This is me and
Note how my bra straps are hanging out. Classy, ain't it? Oh, and Liz is a Gap model…note the skinny scarf. If you're confused by my odd hand gesture, I'm attempting to imitate the dancers in the Sean Paul videos. Did I succeed? You be the judge. I don't have an excuse for the constipated facial expression that I'm wearing. Sorry.
Attention weaselly angst-ridden white guys: trolling communities like
Thanks.
Now, with that out of the way…I came up here to my room to be productive but thus far nothing is done. I haven't been able to keep up with LJ very religiously the past couple of days so sorry to all of the folks on my friends list who live and breathe for my insightful comments. ;-p
I hate this feeling. I feel like I have a lot to say but I just don't have the energy to write about it. Ugh. Honestly, not a whole lot has been going on. It's mostly been frazzled mom stuff which I won't bore you with. I'll put it this way. If my life were a reality TV show, the past week would be one that make people who don't have kids say, “Man, I am so glad that I don't have kids.”
On the upside, we're taking the first steps toward potty training. I'm totally at a loss as to how exactly to go about the process. I tend to just point at the new potty chair and say, “Poop. Pee. Got it?”
Speaking of which, here comes the offspring…bearing poopy pants.
*groan*
*thump*
(If you couldn't tell, that was my head flopping down on the desk out of sheer exhaustion. I'm going to muffle a few things to all of you real quick, then I'm going to go drool some more.)
Today is the boyfriend's birthday. He's 24. Everyone say “yay.”
Amina Nawal's execution was quashed. Everyone say “yay.”
Got some work done today. Everyone say “yay.”
Staying home tonight and going to be early. Everyone say “yay.”
Dealing with snarky jungle DJs who have won records from the boyfriend on my eBay account. Fuck off and die. I peed on your records.
Longest walk ever + messy house + gimpy boyfriend + pile of neglected writing stuff + pyschotic toddler + local insane person (commonly known as I Love a Parade) heckling me and psychotic toddler no less than 3 times – money = Kelly Delaney about to shuffle off this mortal coil.
Make sure that I am laid out in pajama bottoms, tube socks, and my Lollapalooza '95 tshirt. NO BRA! In my casket I would like my stuffed bunny, my laptop, and my mp3 player. During the service, I would like the soundtrack to The Harder They Come played on repeat. I would also like my wake to be the biggest party ever.
Thanks.
In order to set up this scene in your head, it's important to know that last night the boyfriend and his boyfriends went to play some basketball. He sprained his ankle. Tonight, as part of his birthday present, we are going to the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. His grandmother just called and offered up a suggestion.
Grandmother: “Kelly?”
Me: “Yeah?”
Grandmother: “It's just me.”
Me: “Okay.”
Grandmother: “I was just thinking that maybe he (the boyfriend) could take one of our walkers to the concert tonight.”
Me: “Uh, *snicker* okay, I'll ask him.”
The very thought of the boyfriend walking into a rock concert with a walker was too much for me. Various jokes can be derived from this, some of them being about how, since he's turning 24 on Thursday, he's just not as spry as he used to be, or just picturing someone with a walker in the standing-room-only section of the Mellon Arena trying to emulate Anthony Kiedis' fancy footwork. I nearly peed my pants.
Anyway, today's been pretty poop. Rain and general crappiness and an insane amount of mess in the kitchen. Of course, all of that is on top of my crazy baby and my invalid boyfriend.
Make note of my current music. I can't remember where the boyfriend found these, but they're pretty interesting to listen to. Yardies brighten up my day. I will send them to you if you're interested.
“Where's my shotgun?”
Ah, a few moments of peace and quiet while the baby naps, Mom is out at Home Depot, and the boyfriend and his boyfriends are watching TV.
Friday night, a few of the Technoir guys took me to dinner at Soba to thank me for The Article. I had never been there, but I'm definitely trying to go back some time soon. The place itself is totally swank and the food was amazing. I had a yummy salad to start, then one of the best entrees that I've ever had: sesame-seared rare tuna, jasmine rice with some yummy vinegar, and some pickled vegetables. The vegetables were a little spicy, but added an interesting taste. For dessert I had ginger creme brulee, which was out of this world, and some tasty coffee. We sat and talked for almost four hours, which was nice. We discussed everything under the sun: movies, books, love, marriage, children, men, women, music, politics, video games. It was just one of those really great conversations that you need to have at least once a month.
I finally came home around 1:30 to a cranky girlfriendboyfriend, who whined about being home alone with the baby while I stayed out to the wee hours with friends. I could only reply, “Sucks, doesn't it?” This is not to say that our baby is not the coolest person under 5, but after he goes to sleep things can get kind of…isolated.
