My Luck Could Change

Don't Bother Calling

Please excuse the lack of posting, but since Saturday morning I've been sick.  Off and on fever, constant acute throat pain that first left me with an Arquette-like voice, but now it's more a muted mutant squeek.  Even last night, my 800 miligram Motrin / Tylenol with codeine / lidocaine cocktail wasn't enough to cut through the insane pain or my fever.  Today I'm feeling slightly better, but that's what I said yesterday right before everything turned to shit.  So today this is my one big venture to my livingroom.  I'm going back into my sick den, with my Dead Like Me season one, Hitchhiker's Guide and penicillin.  I'll write again when I'm not entertaining suicide.

(Actually, it's kinda nice in a way to just sit on my ass and only be responsible for getting well.  But I'm obviously sick as hell if I've been able to do days of this w/o dying of boredom.  GOD I pray this isn't mono!)

Anna and Hollywood do the Netflix Tango

I bounce between hobbies like my cousin Sarah in that padded cell in '96.  This semester I'm taking a 'Spanish Through Film' class and have been loving it so far.  Not only does it cater to my indie/foreign taste in film, it's gotten me to enjoy watching movies again!  For years I was averaging MAYBE one movie every month or two (even with my 15+ channels of HBO and Showtime).  I prided myself on not wasting my time on movies or television beyond documentaries and the Daily Show.  But now Nishant's hooked me up with a free Netflix trial and even though I haven't gotten my movies yet, I'm loving it!  After having to put up with Adam's often horrid taste in movies (I mean, come on.  The guy gets a boner for Xmen), I totally forgot that they can have a purpose beyond just entertainment.  I've spent the last hour of my life reading Netflix blogs and trying to imagine the inner workings of their system.  So, come to think about it, maybe I'm more excited about the prospect of playing on their website and reading about movies than I am about actually watching them.  Guess I've got a free month to figure it out.  If you want a free month, too, hit me up!

Three Things

Numero Uno:  I got accepted into SDSU and already have enough aid to cover all my tuition and fees.  i is smrat!

Numbero Dos:  Erwin's Aunt owns a thrift store in Memphis called "Bibles to China."  They only have one paid employee and minimal overhead, so for every $4 they pull in they help smuggle one bible into godless China.

Numero Tres:  You may recall that back in December I was trying to get advice as to how much I should charge for an old domain name of mine.  Frank convinced me that asking anything more than $300 would be rediculous.  I managed to get $400 for it, but now I'm thinking I got ripped off.  Look Who's Blogging.

Screw You, I'm Irish.

It's hard to start writing once I stop.  I've got so many good stories but an inability to make myself sit down and type.  My stories are always lacking something without my wild gestures and goofy faces.  I'll try.

While my parents were visiting, while the rain was interminable and water was pooling in our yard, black fuzzy mold started growing on our bedroom walls.  The work started the day before I got back from a weekend in Minnesota, dropping Jeremy off to be with his grandparents for a couple weeks.  The mold crew arrived and destroyed the house.  They rolled up the carpets and removed all the interior walls in our bedroom to clean them out and add insulation where there had been none, leaving a half inch of dusty evidence throughout the house.  Adam said not to bother trying to get any kind of compensation from our rental company, but.  Erwin had just gotten back from Iraq and was crashing here a few nights.  I thought it would be perfect since he could take Jeremy's room while he was out of town, but even we were camping out in our kitchen for that week and a half.  So I did some fortuitous research on tenants' rights and realized that not only were we not liable for rent during the deconstruction for mold, we also shouldn't have had to pay rent when our furnace was out for 2+ weeks in December while we froze to death.  This house has been a pain in the ass, yes, but now they're actually stepping up to get stuff done now that I sound like I have a lawyer.  Oh, yeah.  And we got a $1200 credit.  I fucking rule.

Ok...yeah.  The hair.  I got ripped off.  It's something a straight guy at Supercuts could have managed.  It's cute, but I was definitely expecting some kind of miracle transformation.  Didn't happen (me thinking "I paid $75 for THIS?!"):

So, yeah.  It's shorter.  And a bit layered.  But for $75?  Big fucking deal.  (holy crap am I blonde)

So I went bowling for the first time since I learned I was holding/throwing the ball wrong - with my pointer and middle fingers, just kinda dropping the ball off of them, hoping it rolled all the way to the end.  Yeah.  I bowled like a girl.  But dig this!  My first game, 4 frames, nada.  I finished the game in the 20's.  But, !que milagro!  My second game I opened with 2 strikes.  Both Adam and Erwin were in the 70s, but my second game of real bowling ever?  A 119.  Again, I f'n rule.

