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Archive for May, 2009

I swear, I am the last the find out everything.  Seriously, EVERYTHING.

After playing t-ball with BLJ today, I needed nap.  Bad.  So with Kung Fu Panda on the TV (yes, I put this on intentionally… it’s a good one to sleep to) and cozied into the couch for a nap.  When I work up an hour later, I started flipping through the channels and came across ABC Family, which was showing a Harry Potter movie marathon.

Don’t judge.

I’m not a huge ABC Family person, but during unemployment, I decided to see what the big deal was with Gilmore Girls.  I had watched a few episodes before and didn’t love it.  But there was something about the show that I liked.  Maybe it was the quick dialogue.  Maybe it was the wackiness of Lauren Graham.  Maybe it was the witty banter. Maybe is was the terrible relationship Lorelai had with her parents.  Regardless, ABC Family was showing reruns and was starting from the beginning.  I decided to tune in.

Several months later, I thought I was getting close to the end of a series that, well, ended.  I was looking forward to ending this virtual relationship I had developed with the Stars Hollow crowd because, you know, there’s only so much patience I have for that quick dialogue and endless witty banter now.  I mean, take a fucking breath, ladies!  But still, I watch – often on fast forward – because I want to see how they wrap this thing up.  (Please G-d, let Lorelai’s horrendous relationship with Luke end.  I can’t stand that guy and his woodsman shirt and bad-boy wannabee backward cap.  I mean, a grown man with a backward cap?  That’s like a grown man going by Davey or Petey or Paulie.  Why?!  You’re not seven anymore, sir.)  Again, I’m thinking the end is approaching.

Anyway, so as I said – Kung Fu Panda ended and I tuned into ABC Family for a moment.  And there it was – a commercial for a new, yes, NEW, season of Gilmore Girls.

Well, for fucks sake!  I’m not sure I would have put the time into watching this show if it didn’t have an end.  Again, it’s not my favorite show.  I’m just sucked in now, waiting for the end to arrive.  It’s sorta like that relationship you have with a friend who, you know that you have grown apart and you know that you don’t have much in common anymore and you know that the circumstances are such that you’re unlikely to get any closer any time soon but you can’t break it off yet because she’s getting married soon and you’re in the wedding.  So you have to wait until a safe amount of time after the wedding to end the friendship.

C’mon – I know you know what I mean.

Anyway, this is where I was with Lorelai and Rory Gilmore.  I’ve been waiting to end the relationship.  But then these bastards go and throw in another season!!  What the fuck?!  So now, instead of being very close to the end of this TV relationship, I’m in for another several months at least.  It’s like now, that friend I referenced before is pregnant and you don’t want to be the friend who dropped a friend because she’s pregnant when, of course, it’s not the pregnancy that is leading to the break up.  It’s that you don’t have much in common anymore and you’ve drifted apart and, tho no bad guy, it’s time to end this thing before there is a bad guy.

Don’t look at me that way.  I know you know what I mean.

Whatever.  But I swear, if it goes into an eighth season, I’m out.  I don’t care what’s going on.  I don’t care if Lorelai and Christopher get back together and Rory finally dumps that awful blonde boyfriend of hers and rekindles her relationship with Jess, played by the handsome Heroes hero Milo Ventimiglia.  I just don’t care.  I’m out!

Okay, moving on…

As I mentioned, when I landed on ABC Family there was a Harry Potter movie marathon on.  I love me some Harry Potter.  In my half awake, half not yet awake state, I came to an amazing realization.  ALJ’s husband DLJ sorta looks like a grown up Harry Potter.  You know, the one we meet ever so briefly at the end of book seven.  ALJ agreed with my assessment BECAUSE I AM SO G-D DAMN RIGHT!

But that wasn’t something I was the last to know about.  I mean, ALJ agreed but it’s not like she said, “Yeah, been saying that for years.”  The thing that I only just found out about today, also thanks to ABC Family, was that there is a new Harry Potter movie coming out on July 15.

WHAT THE…  Yeah, I know.  I wish I would have heard about this sooner too.  I mean, what if I wanted to reread the books before the movie?  I don’t have enough time for that now!  And I barely can even recall the basics of book six, the book this movie is based on.  Unbelievable.  I guess I will have to rely on AFD and ALJ to remind me what the hell that book was about.

One of these days, I’m going to get the news first.  Just you wait.

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With this new house, HC and I have way more space that we ever had before.  We have three bedrooms, a basement, a dining room, and a front and back yard.  Because of all the extra room and space and closets, we need some furniture to fill it up.  Nothing crazy, but stuff.  Like we need a dining room set, outdoor furniture, bookcases, etc.

