I haven't left the building

Man! I haven't said anything in ages. You see, what happened was* my other self and I entered a competition to see how long I could go without speaking (which included on-the-internet speaking because I am lame and have no friends, so most of the talking I do is on the internet anyway). Anyway, I won! I stopped internet-speaking longer than my other self (the one that only answers in my head) did. (I lost the not speaking out loud part of the contest; I talk to everything. The TV, the cat, vegetable peelers, etc.) (But in my defense my other self can't talk out loud. Ever. So that part of the contest was rigged in her favor, if you ask me. I'll be writing to the committee on this matter.)

______

In related news I have been continuously sick since last year. I was stricken with a terribly malady on the eve of the eve of the Mass of Christs. (That's the day before Christmas eve, for those of you that aren't up to snuff on your Amy-speak.) Sources say this dire situation may have been a contributing factor to the radio silence found on this station, as it coincided with an obscure North American pentathlon that took place during the fall and early winter of last year, one of the events of which was mentioned above.

(The other events weren't televised due to a lack of ratings during the airing of the aural portion of the (Keep-Your-)Trap Shut events. A Sleep-Sprints marathon, in which the athletes alternate between attempting to sleep for periods of 30-45 minutes and being awoken by sick toddlers for as long as they can before collapsing into a coma-like state from sheer exhaustion, ran simultaneously with the internet portion of the Trap Shut. Closing ceremonies for the pentathlon have been postponed due to an alleged rule violation in the Fluids Release event. Reports indicate that certain competitor(s) may have engaged in violent coughing spasms in order to increase their output in the Vomit Til Your Nose Bleeds category, which is against pentathlon regulations and may disqualify said competitor(s) from placing. The Posterior Deluge portion of the Fluids Release event proceeded with no complications and medal conferment ceremonies will commence after the final rulings are submitted for all events of the competition.)

______

Field reporter Other Me here at News One had a chance to talk with one of the athletes accused of the violation, here's what she had to say:

Other Me: Excuse me, Me? How do you respond to the allegations leveled against you?
Me: It's bogus. I may have had coughing episodes in the past, but I maintain that those spasms had nothing at all to do with my output in the VTYNB.
Other Me: What about your chances for the gold? Do you think they have been affected by this negative publicity?
Me: I can only hope the judges base their ruling on fair play and honesty rather than politics. I worked my ass off to win this pentathlon. I've been training since October, cold after flu, non-stop. I've only been healthy for at most a handful of days since the summer of '09. If all that hard work turns out to be for nothing I don't think I'll have stomach to stay in Competitive Illness anymore, not if you can't rely on sportsmanship, dedication, and following the rules to get you through.

And there you have it folks. The low-down on the seedy underbelly of Competitive Illness. Are these honest athletes being laid low by The Man? Or is this just one more case of Corruption's contagious side. Other Me, for News One, signing off.

______

*Anything prefaced with this phrase is patently untrue, or at the very least wildly exaggerated, regardless of the age of the speaker or any prior veracity he or she may have laid claim to.

(I forgot who photo creds go to and I'm too lazy to search again. They're not mine. How's that? Okay, okay! Jeez...

Dear Photoshoppers/Digital Media Artists/Whatever Whose Work I Plagiarized,

I'm sorry I swiped your pics without giving you due credit for them, but if you happen to come across my humble domain feel free to inform me of your rightful ownership and I'll gladly give you your 15 minutes.

Obviously Not Very Sincerely,
Amy)

Monday, January 18th, 2010

RTT: Snarktastic

- Against all common sense and self-preservation, I went with my sister to see New Moon on Saturday. This little gem comes right after the first scene in which Jacob takes off his shirt:

Her: Oh yeah baby! You makey Mama wanna do the cha-cha-cha! [contemplative pause] That's what I imagine a ninja turtle would look like without its shell.
Me: [blink] ... And that's hot?
Her: Kinda...

What do you think? Is there a resemblance?

That, along with a score of gasps, squeals, squeaks, titters, one emission that sounded very similar to a donkey's mating call, and various salacious remarks (all very loud and in conveniently placed moments of simultaneous film and audience silence, I might add) managed to convince two separate people that even though they had just spent $11 each (possibly plus concessions) to see this movie, they would rather spend their time elsewhere. I'm sure that doesn't come as a surprise to you, though.

- My stepmom recently expressed an objection to being referred to as "snarky". Apparently in her circles it has negative connotations (like naggy and old biddy), and in case this is causing confusion for others that do not see snark in the same beautiful light as myself and those whose blogs I read, I present to you Snark, as defined by Me:

Snark - n. sarcasm or disrespect, esp. of the witty variety
adjective, snarky - the state of being witty and sarcastic

Also, Dictionary.com backs me up here, mostly, see the second result, first definition.

