Baby Fever?

I have a new favorite conversation to have with Becky. It usually varies a little bit but the premise is pretty much the same:

B: I feel like I have to pee every five minutes.
A: Are you pregnant?!
B: NO.
A: Are you sure? Cause Mom had that dream about you getting pregnant.
B: That was a while ago.
A: Well they don't call them prophecies because they've already happened. . . think about it.
B: Ok.
A: HAVE A BABY SO I CAN PLAY WITH IT!
B: No way! You have one! It's cheaper and easier for you to get preggers.
A: Sorry, I'm not relationshiping or sexing for that matter.
(Long pause where Becky tries to study and I stare at her)
A: GET YOURSELF PREGNANT!
B: No!
A: Lame.

I also have not had a drink in five days, and I have had a fever of 101 for four days so that's making everything a little more hilarious and a little more tragic than it should be. Just a little though.

*I just realized that saying I have not had a drink in five days makes me sound like an alcoholic. I'm not an alcoholic, I am just used to have a glass of wine at night. To wash down my sleeping pills. Before I start in on the tequila.

Reporting At It's Finest

I just found a note I scribbled on a scrap piece of paper that says-

Prognosis:

Humped . . . to death.

Something tells me this probably has to do with a conversation Becky, Alex and I were having about Becky's rabbit, but I sorta wish it had more to do with how we thought my death would be explained at a sexy 107 years old.

Or at least someone we know's death.

LA Ink

I think you will all be pleased to hear that there will be no more posts about the icy, unholy weather because I am not leaving my apartment until March. So, there's that.

In other news my baby sister (sister christian oh the time has come!) and L.K. just got neck tattoos. It's not as white trash as it sounds, because they're really cute, but when I tell people, "I spent four hours driving around LA so my little sister could get a neck tattoo" (motoring! what's your price for flight!) I feel like I should be following it up with, "And then we went to the drug store to buy one of them home paternity tests because Kate needs answers, and those rain gutters on her new double wide aren't gonna clean themselves."

Here's a photo of Becky's finished project:




It's not crooked. Her spine is out of whack. Scoliosis is awesome!

She wasn't going to tell our mom but the crooked spine thing freaked her out so she decided to go ahead with it. When she blurted out the news in the middle of dinner (way to play it cool Beck) my Mom dropped her fork and turned to stare sadly at her youngest daughter (most likely thinking, 'Why didn't you turn out more like Amy?' I mean, what else).

I, being the ever-protective older sister, and peace-at-all-times wanter, began ranting about how it wasn't that bad and it was really actually great because it means she loves her family and family the most important thing, isn't that what she always taught us, right after don't slouch or you'll end up all hunch backed, and always wipe front to back? And why didn't 'Don't get into credit card debt' make it on that list because that should have been the number one lesson, or at least made it into the top five, we really could have figured out - don't squeeze bees - on our own, not that I'm blaming my mistakes on you because I'm an adult and have been trying to get you to treat me like one for ages instead of leaving me chore lists when I'm home for Christmas, so I know I am responsible for my own problems but a little guidance would have been nice! **silence** Let's talk about Becky again.

After Becky tried her hand at explaining how her new tattoo was a good thing, and did she think Becky was going to need a steel rod in her back - my Mom shook her head sadly, before turning to me and saying, "Well, there you go. Now you're the favorite again."

"That's right I am!" I said beaming.

I never win that!

Now if I can just get her knocked up and imprisoned I'll be a shoe-in for MONTHS!

I Don't Have Dew On My Windows Anymore, It's Just A Sheet Of Icicles, And Yes, You Can Cut Yourself On Water. If You're Me.

I checked the weather this morning because I really wanted to run (ok, I didn't want to, but I ate two bags of M&M's, a package of Starburst, some nachos and about a billion chocolate covered oreos for dinner last night so I needed to, lest I die from diabetes before I make it to lunch today. I'm pretty sure, scientifically, a slow jog doesn't cure diabetes, but in my mind all sorts of things can happen. I also believe you can show your lip your prescription of Valtrex and SCARE THE COLD SORE AWAY, so you know, there you go.)

Anyway, I checked the weather and it said: -4. In case you didn't catch that, it's NEGATIVE four!!! Needless to say I put my running shoes away and my slippers back on.

I'm also supposed to start class today but I refuse to go out until it gets back into the positive numbers! POSITIVE NUMBERS!

*sigh*

I'm gonna go straddle my radiator.

Sorry About The Lack of Posts...