So KW suggested that we go to an estate sale.  KW offered to figure out where we’d go and drive.  Pretty much doesn’t matter what we’re doing at that point – I’m in.

We headed out to parts of DC and Maryland neither of us had been to before.  Thankfully, because KW’s car has a GPS, we got from place to place with relative ease.

We got to the first place, no problem.  We go in.  And then it hits me.  This is some old person’s stuff.  And not just any old person, but a recently widowed, recently relocated, or recently deceased old person.  I know we’re dealing with old people because there are the clear old-people signs all over the house.  The shag carpet.  The china.  The 1972 wooden punch bowl with accompanying wooden mugs.  The alcohol – mostly random liqueurs – from 1983.  The walker.  The old-school blue and white with twist off top ice pack.  The handrail near the toilet.

Let’s just say, I was distracted while in this house.  Yes, the china was really interesting.  But I kept thinking about that old person and what likely happened to him and her.  Or him and him.  Or her and her.  Whatever.

When we left, KW asked me what I thought.  I said, “I have to be honest, it was a little … odd.  I mean, an old person used to live there and now does not.”  KW responded, “Look, don’t just assume that they died.  Maybe they were just sent to the home.”

Wow.  So “the home” is the silver lining or something?  Why did I all of a sudden feel like I was eight and my father was telling me that my golden retriever, Reggie Jackson (yes, as in the Hall of Fame NY Yankees ballplayer), was going to live on a farm where he could run and play?  Jesus, KW!  All you needed to do was pat me on the head and produce a photo of some blond haired dog running in a park and you would be my father!

But we carried on.  Because I needed a dining room set and a bookcase.

We hit another estate sale.  No good finds.  So we moved on.

Then I needed to go to the bathroom.

I drink a lot of water.  Well, at least, I try to drink a lot of water.  This is good for my skin – or so they tell me, but less good for a long car ride.  KW had to ignore Jill, or as I call her, The Lady (AKA the voice on the GPS), and tried to find a gas station.  After driving around for about 15 minutes, we finally found one.  I told KW I’d go in first to see if there was  a bathroom.

Things started off fine enough.  I asked the guy in the shop if there was a bathroom.  He said yes and sent me off in the right direction.  I found the bathroom, locked the door, did my business, washed (read: rinsed) my hands, and went to leave.  This is where the problems started.  I couldn’t unlock the door.  Of course thinking worst case scenario, I was convinced that the lock was broken and that I was stuck.  And I then thought that KW was going to be both irritated and overjoyed at my latest folly.

After a solid 3 to 5 minutes of wrangling with that lock, I started banging on the door.  Jesus, did no one else have to use the restroom?  I mean, I knew KW was waiting to get in there.  So what the fuck?!  Still, no one was coming to my rescue, so I tried to work the lock again.  That’s when I figured it out.  It was a trick lock.  One of those numbers that you have to push in before you slide back.  I did it and just like that – the door opened.  By that point, the gas station attendant had gotten to me.  Thanks, buddy, but I’m all set.

I get outside and there’s KW.  As predicted she was both irritated (“What the hell took you so long?!”) and, after hearing why I was delayed, overjoyed.  Well, she was just amused at that point.  The overjoyed part came when she returned from the bathroom.

KW (grinning, looking like she has canary feathers all over her mouth):  Um, Casey, did you look at the door?

Me (with a face saying, “I was fucking stuck in there for several minutes and even started banging on the door to call for help”):  Of course I looked at the door.

KW (pleasure growing):  No, Casey.  Did you look at the door right near the lock?!

Me:  Um, yeah.  Looked at the door near the lock.  For several minutes, I looked at the door near the lock.

KW:  Well, then did you see the sign?

Me:  Sign?!  What?!  There was no fucking sign in there!

KW:  Go look – again – for yourself.

Me (I walk into the bathroom, look at the door.  Crestfallen, I return):  There’s a fucking note on the door!!  That was not there a minute ago.

As I said, KW was overjoyed.

Anyway, this little jaunt at the gas station is relevant because as we were getting back into the car, which KW had to park in a weird spot when I was sorta-locked in the bathroom, KW noticed that we were right near Antiques Row in Maryland.  Fortuitous to say the least!

Not only was this an all around super fun little spot, I found several items that I now covet, including one item that I bought.  Yup, I am now the proud owner of a barrister bookcase.  I’ve always wanted one and now I have one.  I am the change I can believe in!

