When In Doubt, Blame The Cat

Our recent move to North Carolina has been interesting to say the least. A mini roller coaster if you will. Okay, maybe not quite a roller coaster but more like Pirates of the Caribbean; everything's pretty much smooth sailing save for a couple of drop offs here and there.

Let me explain. In securing a place to live, we had to fight for the one we wanted to the death. They weren't keen on letting pets in, you see. Michael had to play his best poker face and we walked, well drove hundreds of miles, away and awaited our fate. But eventually they gave in and allowed us to have our sweet, adorable, hellacious little kitties. Small bump one: success!

Then we had a horrendous time trying to get in contact with the leasing office to get our lease signed and deposit paid (as we were doing all of this in another state, it was quite stressful), but again everything worked out fine and we got to move in to our beautiful new home.

This is when we found out that sometimes, things most of us take for granted as being included in a home, are considered superfluous and unnecessary to others. Like blinds, for example. Yes our lovely new home with windows and sliding doors in every room was not equipped with blinds. In trying to get permission to put some up (for you know, privacy) we came to discover that our landlords were aware of this, they were just "anti-blinds." But they reluctantly agreed to let us put some up as long as we paid for them and left them here when we move out. For "anti-blinds" people they sure were quick to allow us to leave them behind. But I digress.

In putting up the last of the vertical blinds in one of the guest rooms we discovered something else quite unpleasant. There was an odor quickly overtaking the room and permeating our lungs with its stench. Looking around, we saw that the litter box was in the room and I had just turned the fan on, so we thought maybe some used litter had flown about. We quickly moved the offending box downstairs but the stench lived on. Then we realized that the only explanation was that our precious angels of darkness must have coated the room down with a nice sheen of piss. We frantically tried to discover the point of origin, sniffing every square inch of carpet on our hands and knees, but to no avail. Eventually, after me scrubbing the entire carpet with Oxi-clean, and airing the room out all weekend, we had to call a professional. They couldn't come until Friday. Super! So we spent an entire week alternately cursing the piss painting minions of satan, and then guiltily showering them with love and affection. Finally the carpet cleaners arrived only to tell us that it was 100% not them. Whoops. Sorry, kitties! We love you, you sweet little baby angels!

Unable to locate the source of the offending odor, we still shelled out 75 bucks to get it cleaned because we just couldn't take it anymore. The awesome cleaning company even came back the next day and put an extra coat of cleaner on it free of charge.

Two days later Michael comes to me looking equal parts amused and pissed off. He knows what the smell is.

It's the godforsaken BLINDS. The blinds we had to buy and install into our rental. For the love of all things holy. We're going to have to buy those cats the biggest bag of Greenies Treats known to mankind.

I Love You, Bethenny Frankel

Alright, so if you don't watch The Real Housewives of NYC then I'm pretty much useless to you tonight.

I was watching my DVR'd rendition of last night's episode and I got about halfway through when I thought to myself "Wow, I am rather enjoying this episode in a way that is new and different. What could it be, self, what could it BE?" and then it hit me: Kelly "I'm-Better-Than-You" Bensimon had been absent from the entire episode thus far. Ah, that was the breath of fresh air I was looking for! I mean, I really cannot stand that brand of batshit crazy. Don't get me wrong, there are some trainwrecks I am happy to sit through. Like Heidi Montag or Kristin Cavallari. First of all, I only have to take them in 30 min increments, and second of all they are about 25% the amount of crazy that Kelly brings to the table. I mean her rant on how PETA isn't against wearing fur and it is her right as an American anyway was just so all over the place that I needed a tranquilizer and a Xanax just to get through it. Or tonight when she muttered something about how the messenger always gets shot in literature...I'm not even thoroughly convinced she knows what literature is much less that she's read anything besides advertisements in Vogue.

Then, she finally made an appearance on last night's episode and it was like the heavens parted just to make way for such a treat of stupidity and horrendousness that I let out an audible cry of joy. WHAT. In the name of all things holy. WAS. SHE. WEARING?! She showed up to a launch of a skincare line in....wait for it....the shorts from her old Hooters uniform..??!!?! At least that is what they looked like. Uncannily. And really I wouldn't put it past her. Then I realized it. THIS is what Kelly is good for! Last week she wore a lace T-shirt as a dress to her own party, and this week we get Hooters shorts at Ramona's. If she conceded to merely show up at events wearing wildly inappropriate outfits then I could really get behind her being on this show. Otherwise I fail to see her relevance. Beyond general craziness and incoherence of course.

***I just have to add now that after watching Watch What Happens Live, Simon (Alex's husband) summed it up perfectly:
When asked if he had male friends he said "Of course I do. Believe it or not we shoot pool....And drink beer and eat chicken wings...now who does that remind me of...Ah, Kelly!" Never been a big Simon fan but if you watch the show you'll know that THAT was funny.

