look out! i'm old!

this really isn't news to me... i had a sneaking suspicion i was old back in high school when i discovered my first grey hair.

i had really long hair in high school. i remember standing with my hands crossed behind my back and being able to feel the weight and shine of my hair laced in my fingers.

but, there it was - the lone long silvery thin ripple hidden deep under a dark brown black wave...
my mom told me that it was considered good luck for someone my age to have grey hair.
it portended wisdom. (that's like telling a bride that it's lucky when it rains on your wedding day.) i didn't believe her.

that summer, i visited my family in the philippines to attend my sis' graduation. my oldest sister graduated valedictorian of her class, was a star swimmer and sang in a prestigious chorus. she also had salt and pepper hair. so, i guessed my mom couldn't be totally wrong and since then, my grey hair and i have cohabitated quite well....

...UNTIL NOW!!!

i was in a hip little boutique yesterday. it's a very cute shop that sells nanette lepore, free people, bcbg stuff, etc... the woman who owns the boutique was very complimentary to me and very attentive. she was sure that i would fit into a size 2 (HA!). i was having a really fun time. i really liked this beautiful pair of pants from poleci. but, the pants were embellished by some folksy kind of embroidery on the side seams. it's amazing how far you have to go with babyproofing your life...

me: "these pants are beautiful but my daughter would have a field day with the embroidery".
she: "how old is your daughter?"
me: "almost two years"
she: "oh, i thought you had a teen. i thought you were worried that she would be raiding your closet for them."

YOU THOUGHT I HAD A TEEN!!?? DO YOU REALIZE I USED TO BE MISTAKEN FOR A TEEN!!?? NOW, I LOOK LIKE I HAVE A TEEN!!!!???

needless to say i walked out of there without those pants...

the experience actually reminded me of the time when i was talking with a college freshman who didn't know who kurt cobain was.

or another time when i was wearing a cute t-shirt with hong kong phooey on it .

a younger twenty something co-worker of mine saw my shirt and said, "cute shirt. but, who's that dog?"

i'm thinking, hmmm. maybe it's not a good picture of him and i say, "it's hong kong phooey... from the cartoon show... late 70s early 80s..."*make with the hong kong phooey moves*

i'm met with a totally blank stare and a look of pity for the crack smoker....
i desperately grasp at straws... "secret squirrel? wacky races? dynomutt? atom ant? underdog? precious pup and granny sweet?"

zip. zilch. gornischt. step right up and view the old fart circus freak!

well, i'm not the only one in the house. a few days ago at the potbelly deli, popzilla was listening to a conversation that two young sandwichmakers were having about classic rock. he asks them, "so, what do you consider classic rock?"

SM1 - anything before 1980.
PZ - like boston.
SM1 - who?
PZ - boston. *slowly enunciating the word and sweating a tad*
SM1 - don't know them, never heard of 'em.
PZ - y'know, "more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling) I begin dreaming (more than a feeling) ’till I see marianne walk away I see my marianne walkin’ away.." *quietly singing and swaying to the music in his head*
SM1 - nope. so what do you want on your italian?

fellow chicagoans, do you realize that the "oldies" station is playing classic 70s music now? and that to get to hear what i consider "oldies" music - I HAVE TO SWTICH TO THE AM BAND STATIONS!!! WTF!? (although, elvis on am sounds awesome and strangely old school.)

i'm convinced it's my own private conspiracy, y'all so, i'm jumping on the random bandwagon. i'm getting my hair dyed back to pink and dropping trou for a new tattoo. i may even get a gold tooth and a facial piercing. maybe a trucker hat and ultra low rise jeans with a miniature toy dog and a bedazzled phone.

i may not be young or even youthful anymore but as long as i have a fully functional frontal lobe, i'm gonna abuse it...



maybe.



ok, no, not really. but i could...

who approved this costume design!?

seriously. did someone lose a bet?



i predict that this show will gross more money than any other disney on ice show and not because of the nemo factor (though that certainly doesn't hurt).

the costume design is ingenious if you think about it... right now, thousands of bright-eyed, bushy tailed, breastfed children are instinctually turning their heads toward tv screens all across the greater chicagoland area, attempting to root for the wide, welcoming, nipple-y eyes of these looping, lutzing, flipping costumes...

no wonder kidzilla is dancing in circles to see this show. for me, whenever i hear about fish on ice, i'm thinking of sushi. i would dance in circles for sushi.

the water cycle song

yesterday, paloma and i were invited to tea (seriously) at the local private school (pinkys up, wallets out).

we're lucky in our neighborhood to have many excellent private and public educational options for paloma assuming we all survive her formative years.

