What’s sadder than a pimp cup?
A “pimp stein.” Made of the cheapest plastic possible. And marketed towards women. Couldn’t decide between this one or “Princess.”
Thanks, Ross Dress for Less! You do indeed have everything I need in the whole entire world.
I ordered a Red Eye from the guy behind the counter. The girl making it didn’t understand his code, but I kind of like it.
A Red Eye is a regular coffee with a shot of espresso added to it. I drink this a lot. Usually with a tiny whisper of cream and a dash of Splenda.
These are the drinks I regularly order, from most- to least frequent:
Do you know that factoid about celery? That a piece of celery burns more calories to consume than the calories it contains?
I think of that sometimes in my crazytime cardio class, when my teacher decides to play the 90-minute Mega Remix CD of the Black Eyed Peas.
To wit: whatever physical benefits I derive from the class are negated by the erosion of my brain by having to listen to the fucking Black Eyed Peas.
My mother. I’m going to guess this was an election day party sometime in the 1980s. The hat is a question mark hat (backwards, puzzlingly). I can’t remember the name of the friend she’s clutching, who is wearing a crown.
Of course, it could have just been a regular get-together, and mom may have decided to spice things up by bringing out the costume supplies. This was a not-uncommon occurrence.
I love how this picture catches mom at a moment of full-tilt bonkers.
I hope you are having warm thoughts of your own mother, in person or otherwise!
My old college buddy Curtis, with whom I’ve recently reconnected with on Facebook (what, really?? that never happens!!) sent me this little gem in commemoration of my birthday yesterday.
Keep watching. It starts weird, and keeps ramping the weirdness. I feel at times that I was put on this earth to behold art such as this.
If you have not seen the freakout classic The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, please do. There’s more where this came from!
Me about half an hour ago, just woken up. Still processing tequila and filet mignon from last night. Chicken pox scar above eyebrow.
It’s my birthday today. I don’t often perform self-assessment on my birthday, but I’m feeling very low-key about this year so why not run some analytical checks upon the thing that is me?
I have to say there’s been a lot, a LOT of changes since this time last year. In 2010 I was a mass of nerves about my upcoming move to the House of the Elderly Relative; nerves and doubt and feelings of doom. I was sunk kind of low, financially. I was depressed in a low level, high functioning way that spread a thin pall of ugh over everything.
So that’s different. The move was a smart thing. Caregiving is hard, but having other pressures eased has given me breathing room and space to make things better for myself. Tax time was a breeze (lord, who types that?) and my quality of life is just higher all around.
There are pictures from a year ago of me eating ice cream in San Francisco. Huh? How did I do that? My tolerance for lactose has plummeted to zero in 12 short months. So that’s different, too.
There are also pictures of me from a year ago that show the big, obvious change, the one everyone comments on, the one I enjoy but also have amazing ambivalence towards; that would be the diet-and-fitness regime that has decreased the size of Hambox since last summer. I’m not going to unpack it all, as they say, right now. So for now: I look better, I feel better, I am actively working and planning on how to make this a permanent change.
Mother’s Day, as usual, is nipping on my birthday’s heels, lending and deep and complex bittersweet to everything I am experiencing. This has been the norm since losing my mom in 2003 — the week leading to the doublewhammy of birthday/Mother’s Day is happy weepy happy weepy. This has not changed at all.
I had a wonderful prom for my birthday last year. This year, there’s much less to-do. Partly due to anxiety about Mother’s Day on Sunday; partly because I seem to want to be all me-me-me every other year. Partly because I can’t quite believe how old I’m getting; partly because I am trying to be a grownup while regarding the day of my birth. I actually requested “no presents” for my little get-together on Saturday. That is a first, if you can believe it.
This year I will be celebrating my birthday with someone who, well, is kind of sort of a beau. Don’t freak out, it’s still brand new and the future (as the future tends to be) is totally uncertain, but my admirer or suitor or manfriend or whatever is going to take me out tonight. On my birthday! And I get to wear a party dress! So that’s different.
So yeah. Things are pretty good and I feel pretty grateful that I plopped into this world, this many fingers ago.
