I’m taking a brief break in the hotel room to report that I’m having a fabulous time at BlogHer. I’ll admit to being more interested in the social stuff than the actual panels, especially because MamaPop threw a party last night that was unbelievably fun. But I’m heading out in a few seconds so that I can actually go pay attention to some shit. Pictures thus far are here, if you’re interested. Talk to yinz later.
We were leaving my mom’s house after spending the afternoon with my dad and grandparents and similar folks. My dad said something faux-exasperated to the husband like, “Gah. You made me a grandfather.”
“It wasn’t just me, Grampy,” chuckled the husband.
“Yeah, but you had a hand in it,” my dad replied.
The husband paused, smirking, deliberating whether or not to complete the joke my dad had unwittingly set up for him. He decided to go for it.
“Ah, it wasn’t a hand, Grampy.”
Precious.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dad-types…and all of their body parts.
What do these folks have in common? They were not appreciated in their time. Case in point:
Me, flushed with the excitement of my next great business idea: You know, I’ve only done a quick Google search, but I don’t think there’s a Jeopardy-themed bar called “Potent Potables.”
Husband: …
Me: Don’t look at me like that. It’s a fucking fantastic idea.
Haters. Whatever. The Penis Mightier.
That’s my buddy, Tracey. Today is her birthday.
I would have a gift for her, but I spent all of my money on pretty dresses, which is all Tracey’s fault because she got me hooked on sales sites.
I, of course, hope that all of Tracey’s birthdays are rad, but I hope that this one is particularly so because my buddy has had some rough days and she certainly deserves some sunshine. Aside from the rough days, she deserves sunshine because she’s an amazing friend who always makes me laugh and who has, on multiple occasions, talked me down when I’ve been upset. Even during my most psychotic outbursts, she’s always made sure to listen carefully, let me vent, and help me to think of a solution. Whenever we’ve been lucky enough to be in the same city, she’s plied me with drinks, bad TV, and good conversation. And I honestly don’t think that I’ve ever met someone more fiercely dedicated to the people that she cares about.
Happy birthday, mama.
I get the feeling I’m being watched.
I’m probably just paranoid, though.
It’s a new dawn. It’s a new day. And I’m feeling good.
The department head gave me a copy of Medea.
My personal ad, if I were to have one, would be like:
Kelly, 30
Looking for: origins of words and motherfuckers to stab. Hit me up via email. Peace.
One of the profs just gave me this book as an early birthday present. I definitely squee’d. Think that makes me a nerd?
I would like to state publicly and for the record that PNC Bank is the worst bank ever and I deeply regret ever getting involved with them. If you work for PNC or know anyone who works for PNC, you should consider finding new employment rather then be associated with crooked thieves who have the brass balls to harass a working mother for months on end. For shame. Seriously.
I got my hair cut.
Whenever I get my hair cut, I always ask them to blow it out and iron it straight, since they can get it all smooth and pretty. The last two times I’ve gotten my hair done, it’s been raining heavily by the time I left the salon. I really don’t understand why the universe has to conspire against me and my coiffure.
In other words, it was cuter a few hours ago.
