things that go poop in the night

let's just get this out of the way. the word 'blog' since its inception has reminded me of a slang term for feces (ie: dung, poop, crap, terd...blog). that being said, i have always referred to writing a blog post in b.m. terms. for example when i see something that is so priceless i need to document it here (or on my old blog, may she rest in peace) i would say something like "man, i gotta take a wicked blog." or "do you smell that? the blog just hit the fan." likewise when i haven't had anything to write about i refer to it as being 'blogstapated.'
ok, i'm glad we covered that. moving on:
last night at about 3:40 am, as i was finally about to drift off into sleep, my dog nudges me indicating she needs to go outside and relieve herself. so i walk her downstairs and let her out in the backyard. something you should know about zoe, my dog, is that she has severe seperation anxiety and does not like to leave my side for a second (as i type she's curled up on the floor, head resting on my foot looking up at me). so usually she runs out, does her business, and runs right back inside and plants herself next to me, if not on me in some fashion. she's a yorkie, so thats easily done.
but last night she was outside for nearly five minutes, which is out of character. something was afoot. so i opened the door and called out her name and made the kissey noise which always sets her running. nothing. i call her name again and she comes slowly trudging back with her head hung low. she looks up at me quickly and then trots into the house and plants herself under the kitchen table. this is not good. is she hurt? was she viciously attacked by some squirrel or worse? i try to get her out from under the table but she bolts into her little doghouse/bed. i reach in and lift her out expecting to find her mauled by some creature of the night.
no, folks. the only thing that attacked her was the beer shits. her entire hind quarters was embedded in her own mess. poor thing. but at least she made it outside because, while this was horrible, i'm sure whatever made it to the ground was infinately worse and i'm happy i wasn't cleaning that off the floor(miraculously and thankfully she managed not to track any of this through the house). i was forced to bathe the dog at nearly 4 am, much to my chagrin.
so why did i write about this? because the whole time from when she came back in the house through bathing her, the look on her face was so adorable and sad. she seemed to say "i never meant for this to happen" and it reminded me of the commercials where the dogs are holding signs in their mouths explaing how they feel, what they think, or answering a question they were just asked. and communicating dogs get me every time.

offending the very delicacy of my nature

last week while driving through the parking lot of a shopping center that houses a walmart, the champagne of discount stores, my father said something to me that would become one of my favorite quotes of...well, ever. "they should really charge an entrance fee for the show." spot on old sport.

in response to making this my facebook status for a cybergiggle, former miss liberty and mother to quite possibly the worlds most adorable baby, sarah cohn, alerted me to a wonderful website: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ . not only are they not charging to see this spectacle live and in the toothless-mullety-beardedlady-flesh, but now they are giving this shit away for free on the internet. and i, for one, couldn't be more pleased.

so, what do you say? ladies, take off your bras. men, put on your dirtiest wife beater. lower your standards and your tax bracket, and check out this website. i'm sure you'll be impressed. or nausiated. either way, it's worth a look.

too soon?

randomly in passing the other day, my mother mentioned to me that in the event of her death, the house is left to me and her life insurance policy will cover the remainder of the mortgage and leave a sizeable sum to be divided evenly between my two sisters and me.


i immediately started renovations in my head. and that's probably the wrong reaction to have.


however, i do want this bed:


http://www.nateberkus.com/portfolio.php?id=170


i mean, you know... when the time comes.

itch in the night

so, recently i've been plagued by something sort of indescribable. but i'll try. as i lie in bed waiting for the sweet numbness of slumber to carry me off to a date with mr. sandman, i have started feeling these weird sensations on my feet. they are what i refer to as tickle-itches. these are not to be confused with the 'inside itch' that my chum aubre has tried to explain to no avail, rather, to heavy mocking. the tickle itch feels like a little tickle on the surface of the skin. that no amount of scratching will end. it's torturous and has kept me awake, rubbing my feet with a pumice stone til they are near bleeding then slathering them in cocoa butter, til about 5 am every night for the past week or so. on a more positive note, the skin on my feet hasn't ever been so supple!

what does one do to pass the impassable time in these twilight hours, one may ask. well, i've taken to watching old seasons of 'will & grace' on dvd. it's hard to belive it's been nearly eleven years since these characters first made their way into the world of pop culture (11th anniversary, Sept 21, 2009). equally hard to believe is that they've only been off the air for just over three years (series finale aired spring of 2006). or that of the 187 episodes aired, shelley morrison only appeared in 68 as karen walker's maid rosario. she just always seemed so present, now thats acting!