Adam left late last week to go back to Minnesota to pick Jeremy up, so of course I had to get into some kind of trouble while he was gone.  Thank God Mexico is a half-hour drive from my house.  Erwin and I went down to Puerto Nuevo "for lunch."  We shopped while the sun was still up (meet Edguardo, la tortuga):

And then moved inside to get wasted (see photo above).  We met a group of OC surfer's at the restaurant who invited us to join them at the seedy Mexican strip club up the road.  In the first hour we were there, a stripper whipped out my tit and we spent over $100.  Don't ask don't tell.  Ahem.

Right when I had to pick up Adam and Jeremy from the airport on Monday, I was dropping Erwin off on his way to Memphis.  It totally reminded me of the reunion we had when I was coming back from Minnesota.  Erwin, who I hadn't seen since October, was there to pick me up and James, who had just spent the last week on a Mexican cruise, was there, too, waiting for his flight home.  I've been to the airport 8 times now in about 4 weeks.  As a stay-at-home mom, that's a freakin' lot.

It's so good to have my baby back, but it did take me a while to get used to having to be mommy again.  And of course, since I missed him so much I've been spoiling him rotten.  We've been inseperable since he got off the plane, taking him to Chuck E Cheese to make him love me as much as grammas ;)

This week, instead of going to my regular class (Spanish Through Film), we're going to movies at the San Diego Latino Film Festival.  Tuesday, Nishant joined me for El Carro, which I loved, and then we headed to the Air Conditioned to meet Frank for Big Sonic Chill night.  I didn't get home that late, but it was definitely a shock to the system to be woken at 6:30am by a whiny, sleepy 3 year old.  Sleeping til noon was nice while it lasted.  If he weren't so damn cute...

Tonight I saw Doble Juego, a frustrating movie about some unsuspecting Peruvians and a Spanish con man.  After I left the theater, not one minute later some drunk lady tried to hustle me for $30.  Too funny.

Today is St Patrick's Day.  My whole life I was raised being told my mother's side of the family was Scott-Irish...kilts and bagpipes at weddings, a corned beef feast on the 17th of March.  But this last summer when I was home, somehow my uncle Tom got it in his head that, through some research his mormon daughter did, our lineage only traced back to Scotland.  His evidence was too compellingly confusing and untraceable (and of course only now on the table that Gramma Magill is dead), but for some reason I believed him, thought that I had been living a lie.  But I had a heart-to-heart with my mom this morning and we decided that Tom is full of shit.  I'm Irish again!  Guess I'll have to save my festivities for our BBQ this weekend since even going to see the movie was almost too much for me tonight.

So, there you have it kids.  A quick rundown on my life, a photo of my hair.  Not the photo I've been waiting to show you, one that shows off not only my hair, but my incredible bowling muscle as well.  Once Erwin figures his damn phone out, it's on.  Til then, adieu.  I've got some Limon Chile ramen to eat.

The End of an Era

Tomorrow I am entrusting my tresses to Kenneth, the number 2 hairdresser in the UK for 2 years running (let's pray those years weren't during his Flock of Seagulls era).  This will be my first haircut of any sort in nearly 2 years.  This is momentous.  I am afraid.

Tomorrow is also Joe and Ana's housewarmextravaganza, so I hope I'll be super fabulous.  With the manicure and (first ever) pedicure Erwin bought for me, I'm going to be decidedly girly.  It feels good.

SOO...my trip back home was a blur.  I was in Duluth less than 3 days, but 3 days was enough.  I got to see a lot of my family and met up with Katie for a nasty Perkins lunch.  Also, I we went sledding!  Jeremy, being the fearless and invinceable 3 year old he is went down one of the biggest sledding hills in Duluth and managed to hang on the whole trip down.  One run was enough for him, though, and he spend the rest of the trip eating snow while his cousins flew down the hill. 

OH do I miss my boy.   Between Erwin coming back and school I've been really busy up until today, but I made no plans tonight so I'd be in good shape tomorrow.  And now I have no idea what to do with myself.  I was just on the phone for 2 hours for no good reason, watched hours TV before then.  Is this really how most people live?  Too much of this and I'd go insane.  Good thing I've got the Beagle Brigade/haircut/Ana's party to keep me busy tomorrow.  I'm going to feel so naked w/o all this hair.  Pay your respects, cuz come 3pm tomorrow it's gone:

Cheap Ass MP3s and Hometown Musik!