Go, Team!

Okay, so I was watching The Hills tonight, and I got to thinking about "teams." You know, like when Brad and Jen broke up and we were all "Team Aniston!" (or at least you should have been). So I was thinking about all the "teams" I have subconsciously joined over the past few years.

First there's Team Aniston because, duh. Then there's Team Reese. And of course Team Sandra, like there was ever any question. And even Team Elin.

Now, on The Hills I have to say I am Team Heidi's Mom all the way. She tells her girl how it is, even if she doesn't listen. "Hi, daughter, your boyfriend/fiance/husband is a complete douchebag. Just wanted to reiterate that. Love, Mom!" Heidi's mom also plays for Team Sanity, and I hope someday that poor girl joins her wiser mama. Because really. That scene where we watched them walk away from the restaurant and Heidi's arms were crossed and we were supposed to be able to tell she was all pissed because Mom Just Doesn't Understand and all, well, judging from Heidi's motionless expression, she could have just as easily been elated, surprised, or constipated; it's really hard to tell with that new face.




Also on The Hills (I know, I need to start watching new shows) I have to say I am Team Kristin. Those other girls aren't her real friends and since when have she and Audrina gotten along? Oh, since they decided to write it into the show! Silly me. Anyway, Kristin, honestly if they were your real friends they would have talked to you in private, and in a real way if they thought you had a "problem" and not done it in such a bitchy way. You just keep telling it like it is and when the show is over, call me! We could be "friends" for realsies.

In addition, I also would like to state for the record that I am Team Bethenny ALL THE WAY. (Real Housewives of NYC for those "not in the know" and really why do you not watch this display of amazingness week after week like I do??) Sorry Jill, but you have turned into a real Mean Girl. And at 40 (and I think I'm being generous there) that is oh so unattractive. Bethenny may have her outbursts, but she usually comes from the Voice of Reason whereas Jill is just plain All About ME. So suck it Jill, and Bethenny, you too can feel free to call me too! We'll have Skinnygirl Margaritas and gossip!

Beyond these examples, I always find myself "taking sides" in television and public scenarios such as these. It's so hard not to, what with all those hard-hitting journalists like Ryan Seacrest on the job! So, little children, I have to ask on which "teams" do you find yourselves?

Isn't It Called Customer "Service" For A Reason?

Michael and I had an interesting encounter at our local Food Lion that really got me thinking about what customer service means to different people. Let me paint you a little picture...

We only have a few items in the cart, so we approach the "Express Lane." The lady in front of us is completely blocking the conveyor belt, even though all her groceries have now been scanned and bagged and her husband is paying. Michael politely asks her if he can set down the two 2-Liter Cokes in his hands onto the belt since she is, after all, not using it. She promptly ignores him. Twice. But Miracle Ear eventually moves and Michael dutifully loads everything onto the belt, while I go up to the swipe-y key pad to pay. The girl bagging groceries bags them, then lets them pile up behind her. Hesitantly, Michael begins place the bags in our cart. They have the following exchange:

Michael (Jovially): Hey-I'm kinda doing all the work here!
Bagger Chick (Whiney Southern Accent): Yeah, I know, but I don't like loading those little blue carts [like you have].
Michael (internally): Right, but isn't that, I don't know, your job?

I was pretty shocked that she would actually say that. To our faces. I have countlessly wanted to say smartass things to customers in my (many) jobs, but when you work in customer service you are expected to smile politely and apologize frequently, even if you've done nothing wrong. I've perfected the fine art of apologizing for things beyond my control.

"I'm so sorry your lucite key chain broke when you dropped it. It's totally my fault for the shoddy craftsmanship of a breakable substance being dropped on the ground. Let me give you a brand new one, free of charge!!"

"I am so sorry your ribeye steak had pieces of fat on it. Let me apologize profusely for a fatty piece of meat being fatty and get you a new one, free of charge!"

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry your white leather handbag got dirty when you placed it in a puddle of red wine. Obviously this is our fault and I will have it cleaned for you, FREE OF CHARGE!!! THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!!"

I've spent half my life apologizing profusely for things I had nothing to do with, so it really miffs me when somebody working in customer service blatantly disregards their duties and does so with no apologies. I'm wondering if this is perhaps me coming from California to a small town community...? Or an isolated incident? Stay tuned...