lately, the schools have been holding their open houses. the local ($$$$$) private school (preK thru 12) is no different (ha!). so, because i'm curious to see how the well-heeled live, i accepted the invite. i didn't realize how freaked out i was until i realized that i walked out the door - shaved, parfumed, MAC'd, brassiered, aqua neted and accessorized for the event... i am such a f*cking FRAUD!!!!!

anyway, we got there and if it weren't for another parent's blatant disregard for her kids chasing paloma - i would've actually heard what the headmaster (i know can you believe it? "headmaster". does that sound draconian or what?!) and principal were trying to say (over paloma's happy screaming).

i caught bits and pieces - how journaling begins at the preschool level....blah, blah, blah... by the second grade the students are introduced to the idea of the thesis. they write a thesis and asked to defend it....blah, blah, blah...the students here realize that being one of the cool kids means being a smart kid (hoaaark.)....naturally, the kids are very competitive, but it's very healthy....blah, blah, blah....their alumni include the anheuser-busch children....blah, blah, blah...90% of the senior class is in the cum laude society...blah,blah,blah...

finally, we got to take the tour of the campus. the campus is composed of 10 or so buildings - the art and technology building, the dining hall and library, the lower school, the upper school, the kindergarten, etc...

mind you, we're looking thru the rooms and halls which are COVERED in their acheivements - really impressive art works, essays, trophies, award winning science projects, etc... the facilities and supplies are unbelieveable and top notch. and it felt like i was on the "it's a small world" ride at disney world. i was happily surprised to find the classes were very small and very diverse. so, paloma, my little half breed mongrel babe (i kid), would fit right in. it was kinda humbling to be honest.

so, we get to the kindergarten and apparently, they want to show off. (i've mentioned before that i am an idiot. well, my idiot lights we're going apesh*t right about then. with my luck i'd have to match wits against some kindergartener and lose...)

teacher: the kindergarten will now perform "the water cycle song". *gestures grandly to class*

class: *standing up, shifting and twitching* they being to sing and gesture the following song sung to the tune of "she'll be coming round the mountain"...

"water travels in a cycle, yes it does!"
(draw big imaginary circles, around and around and around and around with one arm!)

"water travels in a cycle, yes it does!"
(repeat motion above with other arm and with feeling!)

"it goes up as evaporation!"
(slowly zig zag your jazz hands towards the ceiling)

"forms clouds as condensation"
(imagine and make a big fluffy cloud over your head with your arms)

"then comes down as precipitation, yes it does!"
(sprinkle your fingers like rain coming down from the ceiling)


i'm so NOT kidding...

are you sitting down now? well, don't take a bite of that baked good just yet. you may choke. the tuition for this school is $4K. for preschool. HALF time. (it's $13K for high school) not including the annual gift (?) of $500 or the various fees for administration and/or supplies.

the thin man thinks and i quote "schools like that are so f*cking elitist. i don't want paloma to go to a school where they teach her that her whole raison d'etre is to go to an ivy league." this coming from my man, the proud pac-10 graduate, the attorney, the republican, fraternity man, the self proclaimed intellectual snob who reads at least 15 books a month.... i was speechless...

well, we haven't written this school off yet. but i was just thinking that by the time we decide and apply and assuming she passes their "test screening" she'll be waitlisted for a minor ice age.

somehow i doubt she'd pass the screening. last night, paloma, in another fit of genius, fell off our (Very Tall) bed, while jumping on it and faceplanted. she's fine, escaped with a little scrape on her nose...

i can't believe i have to think about this. she isn't even two yet! isn't it enough that i worry about potty training, learning to share and transtitioning from crib to bed right now? f*ck. maybe i should just homeschool.

of boobies and bugs...

ok. i give. what's the deal with guys and "starship troopers" (the movie)?

i have a fair number of guy friends and i've noticed lately that while they click past the umpteenzillion channels on cable at meteoric speed (which in itself is a sickness - imho) they recognize and stop slackjawed and drooling of what i can only describe as homeric (you pick - greek or simpsons) proportions at any scene in that film (if i can call that waste of celluloid - a film).

i'm convinced it's a rudimentary breast and insect fixation. as in, staring at the hot young science teacher's boobs while she explained the body parts of a cicada to you in the 6th grade.

a) you've got the beautiful and talented, denise richards (who played, "rebecca" in "yo puta" (i think that's whore in spanish), "carla, the friendly one" in "love actually" and the "white she devil" in "undercover brother") and dina meyer (who recently played "kerry" in "saw"). you may even remember a couple of scenes where dina meyer gets nekkid - horizontally and vertically.

b) you see denise and dina kick some giant alien bug *ss with large, loud, light up firearms .

c) there's the bugs. and is it just me or does the final brain bug with the multiple eyes not look like some freaky multiple boobied bug?!