Thanks be to Frank, the rockin' exchange rate, and the fall of communism.  For without a mysterious synergy of all three I never would have discovered this site which, once you click in the right-hand corner to switch it off Russian, lets you legally download full albums for, sometimes, under a dollar.  I just got the old Shins album for 95 centavos.  Очень хорошо !!

And for free tonight, Subpop shared new Low tracks with me, a band I grew up in the same dinky city with but never got to touch.  I don't think they played all-ages shows and if they did, I was completely oblivious and now I'm pissed.  Something came out of Duluth that was worthwhile?  That real magazines are talking about?  Something's that's getting TV coverage that doesn't involve a cat getting frozen to a sidewalk (etc) and being cryogenically reactivated?  Now, after opening for Radiohead, etc etc, they've signed with Subpop.  And I'm still a nobody and, even though I'll be in Duluth this weekend, I won't get to see them play.  They're gigging Europe.  And I'll be hanging with gramma.

This may be my last post before I venture to the tundra and back, so I hope the 10-cent downloads and frozen cat stories keep you warm these cold(ish) winter nights until I return.

I've Become A Silhouette

I've been absent.  My parents were in town, my uncle etc came down from Ventura, James made a 2-day stop between Seattle and his cruiseship...a veritable hoedown at my place.  I've got stories to tell but now I'm drowning in the SoCal rain (tornado warnings today.  Neet!) and moldy walls, all the little things I put off while everyone was here to distract me.  I've only got 2 more days before I'm on a plane to sub-zero Minnesota for the weekend to drop Jeremy off with grandparents for a couple weeks before Adam flies back to pick him up.  When I get back I'll have little to no responsibility and ----  ERWIN!!  I think he was over there long enough to techically be a common-law Iraqi citizen, but now HE'S ALL MINE!  If he survives the trip back through hostile territory and if I can make it 4 days in the winter hinterland. 

Listening to:

We Will Become Silhouettes - The Shins Cover (get it quick while it lasts!  I'm already at  900% bandwidth!)

**Free Prize!**

A picture of my beautiful mommy doing some beautiful gardening during a rare patch of sun this week:

We'll All Float On OK

In elementary school I was popular not because I was cool, but because I was a natural leader of all things 8-year-old-girls.  I started a club by being a geek about animals and then making others do my bidding.  Eventually we got pretty big and our teacher gave us class time to do our thing.  We raised money and somewhere in the midst of the Amazon, there's 1000 square feet of jungle with our name on it.  Right.

In Jr. High I got a little strange.  Or, at least, had the freedom to express myself more.  When I was 12 my mom helped me dye my hair fuscia.  That was the beginning of my "Rainbow Brite" nickname, the only one I ever had.  Guess I'm not a nickname kind of girl.  I dressed in the coolest clothes a thrift store budget would afford, and did too much of too many different drugs before the 8th grade began.  I ate a bagle and a baby food every day (like I just did, which is reminding me of all this useless garbage).  Someone carved "ED 78" into our lunchroom table.  I wrote in pencil Return of the J-I" over it and then erased it.  Somehow the evil lunch ladies thought that was worth 2 months of lunchroom detention...my own private table that my friends couldn't visit and then after the bell rang I'd have to stay after and, literally, sweep the lunchroom floor WITH MY HANDS.  Since I had only 5 minutes to get to my next class I'd always be late and then I started getting detention for being late to that class, too.  Eventually my mom finally broke down and believed me and complained.  After one unexpected brush-against from the principal (the one who had the pull-out couch in his office), all was forgiven.  But not after enough in-school suspension and after school detention to give me an even deeper seated hatred for authority.  My principal used to jog by my house and when I was lucky enough to catch him I'd scream obscenities at him as he jogged by.  I was pretty coy for a 13 year old.

