Schießen Sie Das Glas

While looking out the window at the office today, I noticed a thick rope swaying in the breeze – I’m 6 stories up in a 17-story building – and my first thought was not of window washers, but of John McClane. Which reminded me of a story…

Doodleoodledoodoodleoodledoodoodleoodledoo…
The year is 1990. I am a senior in high school. Hazel, one of my best friends, and I are hanging around after school, bored. We’ve already tried, for the umpteenth time, to break into the Tower (the clock tower in the red brick building at the top center of this page). Then we get a genius idea! We are going to take over a corporate office, a la Hans Gruber in Die Hard. We decide on the offices of James, who is in my homeroom, and who runs his own computer software business in a small office building a block away from the school.

But first, we need weapons. We go to the advisor to the literary magazine, for which we both work, and ask him if he has any “implements of destruction.” “What are you going to do with them?” he asks. “Why, take over some corporate offices,” we reply. “Ooo, fun!” he responds, in an enthusiastic tone only heard in the pre-Columbine era of secondary education. He rifles through his desk drawers and comes up with a pair of scissors, all steel. “These look pretty sharp,” he says, We grab them and head out.

I don’t remember what we did to disguise ourselves; most likely it was nothing, as Hansie came to the party all decked out in a suit and tie. James is our Joseph Yoshinobu Takagi. We knock first then bust open the door and yell “This is a takeover” and then, in our best German accents, but in English, “Shoot the glass!” and then we try to say it in actual German. We also say “Schnell!” a lot, and wave the pair of scissors menacingly. James just stares at us, but then (naturally) gets all excited when we, a long-haired buxom blonde and a long-haired catlike brunette, announce we are going to tie him to his desk.

And tie him up we do. After which we untie him and switch into psychiatrist mode, having him lay on the sofa while we sit behind his desk and ask him how all of this made him “feel.”

McSleepy

Boy howdy am I feeling old. Stayed up until after 11 last night what with the babysitting and all, then up and dressed for a 7:30 call with India, followed by work, working out, and a tasty chicken sandwich I made using my new cast iron stovetop grill that I got for just 10 American dollars and seasoned all on my own. Followed by great feelings of sleepiness. I honestly do not know how women with children do it. Because, g-damn, I love my sleep.

"Castro's 80th Birthday Bash Kicks Off Without Him" - Washington Post headline

Only 80?!? Um, isn't he, like, eleventy million and three?

Geez.

Kickin' it Holiday Style

So my lunches as of late have been inspired by Little House on the Prairie, in that I eat at least one small, sweet orange everyday, like Laura and Mary used to get in the toes of their stockings at Christmastime. Or was it Almanzo?

I also nibble on Valrhona dark chocolate, and some pepper brie cheese that I got on clearance from Shaws (I just cut off the mold -- well, the mold that's not supposed to be there) and sesame crackers. I think the Valrhona has ruined my palate for ordinary candy because I just tried a Milk Dud and ended up spitting it out.

Of course, all this is my pathetic attempt to hide the fact that I am a drugged up single childless cat-owning wayward odd-jobs-working thirtysomething female...as opposed to a child in braids and a cotton lawn dress and hobnailed boots or some rich foodie with a predilection for high fat and caffeine.

Random Product Review # 3

No links to this product, because I don't want to get in trouble looking at sex toys in the office, but the purple plastic vibrator given to me by the chickenfucker several years ago gets a grand total of half a pierogi out of a possible five. Why? Oh, let us count the reasons:

1. The orgasm it gives you is of poor quality and is shockingly fast. Here is how it goes: You turn on the vibrator. You apply it to your naughty bits. And it's BZZZZZ WOO! and you're all done.

2. It smells like plastic and no matter how much you wash it, there is always cat hair stuck to it.

3. (This is the reason for the 1/2 star) When you have parties, you can rig it so it falls out of your medicine cabinet and bonks the nosy guest looking in your medicine cabinet on the head, teaching him or her a valuable lesson about respecting the privacy of others.