But I'm pretty sure either my right ovary or my appendix has launched a full scale war inside of my body. It's favorite thing to do, aside from having it's hair blow in the wind as it screams, "She make take our lives, but she'll never take! Our! Freedom!", is sear me with a glowing branding iron that reads, "Fuck Comfort, You're Mah Bitch", every few minutes.

I know that the ovary and the appendix are not in the same spot, but it's close, and I don't know my body well enough to judge.
I like to respect it's privacy.

Thank God!

Me: Hi?

Chicago friend: How’s your play?

Me: (Why would you ask me such a terrible question!?) I only have like four scenes done.

CF: FOUR?!?

Me: (Oh shit, I knew it was bad. I’m gonna get fired.)

CF:I haven’t started!

Me: (I don’t know if you can get fired from grad school. Kicked out? Maybe I’ll be fired and kicked out it’ll be a new thing I star- Wait! He hasn’t started?!?) You haven’t started?

CF: AAAAAHHHHHHHHHladjkjf0awoeihalsnhfjkasdhff

Me: Dude… settle down. (You are so screwed)

CF: You settle down!

Me: I am settled (now). I’ve started at least (I was crying before you called).

CF: I think I might need to refill my Ritalin.

Me: You shouldn’t do drugs (bwahahaha I win!)

CF: I NEED TO CONCENTRATE!

Me: You’ll be fine (yes!yes!yes!), just sit down and do it (as if I have any idea what I’m talking about. I’m just glad someone’s worse off than me.)

CF: You’re so put together. I don’t know how you do it.

Me: Oh gosh, I’m not really. (I drink. A lot.)

CF: *quiet sobbing*

Me: Let it out dude. Let it all out. (Sucker)

Call From France Circa September 2007

B: Your mom instant messaged me today.

A: What?! She didn't even tell me she had a screen name!

B: Well, I think the answer to that is that I'm more important.

A: I didn't ask a question, I was yelling.

B: Whatever.

A: How long has she had this alleged screen name?

B: I have no idea. Can I get on with my story?

A: If you say longer than a few weeks she's gonna get it.

B: I don't know how long she's had it. Just call and ask her.

A: Oh right! No way! Apparently we're not close enough for technological communication. I'll have to wait 'til she rides her horse over here.

B: You're not even making any . . . her horse?

A: She's a son of a bitch.

B: Anyway. . .

A: Anyway, go on with your story.

B: So, I ask her if she wants to video chat -

A: She has video chat?!

B: Amy!

A: I'm kidding. Continue.

B: So, I ask and she says no because she hasn't brushed her hair yet.

A: Hahaha-WHAT?!

B: Her hair! Isn't! Brushed!

A: Because her baby daughter - the one who lived with her for 20 years has never seen her without her hair brushed? I've had her walk in and start brushing her teeth while I'm peeing, I think we can all deal with her unkempt hair.

B: I know! Will you please call her. I can't deal with it anymore.

A: Sure . . . but I'm gonna have to put on some lipstick first.

I Wanna Borrow An Allen Wrench!

As a precursor to Vegas, we decided to attend a friend’s wedding. A little prep for our blood alcohol levels and stamina because we knew there’d be an open bar, not to mention a near empty dance floor for us to practice our mooooooooooooves.

That and we also went because I absolutely love this woman:



Look at her. Not only is she gorgeous, and smart, but she’s f-ing hilarious. We met working at Starbucks (a job we both knew we’d be quitting a few months later, and so we ran amok of that store. Amok I tell you! We underage drank with the managers, refused to take out the trash on some sort of principle she came up with like “But we’re girls!”, didn’t do the dishes but instead left signs saying, “Bless this mess!”, and frequently called and requested to close early due to low customer visits, which was never true.) and the first thing I remember her saying to me was “MACE IN YO FACE!” to which I replied “Oh my god I love you!” and she said, “You’re my new BFF!” and the rest is friendship motherfucking history.

Although we go months at a time without seeing each other the second I get on the phone with her it’s like we’re sneaking cigarettes at her aunt’s house all over again, and I start giggling before anything has been said. It pretty much goes:

Me: Hello?
Jess: Hiiiiiiii Amy!
Me: *gasp* Jess??
Jess: **laughing**
Me: **laughing**
Jess: **laughing**
Me: **laughing**
Jess: **laughing-and-trying-to-say-something-in-a-pitch-so-high-no-one-really-knows-what-she’s-saying**
Me: **laughing-harder** What???

Then my sister starts yelling in the background, “You’re not breathing. Are you talking to Jess?”

