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Archive for the ‘the people I love’ Category

nobody puts yeah

Saturday, November 19th, 2016

Jennifer Grey, babe.


We’re watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, cause I let Crockett pick the movie and he’s done really well lately at committing to one movie quick and making it a good choice. Not, like, a totally outside the box choice – more something if you were flipping through channels and realized it was just starting, you’d stick with that channel for at least one ore two commercial breaks. (When do we as a culture really need to start explaining those references? People like Buzzfeed already are, but the concept of channels still 100% exists. And commercials. I guess anyone who uses DVR instead of the Netflix/Hulu/CW/HBO bastard conglomerate we’ve assembled still totally knows.)

I don’t care what Jennifer Grey did to her nose. It was bigger and now it’s not? I heard that it may have affected her career, but suspect that may just be how much ‘we’ hate it when women make choices about their physicality that ‘we’ don’t agree with (wherein said we is a bunch of men usually who probably think they were special for seeing her cuteness when her nose was a little larger than average and are irritated that she changed so that everyone else (who already thought she was cute) also thinks she’s cute, right?)

I do really love her hair. It must be naturally curly, but she makes it look like it’s not crunchy. I think that’s a hard hard thing when you have curly hair, and she’s been nailing it since 1986.

Jennifer Grey = babe.


is what brings us together

Tuesday, November 1st, 2016

So me and Crockett got married, didja know? It’s been three weeks and two days, we haven’t sent in our marriage license yet, and Crockett left his ring at home on Halloween accidentally so it looked like ‘Duff Man was single oh yeah!’ but we ARE married and it’s super!

I mean, basically it’s the same, but it feels cozy and I really like it. “Have you met my husband?” is a thing I could say if we ever went anywhere we don’t already know everyone, for example. Cozy.

The day just flies by, best day of our lives, take some time for each other – these are all things people say about their wedding day and they’re not wrong. We greeted our friends, got married, ate, listened to toasts, danced, took pictures … I remember all of it, but not as clearly as I might like. I’m hoping that when our professional pictures come through, it’ll jog our memories? I wore three different dresses and had ridiculous boho hair (that I loved, ridiculous in a good way, guys), Crockett had a blue suit and a yellow pocket square …

Anyway. Married!

OH, I forgot the most important part: no one, at least in my hearing, quoted The Princess Bride. Because we’re better than that, people.

bust it out

Tuesday, April 12th, 2016

I had food poisoning once before. It was three days after Crockett and I met, and on my 28th birthday.

And then I had it again, this Saturday.

And Sunday.

And Monday.

Food poisoning is SUPER and not at all repetitive and boring and terrible, don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.

I have recently become closer with a chick at work, and when I showed up this morning she asked me if I needed a cork for my ass. How do you go from knowing someone for two years and doing nothing but complimenting their shoes, to talking about your potential need for preventing butt leakage while at work in the span of a few weeks? I’m genuinely asking, because it’s such a weird phenomenon, right?

Maybe we weren’t ready before. Stars not in alignment, ducks not in a row, etc. Maybe I wasn’t in the place for new friends since I was still in friendmourning for my friends from my last company. Maybe her shoes weren’t quite cool enough yet. Maybe all a good potential friendship really needs to push it over the line is the opportunity for commentary on bodily functions. Like, if she’d asked me for a tampon a year ago maybe she’d be my (nonexistent because we’re not doing bridal parties) maid of honor right now.

Or maybe she’s just always ready to talk about corks in asses. I don’t know her life. Yet. Bet I will though.

scritchy scratchy

Wednesday, January 6th, 2016

Maida is really feeling her oats lately. Possibly because I switched the dogs to raw and freeze dried food? (PSA: it’s literally no more expensive than the good kibble I was feeding them before. I don’t really know how that’s possible but I’ve run the numbers twice and am a month into it and it all checks out so …. you know, if you have dogs, maybe look into it if you’re curious. You just have to remember to take the raw stuff out of the freezer and mix the freeze dried stuff up with water and stick it in the fridge every couple of days, easy peasy, and it feels like taking good care of them.)

Anyway, she’s been a goddamn nutball, and she’s so out of practice that she’s doing very ungainly things like falling off curbs and sticking her tongue up my nose when she tries to lick it.

‘Feeling your oats’ is kind of gross, right? The phrase? I’ll look it up in a second, but it, like, super feels like it’s about balls, right? Either that or rubbing your stomach so hard you can literally feel your breakfast?

Ok looking it up brb.

I was actually pretty sure, by the way, that I was going to google the phrase only to discover that it was something my mom invented, but nope, it’s a thing. It’s actually literally a thing that refers to how horses act after they get oats, so Maida feeling her oats after she eats her new food is very apt. Nailed it, self five.

(Wasn’t this fascinating? Other than looking at places to get married and wedding dresses (looking at EVERY wedding dress, starting to think separates, cause I’m a kicky gal) Maida being all goofy is literally the most noteworthy thing happening here. We are a simple folk.)

good face bad face

Thursday, December 17th, 2015

Maida has an excellent little face. That’s important, because we were just at the vet for the fourth time in five weeks (and only that long because I put off last week’s appointment), and if she didn’t have a great little face I wouldn’t have something adorable to look at to remind me of why it’s worth it to do all her appointments and pills and stuffs.

Like, I had to ask a girlfriend recently if I could bring Maida to her NY Eve party, because otherwise I’d have to be home at 9:15 to give her medication. She graciously said yes, but I felt like a dummy. However, Maid’s med schedule is one of the dominating factors of my life at the mo (and for the foreseeable future).

The biggest deal is that she has to take seizure medication every eight hours. The margin of error for that is pretty narrow, because the half life of that particular medication is 3.3 hours in dogs. Plus side, her seizures are under control! Minus side, 5:15 am, 1:15 pm, and 9:15 pm are sort of gospel times in our household. (Doesn’t have to be those times but you try to distribute eight hours in a way that makes sense with both a full nights sleep and a work day.)

Anyway, she has new morning eye drops for her ongoing eye infection (replacing the three kinds of eye drops we’ve already tried), plus her old routine of twice daily potassium bromide and two traditional Chinese herbal meds (vet prescribed!) and the three-a-day Keppra. Plus other, soothing, eye drops at night.

The point is that it’s very helpful to see her lil face while organizing (and of course funding) this pile o’ treatments, cause it’s an amazing face and you only have to glance at it to want her to be healthy and happy. (I used to know someone who used ‘you have a good face’ as a compliment and damned if it didn’t usually work for him, by the way.)

On the other hand…

(When is ‘drop the mic’ appropriate? Not here, I guess?)

I was making notes today, for my own reference. Things to do and buy and prepare before Christmas, etc. I sat down a few minutes ago to review them.

One of the notes just says ‘how much I hate adam driver’s stupid face‘.

What did I mean by that? Did I intend to write about it? That seems mean. I don’t know anything about him, in real life, only from Girls and that movie with Tina Fey and Jason Bateman. (I mean, I am writing about it, but I like to think I didn’t intentionally plan to just write about hating one dude based on his complacent, supercilious lookin’ face bones. See, now I’m weaving it into a (weak) narrative. This is was less insulting.)

No matter what my intentions were, I think it’s safe to say that if it came down to it, Adam Driver could not count on me to treat any epilepsy he might find himself with. His is not a lil face that I love. Not a face that makes me want to make sure he’s healthy and happy. More, and I’m disappointed in myself for this, a face that makes me want to bite his nose just to see if he’d look less smug.

So, you know: Maida=good face, Adam Driver=bad face.