kdiddy.org

Classes are over for me for the week and that means that I only have four more classes for this semester. And then I have to write some stuff and then I will be done until January.* And then there will be drinking and whooping and yawping. I should really work on some stuff now but I’m really just so tired and need just a quick break from having to think about serious stuff.

Anyway, some very nice person took a glance at my Amazon wish list and was kind enough to send me a slow cooker cookbook to help me in my endeavors to feed my family good food all while working full-time and freelancing and going to school. Methinks maybe I have bitten off more than I can chew. Perhaps I’ll cut the family loose. Something’s gotta give, right? In any case, thank you very, very much nice person. Your gift warmed some cockles…which sounds dirtier than it really is.

I am currently listening to Tracey’s Holiday Mix, which is very nice and I was relieved when she confirmed that it was, in fact, the same mix as last year. Because I didn’t want to send her an email asking her just what exactly she’s trying to pull, sending me the same mix like I wouldn’t notice. But it’s a good mix, so we’re cool.

***

I’ve had several people over the past few days comment, unsolicited, on just how tired I look and frankly it’s starting to sting a little bit. They do it out of concern. I understand this. And really I’ve looked kind of tired all of my life because I’ve had baggy eyes since I was a kid and my skin is very pale so that accentuates them. Also, I’m really tired. I have a lot going on in my life and I don’t get enough sleep. I do feel that I’ve…aged a lot in the past few years. I feel like I look and act much older than I am and that bums me out. I mean, shit, 7 years ago I was this adorable little sexpot and now I’m this stressed out mom. That’s life though, right?

Over the break I do want to rehab myself a little bit. But I can’t help but think that stressed out dads don’t get told how run down and crappy they look. Maybe I’ll make a point of telling every dude I see that they look like shit, but I’ll furrow my brow so they’ll know that I’m just “concerned.”

Grr.

Can I just mention how irritated I am that both the Charlie Brown Christmas special and the Grinch have been on TV already? Talk about blowing your wad. That means that close to the actual holiday, the only Christmas specials that they’ll have left to play are total crud starring Jennifer Love-Hewitt or whoever.

*sob

I just remembered that I had promised a picture of the totally rad garage door that was across the street from the church in Akron where we attended a wedding. Check it:

Nice, huh? In my opinion there aren’t nearly enough garage door murals in the world. I’m going to commission an artist to paint these pictures on our garage doors (that we don’t ever use): Read the rest of this entry »

From: Mom
To: kdiddy
Re: FW: “WHY GOD CREATED KIDS”

[insert bright yellow background and animated .gifs]

Chubby text, all center-justified. Nonsensical anecdote about God tongue-in-cheekly punishing Adam and Eve by giving them children, some pictures of babies, and random all caps sentences: BUT THERE IS REASSURANCE IN THE STORY; THINGS TO THINK ABOUT; ADVICE FOR THE DAY.

And, of course, it ends with, “Quick, send this on to ten people within the next five minutes. Nothing will happen if you don’t, but if you do, ten people will be laughing.” Har har.

Did I mention that we went to see No Country for Old Men last week? I got out of work at 3 p.m. on Wednesday, so we went and caught a matinee in Squirrel Hill. We both really liked it. I must say that I’m really glad that Josh Brolin appears to be working steadily on quality projects now. He’s an incredibly decent actor and pulls off the austere dude very well. Unfortunately, I can’t help but want to yell, “Brand! Braaaaand!” whenever I see him. Old Goonies die hard.

Anyway, despite all of its glowing reviews, I get the sense that a lot of people won’t like No Country for Old Men and I don’t say that to be snobby. It’s just very…still and dark and quiet and gently terrifying. There’s no music. Just the desert and some men and some money and the modern world marching into town to plant its flag. The villain is just evil personified and messes with his victims’ heads. And nothing pleases him more than when they play along.

Because I’m a sucker, I went next door and picked up the book right after the movie was over. Hey, winter break will get here eventually and then I might actually get to read something! I read the first few pages the other night. I’ve never read any of McCarthy’s other books, though I am a fan of the Southern Gothic. He has a lot of sentences that are like, “The deputy left Chigurh standing in the corner of the office with his hands cuffed behind him while he sat in the swivel chair and took off his hat and put his feet up and called Lamar on the mobile.” This and this and this and this. Mental block, as I can’t think of what that’s called at the moment. I’m not sure what purpose that device serves and I’m not sure that I like it but somehow it fits the whole atmosphere.

I also still want to see American Gangster and I’m curious about I Am Legend. I saw a preview the other night for Charlie Wilson’s War which was intriguing, despite having the wild combination of Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts. Having a couple of sweethearts like that in a movie together could either be surprisingly brilliant or a really unfortunate failure (and a waste of some Philip Seymour Hoffman).

Completely unrelated to anything above but it keeps running through my mind, Modern Marvels did an episode about pigs last night and talked about the pork industry’s genetic…whatever. Not modification just selected breeding, dig? Anyway, this requires artificial insemination and there are people in this world whose job it is to, erm, assist the pigs when it comes time to collect the…specimens. And there are some things in life you can’t unsee. Obviously, they didn’t show the whole act but they showed enough and later when we were watching A Charlie Brown Christmas, my mind kept wandering. It was really weird. “Hark the herald handjob piiigs!” I’m easily distracted, I guess.

That said, I am deeply grateful to the pig fluffers of the world since they allow me to have tastier pork chops. Big ups, takin’ one for the team.

It appears as though the heat is not functioning in my office which is making for an interesting work environment. I’m moving around a lot. Typing helps.