FYI, I no longer own the purple plastic vibrator.

Random Product Review # 2

Now, gentle readers, let's take a look at my new fave moisturizing product: body oil. I currently use both Aura Cacia Apricot Kernel oil, which I mix with clove oil so that I smell all motivate-y, and Alba Organics Kukui nut oil.

I give both these products four of of a possible five pierogis. They smell great, absorb quickly, and feel good going on. The only reason they're not getting five pierogies is because they remind me of Jim, the long-haired, commando-going, older (by six years) man to whom I gave my virginity 11 years ago. Though I did not realize it at the time, his bedroom was a fully functioning babe lair; it was dimly lit, with a mattress on the floor, a hippie-style bag full of condoms, and a small bottle of massage oil (this is essentially what my body oil is), which Mr. Hairy Nounderpants would use to rub younger babes into submission. He was gross, gross, gross, and I do not like to be reminded of him.

OK, actually, he was not so bad, just a skeevehound. I blame my own naivete more than his dumb moves. So it's four out of five stars for being reminded of my own stupidity. Not bad, body oil!!

Random Product Review # 1

So I'm in downtown Boston loading files to a server on a desktop and I've finished all my editing work, which means there's not much to do...not much to do but review products for you, dear readers!

Let's begin with the Luna Dulce de Leche bar, or as I like to call it Dulce de Sgusting. I give it 1 pierogi out of a possible 5. Why only 1? Because it tastes like crap. Well more like sawdust mixed with crap mixed with a fake-y sweet taste. Also because of the queer "caramel" topping and icing swirls that taste like chemicals. Also because, WTF is this thing made out of? It's like that fake meat product, Quorn. I think I'll call this thing Quood. In the future, Quood will be all we will have to eat, and we'll wash it down with our own recycled urine. Yum, yum!

You may be wondering at this point why I gave it any stars at all. Well, it does provide some fiber, every important for the lower GI tract, and it did stop my stomach from digesting itself for much longer than, say, a handful of butter crackers would.

I'm Booorrrreeeeddd

Just got off the phone with Dr. Moo, who is busy and can't talk. "Did you take your Ritalin today," she asked. Why yes, I did, and I rearranged my sock and underwear drawers and cleaned my desk and paid my bills. "Well, you didn't post on your blog today." I told her nothing happened at Thanksgiving and then she reminded me that one of my goat farming relatives requested that my sister cut out the vocal cords of her goats because the males were locked up while in heat and were bleating and some hunters mistook the bleating goats for the cry of a fellow wounded hunter and spent hours looking for him and then once it got dark they called in the cavalry, meaning cops, firefighters, and rescue personnel.

Then around 7 the sound mysteriously stopped (because the goats went to bed) and this guy my mother was engaged to before she was engaged to my dad, who lives behind the house of one of my cousins, just down the road from the goat farming relations, said "Did you think to check out the goat farmers?" And so on my goat farming relations' doorstep appear the cops, who discover there is no missing hunter, just a bunch of randy goats.

And no, Moo will not be cutting out any goat vocal cords.

Pierogi Fest 2006

Just didn't want to let the day pass without posting. I had help making my annual Thanksgiving vat of pierogis, which was great, and the friends who came to help were genuinely excited to learn about Polish dumplings. I took pictures! But with diposable cameras that aren't full yet, so you'll have to wait.

One friend is hosting a group of Indians tomorrow (the from India Indians as opposed to Native Americans) and she managed to pay for the turkey dinner using turkey points she and her boyfriend dug out of the trash at Shaws. Which I find quite impressive. I donated my turkey point to them.

After we made pierogies we made chocolate and marzipan truffles.

And now I am going to bed.

As Sure a Sign of the Impending Apocalypse as Any

Can't remember if I have shared this little gem before, but check out Barbie's new pet doggie!