- Parenting win: for Caiden's first 2 3/4 years I managed to keep the TV mostly out of his life, barring the occasional Disney/Pixar flick or Project Runway episode. Parenting fail: ever since Lucifer* started taking up residence in my home three days a week that previous Win has gone straight to Hell, carried on the backs of the Dinosaur Train, Curious George, and the ever annoying Elmo.

- Epic Parenting FAIL: Today, instead of Dinosaur Train and Curious George, we watched Mallrats.

* This is Lucifer

- Keely. Go. Now.

(Photo creds for Donatello go to this guy.)

Tuesday, December 8th, 2009

Irreverence, Snark, and multiple Sicknesses

This year we spent Thanksgiving in Santa Barbara. If you're into warm weather and sunny skies then it was beautiful. I, however, was a little miffed by the summery feel. Based on common knowledge (California typically being several degrees cooler than Las Vegas at any given time) and dear old Dad's advice, I packed for the cold, sweaters and such like, only to find that during our entire stay it was not only warmer by a few degrees than home temps, but the weather back in the City of Sin and Degradation was overcast and rainy! (I like overcast and rainy. And cold. I got jipped big time.) But anyway. The vacation. That's what you're here for.

Post-nap car seat moshing. Awesome.

Other than that little snafu things were great. On Thursday we did the typical dinner with family thing in which nothing remarkable happened. (Unless you count the $90 bill for what was basically a plate of salad and pasta with marinara for Will*, a single piece of chocolate mousse cake for Caiden, and a giant plate of stuffing and mashed potatoes and the last thoroughly mangled piece of pecan pie for me. I'm not complaining about the meal itself though, just the price tag attached to it. But apparently this was to be expected and I was also forewarned of it. (I don't remember that part.))

Caiden? Would you care to eat anything that doesn't have sugar listed as
the main ingredient during this entire vacation?
...Um, no Mom. Thanks for asking, though.

We spent the remainder of the trip sight-seeing. I grew up in the desert, and since I'm still stuck here so has my poor kid. All the randomly growing green things were repeated and pleasant shocks to our systems.

State protected random greenery. A.k.a. big honkin' fig tree.

Friday afternoon before lunch we went to the Santa Barbara Mission. Even for a non-believer it was very interesting. The architecture was amazing and the antiquity alone (more than 200 years old) was worth a stare or two. The structures have been through two major earthquakes and at least one large fire, which make the things that still remained in their original state even more impressive. I had originally planned an entirely separate post to take you on a photographic tour of the place, but apparently my camera really is the devil and is not just randomly called that by its owner. (Out of love, people.) Very few of my outdoor shots came out and only one from inside the chapel did. The place was all Get thee behind me, Satan to my poor camera. This would not be weird if I didn't have a digital camera like everyone else on the planet, but I do. The little screen told me my pictures were fine. A few were even portrayed as quite impressive. The little screen is a lying sack of sh pixels. Here's what I had left.

This was the only in-chapel shot that came out.
My kid is THAT cute.

Hook 'em while they're young.

Apparently, Franciscans have a height restriction.
(P.S. Will is leaning in this picture. He is taller than that.)
(P.P.S. I know it's blurry. I needed it for the funny.)

You must be at least *this* short to ride this ride.
(Not taken in the camera-hating hall of worship.)

Teeny tiny bedrooms. These people don't do anything if it's not small.

Or maybe they do...
I'm surprised He didn't Smite me right then and there.

Maybe this was what they** were singing?

Some outside prettiness. (Snark sold separately.)

Ignore the Jerkwad's tripod leg and the funky
camera angle. Freaking Americans think they own everything,
even the good flora shots.

Grandiose architecture. Shrek would say they're compensating.

This is the entrance to the chapel. No snark necessary.

The cemetery. 100% snark-free. Even I'm not that bad.

The obligatory posed group shot. This is four generations of men,
all addicted to snarky women. (Maybe not Grandpa.)

After the Mission we had lunch served to us by a special waitress*** and then visited the pier whose name I forget. (The big one at the end of State Street.) We went specifically to show Caiden the pelicans, who were snooty and recalcitrant and would do nothing at all to attract his attention. They just sat on the roof and ignored the world, only deigning to come down for a wing stretching loop of the pier after the boy had fallen asleep. Which of course they finished before I was able to get a picture. I got a few good shots on the pier, just mostly not of the pelicans.

Snooty birds.

Party Crasher.

Incoming!

