The Bar

When I was in college I worked as a bartender. I loved the job and I was really good at it so I worked as many shifts as I could get my hands on. The downside was that I would bartend in my sleep. You could order a drink and I would talk my way through making it. "Shaker, ice, vodka, martini glass, coat with dry vermouth, shake vodka, pour, olive..." I would wake up the next day exhausted. And thirsty.

These days I would give my eye teeth to go back to a job as wonderful as bartending. I always felt so free and it was always fun. Even on nights where the 2nd bartender called in sick and you were trying to cover a crowd 4 deep all by yourself it was fun. Granted, there was an evil dark side to bartending...a lot of the blended, frou-frou, chick drinks were translated in bar speak to "Miller Lite in a bottle." I mean, seriously? Do I look like I have time to blend up the perfect banana daiquiri for your size 2, blond, vapid ass? NO. So take the freakin' beer and sashay on back to your equally vapid boy toy.

Bitter? Me? Of course I am and if you spent 6 years serving umbrella-ish drinks to scantily clad bimbos who don't tip you might be thismuch bitter, too. I did learn a whole lot about how bars operate though. I was already an old pro at navigating the bar scene by the time I became suddenly single at 26.

Here's some of what I learned:

1. Wear jeans. Guys don't really understand that whole stripper heel/ass baring skirt thing. You don't want to confuse them. They don't like that.

2. Drink beer. Preferably from a bottle. It makes you more approachable and the upside is they see you as someone that could hang with the boys and not want high-priced dinners and $10 applepearpassionfruitguava martini's all night.

3. Don't travel in a pack. That scares the ever-living-shit out of guys. You see it as having a bunch of friends around for safety. They see it as a pack of perfumed hyenas just waiting for the weak one of the herd to wander over.

4. If you see a guy at the bar and he has highlights in his strategically gelled to look like it isn't strategically gelled hair, fake 'n bake tan, a man-purse and just possibly a hint of eyeliner...HE IS GAY. And NO, he won't miraculously convert because you wore your shortest denim skirt and the shirt that looks like a handkerchief with strings tied around your back.

5. Yelling at the bartender, banging your empty glass on the bar or otherwise acting as if the entire bar should hold their breath just waiting in anticipation for you to order your chocolatehuckleberryvanillakumkwat daiquiri IS NOT going to get the bartender to make your drink faster. Just hold up a $20, make eye contact and wait patiently. Oh...and if you are holding a bottle of beer? It helps.

Rabbits + Eggs + Chocolate = Jesus' Resurrection. Yeah. That makes perfect sense.

Another holiday that didn't feel so much like a holiday, but instead felt like a regular day only with lots of chocolate. I don't know what it is, but I am terrible about holidays. I never seem to get in the spirit soon enough or go far enough down the road of decorations and fun things to do. I tend to wake up on the day and go, "Oh crap. It's [insert holiday here]. Are the stores open because I need [insert related holiday item here]."

It isn't that I don't like holidays or anything like that (with the exception of Christmas and you all know how I feel about that holiday). I just seem to have at least a million other things to think about and it always feels like whatever holiday it is just sort of creeps up on me Ninja-style and catches me completely unaware with a Num-chuck upside the head.

So yesterday I got up early and had breakfast with one of my very best friends. We pigged out on more food than would really seem possible and just when you thought we were done? We ate a cinnamon scone. With butter. And more coffee. There was this moment when my stomach crawled out of my mouth, grabbed me by the throat and screamed, "What the hell? Stop with the eating already! The crew down there is tired. They're pulling doubles to keep up and we're still buried in hashbrowns! It's complete and utter madness! And to top it off Mrs. Ass is down there gobbling up territory like she's freakin' Queen Elizabeth and the Intestine's have gone all 'The Godfather' and asked Small Bowel for protection. You! Have! Got! To! Do! Something!"

After that heartfelt plea I stopped at Starbucks for a latte 'cause I am not sure I am fully onboard with the needs of my Small Bowel. I'd rather have a latte and save any political statements or picketing for causes related to my liver. Gotta keep the liver happy. It processes the alcohol.

Anyway, here are the pictures from yesterday's "Easter Egg Hunt o'Gluttony 2008." Drew had a blast even though it was just a couple dozen plastic eggs hidden in our yard. Drew, much like his Mom, is easily amused. Any activity becomes The Most Awesome Thing Ever so long as it ends with chocolate.

Travel and Eyebrows. Or was it Traveling Eyebrows? Oh, nevermind.

Last week I was traveling for work and the entire time we never had more than an hour window to do nothing. It was a whirlwind of meetings and dinners. That explains the lack of posting. That and the fact that I took on a part-time gig on top of my already 50 or more an hour a week job. Seriously? I must hate myself.