Medicinal Update

I didn't end up experiencing that same level of anxiety I mentioned last week but did still feel a little off on two pills, so today I am going to go back down to one again for a couple of days to see what the effects are. I'm also switching to tea in the afternoons. There was what I like to call the Iron Chef: Green Tea Battle in my parent's kitchen on Saturday wherein PolackPappy stuffed like a hundred organic Bigelow green tea bags from a giant box he bought recently at Sam's Club into a plastic bag for me; he normally drinks probably six cups of coffee a day and is switching to tea. Meanwhile, McMumsy was waving her green tea with mango under my nose "I blend loose leaves!", which she most certainly does not buy in bulk, as it costs 10 dollars a box. Anyhoo, it was amusing. And though both parents have jumped on the green tea bandwagon, I have been drinking PG Tips.

Crap Weasel

Well I had another odd feeling but I think it might be more of a panic attack feeling. It passed quickly which is good but methinks I shall be skipping the afternoon cup of coffee.

Well, Hello Tachycardia

Just had a brief (less than 10 seconds), mild episode of what I think was tachycardia. Felt all sweaty and weird. Can't say I liked it much. But I looked it up and apparently it's a common side effect to the Ritalin and nothing to worry about. So worry about it I shall not.

Writers

Went last night with Carmen to see a stellar group of writers read from this new collection. Douglas Bauer put the book together; he once went on a gastronomical tour of New Orleans with M.F.K. Fisher while working at Playboy and is married to Sue Miller, who ended her contribution talking about the chicken dish he wooed her with. Andre Dubus was there and he mentioned Bauer had mentioned the book idea to him at a cocktail party. It was all very chummy-chummy. Steve Almond and Margot Livesey were there as well.

After the reading, Carmen and I went for Japanese food at one of the stalls at the Porter Square mall and I said, oh, oh, let’s each do our take on Andre’s hair, which was very impressive, in our blogs later. Mr. Dubus, let me first say, is very kind, very warm, and very talented. But he also has poofy sideburned hair and wears cowboy boots. The man lives in Newburyport. And when I asked all the writers what their process was his process involved manly things like plywood, longhand, and a knife. And an unfinished bathroom. And he used to write in his car. I think I’m going to start writing whilst perched atop my cat’s litter box. Using my own blood. Which I will drain from cuts in my forearm that I made using a butter knife.

OK, I just flipped through the book to find what Andre signed to me and discovered there is someone in there with the last name “McCracken.” Hee hee! OK, here is what he said, and it makes me feel bad for making fun of his hair “I wish you great things in your writing.” Thanks, Andre!

Thumbs Down

Well I got some sushi at the Harvard Law School cafeteria and it was very meh. Just not too tasty. The bathrooms, however, are fantastic, and feature antimicrobial toilet handles that let you choose whether to use a lot of water to flush, or a little. Plus, free feminine products!

In other news, I am feeling quite depressed. I think the effects of the Ritalin might have been placebo-esque, as I am back to having trouble focusing today, and that's after taking two of them. Of course, this is only day number 5. And I could be feeling unfocused because I am feeling depressed. I just don't feel like doing anything at all. I feel utterly unmotivated and hopeless.

I am sure, of course, that this will pass. But I am not enjoying it.

Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it’s off to the Harvard Law School cafeteria I go…

…to meet a friend for lunch. Her suggestion. As I have already (quite literally in fact) done a lawyer I shan’t be turning on any of my feminine charm. But I will report back on the food!

Dog Day

I was thinking recently while walking about book subjects I have no interest in. Such as: I once owned a real great dog and gee, he sure taught me a lot about life.

Well, lo and behold, I am watching Martha the other morning and she and John O'Hurley are shining shoes and talking about his new book. Then we are looking at a wonderful picture of he and his far-too-young for him McWife, who is soon to bear the fruit of his aging, wrinkly-sperm filled loins. Ick, ick, ick. Now I can't really blame John O'Hurley for any of this; he clearly doesn't have much going on in his head, as his sweet, dumb smile attests.

