Ow.

If you are a regular reader (and I’m totally judging you if you are), then you know a while back, I did a post with my New Year’s resolutions. My #1 resolution was to make friends with Jillian Michaels and do her 30 day shred program. My question is, how the hell can you be friends with someone when they are trying to fucking kill you?

Today was day one. Yeah, I know it’s February and it was a New Year’s resolution, but actually starting in January seems a little cliche. When I was finished I wasn’t sure if I was going to fall over or puke.

And it was the beginner workout.

And I didn’t use weights.

And I peed a little.

I will confess I’ve never watched The Biggest Loser & was expecting someone to be yelling at me the whole time, but she’s actually quite encouraging. I was doing fine until the end where she wanted me to do some kind of butterfly crossover fuck you up sit up. My arms wouldn’t lift off the ground, so I sat that one out, but that was my only cheat. The workout was great, I felt like a superhero for making it to the end.

Then I tried to come upstairs. I thought my Jell-o legs would give out, crash into the cat food on the landing and Alec would have to come gather up his urine soaked wife and pick the cat food out of my hair while I cried about how I didn’t give a shit about having nice abs.

But I made it upstairs.

The pee thing. What in the name of all that is holy is that about? I didn’t even have to pee, but every time Satan, I mean Jillian, had me doing jumping jacks, I peed. Purely the effect of pushing humans outta my area? Nothing says sexy like grabbing a pad to cover your incontinence before a workout – and yeah, I did the kegal exercises before, during and after each pregnancy. I had no idea working out would require adult diapers! I feel bad for Alec – if that’s how I’m rollin’ these days, it’s gotta be like throwing a pickle down a hallway.

I have to go to Wal-Mart now to get some Depends before tomorrow’s workout – and to tell the 20 year old girls with tight bodies that hang out in the cosmetic isle that they’re only 11 years away from wanting to puke & die on a basement carpet after a workout that will consist of their gunt flapping away on their thighs and pee running down their legs.

Then again, I should let them be surprised like I was.

Not At All Revolutionary

If you haven’t seen Revolutionary Road, but intend to – leave now. There’s loads of spoilers ahead.

I put this movie in the same class as The Break-Up. I can’t believe I wasted 2 hours of my life watching people abuse each other. There are 2 things I will give RR, Sam Mendes is a great director, and Thomas Newman did a fantastic job on the score. Those were the two threads that kept my attention. The story was ridiculous. The movie itself was slow, but instead of that process endearing the characters to me, I ended up wanting to smack the both of them. What a couple of whinny crybabies.

I will preface this scathing review by saying that I previously didn’t understand the appeal of Leo DiCaprio – but he’s growing on me. The whole Titanic phenomena was lost on me. I could not for the life of me figure out what Kate Winslet’s character saw in the androgynous waif boy Leo over Billy Zane. I was thrilled when the ship went down and something actually happened. Although Sam Mendes did a great job directing RR, I was hoping James Cameron would show up and blow up the 2 crybabies in a fantastic display carnage. Leo & Kate (Frank & April) completely embodied their characters, but I didn’t like either of them – I didn’t care about either of them.

I’m all for watching characters explore ways to enrich their lives and find fulfillment. These characters do neither. They explore various ways to undo the other under veiled excuses that it will make them happier. Both isolated in a suburban nightmare. We’ve all been there. When I have my head in the oven, scrubbing baked on apple pie and nothing seems to be going right, the first thought I have is “man, this sucks”. Not once have I thought “gee, I could totally go for some neighbour dick”. Maybe that’s just me & why my life isn’t a movie. And what is with April’s vagina? Two sex scenes and she gets both guys to come in about 11 seconds. What’s up there that’s so exciting? Glitter? Football? How very unsatisfying for her. You’d think having a fun vagina would be a good thing, turns out it makes you a depressed adulterous. But don’t jump all over April too fast, as Frank has been banging the office bicycle – a young girl sleeping her way to mediocrity. So, Frank and April really do deserve each other.