We had a really great time, danced a whole lot with the fathers of the bride and groom, ate too much, drank a little (Becky drank a lot thanks to Jim’s urging, “You should make that a double”) and were in bed before 10:30. Naturally. Who stays up past 10:30?

I wish them all the best and happiness and all of that!!!


Oh, and their present is in the mail. I swear.

Uuuuunnnnggggghhh

Need sleep for like a week.

We got back from our annual Vegas trip last night, where we didn't sleep for three days, spents thousands of dollars on god knows what, got arrested for being TOO DRUNK, held up traffic on The Strip because we got the great idea that we should take The Strip as an order not a street name, and killed some guy.

Or that's what would have happened if we were not so damn old. Gabi and I spent most of the time in bed, reading, (in between our naps of course) and the rest of the girls planted themselves at the dealertainer blackjack tables at the Imperial Palace.

Dealertainers are amazing. They're impersonators. . . who deal.

They also stop dealing periodically to get up on a three foot stage to sing a few songs. I saw up Mariah Carey's skirt, watched Stevie Wonder pretend to be blind and feel his way down the stairs and then actually trip and fall flat on his face, and for some reason heard Aretha Franklin sing Alicia Keyes songs all night. My favorite though, was Michael Jackson, and despite the fact that he couldn't go four minutes without grabbing his crotch and pointing at Katie, which caused her to shudder repeatedly, I wanted to take him home with me and make him dance while I fold laundry.

Later (when I'm not completely sleep deprived and get full permission from Bub) I will be posting a series of, er, posts tentatively titled: Why My Sister Was Not Allowed To Talk During The Entire Weekend Because Everything That Came Out Of Her Mouth Was Something A Sister Should Never Have To Hear. Ever. / Her New Nickname Is **edited** The Original.

The One Where I Try To Wish Her A Happy Birthday

Living 2000 miles away from your family has it’s ups and downs. I miss my Mom and sister and friends like I would miss my left arm if it got chopped off in some freak logging accident. (Because I do a lot of woodsmanship. In my free time.)

There are really great things about living alone, like not having to share a bathroom with four other people, going crazy and putting my towels on the left side of the shelf even though I usually put them on the right, not having a huge note to remind me which side of the shelf the towels go on, not having any note anywhere reminding me where anything goes because in Amy’s house fruit can go on the top shelf of the refrigerator if it wants to! and the remote controls, oh!, the remote controls have free reign of the apartment, they can end up in the bathtub with a stack of magazines if the mood strikes me.

But the really not so great things are like if it’s 2am and I can’t sleep so I want to wake up my little sister and ask if she wants to get Denny’s with me, and when she says no I tell her, it’s ok Bub, we can just watch repeats of Absolutely Fabulous instead, now scoot over I need some blanket – I can’t. I don’t get barged in on by my (unfortunately) extremely morning person Mom, half-dressed and singing me a good morning song she’s been singing for twenty seven years while I glare and glare and glare. And while it sounds like the latter should be in the ‘good things about living alone’ list, I really miss my oddly cheerful Mom and her lack of clothing when she’s home. Luckily, my Aunt M (mom’s little sister) lives in Chicago and when I go to stay with her once a week, I can usually count on running into her in the kitchen without a shirt on. Or reading a book at the table without pants. And I love that about my family. That they (we) start to get dressed and then get totally distracted, or hungry, and can’t really think about putting on a top until our oatmeal is ready. And it’s just so comforting that Aunt M does it too, because it reminds me of my wonderful, topless, singing mom. Now, if only she would start labeling the cereals in order of most to least liked it would be just like home!


Happy Birthday Mama! Or, She-Who-Gets-Prettier-Every-Year!



I love you this much!

New Year's Day: A Recap

7:30am drive from San Diego to L.A. (after two hours of sleep) so that L.K.'s cat won't be lonely anymore? No Problem!

Carl's Jr. breakfast? Check.

Leaving important electronic devices including a camera and a cell phone in San Diego? Check.

Losing medication and having to wake up the entire house to search for it, realize it's still in your pocket, throw under a bed quickly so girl next to you will "find" it but she doesn't so you spend ten more minutes "looking" for it asking if she's sure she checked under the bed, she finds it, the whole house rejoices, and you've saved the day? Check.

Back track fifteen miles on the 405 because now you want Jack In The Box breakfast? Check.

Getting pulled over for doing ninety and not being able to cry your way out of it because it's a female cop? Checkity, check, check, check!