But I can blame his wife. It really pisses me off to see women doing shit like this: plastinating themselves with their 500 dollar blonde dye jobs and fake tits and Botox-before-40 and then attaching themselves to wrinkly old hairy old sacks of cash. Women are powerful and strong! We do not need to whore ourselves out to old rich guys to make it in the world. Yet some of us continue to do it. And it is a shame.

Shameless product plug

Get ye to Whole Foods immediately to purchase some Millborne Farms drinkable yogurt. I've tried it; it is fantastic, and Dr. Moo knows the farmers. It's a small family farm and they're trying to make it in Vermont, where dairy farmers are, at the moment, dropping like flies. It's bad. No, it's terrible.

But you can help and have a healthy, tasty drink at the same time! You can find out where to buy it near you here and learn more about their philsophy here.

In other Dr. Moo news, while she was visiting friends in Baltimore a miracle occurred. She came home, and there was pee in the toilet.

Cat pee! Chloe Claws, her bipolar Dumpster kitty, peed in the toilet all on her own. Amazing.

Relaxing (?) Sunday

One of my favorite places to be on a Sunday afternoon is in my kitchen, with the radio on, busy at something. Usually it's cooking. Today, since I'm going out for Afghani food (after a shopping trip to the Southie Goodwill, which has great books and dishes), I'm cleaning instead of cooking. Now I am in there cleaning like I have never cleaned before. I have not, for example, ever emptied the crumb tray off the toaster or cleaned the fridge handles, which are, um, grey with goo. And I haven't cleaned the sink out in probably six months. I suppose you could say my kitchen was pretty filthy, although the spots I do food prep on are always sanitary.

Anyhoo, I seem to be turning into Dr. Moo, who spent several hours cleaning out her (tiny) bathroom, because she can't just wipe down the sink and scrub the toilet. She has to do the whole thing. Since I don't know whether this is a good or bad thing, I'm going to go with cleanliness is next to godliness and choose the former.

Then of Course...

...there are the worries. Like, is it OK for me to feel like this? Because it's a little exhilarating, a little like a high. It feels like cheating, somehow. But how can it be cheating if I have wonky frontal lobes and I'm just fixing them? And also the exhilaration could be coming from the fact that I was eagerly anticipating feeling better.

Aargh! Here comes the Oprah: I deserve happiness and success.

Down the Rabbit-Hole

I took my first Ritalin pill at 7 this morning. I feel -- I don't know, keyed up, but in a good, non heart-palpitating, non-anxious way. Energized. I have actually WORKED and FOCUSED for the first time without it feeling like my brain is going to ooze out my ears, which is amazing. I mean, I can actually go for more than 20 minutes (and after that first 20 minutes it's every 5) without reading stuff on the internet or walking around.

And I FINISH things. And when I take something out, I put it away immediately. And my thoughts are less scrambly-wambly. Although concentrating is still a little tough. I am going to take this dose for three more days and then up it to two, and see what happens.

Oh, and my pupils are dilated so I look like I'm on drugs. Which, technically, I am.

Whoopsy doobers

Feeding a 20 month old a handful of frosted Cheerios right before bedtime? Not, as it turns out, the best choice. Although she did giggle every time she passed gas (and it was a lot of times) while I was changing her diaper, but this could be because I was giggling, too.

In other news, SUCK IT, Republicans! Yee-haw!

Well I picked up the Ritalin...

...which is apparently a controlled substance. "It has a street value!" said the (um, handsome, tall, Harvard instructor, married) doctor who prescribed it to me earlier this afternoon. I am going to start taking it on Friday as I am working from home that day.

Unfortunately, SONS of BITCHES, I also got a parking ticket, which I am appealing, because I paid for 1/2 an hour of parking (you have to pay to park in the Brooks Pharmacy parking lot here) and was told it would be a 20 minute wait for my prescription. I was THREE MINUTES late getting back to my car and caught the meter man as he was just leaving. It made me want to cry. They're not getting my 20 dollars, no sirree, especially not after I just paid just under a hundred for my prescription.

Vote!