These two had everything we’re told we’re supposed to want. Good job, good wife, good house, good kids (one of each gender I believe). And yet they’re not happy. Is this supposed to surprise me? I’m supposed to feel bad for them because their diamond shoes pinch their toes? Come on! Take some responsibility for decisions.

Where in the hell were the 2 kids? For two people who despised each other, themselves, and their lives – we didn’t see much of the props that saddled them down so much.

The next time I’m tired of cleaning out the fridge, the toilets, diapers and various things that are a part of the job description I accepted, I will make a plan to move to Paris – evidently I am to suspend logical thinking that those are not worries over there. When the plan doesn’t come to fruition, I will have a grown up sized tantrum which will lead to my demise.

Maybe not. I don’t speak French anyway.

Funeral Pants

If you know me, you know that I believe You’ve Got Mail to be a cinematic masterpiece. I’m pretty sure Alec would rather sit through an Ishtar marathon – but I love it. There is a scene where Kathleen is sitting in Fox Books schooling the awkward sales guy about the “shoe books“. I was reminded of the scene when I was sitting alone on a Walmart bench trying on shoe after shoe, wondering why no one has written Funeral Shoes? There’s all kinds of self-help books to help you get through loss emotionally, ways to help you learn to cope with loss, but I’ve never come across a book that walks you through the practical steps of what happens to your life after unexpected loss. Kids need to be fed and cuddled. Groceries still need to be bought. Bills need to be paid. Life for others still carries on, and in grief we still have to meet those obligations.

I abandoned my quest for shoes and moved on to clothes. Sweet, sweet Lord. I went to several stores and ended up at Walmart. That’s what happens when you’re forced by life’s obligations to wait until the night before to find something to wear – then again, it’s not like there was a lot of lead time to get ready. I ended up in a change room in tears because I was wearing what I can only call a mumu. Black & white & wrong all over. I don’t usually cry over clothes, but fuck, it was an Anthony Worhol zebra filled nightmare – and pretty much all they had that was close to appropriate. Why not wear something that’s in my closet? Well, let’s just say that the clothes I own that would be appropriate were purchased 2 babies ago. Things have happened to my body which were not anticipated. It was in that changeroom that I decided I just had to embrace my gunt and buy a pair black pants slacks. Funeral Pants. Size fucking 14. Ouch. I also bought the gunt-sucker-in granny ginch that my mom used to wear. The kind that if you had a stick you could fancy a tampon sling shot in a couple of seconds. It also has the ability to shove out the fat that it cannot contain out of the top and bottom – kinda like like a reverse sausage. I bought it in black – that makes it sexy, right?

For other important events in life, there’s warning. You have months to plan for a wedding, baby celebrations, anniversary parties. The hardest is funerals – and you’re on a time crunch. I was overwhelmed just finding something to wear – I don’t know how the people who did the actual planning got through.

As you know, Alec recently lost his dear friend Bruce, who truly was a kindred spirit to Alec for more than a decade. I was not prepared for how the loss of Bruce would impact me. Even today, I find myself thinking that somehow there was a horrific mistake and any time now the phone will ring and Bruce will say “Dude, you’ll never guess what happened!”. But yesterday afternoon was Bruce’s wake, memorial service, celebration of life.

Funeral.

So many people came that they were lined up out in the hallway listening to the service. Somehow all of us being there, together, agreeing to this terrible thing has made it real. I tried to be strong for Alec. Huge fail on that one. I cried before we sat down to the time we got back in the car. I was embarrassed because I don’t have soap opera tears. I’m blotchy and puffy, snotty & totally forgot to bring my sunglasses. Then I realized I was most certainly not alone. My 3 kleenexes were stretched beyond what they were created to absorb.

Yesterday marked the end of the planning after loss part. So much work and effort went into the service. It was beautiful, heart wrenching & tasteful. Alec was involved in some of the planning & helped where ever he could, he got a new suit. His first real suit. Bruce would get a kick out of the fact that Alec bought his first suit to bid him goodbye. It is a great suit.

I intend to burn my Funeral Pants. Never again will I be caught in a change room without options for a loved one’s service because of the size of my ass. I am the only one who knew or cared about my pants, considering the gravity of the day, it’s completely insignificant. It was a wake up call to me that I need to begin exercising some self control and find myself again. I didn’t expect that lesson out of all of this.