I woke up stupidly early, answered some emails (my boss: “what are you doing up so early? stop it!”) and thought about starting my day for real. I made one more attempt to sink back into sleep, which worked, I guess.
Next thing I knew I was looking for the source of an awful smell in the kitchen, which turned out to be a rat who was trapped in the hot oven. Once released, the rat ran around the kitchen, in flames, while my brothers stood there and refused to do anything about it.
Insomnia or flaming rats. This is my choice.
To drive while people are playing guitar and singing in the car
To wear a brightly colored dress and earrings and go out to dinner while in Mexico
To come upon a peacock, completely unexpectedly
To feel that endorphin rush thing while running
To find glitter around the house for WEEKS afterwards
To hear locusts
To witness a fabulous revealing of something (anything!) after a flash and a puff of smoke. Pink smoke.
To see the green flash
To be grabbed and smooched
To hear the words “good news!”
To feel helpless with laughter
To be stopped on the street by a stranger and lauded for my excellent style
To run a victory lap
To find the right shoes
To find blue sea glass
To get an entire dance floor to follow my lead. This has happened before, and it’s about as great as you think it is.
At a thrift store recently (the one with the d-bag), my friend and I spotted these beauties. As I said on Facebook –
Becky: Perfect if your wedding theme color is ecru. And if you’re serving cereal.
Jeana: I would totally go to an ecru themed wedding that served cereal.
Becky: come to think of it, i would too!
Regina: I can totally envision a Cereal Bar done up buffet style. In addition to multiple cereal choices, different choices of liquid to accompany the cereal: diary/soy/almond/rice milk, horchata, chocolate milk, … fruit, nuts,… Oooh! And everyone gets a toy surprise at the end. Yeah.
Violet: Delicious, delicious oatmeal would be so perfect for the breakfast-themed wedding I’m envisioning these bowls will be used at.
Regina: Oatmeal came to my mind, too. There is a sundries chain in LA that has (steel cut) oatmeal bars/stations. mmm…
Jeana: Okay, somebody get married and use these great ideas and invite me!
Becky: I’m trying, Jeana! 😛
Carol: I made cereal.. they could be Carol Crisps and we would serve them in ecru bowls but nobody would notice because Carol Crisps are a very, very bright purple that turns the milk pink.
Jeanie: These are obviously the forms God used to form perfect breasts but then they were accidentally tossed into the “send to Goodwill” pile with the burning bush igniter and parting seas in 12 easy steps pamphlets.
It’s the Polaroid X800. Horrible design, horrible interface, doesn’t work, is bad.
The most grievous violations:
Not to mention:
I refuse to listen to the implied shrugs of those that came before, muttering “welp, you get what you pay for.” $80 (not counting SD card, case, batteries) is not rock-bottom cheap, and these issues are not acceptable for any electronics, anyway.
After scrabbling around the internet for aid after being unable to upload my photos, I found Gretchen from Mind Flush, who had exactly the same issues as I, which she details in her post Dear Polaroid x800:
After only a few dozen pictures, your battery indicators were already showing you were down to less than 1/4 of a full charge. Between that and the fact that the batteries fall completely out of the camera any time you open the door to get the memory card or connect the camera to the computer to transfer pictures, I think you aren’t exactly the smartest camera on the block. More like, “the camera on the block that was designed by an idiot with a complete lack of understanding of how an underwater camera – or a camera of any sort – will actually be used by a consumer.”
Yeah, we all know digital zoom is bad and one shouldn’t use it. So why even offer digital zoom on cameras? On what planet is picture quality like this even remotely acceptable in this day/age?
Condensation inside a camera lends a dreamlike nightmarish quality to pictures.
I bought this camera without researching because it’s all the local store had to offer for a reasonable price point. I really can’t believe how unadvanced the technology is for digital underwater cameras, what with people liking to take pictures, liking water, and liking to do both at once.
I’m just so mad with products like this, with companies like this. You can hear the voices that came up with this product: how little effort can we get away with in order to dupe someone to buy this?