hello!! the former doogie howser is in this movie. how do you guys MISS that!? how does your manhood not shrink from the sight of him like it used to on prime time tv!?

i just dunno. i just don't get the devout, starry eyed, fascination that grown men, mature men of sophistication and taste, have for this movie...






oooo! look! "much ado about nothing" is on! awwww! i LOVE that movie!!!

i am bozo

blatant misuse of cat...


jeez louise am i bored... that's right, you heard me. i love being a mom. i love my kid. but i'm only human. i'm a multi-faceted momma. i was girlzilla before mamazilla. please stop mistaking me for the walking dead - at least for today.

what's even more pathetic is that kidzilla - a.k.a she-who-loves-to-bend-toilet-paper-to-her-will - is also bored.... today, we've danced to music, read books, completed puzzles, thrown tea party after tea party, built and deconstructed small civilizations, demolition tricycled over sponges, colored every post it and magazine, shape sorted up the gazooobo, you name it, we done it...

in my house, if you're in one place for more than 5 minutes, you're fair game and potential playground fodder... unfortunately, dressing up the cat only took about 5 minutes. she's pretty fast and once she realized how unflattering the wig was she hid dead center underneath our king size bed, where she was sure she couldn't be retrieved by any searching limbs akimbo. i should have tried the afro on her instead, much more compositionally correct...

but, thinking i could use cat toys as bait, i lined up 6 plastic cups in a row and tossed them in - think GRAND! PRIZE! GAME! from the Bozo Show (sans the prizes). well, neither the cat nor the child could be convinced that it was in fact, grand or a game.

it was then i realized, after the wig, the game and the kitchen sink, i AM bozo. ok, maybe bozo's b*tch. see, there's the bozo you know - beloved icon of children's television, cookie the clown's foil, pie thrower, game hawker, march leader. and then there's the unknown man who took off the costume, drove home, made dinner, looked in the mirror and switched off the light. for decades, he straddled the line between "dinner for two" and "chuck e cheese".

but was bozo really a bozo? a fathead? an oblivious, incompetent fool?

is that who i am now? this smiling, hokey-pokeying, crafty beavering, gratin pan wielding susie homemaker with a colorful past who occasionally goes to see live shows, drinks alcohol, worries about her fading looks, curbs her sailor's mouth, and watches soft porn disguised as foreign cinema. (right, like you don't...)

i should quit reflecting on it and just make myself a shirt.
it'll say "i am bozo" on the front and "hear me roar" on the back.

woo-hoo! it's awardapalooza!

*

to my happy, happy surprise, i recently received the "Other Than Rebekah, The Only Person That Seemed To Care That I Went To Chicago" Mango award!

and then, today i find that i've received Puglet Ponderings' "Ghetto of the Week" award!

*snoopy dance*

...all in all, WAY mo' better than the toddler technicolor yawn award i got THIS morning.... that's right, despite friday's hurl-a-thon, kidzilla's slow but steady recuperation sounded a retreat at 2:30 this a.m. when the hostile rotovirus armies proclaimed martial law on her intestines again.

oh. and now, i have a cold. so, i'll be bingeing on vitamin C drinks in a corner of our basement laundry room.

many many thanks to mango (who receives the "i still can't believe you even gave me the time of day" award) and to puglet (who receives the "please walk down the street with me so it looks like were friends" award) for endowing me with their time and their accolades.



*eons ago, mamazilla actually received this (& a large monetary) award for "outstanding fashion illustration" from the chicago fashion group. this statuette is made by the same company who makes the oscar statue.

a difficult 24 hrs...

after a very rough 24 hours, the last thing i want to find is that my blog explosion rating has PLUMMETED to 7.92! thank you anonymous blog explosion rater! i suppose it could be worse... oh wait - it WAS worse...

this all started the night before last when i absentmindedly closed the door to kidzilla's room. the second i heard the "click", i knew we were locked in.

with butterknives held aloft, we tried to open the door - me from the inside & popzilla from the outside (kidzilla status - tantrum standby). finally, we thought it might be a good idea to call in a professional. we called a half dozen 24 hr locksmiths and came up with zip. but after a good part of an hour, popzilla got me out.

lesson #1 - if you're locked in or locked out, you're also sh*t outta luck.

then, we got a call from my sismonster in law that shattered the rest of our evening and the wee early o'dark morning. apparently, i'm not doing enough for my family by staying at home and if we don't hand over a substantial amount of money (that we don't owe or have) , she'll have nothing to do with us. she's got her principles, y'know.

all i wanted to do was inhale my ben and jerry's and watch the rest of alias season one (from under the couch). apparently, that was asking too much. thank you, sismonster in law and powers that be.