So onward we all march, trying to figure out what the new normal is going to feel like…

without B.

Mentors

When Alec and I started dating in 2001, he was an apprentice under a composer named Bruce. They were scoring a children’s television show called Mentors. I remember thinking that my boyfriend had the coolest job. I worked in the financial industry doing cheque returns - not so glamorous. I was dating someone who not only loved their job, but it was their chosen profession. And he’d been doing it for several years at that point. I was barely into a full-time job & had a hard time committing to groceries, let alone a career.

It didn’t take long before I realized how much effort and pride went into Alec’s work – although my apartment was blocks away from the studio, there were very late nights and stretches of time that I didn’t see Alec much. Some of our early dates either began at 11pm when Alec finished work or I went to the studio to bring him dinner.

During one of my late night visits to the studio I met Bruce.

At 6 foot 5, he filled the doorway. His voice is kind. A voice with the ability to take over a room, but choses not to. Bruce dresses a little bit like James Bond. Of course when I see him, we are usually at events and he wears a suit. But it is a really nice suit. Bruce’s eyes tell you that when you speak, he really listens. The kind of eyes that don’t look away.

I loved going to see Alec at the studio. When I sat in Bruce’s chair, my feet didn’t touch the ground. There’s pictures of his wife and daughter around the rig. He was so excited when we got married and even more so when we got pregnant.

I remember the day Bruce met our daughter, Alec was no longer Bruce’s apprentice, he had his own studio up and running by then. Emmy was about a month old and her tiny head fit into the palm of Bruce’s hand. Bruce and his lovely wife Diana are parents to little Sophia, so when Alec entered into the world of Daddyhood, Bruce was a great source of information - kernels of knowledge of how our lives were going to change. The love for Diana and Sophia is clear every time he speaks of them.

It’s been one week. Seven days. I was loading the dishwasher and Alec came upstairs to tell me something awful had happened. Bruce was in the hospital in Vancouver. He had suffered cardiac arrest. I seriously cannot believe I just typed those words. My gut said to not worry. That everything would be fine. He was where he needed to be – a hospital and they would take care of him. He’d come home and tell us all about it. Over the next few hours, it became clear from the updates we were getting that things were far worse than I anticipated.

Thirty three hours passed between that dishwasher call and the call to let us know he didn’t make it. The man who was the biggest influence on Alec’s career was gone. I found myself reading to Emmy at nap time and breaking down because little Sophia will never hear her Daddy read to her again. That Alec’s work line won’t ring with the latest amusing story that when relayed to me, would either make me burst out laughing or roll my eyes. That never again would I see my favourite James Bond pour me a glass of wine at the next function. And then my heart nearly exploded for Diana. 

We had to explain to Emmy why we were so sad. Her reply was “Don’t worry, Booce not gone – he just died”. Who knew a three year old would be so wise and have the exact words to say to comfort her Daddy?

It is somehow fitting that when I met Bruce, the project he was working on was Mentors as that is exactly what he was to Alec. Hundreds of TV episodes and commercials, thousands of minutes of music. Bruce and Alec had a connection. They were more than colleagues, more than friends. I think Jann Arden said it best when she said “Maybe Jesus needed a piano player”.

Say not in grief: “He is no more”,

but live in thankfulness that he was.

Bruce Leitl 1963 – 2010

Greatly, greatly missed.

A Day To Celebrate

Is it weird that I didn’t do a post on Jesus’ birthday but I am posting on Elvis’ birthday? Never noticed this but both of those names are 5 letters long and end with “s”. I’m just sayin’.

Anyway, today The King (not Jesus) would have been 75. Seventy Five. I was born just after he died – at 42. Forty Two. So if you do the math, I’ve been a fan for 33 years (I think I was a fan prenatal, but can’t say for sure, so let’s just count from birth). Thirty Three (now I just have to write out the numbers for consistensy sake). Did you know 33 was an important number to Walt Disney? Yep. Haven’t eaten at Club 33, but as soon as my career takes off in rural Alberta, I’m sure I’ll make the cut.