'Splain Yourself

I still remember when I first discovered I Love Lucy. It was right around the same time that I realized that staying home sick from school totally rules. You see, I had the stomach flu and had to stay home for a week. I spent the whole time curled up on the couch, under the afghan watching daytime television. That's when I discovered Lucy. My long lost best friend. I so wanted to be friends with her and Ethel. I mean HELLO that Carolyn Applebee was a total bitch and did not deserve to be their friend. I would've held the crowbar while Lucy pried John Wayne's footprints out of the sidewalk. I could've taught Lucy ballet and helped her finally get to be in Ricky's show. And if she stuck with me she'd have a way higher tolerance and wouldn't have gotten drunk on a few measly sips of Vitameatavegemin. Sigh. I guess I was just born about 50 years too late for that one. But I have a running list of characters that I would want in my circle of friends and Lucy (and Ethel) will always be at the top. Among the others are Sophia Petrillo, Lindsay Bluth Funke, and Rachel Green.

Mimi Starr Strikes Again

I am a Gemini. This basically means I am at liberty to act as crazy as I want and no one's allowed to say anything. It also means that my personality is like a Magic Cookie Bar; there are many delicious layers.



As my mom and sister will love to tell you, I had an alter ego in the first grade. I decided that I was unsatisfied with my boring name, and was going to change it to Mimi Starr. Two Rs. Mimi was the name of my beloved Hot Looks doll. Starr was...I don't know. Whatever. I decided to instate said name change by writing it on my school papers. In the bottom right corner I'd still put my real name. I figured it was a great way to phase it out, plus I obviously wanted credit for my work. Duh. I don't know what ever made me stop, probably my teacher asking my mom if I was having an identity crisis or something.

I find it interesting that a shy little girl like me would want to be named something as flamboyant as Mimi Starr. I mean, it does sound like it could be the name of a contestant in RuPaul's Drag Race. Am I right? Or maybe a contestant on Toddlers and Tiaras. Mimi Starr would be the one jumping out of a life sized jewelry box dressed as a Bob Mackie inspired ballerina for the "Wow Wear" portion of competition. (Clearly I've given this some thought)

And so in thinking about the whole Identity Crisis of 1988, I realized that I had that strange Gemini quality of being rather shy socially, but loving to perform on stage. I was mostly mild mannered, but cross me and I'd cut a bitch. Just kidding. Maybe. Laugh all you want at the whole astrology thing, but consider this: Courteney Cox and I have the same birthday. She has not once, but twice worn things on her shows that I myself own. Coincidence? Pssssh, I think not. If sharing the same taste in fashion doesn't prove astrology right, well then, I don't know what will, kids.

It's Britney, Bitch

I was leaving the tanning salon today, and it was a beautiful, sunny day. There was only one thing that could capture my mood properly. A little Britney Spears in my life. So I grabbed my iPod, found the Britney playlist and put it on shuffle. Cruising down the highway with the sunroof down, I bopped along happily, and as "Me Against the Music" came on, I suddenly had a very vivid memory that made me laugh. You know how certain songs or smells can bring you back to specific memories that you associate with them? Well, usually when I hear that song I think about going to the Beachcomber with my friends from Point Loma and requesting that song, I don't know why, I guess because that was back when it first came out. But suddenly I remembered a whole different scenario, and it brought back some truly great memories.

When I lived in LA, my roommate Heather and I used to go to East West, a gay bar in West Hollywood (actually, calling a bar "gay" in West Hollywood is sort of redundant, but that is neither her nor there) every Tuesday night for karaoke. Now, I have always been a fan of karaoke. It's fun and silly, especially after a handful couple of drinks. But I have never had as much fun going to karaoke as I have had at East West. I would generally consider it an upscale place, $12 cocktails, classy decor and candles that smelled mind-alteringly heavenly. But when Tuesday nights rolled around (and our crowd rolled in) it was raucous and goofy and much much more immature. If you have never been to karaoke, this is where you should go. Besides our crazy asses, the other regulars were quite the glorious sight to behold. If anyone knows how to do karaoke right, it's Gay Hollywood. It is on a whole different level. Some people took themselves very, very seriously. And others, well, it was unsure to tell if they were serious or not. Like the guy who came in early with his own costumes and sets and sang "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid in full regalia. It was all kinds of awesome.

And then there was Heather and I. Heather, who is the biggest Renthead I know, and I, with the borderline unhealthy obsession with Britney Spears. I think you might see where I'm going with this. Heather would usually belt out "Out Tonight" from Rent as well as various other Broadway tunes, and I would always, always sing Britney. The karaoke host got to know us pretty well, and I think it's safe to say he liked us.

Now, part of my obsession with Britney has involved learning her dances over the years. I'm quite proud of how well that time and effort paid off. Fast forward to one Tuesday night at East West when I made a throwaway comment about this and how I wished there was a headset microphone (like Brit Brit uses) and the karaoke host's eyes lit up. Oh yes. He had one. Cue the music! I then proceeded to do the entire "I'm A Slave 4 U" routine, song, dance and all. Oh yes I did. After this amazing display of greatness one of the other bar patrons approached me and said he wanted to do "Me Against the Music" with me. I of course was thrilled (yet obviously not surprised after that performance) that someone wanted to duet with me, to be the Madonna to my Britney, so I happily obliged. That's when he did it. The little twink actually had the nerve to do it.