Anyway, I was exhausted at that point and wanted nothing more than to brush my teeth, take my contacts out and collapse into bed. However, as I went to squirt the contact solution into the case, I came to the most irritating realization that the solution was all gone. I called my mother, who was out visiting her friend, Nora, and asked her to drive me to CVS when she got home. It was an irritating stop, mostly because at 2 a.m. the only people visiting the all-night pharmacy in Oakland are drunk Pitt students. After wading through a cluster of frat boys who were drooling over the selection of cheese-flavored snacks, I grabbed the contact solution, paid, and hightailed it out of there. Once the ocular situation was taken care of at home, I passed out.
Saturday, I got to sleep in a little bit, and spent most of the morning discussing plans for the day with my mom and boyfriend. My mom ended up taking a fruitless trip to Shadyside while the boyfriend and I went out to Brookline to visit his mom and grandmother. The boyfriend had some music stuff to work on and told me to bring my laptop. That way, we could both get work done while the baby played with his family. However, once we got there and the boyfriend had disappeared into his Synthesizer Cave, his mom and grandmother both told me about how tired they were. I could not, in good conscience, leave them with a rambunctious toddler, so I got nothing done and watched my son at their house instead of mine. They did buy us some tasty pizza, though, so that kind of made up for it.
Jwan called us while we were there and invited us over for an impromptu cookout. The boyfriend said that when his mom and grandmother left for church we would go over to Jwan's. A few hours later, when this scenario was supposed to be taking place, the girlfriend boyfriend suddenly became irritated. He was obviously just getting into something with his music stuff and I insisted that if he wanted to skip the cookout and work a little longer then it was fine with me. The frustration of not being able to get work done is a feeling that I know all too well. He kept sighing and saying in a singsong voice, “No, because then you'll be all bored and irritated.” I did not understand how we had made the transition to this whole thing being my fault. After all, I had my laptop, there was cable TV, a dog, a kitchen full of food, and my son to play with. No way was I going to be bored. I was thinking about this last night and realized something. Most of the boyfriend's friends have rather irritating, high-maintenance girlfriends. I think that, in an effort to feel more a part of the group, he projects these irritating qualities on to me. In reality, I am a rather easygoing gal and I think that am one of the most awesomest girlfriends that I know. I'm sure I have my moments of being a pain in the ass, but who doesn't?
In any case, we went to Jwan's and had some rather tasty chicken, red peppers and corn on the cob. Tastiness. A little mind-altering was had, and I spent a good chunk of the night staring at a house in the alley, convinced that it was a crack house. It very well may be, as Jwan doesn't live in the most savory section of Bloomfield. I also spouted some nonsense to one of Jwan's neighbors, who I'm sure now thinks of me as a total idiot. Damn.
We went home and put the baby to bed, and the boyfriend said that he was going out to Shawn's to play with his synthesizer's. This was around 11, and he insisted that he would be back in about an hour, since I was looking for a little romp in the boudoir. I know him too well, however, and was not surprised when he actually did come home around 4 a.m. He explained, “Well, there aren't any clocks in Shawn's studio.” I had tried to wait up for him, aided by The Decline of Western Civilization on IFC and some Jamie Foxx comedy special on HBO Comedy. I passed out, though, and while I had an overall decent night of sleep, I was plagued by nightmares. I dreamed that I was stuck by myself in the Deep South of the 20s, complete with lynchings and the Klan. The locals had, however, gotten wind of The Article and were none too pleased to read about my Yankee propaganda. I was then chased through a cornfield by a couple of rednecks in a Trans Am. I woke up sweating. I can only surmise that all of the hubbub over The Article the past few days had its way with my subconcious. Either that, or it's a sign that the members of pb-cle-raves are actually a bunch of racist pricks.
No matter.
Today has been lovely. The baby and I went on our usual walk up to Bloomfield. We had been deprived of doing so over the past couple of days due to Hurricane It'snotabell and our useless journey to Brookline. By the way,
I have to go figure out some kind of dinner.
Oh, my, I haven't done a proper update in days. The past few days have been quite busy, filled mostly with celebration over the success of The Article. Thursday night was Technoir's performance at Havana. I had much fun. I actually got dressed up for the occasion, make up and everything. The manager at Havana, Jason, declared that I would get complimentary drinks for the evening. It was very nice of him but, as you may or may not know, I am a lightweight. After my first complimentary drink I was already getting kind of goofy. Shawn bought me a Grey Goose martini (*passes out*), and while that was sitting there waiting for me to drink it a few people set their drinks down in front of me to watch for them. So, at one point I had five drinks in my possession. Not a flattering image.
This will have to be continued…my baby has a situation in his pants.
is this how it works?
I have every intention of responding to all of the great comments that everyone left for me yesterday. With the rain and everything today I've been very sluggish and arthritic and just generally lazy about everything.
Another thing I'm feeling lazy about is getting ready to go to dinner. Goddammit, why can't Soba just come here?
Anyway, I just wanted to give a general “You Guys Rule” so that you all would know that I was thinking of you. Seriously, my friends list is the most elite shit on the web. 😉