the lengthy call from my sismonster in law was followed by another protracted call to the fairymom in law who was very kind, wise, relatively non-partisan and who also came up with a reasonable solution.

lesson # 2 - LOVE, honour and respect the fairymom in law.

so, i didn't get much sleep since i was still mulling over my allleged worthlessness and to top it off, the following morning, my darling kidzilla's first words were "blrrraaaaggggh!" and ta-da! last night's dinner was served - again.

and again at 8:30 and again at 9:30... we went thru more wardrobe changes than the tents during fashion week. i've never been so afraid for kidzilla. i was drowning off the harbor of worry and after her last "hoooooaaark" into the kitchen sink, i jumped to the phone to make a same day appt with the ped.

i was able to catch a ride to the ped office with popzilla. after a 15 minute wait, during which i'm sure kidzilla shared her malevolent rotovirus with the rest of the ped office, we met with our ped and the diagnosis: everything i already knew but was too insecure to believe. stomach flu. emphasize the liquid, de-emphasize the food.

did i mention our ped office is 7 blocks away?
or that i don't drive?
or that we live in a very residential area inhabited by many senior citizens?

because if you happened to be in the vicinity of western & 97th , you would have witnessed mamazilla half carrying & half bulldozing a stroller through snowbanks to get home from the ped office. i finally gave up and we ended up walking in the middle of the streets that were plowed and salted.

lesson # 3 - shovel the sidewalks for the handicapped and elderly if not for your neighborhood stay at home mom who doesn't drive.

finally, yesterday ended with us watching a medley of silent disney movies, sipping water and nibbling toast under a mound of blankets. kidzilla was constantly asking for hugs and i could totally relate to really, really, REALLY wanting my mommy.

on a funnier note, the locksmith came today. the whole time, i thought he was a she who was in need of a good chin wax. it was so very "mozart opera" in a way... take it from me, you just had to be there. kidzilla's calling. ttfn!

i've lost my mind....

so, i'm doing really well on the resolution front which would explain my absence from blogging as of late...

but, the thing is - i think i'm going crazy.

the creative side of me is keeping me awake at night. (well, that and resolution #5... oh! AND i've been introduced to the whole ALIAS phenomenon and i'm marathoning seasons 1 thru 3.)

and y'know that "take a real vacation" resolution? well, i think i may be spending some time in tennessee. for three really good reasons -

a) to visit the queen,
b) the king,
c) and the world's longest yard sale(450 miles of random)

but does renting an RV to visit graceland, dollywood and the length of highway 127 really constitute a "real" vacation? doubtful.

but, after seeing "The Day After" movie, the footage from the tsunami tragedy and the slim mounds of teetering snow on my backyard fence... it might not be a bad idea to stay relatively close to home and landlocked.

i mean, really, what could possibly happen in tennessee?

the weather report

"...The National Weather Service In Chicago IL Has Upgraded The Winter Storm Watch To A Heavy Snow Warning. The Potential For Heavy Snowfall Of 8 To 12 Inches Is Greatest North Of A Line From Lee County To Aurora To Chicago.

Will Receive Some Sleet And Freezing Rain This Evening Before Turning Over To Snow. The Heaviest Snow Will Likely Occur From The Early Afternoon Through The Late Evening Hours On Wednesday. Heavy Snow Will Reduce Visibility And Cause Roads And Walkways To Become Snow Covered And Hazardous.

Avoid Travel. If You Must Travel, Use Caution. If Traveling In Open Country Carry A Winter Storm Survival Kit Including A Shovel, Dry Clothes And Blankets, Food, A Flashlight And Cell Phone. Any Travel Is Strongly Discouraged. If You Leave The Safety Of Being Indoors, You Are Putting Your Life At Risk. "

in other news...

popzilla learned that the city is not responsible for clearing sidewalks of snow. (collective "DUH!")

kidzilla learned to say sh*t.

i learned that the sentimental novelty of snow angels is overrated, especially when that snow's in yer crack. (no drug connection implied whatsoever...)

2 advil, an omelette & a gallon of water later...

highlights from new years eve:

1. une bouteille - veuve clicquot ponsardin (said with an outrageous fraunch auksont)
2. spending quality time with my b-girl, stayC
3. not killing a family of deer* - again.

the resolutions (compiled after drinking wine from a box) :

1. spend more quality time with popzilla, the cats, family & friends
2. discontinue impersonating creative people and succeed where milli vanilli failed
3. find babysitter for kidzilla
4. less procrastination, more hasty hotfooting
5. get knocked up - again. (by popzilla)
6. take a real vacation

and so begins 2005... pace yourselves, neighbors - 362 days to go...

*scientists are currently researching the near fatal attraction of deer to moving vehicles driven by stayC & mamazilla.
to date, no deer have been harmed during study.

love thy neighbor...

the next time you see someone wearing a sweater inside out AND backwards*, please let him/her know immediately. it's a good thing. thanks.