Twink: "Okay, great! So I'll be Britney and you'll be Madonna!"
Me:*stares incredulously* "Excuse me?"
Pushy Little Twink: "Well I'm always Britney!"
Me: "Oh honey, no. I'm Britney, bitch! Come back to me when you realize that."

And that, little children, is how Britney came up with her catchphrase "It's Britney, bitch."

Okay, that may not be entirely true. But I'd like to think so.

I Do Many Things Well. None Which Generate Income.

I've been thinking lately about what I might do for work when we move to North Carolina next week. For the last year I have had the joy of realizing my lifelong dream of being Lucy Ricardo. And as wonderful and fulfilling as it has been, there is something hanging over our heads that has drawn us to the conclusion that I must return to the workforce: that really expensive college education that I insisted upon getting. It has come to my attention that perhaps I could've saved a lot of money and trouble if I'd have just dropped out years ago and never bothered finishing. But alas, I really felt that it was important for me to be college educated. Idiot. Now I have my Bachelor's degree, but no relevant work experience and some lovely student loan debt. So basically, I've spent a lot of time and money to be qualified to do exactly what I've been doing for the last 10 years: restaurants and retail. Except now we're moving to a somewhat rural part of the country and in this market it's slllliiiimmmm pickings out there.

So now what? What's a girl like me to do for work? I'd really love to be paid to do nothing, but I've never been able to figure out how to bring that stroke of genius into fruition. Or, if I could be paid to just GTL all day that'd be great. But again, I'm not sure how to make that happen. I could illegally sublet rooms in our new beach condo to my friends and family who want to come visit. I mean really. Beach rentals cost per week what we pay per month. I could offer a generous discount of a couple hundred dollars and really be raking it in. But that won't work because Michael doesn't want to do anything illegal (prude) and strangely, none of my friends or family seem all that keen on visiting now that I've brought up that plan. What is that about?

Sigh. I'm sure I can find something to do with myself, let's just hope it's something that offers incredibly generous pay for very little work. I'd appreciate your good thoughts and/or prayers on that one.

Back to School

I found myself reflecting on "back to school" season today. It was equal parts my favorite and most dreaded part of the year. I dreaded the end of summer, but I truly loved the back to school shopping that would occur every August.

I loved going to Miller's Outpost and getting a new outfit every year. Usually it was a head-to-toe matching ensemble complete with matching scrunchie and colored Keds. If I was really lucky, I had received a new Esprit outfit for my birthday (which is in June, and therefore anything I got for my birthday was new for the school year) and maybe a kicky pair of shorts from 5-7-9.

But beyond the new outfits, the thing I miss the most about back to school season is the new school supplies. For some reason when I think back to school I think Molly McIntire, American Girl. I think it's because in fifth grade I got the Molly school bag, and I felt so badass. It was a plaid messenger bag in the 1940's style Molly wore, and no one had anything like it. Everyone else had their Jansport backpacks in assorted colors, but not me. I had a slight obsession with the American Girl dolls (though I of course had Kirsten Larsen, the Swedish immigrant) and I loved the things you could buy for yourself to match the dolls. Among Molly's backpack I owned the matching nightgown to my Kirsten doll's, and Samantha Parkington's dress and high button boots . But I digress.

There are two back to school things I had a sudden urge to go out and buy today, and admittedly would if they were readily available. First and foremost, a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. And maybe some scratch and sniff stickers to stick on it. I mean, I'm sorry but we had the best crap in the 80's and early 90's. I'd take a Trapper Keeper and a session of Oregon Trail over the lame 3-ring binders and whatever high tech games the kids play today. Not to mention our amazing toys: He-Man/ She-ra, Teddy Ruxpin, My Buddy/ Kid Sister, Hot Looks, and RAINBOW BRITE (hello!) just to name a few. Which brings me to the next item I wish I could buy: a Barbie and the Rockers lunch box like the one I had in the 80's. I really wish I had saved some of this amazing memorabilia.

I can't remember when back to school shopping came to an end...I suppose it must have been college, when I'd just buy supplies from the bookstore as I needed them. But I'd give anything to go shopping with my mom for some Lisa Frank pencils and smelly erasers right about now.

Dear Butchers of the English Language

There's no M in valentine

There's no X in escape

There's no B in supposedly

There's no X is ask

There's no L in frustrate

There's "would have" and "would've" but no "would of"

There's so many more I'm sure I'm forgetting. Therefore you may direct further questions here.

And have yourself a very happy ValentiNe's Day! ♥