Lo, I am with child.
And that's all I got to say about that.
Lo, I am with child.
And that's all I got to say about that.
I know the two of you that read this blog are depressed by my recent lack of updates. But no worries, I'm back!
So, have you ever had one of those nights where you think you are so brilliant and funny and charming that your utter adorableness transcends the 18 beers you've drunk in a 3 hour period? Well, me either, but just in case YOU personally have, I has advice for you.
Nobody is really thinking about you. If they are, their thought process goes something like this: "Hmm, this screaming drunk person is talking to me. I wonder what they think about me?"
So rest easy. I got your back.
It's so good to be an American. It's so good to know that, being born here, no matter where I start I can always get better. Nevermind the fact that I am too lazy to really take this blessing to the next level...it's just good to know it's there. And to know that if I ever do decide to get out of my stupor the possibilities are limitless.
The only thing I feel guilty for is not going for all the things that I can. I don't feel bad for those that sit around and wait...I don't feel bad for illegal immigrants...I feel bad for anyone who doesn't recognize this country for what it is.
Shit, I forgot where I was going with this.
• Tom Hanks winning Best Actor for Philadelphia, when the award should have gone to Anthony Hopkins for Remains of the Day. Hanks did deserve it for Forrest Gump, it's the role he was born to play. And Hopkins deserved it for Stevens the Butler, not Hannibal Lechter. Screw the Academy and their stupid make up awards.
• "Brokeback Mountain" getting Best Director, but not Best Picture. I don't care how anyone personally feels about the film (I actually loved it) but I find the hypocrisy of the snub so typical of Hollywood. All the crazy libs are running around screaming about how this film is "ground-breaking", a "must see" and getting all beside themselves every time someone said they didn't approve of the film. They were all looking for some right wing Christian backlash that failed to happen...Ang Lee himself said that the Christians were "suspiciously silent", as if this was a sneaky form of protest. No, a lot of people just didn't give a shit. But Hollywood sure acted like it did...until it came time to vote for Best Picture, when they failed to put their money where their mouth is. And beyond that, it just doesn't make any sense. How could the Best Director direct a movie that wasn't the Best Picture? Huh???
• Sean Penn. Why is this man allowed to speak? I actually think he's a good actor but Good Lord, why does he think people care about his political views? It's no wonder the ratings keep going down. Not to mention he has no sense of humor. Did he think Chris Rock was serious when he wanted to know who Jude Law (personal aside:YUM) was? Yes, apparently he did and felt the need to defend Jude in his stupid speech. Moron.
• Jon Stewart not being fully appreciated for his brilliant turn as the host. Look, I am on the opposite side of the fence from Stewart politically. Yet, I still laugh when he makes a funny crack on one of "my" people. Because, well, he's FUNNY. I think he's wrong, but funny. And when he failed to be the liberal performing monkey that I think a lot of attendees were expecting, George "Political Scientist" Clooney felt the need to defend the wonders of the caring left. Notice how Stewart's jokes about Dems and celebs fell flat? They all went to the Sean Penn School of Humor. Please. This just goes to show you that these people will eat their own.
• And worst of all: My darling, sweet Johnny being denied two years in a row as Best Actor. I can sort of understand him not getting it for Captain Jack because it's a comedic role (see Hollywood's sense of humor, lack of) even though he was brilliant. But Finding Neverland??? How could they not give it to him for Finding Neverland? My passionate love for him aside, the man is an absolute genius. He's really pretty much the only actor out there who can actually act. The only one that I don't feel like I'm watching "him". Pitt? Can't act. Clooney? Can't act. Matt Damon can sort of act. What they have going for them is that they look good and are comfortable in front of a camera. But they have no depth or nuance. Sean Penn can act, but he's ugly.
Now Johnny's up for Sweeney Todd. Which I'm sure he is amazing in but am too chicken to watch. Betcha he loses again and somewhere down the line ends up with that half-assed "lifetime achievement" award. Bastards.
And that is all for, for now. Last year, I once again made my yearly promise that I will never watch the Academy Awards again. We'll see how that goes.
Because life around here is not challenging enough, I took it upon myself to poison our cat last week.