Evidently I have the attention span of a 13 year old boy in health class.

Elvis. Riiight. January 8th. I’m sure there will be hours of his stellar movies playing on TCM today. As soon as I can rip Cinderella out of the DVD player, I’ll be checking that one. A dear friend of mine delivered her baby girl this morning. I am so totally jealous happy for their little one who will get to celebrate on Elvis’ birthday. I was born in November. I share a birthday with ‘Ol Dirty Bastard & Chad Fucking Kroeger. Yah. To top that off, my birthstone is topaz. Really? It looks like pee.

Happy birthday Elvis. And all you lucky bastards born today – you know who you are.

Ring A Ding Ding

So, how did you ring in the new year? Hopefully you feel refreshed & not at all frazzled and worn out from holiday events. 

We had a great Christmas. Santa brought Emmy a honk-butt of Thomas the Train stuff – she was so excited. And I love that my baby girl chose a toy that her little brother can play with when he gets older. What a thoughtful little lady. By the end of the holidays, we figured we’d had about 80 folks through our home – including Santa, who is in the pic below with Jude. Although we had a fun time with family and friends, now that the tree has been put away for another year (thanks Babe), I am thankful to have my house back. I am also thankful that Statler & Waldorf are back home – three hours away. Their visit was downright exhausting.

And now we are into 2010. Hmm. A whole fucking decade has passed since I’ve done Jell-o shots. How is that possible? Not that I miss turning my tongue blue, quite the opposite. I’ve heard of some chicks drinking entire bottles of Disaronno & taking drunken rides up & down elevators while groping their token gay friends. Okay, so it was me. But that was like, a wicked long time ago, yo. Anyway, we rang in the new year at home, with another couple – quietly so the kiddies wouldn’t wake up. What a difference a decade makes.

So I guess now is the time for resolutions? I will admit, that I don’t think I’ve ever made a resolution before. Why the hell start now? Or maybe it’s that I make little resolutions every day & if I survive the day, then I’m a success? I don’t know.

Here’s where I am at today & it will probably change before I sleep tonight.

1. I need to play nice & be friends with Jillian Michaels. I’ve had her DVD since Hallowe’en. It’s been on the counter, the floor, our bedroom and the bottom of Emmy’s toy box…everywhere but the DVD player.

2. I need to work on having more patience with Statler & Waldorf. Yah. That’s a toughie. Five minutes into Christmas morning, I was informed my floor looked like I hadn’t cleaned it since 1988 & that my kids are spoiled. I admit that as of late, my patience with them can be lacking. I sometimes find myself being snappy to those comments. The little girl who just absorbed it is so fuuuucking tired & sometimes just needs a break. However, that won’t happen, so only my response to their behaviour can change. They are who they are and if it weren’t for this blog where I can vent, I’d be smoking again. Having a smoke after they’d leave our place (they didn’t know I smoked so I’d have to wait until they were gone to go outside) was the reward for not losing my cool during a visit. Getting through their visits without a vice is like swimming with alligators while covered in meat. So I guess I need to suck it up.

3. 1996 called and as it turns out, Amanda Marshall wants her hair back. I need to figure out what to do with the giant afrotastic tresses that spew from my head. If I keep going down this road, you should buy stocks in hair product.

4. Writing. I really do like blogging. It’s a little weird to think people I actually know read this – and then come back. I am so not qualified to have any kind of following. I also see other bloggers who talk about how they are outlining their posts and preparing future posts. What? I just sit down and type out the crap that falls from my brain, run through spell check & click publish. There are methods folks use to have a successful blog. That’s probably something I should look at.

5. Work. I am a Consultant for Creative Memories. Man, I loooove digital scrapbooking. Over the last couple of months I have worked on learning my software and having a blast doing it. When I heard about “digital scrapbooking”, I had about as much interest in it as watching Paris Hilton give a motivational speech. However, the payoff is remarkable. I am a complete digital convert - the only limits I have hit is my imagination. Now feel like I have tools to help others create beautiful pages they will cherish for years to come & make unforgettable gifts for their loved ones. My legacy to my kids is to tell the story of their childhood through their scrapbooks. Don’t let your babies grow up to be jpegs.