anyway, in revisiting these characters, i found several truths that i never befor realized. first, whom ever was doing debra messing's make-up should be drug out into the street and shot. now i know it was part of the schtick for her hair to be wacky and her clothes to be just off the mark so karen could have endless comments about her flawed fashion and grooming. but why did she look like a drag queen for most of seasons one and two? second, as we all can agree, the life blood of this show was neither will, nor grace. but instead, the supporting characters jack and karen and their wacky hijinx. that being said, the first time around, karen seemed so broad and farcical. but upon further exposure, it is my opinion that she was the most developed and multi-faceted character on the show. her backstory and character nuances were the truest and most influencial to the final product of the character. and this was not a result of the writing, but of the acting chops of miss megan mullally. next, i find that, say what you will about the character of jack, but the slapstick style of acting employeed by sean hayes is nothing short of genious and it is an inherant skill, not something that can be learned.

now the heart-ache. what the will? why was will such a debbie downer all the time? it wasn't in the writing. i have analized many of the scenes and the script work does not demand that will be negative and condescending all the time. but the choices that actor eric mc cormac made really make will unloveable, and worse, unrelatable. in fact the times when will is being tender with grace, when he should be most loveable are when i stomach him the least because he can never allow her to be his equal. he always has to be holier-than-thou with grace. the only times i have found will to be enjoyable is when karen pulls him through a scene and doesn't allow him to condescend to her. i also noticed when doing a google image search of each actor while preparing for this blog, that this seems to be a true-life character flaw in eric mc cormac. every picture is unnatural and posed, even candids. and you can read through the lens that he thinks he is alot more attractive than he actually is.

that aside, the writing for this show was so good that it took me 11 years to realize eric's acting is at the level of a strong community theatre and not nearly as polished or natural as his three ensemble-mates. also, i crave guest appearances by debbie reynolds as grace's mother, bobbi adler, the flawless "jewess from schenectedy." debra and debbie's ability to mirror and oppose eachother at the same time while portraying the journey grace is taking to 'become' her mother is fascinating,seemingly effortless, and uproarious!

all-in-all "Oh. My. G-...!"

high school girls- the shit hits the fan.

today i ran a few errands with one of my favorite people, my friend and former roommate (sigh) casey. casey is a charmingly free spirit. she also has the best ability to tell and retell a story of anyone who i have ever met. her attention to detail is remarkable, and she can make you feel like you are living the story.
we bagan to talk about unfortunate nick-names people were given in high school. and it occured to us that an alarming number of girls in high school are given a nicknames based on the fact that they once deficated somewhere in a less than desireable situation. i mean sure, there's always the fat kid called chunk, or if his 'friends' are particularly witty maybe they will dub him tiny. and of corse there's the kid who farted on the fourth grade field trip and will always be known as stinky. and let's not the forget the perrenial favorite, pizzaface, the chap with unfortunate acne (casey spins a wonderful tale about the pizzaface at her school and how his hat once ended up in the courtyard during class and he climbed through a window to regain his ensemble's piece-de-resistance).
but it seems the most tarnishing of all nicknames is the girl who gained her pseudonym for pooping. at my high school it was a girl who became known as 'dung' because she ended up drunk and locked in a garage after a dance and made a number two, privately, on the garage floor.
but casey's school has a much better story to accompany the crappy (pun shamelessy intended) nick-name. It seems this girl, who hasn't had a real name since sometime in the winter of 1997, brought it on herself.
the story begins- the wrestlers at casey's school were known for a their pre-meet cheer of sorts (and i assume they were also known for suspected homosexuality, like wrestlers at all high schools). this cheer was a pfierce beating of fists against their own thighs and primal grunting as they formed a circle. the tempo of the beating fists would get faster and the grunts would get louder until all hell and testosterone broke loose and then some clapping would ensue... hoorah!
it seems the wrestling team won a very important, perhaps even championship match. so naturally there was a party to follow in a motel room. as reality ceased to be from the underage consumption of alcohol a young lady stepped to the center of the room. she began to call all of the guests of this celebratory gathering to attention. when all eyes were focused on her, she did her best impression of the wrestlers pre-meet cheer. all were amused. but that wouldn't be enough for this budding starlet, oh no. as the cheer reached it's climax, she decided to take it a step further. it's funny how things seem like a good idea when you're 17 and drunk. this young lady decided to drop trou, as the kids say, and make a poopy right there in the center of the party for all to see.
this would seem to solidify her place in the high school hall of infamy by itself. but no, she was not yet done with her display of joy at the team's success. once she had 'pinched off her loaf' she knew, as we all do, that hygiene requires us all to clean our bottoms. but toilet tissue was not the solution she was looking for. instead, she decided it would be much better to continue her support of the team, and rub her dirty tushy on an upolstered chair in the motel room to 'clean up'.
all were shocked, i'm sure. but the party was nearing it's end. everyone went to sleep, this image etched in their drunken adolescent minds.
when morning broke, the witnesses of the preceeding nights events were sure that this couldn't have been real. it was a misunderstanding through the cheap-beer haze of youth. they checked the floor and there was no mess to be seen. a little feeling of relief came across them as they realized they must have imagined the whole episode. but it was short lived- someone remembered the chair.
it seems a guest of the party was diligent and brave enough to clean up the pile of pooh left on the floor. but there was just no way to get it off the chair. and so the proof was in the pudding, or upholstery in this case. yes it had been real, as evidenced by the feces ground into the chair.
and that is how this young lady garnered the glorious title of "party-pooper" ... folks, i couldn't make this stuff up!