I kinda want one of them thar fancy universal remotes, but I’m severely skeptical about how well they’ll actually work. Also, we lose a remote at least twice a month and I can’t imagine what horrors would be unleashed if we lost The Remote and then we had to, like, stand up and shit. Barbaric! Our remotes always return, they usually just go traveling through the innards of our couch for a few days before resurfacing.

Also, I don’t really have $150 for a remote. There’s that, too. And our entertainment set up isn’t that fancy. I just feel like a tool having 4 remotes.

I’ve reached the point in the semester where I’m having mini panic attacks every 30 minutes or so when I think of all of the stuff coming up over the next few weeks. Aside from school stuff, I realized last night that the baby’s birthday party is on SUNDAY and we still haven’t nailed down some minor details…like what we’re going to feed everyone. (I feel it’s important to mention that my mom and grandmother just kind of barreled their way into taking over the party and I’m completely unhappy with what they’ve done. They’re having it some place that’s costing a bajillion dollars just to rent so now they’re like, “Uh, the food is going to be too expensive.” Gum for everyone, I guess.) Only one person has RSVPed to me so far, which isn’t surprising. People are really bad about RSVPing these days, aren’t they?

The baby’s actual birthday is next Thursday and I, of course, have a huge assignment due the next day. A serious con to unplanned pregnancies is that your kid’s big day might fall during a traditionally shitty time of the year. Behold our success last year. I had vowed after that not to be so ditzy about his birthday this year, so let this be my reminder to myself to have something a little nicer than a Hostess cupcake and a scented candle to celebrate the birth of my only child.

Not that he cares, of course. But you know when he looks back at the pictures when he’s 25 he’s going to say, “What jerks.”

I can’t do it. I can’t just go back to the normal routine after sleeping in and doing whatever I want (read: nothing) for the past four days. I changed clothes twice this whole long weekend and apparently that’s how I want to live my life because the thought of getting dressed and functioning is totally painful right now.

It doesn’t help that it’s raining and grey and miserable this morning. It doesn’t help that the baby got me out of bed three times for runny noses and pee breaks. It doesn’t help that this morning I plumb did not know what my alarm clock was going on about and simply turned the thing off, only to finally wake up to the harsh realization that I have to go be a grown up now.

No fair.

I’m watching Untamed Heart, of all things, right now. One of the would-be rapists is Willie Garson, aka Stanford Blatch of Sex and the City. His character’s name in this flick is Patsy. Very odd.

I now have a nosering again. I lost it at some point a few months ago during a particularly persistent head cold (and the ensuing nose-blowing) and then today I found it on the bathroom floor. I just don’t know what to make of that. It’s like it went exploring for a few months.

The hole had closed over just a tiny bit so I had to stick myself with a (sterilized) safety pin. It was very punk rock. I should have just left the safety pin in, eh? But I’m now re-pierced and sore.

Has there been any kind of study done to determine what one’s Amazon recommendations say about a person? I was just purchasing a few things for the baby’s birthday and the recommendations that came up after check out were pretty amusing: The Berenstain Bears and the Trouble with Chores, Transformers, and Eddie Izzard: Dress to Kill. Oddly enough, I just had a mini-breakdown over how DONE I am with housework and how I just don’t want to do it anymore and no wonder women in the 1950s munched Valium and Vitameatavegamin all the time. Trouble with chores, indeed. My mom and grandmother don’t understand the angst that I have toward cleaning. My mom insists that the reason she loves cleaning and the reason that I should love cleaning is because you get to sit down afterward and admire how nice everything looks. Odd. Because after I clean I sit down and cry about how I’ll just need to do it again soon. Who else needs a drink?

I know I’ve said this before but four-day weekends really are what’s up. Even a three-day weekend every week would do the trick. Think we can make that happen?

Last night, after a delicious dinner of glorious leftovers, I really wanted to watch my traditional “Thanksgiving movie,” Home for the Holidays. I’ve met maybe about five people who have seen this movie and everyone agrees that it’s amazing and that they don’t know why it isn’t wildly popular. I guess that makes it a cult Thanksgiving movie? Odd.

Unfortunately, I soon realized that that particular DVD was one of the discs “liberated” from my living room back in September (thanks again, asshole!). Fail. But it will be on at 2:30 on Showtime. Now Thanksgiving is complete.

I saw a commercial today for Duncan Hines OvenReady Brownies, and that whole concept frightened me a little bit. Like, when are you ever in such desperate need of brownies that not even the box mixes are fast enough?

The baby and I are still pajama-clad. We’re parked on the couch and watching Robots.

Thanksgiving was decent. Lots of food, plenty of wine. We did the usual tour: to my mom’s to eat with my family and then to my mother-in-law’s to eat with the husband’s family. My dad was supposed to meet up with us at either place, but he chose instead to just spend the whole day with his friends’ family and that really bummed me out. For some reason, I’ve been really emo lately about my parents being divorced, even though they split up over ten years ago. I’m actually very glad that they split up, but it’s because I don’t think they ever should have been together in the first place, they’re so incompatible. But in some indirect way I regret my own existence? I don’t know. I guess I just wish that whatever unhappiness they went through in the past, it wouldn’t affect us still being together as a family when we can.

Enough overshare.

The husband went out with Matt on a photographic expedition of Pittsburgh’s industrial ruins. I am not participating in any Black Friday activities because fuck that shit. Also, it’s Buy Nothing Day, which I don’t hear much about anymore but I’m always perfectly happy to stay away from the mall. However, I might have to buy something, namely kitty litter and toilet bowl cleaner, as our various shitters are in need of some maintenance.