It started innocently enough. Glory the Wonder Dog came home last Monday from her spay appointment. They sent her home with two prescriptions and a list of instructions, one of which was to give her a chewable pain pill the size of my head every twelve hours. She refused it Monday, and then again Tuesday morning. This from a dog who ate her own sick not an hour before (you're welcome). So I quartered the pill and mixed it with wet food and gravy. Still wouldn't touch it. Fine, I had to go to work and I was already 10 minutes behind schedule (which is actually good, for me) so I put the bowl on the floor and went about the business of trying to get out of the house.
Only to walk back into the kitchen two minutes later to find Stewart the 12 lb. Cat finishing the bowl of food that contained pain medicine for a 95 lb. dog. And this goes to show you how brilliant I really am...my first thought was, "Oh, hell, he's almost done, let him finish it." Then the light bulb went on and I made a frantic call to the vet In which I was advised to call Animal Poison control ("please have your credit card ready"). I explained the situation to the poison doctor lady, and she very nicely and calmly explained about "renal failure" (that's kidneys) and how I should really get him to his vet right away. Then she banged my debit card for 60 bucks, because Animal Poison Control does not receive any government funding (for the record, I would have paid twice that and never batted an eye, because I love that stupid, stupid cat).
The upshot is that Stewart spent two days in hospital, receiving intravenous fluids and charming the pants off the vet techs. His girlfriend Jen was there when I picked him up...she's my favorite tech, and I always feel better knowing she's there. They took good care of him and everything seems to be fine, though his kidneys will need to be monitored from time to time. And really, the $600 bill didn't hurt a bit.
I need to join a different circus.
So, I am all fancy and hot looking because I got my hair done yesterday. Got some "peek-a-boo" panels of blonde put in, plus my stylist (Blake, I adore you, and I would totally link you right here but I will ask you first) blew it out straight and let me tell you, I took at least 30 pictures of myself looking this good. None of which I can post, because I look like ass in pictures.
Which leads me to wonder...perhaps I look like ass in real life, and have just been kidding myself all these years about being un-photogenic (if that is, in fact, a word).
But I digress.
When I got home yesterday, Em gave me her little serious look and said " Your hair looks straighter than usual." And I was all like " I know! Isn't it great!". And then throughout the rest of the day she would occasionally wander over and methodically twirl my hair with an almost clinical inquisiteveness on her face. (back story: from the time this child could control her hands, she has twirled my hair. Which is precious beyond words, but can be irritating, as each strand that snapped off as a result causes a) an extremely minor twinge of pain and b) an irrational fear of going bald).
So tonight I snuggle down with her and she twirls twirls twirls and then she says "Mommy, your hair feels so smooth this way. I like it, it's so soft. But you know what I like your hair best as? The way it is without the other colors and the straightness. I like it just the way it was made."
well...what can you say to that?
So the darling girl's Science Fair was this week. For the record, she's in kindergarten.
There's nothing like a school science fair to bring out the best in people...as long as those people are 12 and under. For those of you older than that, you will wonder how you ever came to find yourself standing in the hallway of your child's elementary school mouthing the words "you are an ASSHOLE" to your significant other. (HINT: it is all his fault.)
Perhaps I can give you an example? Let's just say your daughter has worked very very hard to put together what is quite possibly the most genius science fair backboard evah on static electricity and it's effect on Rice Krispies. And let us also say that you have exhibited an enormous amount of self-restraint by allowing her to draw and color lightening bolts instead of using colored construction paper DAMNIT to decorate this board. And then you proceed as one happy little family to drop the project off at the school, only to find all the tables are taken and that the helpful Science Fair Helpers who were advertised in the Science Fair Packet are nowhere to be found.
Well, hell and damnation. You have now been in the school all of 60 seconds.
Course of action suggested by Father of Genius: "Let's just leave it in her classroom and they can figure it out in the morning."
Mother of Genius: "Over my dead body. We are not going ANYWHERE until I see this project set up. On a TABLE. If you can't wait until somebody shows up to help us, then you can just leave and we will find our own way home." (weeps)
Genius: "Where is Daddy going?"
Conclusion: All was well in the end. Surprisingly hot Science Fair Teacher Geek showed up, along with another Science Fair Helper, table was found, project set up. Went to actual Science Fair the following night...all projects got a ribbon! The same one! Yay!
Little Einstein stands next to her exhibit, which was mobbed. MOBBED, I tell you.
Pop Quiz: who, really, is the asshole in this scenario?
(HINT: still him)