oh, manuel aristides

Performance-enhancing drugs, papi? I am so disappointed. Tsk.

Last night I made a public apology for ever having said, "Jason Bay? Jason Bay? That's all they could get for Manny?" Today I would like to double that apology and go to wherever it is that Mr Jason Bay lives and, like, kiss his cleats or something. I am not worrrthy.

How much you want to bet Man-well spends his *fifty game* suspension in the DR, by the pool, counting his pile o' money without a care in the world?

xoxo

cross-cultural exploration

In other news, since today is Cinco de Mayo, our cafeteria here in work is offering that traditional Mexican delicacy, taco salad. So I ate one.

I'm gonna drop a little note in the suggestion box that on Bastille Day they serve French fries.

xoxo

backordered, my fat ass

So, you know, I ended last month with a bit more money than with I started, thanks to ET Cash-In (yeah, baby) and my tax refund from the gov'mint, not to mention the end of the winter heating season. I decided to spend this windfall (ha!) on--besides acupuncture, pedicures, my new shoes, and charitable donations--a couple things I did not need, but wanted, for the house.

I've been wanting a bulletin board for Boho Paradise for like a year, but since, c'mon now, it's Boho Paradise, it couldn't be just any ugly, utilitarian bulletin board. So imagine my delight when in the Ballard Design catalogue I got in the mail, thanks to being on who knows what mailing list, they had these fabulous gilt framed bulletin boards in a choice of sizes and a choice of chalk- or corkboard. They were kind of expensive and the shipping more so, but where in god's name am I ever going to find a more appropriate bulletin board for my bedroom? I mean, really. So I sucked it up and ordered the next-to-smallest size.

But before that, when I was idly perusing the Anthropologie website, I found an also-fabulous Indian-inspired bedskirt on sale. Now, we've discussed, I think, how much I lurve Anthropologie. It is an incredible store, but it is too pricey most of the time for my poor white trash blood. I have, in my life, bought exactly one piece of clothing there that was full price (the autumn leaves coat, and it was well worth it) but many things from the deep discount sale room in the store. The only other things I have bought full price in there are small housewares, like candles or the occasional gift for a friend. (As an aside--oh shut up, there hasn't been one for awhile--my friend LV was once telling me about staying over at our mutual friend AK's house, and how AK was making up the daybed with quilt after beautiful quilt for her. When LV asked her where they came from and AK said casually "Anthropologie", LV had to manually close her own dropped jaw as she recalculated in her head what AK's income bracket probably was. We agreed that *we* ourselves kinda were restricted to $18 candles in there.) My point being, even a sale bedskirt from Anthropologie is still a fairly pricey thing, but because it was so cute and I was spending tax return money and I haven't bought a new bedskirt probably in this millennium, and there was only queen-size left so that, my bed being a queen, god and the universe obviously wanted me to have this, I ordered it online.

This was all last week. Today I get an e-mail from Ballard, telling me my bulletin board has shipped. Hmm, I think to myself, I haven't gotten a shipping confirmation from Anthropologie. So, I go online and check. Apparently, my bedskirt is "backordered." How something *on clearance* in the only size they have listed, is "backordered" and why they didn't see fit to tell me this either when I was ordering or in a later e-mail, I just couldn't tell you. But I was not pleased with this customer service. I want my semi-expensive dust ruffle, please. Now.

Bastards!

Not that this will make me boycott their store or anything. Because it is so cute and I am weak. The end.

xoxo

i'm kind of afraid

So, a couple weeks ago, I reminded D that May 10th was Mother's Day, and since we don't have (Cougar) L to take him out shopping, that if he was going to, say, buy his mother a gift online, he should probably snap to it, so that it would come in time. Because, you know, I'm subtle like that. A couple/few days after that, I said, "Hey! Did you buy me anything yet?" and he just smirked at me and said, "Maybe." So then last Friday, he got an Amazon package in the mail, which he hid in his room, and I was all, "Is that my present? Is that my present?" Because, again, I'm subtle like that. And he wouldn't commit, he just smirked at me.

Well, this morning he had a psych appointment and afterwards we went in the supermarket across the street. I always make a point of doing that with him whether we particularly need anything or not, because, y'know, it's a good desensitization exercise for him, and he's gotten better and better with it. So today I was like, "Do you want to maybe buy your mother a card while you're here?" And he said, "I already got you presents." Presents. Plural.