When highschool started I had the punk rockingest boyfriend ever, who I miss severely and should probably track down.  He had 3 inch spikes on his jacket, but the sweetest, sheltered, choir boyness about him.  My mom loved him since she knew he was a totally pussy.  He moved to Phily, promising to come back once he turned 18 a couple months later and, of course, never did.  Good for him.  I met Adam somewhere during my sophomore year and totally thought he was my rebound guy, the one with balls enough to finally take my virginity.  He made me wait.  Fucker.  The first 2 years of highschool were mostly spent skipping as much class as I could get away with (my mom didn't really care so long as I kept up my A's), smoking pot, going to all the punkrock shows I could and whipping shitties in the (6 months of) snow.  The teachers I loved I really loved and really loved me and the teachers I didn't like rarely saw me unless it was test day.  Since I was in the top 10% of the class I was eligible to start at the university my junior year, which was great for all the free credits and for the fact I got to experience a little taste of college life before I got married.  I had some really close friends but lost my way somewhere when I was 17...they begged me to get Adam out of my life (drugs, weighing me down even though he was 6K miles away and we were both living our own lives, etc), but I was in some kind of strangling depression that set in after I got back from 2 weeks in Europe and suffered through another Minnesota winter.  I went through a bunch of guys but couldn't stand anyone for more than a couple weeks at a time...I didn't want their intimacy.  Didn't have that part of me to invest.  For a month when the SADD kicked in I rarely came home and drank nearly a bottle of gin a day til the near-stigmata liver failure kicked in.  We had a foreign exchange student my senior year, Paola from Italy.  My mother started working soon before and we had money for the first time I can remember.  Beyond a trip with my dad to show Paola the Dakotas, the most recent vacation to that point had been a drive to northern Michigan when I was 10, but that winter we fled the cold and spent a week in LA, my mom, Paola and me.  The first time I stuck my toe in the Pacific in Santa Monica, I vowed I'd be living in California in a year.  It was the warmth I was lacking.  And, in this crazy roundabout way, I got exactly what I wished for.  When I get cranky and start to feel that this marriage and child are weighing me down, I remember that they were my salvation.

So, who am I?  This creative, extraverted, partying intellectual with a intense fear of intimacy, but a love of feigning it as best I can so that one day, maybe, I'll change my mind about it all.  Someone that craves her space as much as she craves attention.  Someone that still eats baby food at 22. And I like me this way.  Most of the time.

There Go My Cool Points for the Year

I have absolutely no evening plans this weekend.  None.  There, I said it.  Last weekend was all settled upon the Tuesday before, but this weekend I think I'm going to do myself a favor and lay low.  It's come to my realization that I'm getting downright boring at times now, even compared to just a year ago.  A lot of is has to do with the fact that I'm on the road to having to donate plasma for grocery money this month.  But, yep.  No plans.  And me, of all people, getting old and boring.  It's sad.

Leave me pity comments or the panda dog gets it.

Off to go on a walk with my dog at 9 o'boring on a Friday night.  Then, I'll probably read a book and go to bed.  It's stories like these that keep you coming back for more!

And to prove what a nrrd I am, check out this list of early 90's TV shows we all know and love with all our - farts!  Hahaha...oh.  I kid.

A Plea for Help

*shudder*  I feel so stalked.  We'll get to that in a minute. But first...ever since I ditched my stupidly-pricey domain name I've been losing a lot of hits since no one can find me anymore. 
So here's a cute baby groundhog picture that my blog-friend Ricky assures me is the pathway to more hits and idiotic comments.  Hey!  I'll take what I can get at this point!  Also, you HAVE to see this!  Thanks to this guy.

So...creepy.  This guy calls me today wanting the Spanish textbooks I'm selling but then changes his mind.  Then calls me 2 hours later to say he's changed his mind again and wants to pick them up.  From the first second I got that icky creeped out feeling.  Something's not right.  I hand him the books but he doesn't even look at them, but also isn't getting out my money, either.  I tell him everything's there and he finally glances at them, telling me that they aren't what he needed (even though I'm positive they're still the same books this semester and I'm positive that he knew what books I had).  But then, instead of leaving, he's still standing there.  I wish him a good day....standing there....a safe drive....standing there....a good night at work....finally he says "you play bass, huh."  And I think I finally get it...he's seen me before and was just trying to place me all that time.  That'd make sense, but no...he's never seen me play.  He said I had an interesting email signature and he looked up my myspace profile.  So I just inadvertantly gave my email, phone number, and address to someone creepy enough to go through all that even though he never needed the books.  So hey, creepy guy...since I know you probably read my blog now too - I know tae kwon do and aikido.  And that cute beagle's got a mean bite when I tell him to.  And, if my husband's home, he's a certified Expert with an M-16 and can be a bit overprotective at times.