I also started Consulting for Scentsy. Awesomeness for my nostrils. I loooove their scents & my house smells awesome. I am loving the scent Mochadoodle – makes my house smell like yummy food without me having to bake anything – which will help with number 1.

If anyone has advice on how to run 2 successful home businesses while raising 2 mungacakes, I’m willing to listen!

6. Now I’ll round out the 5 resolutions with a number 6 – the resolution I’ll love to break. Stop lusting after strange celebs. Luckily, I have a fantastic husband who knows I’m just a silly girl & wouldn’t actually run off with Dean Winchester.

This post is pretty much a mess. I tried to go deep with my resolutions – which came out neither funny or serious. Oh well. What are your resolutions?

Entirely certifiable

I should tell you why finding our wedding video was on our to-do list. On Sunday, Alec & I will celebrate 6 years of matrimony. We love Christmas and having a Christmas wedding was a no brainer. Following our wedding we were exhausted & swore the rest of our Christmases would be spent relaxing with each other, enjoying the holiday magic.

That statement shows how brain deficient we were at the time.

We were one of the first in our groups of friends to get married. We learned things. Like, the bride & groom should be mic’ed or the whirring sound of the beer cooler will drown out your vows. Make sure you have an iron clad contract with your caterer or they might serve dinner 3 hours late bring only one staff member who is dressed like a painted lady of the night and then run out of food while your uncles are washing dishes like man men so you don’t find out there’s no one there to wash. Don’t have an open mic for speeches or someone might bring up the fact that they met you in a strip club which will lead the groom’s grandmother to believe you were a stripper. Those are the things that could go wrong. What went right? We got married. Our officient was my 3rd grade teacher & it was the perfect day. I have a wine stained dress to prove it – which I’ve never washed.

We don’t exchange gifts, because it’s so close to Christmas, but we try to go out on an actual date. And not talk about the kids. I would also like to have sex in the CRV – that’s the 6th year gift isn’t it? Anyway before we can get to the festivities of the matrimonial bed, there’s a Christmas bash to throw.

One day to our annual Christmas party. Every year I say I’m not doing it and every year I do. Alec & I came to an agreement this year - he’s working like a crazy person up until gift opening on Christmas day so my stipulation for the party was that I wouldn’t have to cook. So, food is ordered & ready for pick up tomorrow. Now I just have to clean up the house and get the little things ready. Oh yah, and to top off the cheesiness that is us, Alec will be playing the part of Santa to the dozen or so kids that will be here. Provided the effing costume shows up today. I’m sure it will. I’m sure it will. 

So in calculating the numbers, I realized we have 40-ish people attending. Holy crap. This year will most certainly be over the top (did I mention I’m not cooking?!). I most certainly will be enjoying spirits! So honey, in case I forget on Sunday, I love you. Please don’t take pictures of me when I’m hung over.

Love this pic because it looks like I have cleavage. Thank you Lily & hockey tape for making that happen!

We look like we have the world by the ass in this one – we actually have no clue. Also, we look much older now!

Love you babe – thanks for getting older looking with me!

If I Could Turn Back Time

It probably bears mentioning that I arguably have terrible taste in music. I won’t defend it, it is what it is & rocks my world. Here’s the rules to following the Not So Irreverent School of Rock.

1. Elvis is the number one all time best singer living or dead – not negotiable.

2. If you are a gay artist, or have a large gay fanbase - you’re in.

That’s it.

I don’t really need to bring up George (again), but please don’t call, text, holler, or expect any kind of response while I’m watching Live In London, as I will be tied up with that washroom loving freak show.