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Please go to this website.  NOW.  Seriously.  You won’t regret it.

Since discovering this website – and yes, I realize I might be the last person in America to do so – I tune in every now and then when I’m having a bad day.  Seriously, it’s like virtual zanex.

I can’t even pick a favorite photo because they are all amazing in their own right.  And please believe I  could provide some of my own family photos for this wall of fame.  If I didn’t have an all-out ban on photos of me, I would submit one.

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Systems

I moved almost one full month ago.  You would think that I’d be settling in.  And I guess I am to some extent.  But my systems have been thrown off.  Like way, WAY off.

Example.

I can’t seem to get myself to the gym.

Okay, so for two reasons, I’m the type of person who has to go to the gym:  1) I eat way too much and need to work off the calories or I will gain weight.  And quick.  2)  I need those “endolphins,” cause honey, the black dog is always lurking just around the corner.

So when I don’t get to the gym, I start instantly to put on weight and I get depressed.  You see the problem, yes?

So I’ve been trying to develop a system that allows me to get to the gym in the morning –

STOP.  Don’t even say it.  Don’t even suggest that I go at night or at lunch or something.  I’ve tried it.  I can’t do it.  It must be in the morning.  Now, pay attention!

And bring my lunch –

STOP.  Yes, I bring my lunch.  And no, I don’t feel bad about that.  I am broke, kids.  HC tells me this every day.  So I need to do this.  If for no other reason, so he will shut the hell up already!

And get to work at a reasonable hour.  My new gym, which is fine but not great, is so close to work that it doesn’t make sense for me to go to the gym and then go home to shower before heading to the office.  This means I have to shower at the gym.  I’m not a prima donna by any stretch, and I have the most mainlined shower routine that this shouldn’t really be a problem.  But for some reason, I can’t get it together.

Day one of this system, I forgot to brush my teeth before I left the house and, of course, neglected to bring a toothbrush with me.

Day two – I forgot flip flops and went barefoot in the gym locker room.  Whatever, this might gross you out, but it only moderately irritated me.

Day three, I failed to bring deodorant AND failed to brush my teeth before leaving the house –  AGAIN.  Fuck!  The deodorant thing is not a big deal.  I have deodorant at the office.  But the teeth thing is a problem.  Especially since I haven’t been to the dentist in 3 years.

(Yes, I know this is a problem and that it is disgusting and that I’m going to loose all my teeth.  But I got a referral for a dentist and plan to make an appointment tomorrow.  So relax.)

Day four, resounding success!  I managed to do and bring everything I needed to.  I then proceeded to miss an entire week at the gym, so it’s not a foolsafe plan.  But I’m working on it.

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No, I am not dead.  I have not been kidnapped.  I have not run away to join the circus.

Pause here.  I don’t care for the circus.  Never have.  The zoo has been redeemed for me only recently.  And that’s less because of the zoo and more about BLJ.

But the circus?  No way.  Those sickly looking elephants.  Those weird guys on stilts.  The very presence of a ringmaster.  WHO HAS A WHIP! And those clowns!!  The worst.  I can’t stand them.  They freak me out.

When I was a kid, I went through this maybe-I’ll-be-the-kid-who-likes-clowns phase.  I had my grandmother buy me a clown, which I perched above my bookshelf.  Then I went to sleep.  Or rather, tried to go to sleep.  All night that thing just stared at me.  Watching my every move.  Just waiting to pounce.

This is not for children

This is not for children

Okay, maybe this image is more like the clowns from Killer Klowns from Outer Space.  Tho meant to be a comedy horror film, it scared the shit out of me when I was a kid.  And probably would do the same now.

Anyway, I don’t care for clowns.  And I knew that after night one with that thing perched on my bookshelf.

Well, did you remove it, one might ask?  No.  I was trying to overcome my fear.  So I didn’t sleep for about 4 years.  This should explain a lot.

But where was I…

Oh, yes…

I have not gone missing.  Well, I suppose I’ve gone missing – virtually.

Okay, that makes no sense.  Going virtually missing?  But you see where I’m going.

Yes, I’ve been deficient in my blogging duties.  And tho I’ve received many complaints for my absence, I refuse to apologize.  Think HRC and Iraq.  I’m going down with this ship, baby.  Pantsuit and all.

Anywho, I’m back.  And I’m hoping to develop some better systems and routines that will allow me to be employed full-time, go to the gym, cook dinner, and blog all in the same day.  We’ll see how it goes.

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Yesterday marked at least three noteworthy developments.