Anyway, the day I left on my trip I was sitting in the airport jotting down notes of some of the things I saw. I was going to turn it into this really funny blog that would entertain the masses and bring gifts and money raining down on me and mine...OK...I just wanted to have something to post because I am not exactly overflowing with things to talk about lately. My plan was to jot stuff down and then just fill in the blanks and wha-laa! Blog.

Yeah. That worked out well.

What I ended up with was a bunch of sentence fragments that are pretty much gibberish now that I finally sat down to write said blog. Luckily, the snippets are actually pretty funny.

1. Fat pilot. Fiery, plummeting death by cellulite.
2. Lady in argyle sweater. Hello? 1984 called. They want their sweater back.
3. Another argyle sweater? On a guy? Dude! 1984 is gonna be so pissed!
4. Desk agents + Hawaiian shirts = No. Just. NO.

Moving on...

While I was in Seattle Eric was in Las Vegas. He went down to play in a hockey tournament. They all rented a house and I was seriously fearing for their safety. They were sans wife/girlfriend/significant other and the house had a pool table, hot tub, Foosball table, giant TV, pool, etc. It is actually surprising they made it to any games. All Eric really said about 5 days in a house full of guys was that a few of the guys kept beating each other up when they got drunk. They'd be sitting watching TV or playing pool and one guy would suddenly run in the room and randomly slap another guy across the head. For fun. Yeah - I don't get it either.

The funniest thing is when Eric got home. His bag was on the floor in the bedroom and I noticed a roll of toilet paper in it.

"Did you take toilet paper to Vegas?"

"Hell yeah I did. A house full of guys? You bet I took toilet paper."

"Didn't the house have toilet paper?"

"Yeah, but you can't COUNT on that toilet paper."

Yeah. I know. That is the first thing us ladies think of when packing for a girl's trip. "Mustn't forget toilet paper," we all think. "There is no toilet paper like MY toilet paper. Forget that extra pair of shoes and my curling iron. Gotta make room for the two-ply!" I am seriously starting to think that Mars and Venus guy was on to something. Apparently there is no toilet paper in locations where men gather. Rite of passage or something.

1. Voice changing? Check.
2. Untimely erection? Check.
3. Losing virginity? Check.
4. Going on trip with guy friends and realizing there IS. NO. TOILET. PAPER? Check.

Oh yeah - on a totally different but kind of the same since it is about guys topic. On the radio the other day they were talking about this friend of the DJ's that had his eyebrows waxed. The question was, "Is it gay for a guy to have his eyebrows waxed?" All these people called in and said that it was as gay as gay can be and the waxer guy should just come out of the closet already and slap the rainbow sticker on his car with pride. And flair. And possibly a cute pair of red stilettos.

I totally disagree. In my not-as-humble-as-it-should-be opinion here is how the decision should be made:

1. Look in the mirror.
2. Are your eyebrows eerily similar to anything found in the insect world?
3. Do you have eyebrows going against the regular flow of traffic?
4. Do you notice your eyebrows before other, larger features. You know...like...YOUR HEAD?

If you answered YES to any of these questions then you should quit worrying about being gay and start worrying about being freakishly hairy. Please. Wax your brows, dude. It's practically charity work because personally? I can't afford to be distracted by your ginormous freakin' eyebrows waving at me across the conference table. Maybe you want to pluck instead? Fine. Pluck, but it doesn't make you more of a man. It just makes you hurt for longer and that, my friend? Is stupid. Just wax and get it over with. Trust me. It hurts and you can always tell your friends you plucked. But, if your friends actually notice your eyebrows and ask if you plucked or waxed then it might actually be THEM that should wear the dress. I'm just sayin'.

Speaking of waxing...I really hate that little window of time between when they put the wax on and when they rip it off. You suddenly have this moment of clarity where you realize "that wax is coming off no matter how much I scream." Whether you like it or not the fabric strip, wax and hair are coming off and You. Can't. Change. Your. Mind. I am always worried that I might pee myself just a little. Shut up. It's scary. Haters.

I didn't really say that...did I?

It is 10:30 on a Saturday night and I am here...with you...fully prepared to write something...funny? amusing? witty? clever? I guess we'll see. Hmmm...

I suppose it seems a bit sad and a whole lot boring that I am at home on a Saturday night. I even had a babysitter lined up. AND I CANCELLED! I know! Ca-ray-ay-zee! It's just how I roll [insert gang sign here]. I fully blame the siren call of my recliner and fleece blanket. Seriously. You'd stay here, too.

It has just been a really, really great day. We stayed in last night and after Drew went to bed Eric and I stayed up way too late talking about movies and screenplays and such. We haven't done that in far too long. We usually end up talking about bills or Drew or bills related to Drew or Drew's bills or **sigh** lack of money to pay bills. For those of you who aren't parents I'll explain what conversation is like once you have a child old enough to use full sentences:

Step 1: Get lobotomy.
Step 2: Well...I guess there isn't really a step 2...