And I love Cher. With an unhealthy devotion. I grew up watching Sonny & Cher reruns (as I wasn’t alive when the show actually aired). Statler & Waldorf were hip up until the 70’s, which is where they somehow got stunted, so the Sonny & Cher comedy hour, along with the Smothers Brothers and the Lawrence Welk show were high on rotation in our house. Statler & Waldorf were actually cool until they left the house – I realized in junior high school that other parents didn’t wear green eye shadow or lesuire suits. Also, other moms didn’t call hairspray “spray-net” and other moms let their daughters use hairspray, or any hair products for that matter. Anyway, although I turned out quasi normal, some things were just embedded in the inner most parts of my brain tissue. Like Cher. And the need to clean when angry – but that’s another story.

The first time I saw Cher live, she was here in Calgary. Alec, God bless him, went with me. We had floor seats & although they weren’t fantastic, I was in the same room as Cher – along with 16,994 drag queens and 3 middle aged women and 2 husbands. It was awesome. Alec didn’t know she had such a huge gay following – must’ve missed all the cues on Will & Grace. At one point he asked me if the guys along the hockey penalty box might be gay, I felt the rolled up short shorts & beer with straws gave them away. Also, the 6′5″ woman in front of us with feathers in her hair and adam’s apple might’ve been a clue as to who truly loves Cher. It was fantastic.

When I heard Cher was doing Vegas, I ran to Alec like a junkie needing a fix. The look on his face was slightly pained & he said “please don’t make me go”. Um, okay, I’ll go to Vegas with a friend and you stay with Emmy for 3 days (Jude was but a glimmer then). So that’s what I did. Again, pure awesomeness. The glitter confetti guns at the end of the show had me pulling sparkles out of my ass for no less than a week & I began planning how to make my own clothes out of mesh & duct tape -which I’ll get on right after I finish that Jillian Michael’s 30 day shred thing.

You need to know this history before I tell you what has happened…

Someone may have taped a Cher concert over our wedding video.

I won’t say who, but there’s a good chance she gives good head. A lot.

And yes, it was the only copy in existence.

Here’s to digging through more boxes to see if perhaps it was mislabeled.

One Month…tick, tick, tick.

Christmas is my favourite time of year. I have fantastic memories of Christmases past. I knew as a little girl that I wanted to get married at Christmas time and on December 20th, Alec & I will celebrate 6 years of wedded bliss – well, probably a combined total of 3 years of bliss interrupted by relationship growing pains and learning tolerance for each other…but those moments are rewarded by more bliss.

I’m nauseating myself.

Back to Christmas. It’s in one month. I’ve started the shopping, tomorrow we start the decorating…I need to figure out when I will be baking – won’t be a grand haul of baked goods as in years gone by, but it will be enough to keep guests and Santa happy.

One of our Christmas traditions is watching movies. As much as I love watching classic movies like “An American In Paris” - which I can recite line by line because I’m that corny, when it comes to Christmas, I’m not that refined. Here’s my top 5 Christmas movies – in no order as I actually can’t put a value on them.

1. A Christmas Story. I wish I had nephews to send pink bunny costumes to. And I want a leg lamp.

Seriously.

2. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Any Christmas movie with the line “Bend over & I’ll show you” is an automatic winner for us. Plus, when we have a bigger house, I know Alec’s new nickname is going to be Sparky – I’ll have the town’s emergency vehicles standing by to catch him when he falls off the roof with his staple gun. Also, it probably bears mentioning that I’ve had a serious crush on Chevy Chase probably since I saw him in The Three Amigos when I was 10 – and I learned what a plethora was.

3. Mickey’s Christmas Carol. That Scrooge McDuck gets me every time.

4. It’s a Wonderful Life. Probably the only true classic, but I really, really, love Jimmy Stewart – and although I love him best in Harvey, he is great as George Bailey. Another bonus with this flick is that Statler doesn’t get it. She watched it for the first time last year & thought it was boring – the moral of the story was completely lost on her. While living in California I think Jimmy’s house was the only picture I took on the celebs house circut….well also Jeff Goldblume’s house but that’s another story – he has a nice green Jag & buys his toilet paper at Costco.

5. A Charlie Brown Christmas. It’s hard to find a Christmas special or movie these days that have anything to do with Jesus. This one is fantastic. I love Mr. Schulz.

And honourable mention goes to Love Actually, just because I do love chick flicks and Alan Rickman is in it. I am sure that if velvet had a voice it would be that of Alan Rickman.