  • SC and I are back on BBM.

After I moved to a new berry a few months back, SC and I lost a major communication tool in our ever-dwindling arsenal.

Pause here for a second.  I’ve taken enough standardized tests to know that a “tool” is not what’s in your “arsenal.”  But I can’t think of what goes in your arsenal.  Instead all I can hear is SC doing her father’s Scottish accent – I’ve not met SC’s father and don’t have my own recollection of his accent – saying, “Get your TOOL out of my ARSE…enal.”  Which is, I’m sure, not something he’s ever had occasion to say.  Yet, there is goes again…

Anyway, SC and I were on a dangerous communication road that was forcing us either to email – not her favorite thing – or talk on the phone – decidedly not my favorite thing.  But the impasse has been averted.  After several instructional emails where I was again accused of being bossy, a call to the IT guy who refused to help, and a g-chat with MJ who is a new media genius (okay, so it’s a stretch to say that BBM is a new media source, but you know), SC and I are up and running.  Thank G-d!  Because that was scary.

  • I learned to tweet.

Yup, MJ and AM have won, and I have a Twitter account.  So if you are twittering, find me – @NSQD.  If you are not twittering yet, join us… you know you want to.  It’s like texting and facebook and instant messaging.  You know it’s just a matter of time.  So get in while you can still get the hashbar (wait, is that what it’s called?  Or am I thinking of something else entirely?  Is it hashtag?  I’m still learning, people!) you want.

  • Real Housewives of NJ has started on Bravo.

We’ve talked about.  We’ve debated about.  We’ve blogged about it.  And now it’s finally here.  And boy, oh boy, was it worth the wait.  AM, MJ, and I used the occasion to eat a delicious meal – my favorite of AM’s meals, in fact (this is how I know she loves me) – drink a lot (oh, I’ll get to that in a minute), and tweet about the new best bad show on TV.  Seriously, tune in.  It’s amazing.  It’s beyond amazing.  It’s beyond beyond, actually.

But more on Housewives NJ later.  And please believe there will be A LOT more later.  I mean, I neglected to tweet about Teresa paying $120k for furniture… IN CASH.  I mean, I just paid $1400 in cash for a mattress and felt like my grandmother.  But $120k?!  From my experience, the only people who have large amounts of cash at the ready are children of the Depression or criminals or both.  My grandmother may or may not be both.

Anyway, for now, I’d like to talk about how AM tried to kill me last night.

As I mentioned, AM made my favorite meal last night – the Barefoot Contessa’s pasta with cream and arugula and lots of pepper.  I’m sure it has a name.  Whatever it’s called, I love it and AM knows this.  AM also knows that I love a cocktail, especially if it’s bubbly.  And AM delivered again – she made us a cocktail with St. Germain liquore and sparkling wine.

St. Germain - Doesnt it look delicious?!

St. Germain - Doesn't it look delicious?!

It was delicious.  Seriously, so fucking tasty.  This St. Germain stuff – it’s like a dream come true for me.  It’s peachy and grapefruity and lychee-like and, well, delicious.  The sparkling wine cuts the sweetness and makes this the perfect little aperitif.

Until…

Turns out, while I may love the St. Germain, it doesn’t quite love me.  Within 20 minutes of drinking this delicious little cocktail, I started feeling very tipsy.  I’ve been around the block a few times, so a glass or two of wine and a sparkling cocktail really should NOT lead to tipsy.  But there I was.  And soon I was starting to feel like I was loopy drunk.  It was at this point that I realized that my face had become the reddest shade of red this side of a fire truck.  Next came my arms.  And then, I would learn, my legs.  WHAT THE…?!?!

It wasn’t until after I was able to sleep it off that I realized what happened.  I have the same reaction to that St. Germain stuff as I do to gin.  Which is why I haven’t had gin since I was about 19 years old.

After a regrettable – and final – run-in at a Bath and Body Work, I realized that I was allergic to the juniper flower.  I know this because Bath and Body Work had a new line of lotions that had,  you guessed it, juniper flowers in it.  At the time, I would try on all sorts of fragrant stuff at the mall, not realizing that the migraines I was suffering were induced by those flowery smells.  Luckily, I learned my lesson.  No gin.  No juniper.

And now, no St. Germain.  And no elderflower, the ingredient that makes St. Germain so delicious.

If you get a minute and feel like doing a little interweb surfing, check out the St. Germain website.  I would recommend  you read both the story of St. Germain and Our Process.  Both amazing.  These people are so French.  I mean, you are harvesting a flower that is only in bloom for a super short period of time, you have a guy handpick these flowers, and then you have another guy bike – yes, I said BIKE – said flowers to the distillery?  What?!

