe with those fancy patterns everywhere, these jack-o-lanterns are all throwback and shit.

We stopped down to the mother-in-law’s and while we were there some crappy head cold just descended on the husband and me. It was weird. We were fine and then all of sudden we both felt awful. We came home and I fell asleep at like 10:30 or something. I guess it helped since I don’t feel too terrible today.

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The Pumpkin King rests after another successful Halloween.

I need to catch up on my shared items! Since October 29th:

Kittehs help wif science

God Hates Signs protest waged against Westboro Baptist Church

Are you talkin’ to ME? My note: “Thackeray Hall? I wonder if this was at Pitt.”

Ice Cube signs on for NBC cop comedy
My note: “Wait. What?”

Wonkette: Jesus people pray that false idol will save God’s economy My note: “good luck with that, assholes.”

basement cat


Roseanne’s Halloween episodes

Wobbegong shark costume


The Libby
My note: “Somebody make me this.”


Drew’s Due
My note: “I can already see the defense for this as some kind of twisted interpretation of free speech. Being a bully to people your own age is one thing. Bullying a kid when you’re an adult is just fucking messed up. I hope this asshole gets hit with a baseball bat many times.”

RA: The good, the bad, and the deep: Rick Wade My note: “My husband bit my style and became a writer.”

Witch Head Nebula

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: Charlie & Mac sing the song from Ferris Bueller My note: “HAAAAAAAAAAAA I’ve seen bits and pieces of this show and I’ve always ended up in tears from the awesome, promising myself to start watching it regularly and forgetting but now I must renew my commitment to this show and run-on sentences and candy.”


In Videos: Anti-Candy Corn Song
My note: “Sigh. I miss the days of Noggin.”

10 Castration Scenes from Movies As a card-carrying feminazi, I consider this important research. I’ve only seen three of these, though. I’m slacking.

Graphic Design Fail


Welcome to Britney’s “Circus”
My note: “I had to say “If You Seek Amy” fast like 50 times before I got it. These kids today and their innuendos.”

portrait of a 30-year-old lady

Friday, October 31st, 2008

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Not pictured: extremely sore throat. Ow.

Of course, I don’t feel older yet, but I did wake up early which is…kind of a first for me. Now it’s only a matter of time before I’m going to bed at 7 p.m. just so I can wake up at 4 a.m. because, to quote my cheery grandmother, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

But I just want to point out that I took a picture of my 30-year-old self at 6ish in the morning. Just for you. Because I love the internerds and being able to document even the most insignificant details of my life has been such an awesome exercise so far. I started blogging when I was just a wee 23-year-old with a tiny baby and a world of confusion. Now I’m…uh…well the morning’s no time for self-reflection.

Since our life is such a comedy of errors, the husband will spend a good portion of today with an orthopaedic surgeon. He sliced his pinky right good while we were carving pumpkins last night and wasn’t able to move the joints above the cut. I told him that he probably cut a tendon and needed to go the ER, but first he sat down and googled his condition, which I found really amusing.

Happy Halloween, dudes. I hope you all are in sugar comas by sundown!