You have to understand, when he would go shopping w/ Cougar L, it was so stressy for him, I would tell him exactly what I wanted and what store he could find it at. This time he's totally on his own. If I get a DVD of Friday the 13th Part 86 or something...

Can my male readers please assure me they knew what to buy their moms on gift giving occasions when they were D's age? Lie if you must.

xoxo

speaking of starving

I shouldn't brag, but I will anyway.

Some people in Massachusetts won't be so hungry because I raised $411 for the Walk for (against) Hunger and did the whole twenty miles. Thanks and hugs and kisses to all of you who so generously donated. Muah! It's a very important cause and you rock.

xoxo

here's an example of what i put up with

Forty-five minutes or so ago I come home from work and the first thing out of my dad's mouth, after hi, is "I'm starving. Are you cooking?" I affirm that yes, indeed, I am making dinner, and as I go in to the refrigerator to start getting out food to prepare--the first thing *I* do after hanging up my jacket, by the way--I ask him why he didn't eat the three leftover chicken legs for lunch, because if he had he wouldn't be "starving." Well, apparently he didn't know they were there because he didn't look. He also didn't look at the second shelf, where there were canned peaches that are for him alone. But despite this failure to actually look for something to eat when he is hungry, the blame for his starvation apparently lies on my shoulders--not that we're casting any blame stones, you understand--because I forgot to buy him any CheezIts this week. Whatever. And I'm supposed to be fattening him up.

Then he starts telling me about the Kentucky Derby coverage, not that I've evinced any interest in same, and how many people are there and how apparently *they're* not afraid of the swine flu. This segues to a remark about how he hopes I don't get the killer flu...because then who would take care of him and D?

I'm not making that up.

So when D comes down for dinner, I ask him. "If I were to die from the flu, would you miss me because you miss me or would you miss me because there'd be no one to make you supper?" He picked the former. (Because, say what you will, I did not raise any idiots, yo.)

But, you know what? This is seriously what I think at times when I am down. That every single person in my life who supposedly cares about me cares about me solely for what I do for them and what I give to them, whether that's dinner and clean laundry, advice to the lovelorn, massages, emotional support, or what-have-you. I know, I hasten to add, that that's not true. Certain of my friendships are totally uncontaminated--if that's the word--with any taint of this and I do know my son loves me (even if it is hard to separate out from the "yes, I know I can trust you and count on you to always be there for me" as a basis for that love). But when things are really dark, it is what I irrationally feel.

And inadvertently insensitive remarks from old men DON'T HELP. Such as.

xoxo

where's jerry?

Did he have a serious cardiac event or the like, or is he just down with the H1-swine whatever? Whatever it is, he'd better Get Well Soon, because I really can't deal with Sox games broadcast by other people. In fact, if D was awake right now--but he's not--I'd make him switch to hockey for me. Yeah, yeah, I know, I could scroll through my 900 satellite channels until I find whatever the hell station they have it on, but *in case you don't remember*, I'm lazy as fuck. So perhaps I'll just go take a bath instead and then read in bed. Or watch Hot Fuzz. (Any of you all see that? I love me some Simon Pegg, but it really wasn't grabbing me when I tried putting it on yesterday.) Yes, I do know my Friday nights are pathetic. Your point?

In other news, I do so love hearing men talk when they're (mostly) amongst themselves. I just observed a guy rhapsodizing about how blowjobs--being free, non-time-consuming, and extremely happy-making--are the easiest shortcut in the world for a woman to take if she wants to be perceived as a wonderful girlfriend, and asking what the analogous action for a man would be. Off the top of my head, I myself would suggest it would be spontaneously taking over some tedious chore for your woman that she absolutely hates (and knowing what chore that is). For most women, that would make you seem like a wonderful boyfriend/husband.

I also, in the same conversation, observed another guy saying that he has never, and will never, buy his wife flowers, because he thinks they are a waste of money, and she has "grudgingly" accepted that. Dude. People who don't understand the whole concept of gift-giving perplex and, I'll admit it, frustrate me. The purpose of giving people gifts is to show your affection for them by providing them something *they* like and enjoy. Whether you think that something is stoopid, silly, or a waste of money is immaterial. If Dude #2's wife likes flowers and would enjoy being gifted with them on one occasion or another, then Dude ought to suck it up and buy them, despite his distaste. I mean, geez, he might even get a blowjob out of it.

/relationship advice from single-loser-girl!

xoxo

P.S. How does spellcheck accept motherfucker as a word, but not blowjob? Oh, this is also perplexing.