I mean, look at this guy:

St. Germain Bike Messenger

St. Germain Bike Messenger

It appears that the elderflower bike messengers in the foothills of the French Alps are slightly different than ours.

Well, I digress.  Kudos, St. Germain distillery.  Because that shit is awesome!

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Last Sunday, MJ and the LJ clan spent the day here helping us with the move.  They were SUPER helpful and made the day really fun.  While I am generally opposed to putting pictures on the blog that could out my identity (not that I’m some big wig or anything; I just want to keep my job), I had to share a few blog-safe photos that ALJ sent me.  There are more and some are SO CUTE.  But I’m in some of them, and I have a strict rule about that.

Anyway, let’s begin…

You know how you hear stories about how you buy a kid a present and they are more interested in playing with the box then with the toy?  Well, it’s true.  Concerned that BLJ might get bored at my less-than-kid-friendly home, I got him a coloring book and some crayons.  Turns out, there was no need to worry about BLJ getting bored when there are all those boxes around.

BLJ In a Box

BLJ In a Box

(Imagine the tune of POP!, goes the weasel playing but the POP! and the popping out of the box are totally out of sync.  This is what went on for about 20 mintues.)

… and packing material.

Look, I'm making ice!

Look, I'm making ice!

I mean, look at that kid!  He’s ripping apart packing material and getting styrofoam all over the place and looking up at us saying, “Look, I’m making ice!” and all I can think is, G-d, he is adorable.  Seriously, adorable.  HC, who thinks that BLJ has it in for him, didn’t find it nearly as cute.  HC believes that BLJ is trying to get rid of him.  I think HC is overreacting.  Tho, if we were on an island and I had to choose who was going to be kicked off… Let’s just say that I understand why HC is concerned.

Anyway, so I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but this house marks the first time that I’ve lived in a place where you have to go up and down a flight of stairs to get from the bedroom to the kitchen.  See, I grew up in a house that was really more like an apartment.  We were on one floor, and my aunt (my mom’s sister) and her family were  on another.

(Yes, a lot of togetherness there.  Because of this set up, the first time I had dinner with just my parents and my brother was after my brother and I graduated from college.  Long story, and for another time.)

All this is to say that I have no life experience that would help me figure this all out.  I have no systems that work for a house like this one.  I go up and down these stairs like 80 times a day.  Can’t find my phone?  Probably on another floor.  Need my flip flops?  Yup, on another floor.  Feeling chilly and need a zip-up?  I think you see where this is going.

AND, that staircase is STEEP.  AND LONG.  (That’s what she said…  Sorry.  Couldn’t resist.  Just be happy that I spared you all the “in the box” goofyness.)  Just look at BLJ walking down these stairs.

It's a Long Way Down

It's a Long Way Down

Seriously, I was worried that he would fall.  He wanted to bring his box up to the second floor.  Imagine this pint-sized guy carrying his box (yes, I giggled here) up a flight of stairs.  Crazy, right?  I decided that walking behind him was the only solution.  In case he fell.  Which was possible.  I have  a picture of that, but, you know, too much of me is showing.  So it’s not blog-safe.

This one, on the other hand…

Cuddling?

Cuddling?

ALJ is always trying to get BLJ to nap.  This is a fool’s errand, because BLJ doesn’t like to nap.  At school, during nap time, BLJ sings.  Quietly, but he sings.  And it’s probably not Baby Beluga.  It’s probably Single Ladies or Halo by Beyonce.

But I’m getting off track.

At the suggestion of a nap, BLJ responded, “Sure,” and proceeded to get into my bed.  He then informed MJ that he wanted to cuddle with me.  Didn’t think he could get any cuter, did you?  And then, BOO-YAH!

So BLJ and I tried to cuddle.  It didn’t really work because he wasn’t sleepy and really just wanted to play.  So we did.  ALJ took like 40 pictures of this little “cuddling” episode.  Those pictures will NOT be on this blog.

What was JLJ doing while all of this roughhousing was going on?  Well, the sweetest baby in the world was just hanging out with my parents in the living room, smiling and being all sweet and adorable.  I mean, just look at this kid.

Chairman of the Board

Chairman of the Board

Has there ever been a face so sweet?  No.  No, there hasn’t.

If you can resist these two, you are stronger than I.  And you’re a liar.  Because there’s no resisting them.  You can try, but it’s futile.

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