First entry.

beginning a blog is alot like moving into a new apartment. "how should i decorate? what's the first thing i want to do in my new place?" are thoughts that may run through one's mind in either situation. i'm sort of a no frills kind of blogger. i don't feel the need to clutter up the place with gooey backgrounds of puppies or the beach (both of which are things i enjoy) and this carries over, i suppose, from my clean-lines-style of interior decorating. so you now see how my original simile relates the two in actual practice. following this line of simplistic style, you'll notice i'm not a big fan of capital letters. i don't really know why, i'm just not.
anyhoo, i decided to start keeping a blog for two reasons. first being that my friend aubre's blog posts have brought me so much joy i thought to myself "self," i thought "perhaps you could bring a touch of that same joy to some other nameless, faceless reader." and perhaps you are that nameless, faceless reader. secondly, weird and hysterical stuff happens in my life constantly. and i have a horrible memory, so i'm blogging selfishly as a journal of sorts.

so here is my first offering.
i was at work today. that by the way- work- is a very loosely used term. the summer in the glamorous world of evening gowns is deader than jon and kate gosselin's marriage, so i do alot of nothing. i was at work and decided to go to the chinese food store down the way to grab a beverage to accompany my lunch of two delicious soft pretzels, which are a bit of an obsession of mine. my place of employ has just re-opened after a two week hiatus during the summer dead spell. as i locked the door to head over to said asian cuisine establishment, i was greeted by a voice that sounded like it may have once belonged to a person. this is to say that this female who has smoked away any semblence of a once human existance called out to me from in front of the neighboring beauty supply store and what i can only imagine was her thirty-fifth cigarette break of the day.
this is not the first time i've seen this extraterrestrial carcinogenic lifeform. in fact, i'd sur-named her esther in my head some months back. i chose this name because this fried out troll could not possibly be named something glamorous and etherial like delicia, or even jane. no, she is an esther through and through. esther called out to me as i stood there key in hand just innocently in pursuit of a cool beverage to strip the thirst of this warm summer day, "hey," she cried, "you's guys still opened?" it was obvious to me that esther was no great literary buff by her gutteral use of what once resembled the english language. " 'Cause nobody's been there for like a couple few weeks" she went on. ' a couple few?' i wondered. is that even something the most deplorable of persons would say? "yes, well, we were closed for two weeks because the summer is our slow time" i offered to esther in a hope to include all pertainent information in one fell swoop and end our interaction.
"oh, you's guys ain't busy in the summer, 'cause we go crazy in the beauty supply."
well it was obvious what had be done. in order to get to the chinese restaurant that lay just a mere few yards past esther i needed to avoid eye contact, keep my answer brief and forge ahead. "Nope" i replied hoping to water down my standard 'no' into laymen's terms so she would understand what i meant. with that i brushed past esther and was nearly to the door of my targeted chinese restaurant when she called out once more,"well, if you got nuthin' goin' on in there, maybe i'll stop by and visit, cutie."
the nausea hit instantly. i pretended not to hear, an all but impossible task given she whispered at the volume of a drunken trucker cat-calling women from a rest stop on the interstate.
once inside i paid the young gaysian (gay asian) for a pepsi which he could not help but pronounce as a "pesi," the second p lost somewhere in his accent, and i tried not to vomit on my own feet.
i suppose esther was under the impression i was dining in, because as i mustered up the strength to walk back outside and face my niccotine polluted nemesis, i was saved. she had gone back to the craziness i was earlier informed that was summertime in the beauty supply. i dashed past back to my work, unlocked the door and now here i sit. she promised to visit. the wait begins...