What's this button do?

All told, a lovely mini-vacation. The words to describe my first encounter with the ocean as an adult completely elude me. I didn't know it was possible to be homesick for a place you've never actually lived; I seriously wanted to cry when it was time to go home. (My new goal in life is beach front property.) I took a zillion pictures of my new love****, but if you've seen one amateur photo of the ocean you've seen them all, so I'll only make you suffer through our first date and our sweet, sweet sorrow*****, and then I'll leave you with some other random cuteness that didn't fit anywhere else but didn't want to be left out.

Caiden's first encounter with the Big Waloo (water).
(In the spirit of full disclosure, I took this picture on Thursday.
We snuck down to the beach for a quickie before dinner.)

If I'm homesick for the ocean, does that make me seasick?

A clever ploy to get the etch-a-sketch thingie
from Grandma's lap.

Floppy heads and ingenuity. MacGyver's got nothin' on me!

Say Cheese!
(He just learned this from my Dad. I never make people say cheese.)

When I took this one it was pitch dark and he was mid- babble.

And because I'm a terrible procrastinator, these are for my MD peeps.
GTE FTW!
(But I suppose the rest of you can enjoy them, too.)

* Unless specifically prepared as such, Thanksgiving is not the most vegan-friendly of holidays.

** I'm pretty sure "they" was a recording, as I don't recall seeing any large Franciscan choirs hanging about.

*** Not the good kind of special.

**** Second to all things animate. (e.g. Spouse, child, cat, family, etc.) Do I really need to explain this?

***** Our parting, you cultureless heathens.

****** There are way too many of these little footnotes in this post.

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

When does this start being fun?

You know how you're never supposed to ask a woman her age? Sometimes I wish people would before they make judgments about my life.

If I've been carded once I've been carded a million times. By people that have been ringing up my purchases for nearly a decade. Simple math would indicate that if I've been buying my own groceries for eight years then even if I moved out of my parents' house insanely early (didn't, 19) I would still be legal by now.

A year or two ago, at Walmart, I was carded for glue. Mother-effing glue. Apparently you need to be 18 to buy this. And the best part? I didn't have my ID on me because this was supposed to be a quick, in and out, don't-bother-shutting-off-the-car type of deal, and the clerk would not just be a decent human being (they don't hire those kind at Walmart) and trust that I was indeed old enough to purchase glue(!) so I had to call my dad out from the car and have him buy the glue for me. All those years I stood in front of 7-11 trying to get legal folks to buy cigarettes and booze for my under-aged self did not prepare me for this phone call and the subsequent ridicule and humiliation.

I've also had friends get denied their alcohol purchases simply because I was in their company at the time and did not have my ID (you would think I'd be aware of this minor dilemma by now and just carry the damn thing all the time, but I don't. I almost never have it, actually). When I smoked I got carded every single time I bought a pack. Even by the cashiers at the stores closest to my house and my beloved store, from whom I bought the precious nicotine every single day for years.

But you know what is the worst? I live across the street from a high school. Every Friday, from August clear through to June, and sometimes other days during the week, the high school kids point and stare and loudly whisper to each other "Like, OMG, I so cannot believe that she brought her baby to school with her!" And if school's getting out when I'm walking by then you can add the disapproving stares and tones of their parents to the mix.

I do not like people pointing at my son and automatically assuming that he was the product of mistake made by an irresponsible teenager. I do not appreciate being that girl. I feel like I should be wearing a big red sign saying I am almost freaking 30, dammit!

So like I said up there, I know this is supposed to be an asset, this looking younger thing, but when exactly does that kick in? I'm waiting...

Tuesday, December 1st, 2009

NaNoOMGI'mGonnaKillSomeone!WhatWasIThinking?ThisisCRAZYMo

A lot of you crazy folks either didn't learn your lesson the first (third, eighth, thirty-fifth?) time*, or are in the process of learning that lesson now, and signed up for this years NaNoWriMo.

After getting my ass handed to me last year I decided to commemorate the event by chickening out admitting to a lesson learned, but I thought I'd maybe save a few of you from joining me in my shame and post some help.

Laurell K. Hamilton. Maybe you have heard this name before? She's a #1 New York Times bestselling author and she's spilled the beans on how she gets her books unstuck (because it happens even to the best of them). With thirty published books under her belt she probably knows what she's doing, so if you're similarly mired maybe trying one of her tricks will dislodge you.

Read about them here and here.

*Actually this year marks the eleventh NaNoWriMo, so if you're touting this as your thirty-fifth go 'round you're a bit of fibber, aren't you?

Tuesday, November 22nd, 2009