*not that this happened to me or anything... just saying...

nutrition facts

so, something's been really bothering me lately...

if i came with a nutrition facts label i think it would go something like this:

Nutrition Facts
Serving Size 1920 oz
Serving per Container 1

Ingredients
Oxygen (65%)
Carbon (18%)
Hydrogen (10%)
Nitrogen (3%)
Calcium (1.5%)
Phosphorus (1.0%)
Potassium (0.35%)
Sulfur (0.25%)
Sodium (0.15%)
Magnesium (0.05%)
Copper, Zinc, Selenium, Molybdenum, Fluorine, Chlorine, Iodine, Manganese, Cobalt, Iron (0.70%)
Lithium, Strontium, Aluminum, Silicon, Lead, Vanadium, Arsenic, Bromine (trace amounts)

Best Before - MAR2072


see, the thing is... i'm realizing lately that i'm not easily labeled (probably due to my speedy, twinkle toed, label dodging) but on occassion, i realize i have been *sniffle* labeled.

i get the impression that i'm not liberal enough for "the liberals" nor conservative enough for "the conservatives"; not filipino enough for "the filipinos", nor american enough for "the americans"; not pro-life enough for "the pro-lifers" nor pro-choice enough for "the pro-choicers"; not artistic enough for "the artists" nor intellectual enough for "the intellectuals"; not catholic enough for "the catholics" nor tolerant enough for "the ?-theists"; not disfigured enough for "the disfigured" nor symetrical enough for "the symetrical"....

really, i don't want to be a part of a self titled group. (i'd even say i'm crowd phobic but i'm not going to insult the agoraphobics out there.) i can promise that my views may change, i'm only a mere human in possession of a faulty brain. and i realize that may make some people uncomfortable, skeptical even, but i hope that doesn't discourage you from staying a while - i may bore you to tears but i won't sell you tupperware. (flowbee, ginsu knives, mr. microphone, a variety of tv products perhaps, but no tupperware - the burping is just dreadful...)

hopefully, we'll engage in some of that archaic obsolete conversation i keep reading about...

hmmm, any tips on making this soapbox into a derby car? please & thank you?

get your free ham milkshakes! anyone!? anyone!? bueller!? bueller!?

how cute is my doorstop?!
check out my tuff lil doorstop mouse! that's right yoda, don't let the door hit ya on the way out... there's a new jedi mastuh...

which reminds me... we have ruffneck squirrels in my hood. i'm convinced it's a southside thing.

a few months back, kidzilla and i were out for a walk and i saw a squirrel get run over by a car. not only was it run over but it was
s k i d ded on. we're talking SCreeeeeeCH - as in longjohn on the vertebrae.

there was that split second of horrified realization - *gasp* "ohmygodthatpoorinnocentlittlecreaturejustgothitbyaspeedingcar"

and then the furry little punk actually got up, bounded into the neighbors yard and dug up some nuts. it had NUTS APLENTY if ya ask me...

there's another squirrel (then again maybe it's the same one) who's been terrorizing a neighbor. apparently, it' s grown quite fond of the neighbor's house and likes to hang there, literally, by it's nails, on the window screens. well, the neighbor thinks, "if i bang on the window, it'll go away." well, not only does the squirrel not go away - it urinates on the screen while hanging from it.

so, don't mess with squirrels on the south side of chicago - i'm just saying... also, more squirrelly wrath and hilarity can be found here.

anyway, i'm still recovering from christmas but i thought i should come out from under my couch to say "hi". i trust your holiday was happy - whichever holiday you chose to celebrate.

it was very odd to spend christmas eve at my aunt's house and say "merry christmas" audibly without fear of offending anyone in the room... then again, i probably offended all of my filipino relatives by saying "merry christmas" instead of "maligayang pasko".

hmm, yeah, that'll put me in therapy for a while....

suffice to say, christmas eve was lovely. my extended family rocks. christmas morning, kidzilla roared with delight at her red retro trike. she's still throwing it around willy-nilly. hasn't quite figured out the whole "ride-on" feature...

my christmas lunch went off without a hitch. the masses were sated. but of course, we have enough ham to sustain us through a nuclear winter. which is absolute gluttony because we already had two cats for that... mmm, cat - the other OTHER white meat.

...average everyday domesticated circus freak...

the red retro radio flyer trike...


see this? i put it together last night for my lil monster... *patting back, patting back, breaking arm* (it's not done yet - radio flyer sent me a defective pc. but, it'll be complete on friday...) i may still get her a pink big wheel - this is just her sunday driving vehicle....