So anyway, after late night pre-lobotomy-ish conversation I was roused from sleep by Mazie at the usual time of 6:45. Whee! Once Drew and Eric were up we had coffee and pancakes and then we cleaned the kitchen. Then we went outside and played in the backyard with Drew and Mazie and enjoyed the mid-50s weather. It. Was. Glorious. GLORIOUS I tell you!

Just take a look at Mazie and you can tell it was one of those days that turns your brains to Skittles and makes you all goofy:



Isn't she is getting big?! She is such a sweet, beautiful pup!


She is also becoming just a teensy bit unhinged because she is under constant threat of Drew attack. He does this sneaky Ninja-style creep and pounce thing that drives Mazie nuts. She never quite knows when it is coming since Drew, much like lightening, never strikes the same place twice.


After our backyard romp we went to Hastings and rented a movie and then went to the grocery store and then came home and made yummy tacos and watched Meet the Robinsons with Drew and then he went to bed and now I am sitting here talking to you. Aren't you just thrilled?!!!!

We were actually going to go out tonight, but the closer it got to time to get ready to go the less motivated I was to get dressed to go out. I did actually go upstairs to change clothes, but instead of putting on a cute outfit I put on a pair of men's flannel pajama pants that are about two sizes too big and are literally the most comfortable pants I own. I would so totally wear them to work if I could get away with it. I just don't have the right shoes.

On a completely different note, I have to post a list entitled "Things I Never Imagined I Would Ever Say Outloud Until I Became A Parent." I post this partly because it is funny and partly because one of my blogger friends promised to post her list if I post mine. So...without further ado...Strange Parental Utterings:

1. Drew, DO NOT swing the lightsaber over your head when you are standing on the coffee table.

2. Drew, DO NOT lock the dog in the BBQ grill. Do you understand me?

3. One more time, Drew, and I WILL throw the monkey out the window.

4. I have duct tape and I am not afraid to use it.

5. How the hell did you fit that up your nose and why did you push it in that far?!

6. Drew, I am not going to drive Bumblebee through the Hoover Dam so stop asking!

I am sure there are more, but I'll be damned if I can think of them right now. I really need to start writing them down or something. I just worry that if I do and someone finds the list I would be committed to a mental institution or thrown in jail. That would suck...except that I could probably sleep past 6:45...

Blogger's Block

I don't know what it is about the last couple of months, but I have been completely unable to post on a regular basis. I start a post and about halfway through I realize that the topic is completely assinine and I am boring myself to sleep...so, why in the world would anyone else want to read it? Then I delete it and close my laptop and go play with Drew and the Mazie dog.

I suppose that is good for Drew and Mazie. Not so good for the blog. So...today I am going to just make a little list of random things that have irritated me in the last few days.

Enjoy.

1. Went to Sonic the other day. Ordered a bacon cheeseburger with meat and cheese only. They asked me if I wanted the bacon. Um. Yeah. That would be the reason I ordered a BACON cheeseburger and not a cheeseburger. Oh. And bacon? It's a meat. I know. Shocking! Bacon? A MEAT? Who'da thunk it? Since it comes from an animal and all.

2. Pet psychics. There is a local station that has a pet psychic take calls one morning a week. That alone is freakin' hysterical, but you know what's even funnier than that? PEOPLE CALL. Lots of people. It's awesome. It is one of those train wrecky things that you can't help but watch. You know? So people call and ask questions like, "I just want to know if my dog, Spot, is happy with us because we just adopted him from the pound." And the psychic is all, "Oh yes! Spot is very happy living with you. He likes your house a lot better than he liked the pound." AND PEOPLE EAT THIS CRAP UP! I think I am going to call in one day and ask about some imaginary dog I adopted named Cornholio that keeps barking and I want to know if he is happy. Then when the lady is all done with her psychic message I can tell her that there is no such dog. That would be awesome. Because I am mean...but in a carefree and funny kind of way.

3. People who put their picture on their resume. I look at literally thousands of resumes in an average week and the very last thing I want to see? Your smiling mug. Why? Well...if you really want to know...it is because, as I mentioned earlier, I am mean and instead of looking at your skills and qualifications I am most likely going to be making fun of your hair, your teeth, your shirt, your smile, your glasses, your whatever. Oh, and seriously? Your picture? On your resume? WHY? In the name of all that is dorky...WHY?

4. Gummy bears. But that is only because I ate one a minute ago and now it just. won't. go. down.

5. Bill collectors. But that goes without sayin'.

OK. I guess that'll do for now, but for my next post? "Things I never imagined I would ever say out loud until I became a parent." Example: "Drew. You DO NOT lock the dog in the BBQ grill. Do you understand me?"