I also think I should get a gold star for not using any fuck words in this post.

Shit.

People of West Edmonton Mall?

Screw People of Walmart. They have nothing on the people in West Edmonton Mall. We braved the mall on Saturday with Statler & Waldorf in tow. There aren’t many scenarios in which those two aren’t the odd people out (Waldorf asked our Tony Roma’s waitress if she spelled her name, Melissa, with 2 “s”es & Statler wore green eye shadow). However, West Ed is a place where you can let your freak flag fly.

First off, the parking. Obviously going this close to Christmas, parking is going to be at a premium – which we expected. BUT if you park your piece of shit Saturn in two frigging parking spaces because you’re in too much of a hurry to spend your money that you can’t park like a regular person – you’re a douchebag. Getting 2 kids out of the car, then pulling our vehicle into a spot is super fun. Even better was leaving when 2 cars decided they both wanted our spot. We purposely left in a way to let the person who was there first get our spot. Douchebag number 87 of the day decided that meant he should just lean on his horn for a minute or so. I hope he ended up parking illegally and got a towed. 

Secondly. It would be great for those of us who are shopping if you put just a slight amount of effort in to getting ready for your day. Like perhaps running a comb through your hair – I know that may be too much to ask in this Robert Pattison era of bad hair love (while I’m on that subject, my only enjoyment of Robert comes from him being the only person on the planet who is paler than myself), but it should look like if you ran your hand through it you wouldn’t need the jaws of life to have your hand removed. Also, it would be great if you could get dressed. Who came up with this shopping in pajamas bullshit? Seriously? Your life is so busy that you can’t get fucking dressed? C’mon!

The Statler & Waldorf visit in of itself went off strangely well. Not many awkward conversations. The parent/child relationship shift is beginning though. I do find myself wanting to say “you’re going to eat, it’s going to be good and I don’t want to hear about it anymore!”. We had lunch at the aforementioned rib place & for Statler and Waldorf, that was their last meal of the day. It was 1:30 pm. They had a piece of cake in the evening & that was dinner. And we wonder why we suffer from fainting spells. Alec and I felt it was an opportune time to gross them out and have sushi for supper. Yah, that’s the daughter in me. I’m not a huge sushi fan, but if it’s going to gross out Statler & Waldorf, then of course I’m going to eat it. Spite. That’s how I roll.

But, all in all, a successful trip. Statler has taken to calling Jude “Mooshy Mooshy” & “Judy”, which is super because now Emmy calls him Judy & Mooshy Mooshy. Loudly. On Sunday we went to another mall & Dad offered to help the staff at the Wok restaurant in the food court cook the noodles because they were taking too long to make his lunch – I went and waited in line at Arby’s. Just based on their behaviour at restaurants when I’m with them, I’m pretty sure we’ve eaten snot on more than on occasion. On the up side, I found 2 really cute sweaters & joined the Bootlegger club…it might be a cult. 

Of course I’ve been agonizing over what to get Statler and Waldorf for Christmas. They each have enough perfume/cologne for a cheap hooker & lounge lizard to live happily ever after, so that’s out. Neither of them read. Or have hobbies. They don’t eat. They don’t like people. I’m taking suggestions.

When I asked if they’d booked their hotel for Christmas & the answer was “no, we’re not coming at Christmas, the hotel is too expensive and we don’t want to drive”, I came up with the brilliant plan of them using some of the bajillion Avion points for their hotel. I am seriously the only daughter on earth who has to invite her parents to join us for Christmas and insist they come! It was like I was convincing them to come to a screening of my last gynecological visit. Visit confirmed this morning – December 25 and 26th thanks to Avion, hotel costs zero bucks. I doubt they’ll fly down, but we’ll see how the roads are that week. So for Christmas, I’m giving my kids the gift of both grandparents. I still have to buy them presents? Crap.

This week is going well, totally packed. Going to be making my Christmas cards tonight.

While the business of planning for Christmas has begun, check out my friend Liza’s new iPhone/iPod app – it will help you keep everything straight, it’s awesome!