...and this among many other things is why i am now - a domesticated circus freak...

further evidence:

a) wears a "uniform" - printed flannel pajamas, &/or sesame street underwear. (today? oscar.)
b) dances the hokey pokey, chicken dance and a variety of 80s club dance forms to entertain child and the random neighbor/skilled tradesman.
c) researches info online re: the range of dutch ovens and gratin pans that offer the best results for stews and gratin dauphinois. ("your what hurts? dolphins and potatoes?! wtf!?" my friend, E, IM'd...)
d) walks around neighborhood shops in search of a mandoline and a cheap set of 16 pc stonewear in -6 windchill.
e) is overjoyed to receive these early christmas presents: a ham and a doorstop
f) loses sleep over what to get the mail carrier for christmas

anyhoo, i have to go & flip on the christmas lights... (and for the record, whoever the f*cking joneses were, i hate 'em! probably started the whole salem witch trials for all i know, or came over with thyphoid on a boat, overachieving b*stards... )

dec 8, 1980...

let's see in december of 1980, i was eight years old... which means i was in the third grade and oh yes, sorta in between grades - it was around the time that i had gotten promoted and was trying my best to fail miserably in every class i had.

promoting someone like me to the next academic grade level in 1980 was like dressing me up in a crisp bonnet, starched blouse and voluminous skirts and sentencing me to a colonial stockade while still in the year 1980.

first of all, i was born with something called cystic hygroma - the mothership of all facial deformities - imho. second, i was one of two filipino girls (not the pretty one) in my public grade school of mostly underprivileged white and latino kids.

i should preface this by saying i love my mom. she is my hero. i can't imagine landing in a foreign country and not really knowing the country's language perfectly, then shortly thereafter, giving birth in the same country and raising a child alone - who's also sick and a girl.

my handful of years spent at avondale elementary on chicago's nw side were difficult. i remember wanting to fit in so badly, wanting to be accepted, etc. i remember wanting the right clothes and a lunchbox like all the other kids. my mom was very cognizant of my "needs" and did the best she could.

most of my clothes came from the thrift store or rummage/garage sales. (they still do. it's where my obsession for all things ebay/thrift comes from.) i asked my mom, "can you buy me garanimals clothes from a store?" my mom responded, "what are garanimals?" i replied, "they're clothes that you match up by the animals on the tags." i have to mention here that i really had NO idea what garanimals were, i got the idea, i'd heard the explanation, but i really didn't know. my mom asked "the top and the bottom match?" it was looking promising... i said "yes". and that was when i started wearing second hand pajamas to school.

wait. it gets better...

re: the lunchbox... even in the ghetto, kids had a requisite lunchbox decorated with their favorite 70s cartoon character. everyone except me. so, again, i asked my mom, "can you buy me a lunch box from a store?" my mom replied, "what's a lunchbox?" i offered, "it's a box that you put your lunch in." and she returned, "oh, sure, i can do that." and that was when i started bringing a large porcelain sugarbowl (w/ a rubberband around it to clasp it shut) to school.

here's an idea: let's promote the freaky looking, asian girl brainiac who wears pajamas and brings a rubberbanded porcelain sugarbowl (filled with rice, banana chips and prunes) to school.

i'll never forget walking into my first class as a promoted student. it was absolutely terrifying. everyone was SO much bigger than me in MY class - but they were G I A N T S in this new one. i failed every test i got and did everything i could to be put back in my class - which they did.

but, the damage was done. the legend of my historic rule as school freak was wrought - i was the standard to which all future freaks would be measured.

y'know... i was originally going to wax poetic about how yoko ono and john lennon helped to perpetuate the stereotype of the asian female/white male couple. and in doing so, how their relationship haunts my own "sellout" existence with my "white" husband and my "mongrel" child. but that's a post for another day....

today, i'll remember sitting in the dark next to my mom. she was sipping some red wine with ice and then offered me a sample sip too. her face was lit up by the gray blue fuzz of the tv and the tears were streaming down her face as the details of lennon's death were broadcast. no sounds, just tears.

today, i'll be listening to some lennon in remembrance of the other man that made my mom cry.

stuffed animal fornication

i think everyone should have a retail job during the winter holiday season sometime in their too short lives. my theory is that after every person gets the sh*t kicked out of him/her by the blood-thirsty, holiday reduction obsessed hoi polloi, s/he gains a little perspective and the world becomes a much better, calmer, happier place.

while in college, i worked for one of the oldest and most respected toy stores in the world.

yes. that one.

and except for the theme song (which by the way, when you get the job, they tell you that you hear it while you sleep for a few days and they are not kidding), it was one of the best jobs of my life.

ok, so the actual working hours weren't all that much fun admittedly. the constant questions:

"do you have *insert brand name of toy, vague description, ancient year of issue, random series #, limited edition nightmare color & useless size*? is it still on sale? it better be because i made a special trip..."

and the complaints:

"this one isn't "fresh" (said while holding aforementioned inanimate toy at arm's length). can you get another one from stock? and you people can't wrap. just let me do it."

from duty bound parents and their overstimulated kids.

and kids, if there's a lesson to be learned, it's this - you never, never, ever, ever, ever want to piss off an overworked, underpaid grunt in the retail regiment - especially IN their place of employment. and it doesn't matter if the irrefutable question and/or grotesque complaint is regurgitated out of the mouth of an obscenely rich, beautiful and famous person or a regular, obscenely rich, beautiful joe. winona, take notes.

anyway, after closing, the click of the lock left us refreshed and renewed - we'd begin to work dilligently to clean & to get our specified areas straightened so we could go home. but, there was something dark and primitive deep inside of us, working its way up to our shiny vulnerable surfaces and one thing would lead to another and we'd be blaring blatantly anti-oompaloompa music, engaging in sanguinary nerf bow & arrow wars, late nite b-movie gak theatre, painfully slow demolition derby and then we'd dive to our most plebian and utterly base depths - the stuffed animal orgy.

oh, the horror, the corruption!!! *fade to black*

well, the poor defenseless, decaffeinated morning crew would arrive thru the rear entrance. in the back office, they'd put their things away in their cubbies, sip their coffee, nibble on a croissant, chit chat and finally, they'd enter the store and begin the routine of morning duties.

and then, you'd hear it, the collective gasp (and hysterical laughter) as the dimmer knobs were turned and our night shift masterpiece revealed - our cute and cuddly visual aids to the world of sexual slang - it was "puddles" buffing the beaver with "bixby", "chaplin" spanking the cat with "spencer", "madge" bumping fuzzies with "melvin", "patrick" doing it doggy style with "bootsie", "felix" feeding the kitty with "dreyfus", "biscuits" givin' the "george" a banana, "ozzie" riding "chuck", the pony - all of these and more would be on brazenfaced display in the licentious stuffed animal section.

it. was. anarchy. (oh, c'mon, like ANYONE would have noticed...)


wow. hmm, it's like i need a ciggy now....

so, ya like quizzes, do ya?

i notice that when i'm surfing thru blogs (via BE or that handy "next blog" button on blogger) that when bloggers get blocked they turn to quizzes for some help. so, here i am - blocked - turning to a quiz for some left brain lube...

and according to this quiz "i am a modern day idiot".

below are some sample questions from an 1885 admissions examination to jersey city high school: (i stole the quiz from "how i accidentally joined the vast right wing conspiracy (and found inner peace)" by harry stein.)


algebra (on second thought. let's skip this part - i can't type this stuff out.... if you REALLY want the questions. feel free to email me.)

geography

1. name four principal ranges of mountains in asia, three in europe and three in africa.

2. name the states on the west bank of the mississippi, and the capital of each.

u.s. history

3. what event do you connect with with 1565, 1607, 1620, 1664, 1775?

4. what caused the mexican war? what was the result? what american general commanded at the capture of the city of mexico?

grammar

5. write a sentence containing a noun used as an attribute, a verb in the perfect tense potential mood, and a proper adjective.

6. write the declension of (a) bird, (b) man, (c) fly, (d) fox, (e) it.

7. make three sentences, using the plural of sheep (a) in the nominative case, (b) in the possessive, (c) in the objective.


ANSWERS

1. himalayas, urals, hindu kush and khangal; alps, carpathians and pyrenees; atlas, drakenberg and ethiopian highlands

2. louisiana (baton rouge); arkansas (little rock); missouri (jefferson city);iowa (des moines); and minnesota (st. paul)

3. 1565 - pedro menendez de aviles founded st. augustine, fl. 1607 - jamestown settled., 1620-103 pilgrims landed at plymouth rock. 1664-british seized new netherland from the dutch. 1775-battles of lexington and concord.

4. manifest destiny, diplomatic blundering and instability of american government;california, new mexico and arizona became part of us and texas border was established at rio grande; zachary taylor.

5. my expertise tells me that i am going to fail this english test, since i'm guessing a lot.