I did, for Deval Patrick. If he wins, he'll be the first African-American governer of Massachusetts. There was also an interesting question on the ballot, one that I was excited to see, and answer yes on, especially considering that today I listened to an interview with Ward Just, who talked about the lessons he learned from Vietnam, and what the point of all that blood was, and how there are so many parallels between Vietnam and Iraq that he can't even begin to count them. It's very upsetting to me and it should be to you, too. I wish I was more, I don't know, literate, I guess, on the issue, but I do feel like we're in there for no good reason at all and things just feel really wrong with this administration, more wrong than any other administration I've lived through, although, granted, I've only been old enough to vote since Clinton first took office.

The woman who checked me out after voting, an older woman, told me she had some ringing in her ears. I told her it was probably aliens. Then she said my name was in bold on her list and that must mean I'm special.

OK, one more...

and it's a tearjerker...

Further Walks Down Memory Lane

Obviously I don't expect you all to be as excited by the Sesame Street as I am but as it's my blog it's time for some sweet video posting. Let's start off with one for Carmen:



And further fab trippiness...



Oh my goodness, MORE trippiness...



Whenever I asked PolackPappy when dinner would be ready the answer was always "Three days"...



Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring...Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring...



OK, I'm stopping now. I mean, I could go on, and on, and on. If you want to explore more, this is a good site.

I Told You!

So it seems nobody by me remembers the bit on the Sesame Street of my youth where a little girl takes her llama to the dentist in Manhattan, which I have been telling folks about when I mention to them part of the appeal of these llama shoes, which I own and love. It is not a figment of my imagination!!!



And, BTW, I have discovered an absolute treasure trove of groovy bits from Sesame Street in the '70s and it warms the cockles of my heart. I will share more videos soon...

Priorities

Sometimes PolackPappy really comes through for me in the crunch. I called him tonight and said I needed some fatherly advice. After he said "I'll get him for you" he listened to me quickly rattle off IhaveacasetoeditandwassupposedtogotoNHbutnowKatyBrandHoltiscomingto
BostonsoammeetingherataquariumandhavebookclubsundayinsouthernmassandBabcia
isleavingforCAonMondayandshe'ssooldIamafraidshewilldieandthen
IwillnothavesaidbyebutIhavealltheseothercommitmentsyadayadayadayadadadadada...

"You're right. She could die. Come to NH on Sunday."

Decisiveness. That's what I like in a Dad.

I unfortunately also had to decline an invite to a dress as your favorite celebrity party in Cambridge that promised to be filled with many hot, lanky triathletes.

Mew Mew Kitty

It occurs to me, as I sit here in the house where the little girl I watch lives, that I should start talking about my cat the same way my friends talk about their babies. For example: Daphne-Moon woke me up at 6:30. She took a couple of ounces of food. Then she played with her toys, then gave me a really good nap and had a smelly poop.

And if that doesn't make you want to throw up, how about this? It's a list of names I call my cat:

Tootie Boxer (as I call the litter pan the tootie box)
Fluffypants
Fluffytoes
Fluffybutt
Chicken Chops
Bunny
Jub Jub Bird (when she is being frisky)
Meeps
Little Girl

I also spoon her when I'm reading in bed at night and while I scratch her belly I coo "Who loves her girl? Her mummy does!"

Shower

Went to ctale's shower on Sunday. She's more pregnant than ever! She's a pregnantosaurus rex! She looked fabulous and, I thought, handled the event with aplomb. I gave her kitty pajamas, a big rubber ball with farm animals on it, and a Tomie dePaola book. I also ate the best g-d cake I've had in a long time. It was four layers with raspberry jam in the middle. Oh, and I met both xianfern and Christ had a Sister and a couple of their little ones -- got to hold one of xianfern's warm and sweet little baby twin girls -- and I liked them as much as I thought I would, which is to say a lot. It was my first face-to-face meeting with people I've known only on the blogosphere.

I also saw a good friend from the batshit crazy publishing house I used to work at. It was so bad there that when I reunite with people who worked there and I haven't seen them in a while, we hug like we've been through a war. And we did.