6. (a) bird, birds (b) man, men (c) fly, flies (d) it, its

7. (a) the sheep are in the meadow. (b) the sheep's wool was carded (c) we sheared all the sheep.

the ghost of turkeys past...

i have very very fond memories of turkey days... especially those i experienced while living in san francisco. you say, "turkey", i say "gay men" and "boston market".

my first roomates were steven, sam, buttons, frisbee and monster. *insert obligatory flashback shimmer here* that's me, in the living room of that apt where the guy just urinated on the stoop. i'm the hill of blankets on that futon covered in cats. the guy wearing the yellow monkey fur? that's sam. the guy wearing the plaid lumberjack robe and a sunflower scrunchie in his hair... that's steven.

for thanksgiving, it was our tradition to attend dinner at a fabulously decorated home owned by a sparkling gay man and then get wasted drunk somewhere in the castro, only to awaken seemingly decoupaged to our beds.

this year was like all the others. we were post feast, rolling each other down the hills, picking up random revelers in our wake. i remember we started the night at the Cafe, then we ended up at another bar, the Pendulum, i think... and then...

well, then all i remember was waking up, cheek to sticky floor of another bar. i vaguely remember steven, vertical, laughing so hysterically that he skipped away. and then, sam helping me into a cab and climbing in after me, his body shuddering in his failed efforts to repress his rolling cachinnations - in my haze, i realized "sam is a canary jell-o hellion come alive".

i'll spare you the details of the moronic emergency room visit.... suffice to say, the golfball on my forehead (from the doorstop that cushioned my fall) finally disappeared a few days later.

so, what does all of this have to do with boston market? um, nothing really - well, i guess the common denominator is the consumption of big dead birds and another non native sf holiday tradition.

so, i lived with steven and sam for only a few months (we did share a ravaged bird or two and anonymous vats of liquor again, later in my sf years) then, i flew the coop and got my own nest in the tenderloin and lived near another bird named elena, my greek born, british bred, closeted virgin, chain smoking, newcastle drinking, private investigator, next door neighbor, and dearest beloved friend.

elena and i (the all-inclusive holiday feasters) celebrated ye olde turkey massacre with the other pseudo homeless, shower deprived and unidentified but charming masses at boston market. i know - who woulda thunk that anything - especially a boston market - would be open on thanksgiving? well, apparently all the dregs of humanity on polk street knew the 411 on the BM (boston market, not... oh, nevermind). then, it was off to "the castle" for pints, chips and unruly behavior (including cheating at darts) with random boys.

come to think of it, we also celebrated christmas at BM but we'd bring some imported english crackers (as in - poof! STREAMERS! yay! not - salty. crumby. yucky.) with us - we caused quite a stir... oh yes, we did.

these are my little memories... *sigh*, *head tilt*. i should stop now or i'll break into song and we just can't have that.

anyway, i hope you had a lovely holiday and that as you raised fork (or spork) to mouth you realized that you (like me) had and were something to be thankful for.

wouldn't it be weird if blogging women cycled at the same time?

(my ol' bike, named "ajax", from electra ...)

but i'm not talking about uni-, bi-, tri- or motor-. i have cycles on the brain, gentle reader...

i was just thinking about when i worked at an art gallery and all four of us realized one freakish day that we were all cycling at the same time. (yep, i'm talking about "the curse", "aunt flo", my "friend".)

i think it's because of the charting. the temp taking, the... um, gathering of input material for... nevermind. it's supposed to be this useful tool in predicting when i am at my most fecund (love that word. so pre-raphaelite. so jessica rabbit).

it's supposed to help me take charge of my fertility! so far, it's bearing a stronger resemblance to a useless extra screw from a bookcase which has more control over me than i have of it. but that's a subject for another unread post.

anyway, according to my chart, i'm just another day or so away from my "rose parade". i really want to be optimistic since i recently had so much sex that i thought i sprained my hair. i had optimal cervical fluid. it was right before ovulation. my temperature is up. yada yada yada - all that good stuff. but i can only remain in denial for so long - the cramping is too obvious and my devouring chocolate is so obscene, it borders on the pornographic. oh, and i can't stop snapping my husband's head off when he says "hi".

ok, stream of pms consciousness shift here - so, i read somewhere that a pregnant woman carrying a daughter is also carrying her grandchild since every female fetus contains all the eggs the newborn child will have. how cool is that?! well, ok, i can accept that i'm the only one who thinks it's very cool.

i really want to have another child. i want my daughter to have a sibling. i really would like my husband to have a son. i know there's always adoption. it's an option that we were open to long ago. but, i LOVED being pregnant. i actually miss it.

anyway, i'm going to bed now if only to apologize profusely to my wonderful husband. it's weird though how an apology can feel so commonplace now, and maybe useless in a way, like teaching a turtle how to fetch.

is it a lamb? is it a purse?

after my daughter was born (on 03/03/03) my cousin, wyndee, sent this as a gift. now, my daughter is old enough to appreciate it. she loves this little guy. well, we're talking about the same child who has a fond attachment to my husband's shoe horn.


view #1


view #2



view #3 (wtf?!)


anyway, somewhere in a factory in china, there's someone laughing hysterically in quality control.

i dedicate this post to you! i applaud you! :') signed, former garment industry slave.