farewell 2007

Linda's sent out her end of the year meme missive and I must join in! I am a follower, not a leader, especially if Linda's at the helm. Here goes:

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?
I performed my one minute comedy routine in front of 70 complete strangers.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Stand-up as my only real resolution and I did it! Gold star for me!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Thankfully, no.

5. What countries did you visit?
Just the United States and Targetstan.

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
Sense of moral turpitude.

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
5/8 - my son turned ONE!
6/23 - I started a brand-new jobby job.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I helped plan and execute a 250 person gala for my work. We bought a house(!).

9. What was your biggest failure?
I did not read enough this year.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Just the cold that is wracking my body right now.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
My Canon EOS 30D camera along with the 430EX Speedlite and 24-105 L lens. Worth every penny.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My husband.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Every parent who was shocked that their children fell over in foam Bumbo seats. Britney Spears makes over 700K a month and she wears a weave. My ever-expanding knowledge of this celebrity trivia also saddens me.

14. Where did most of your money go?
My house, camera, and child. Especially the child--he is not self-sustaining!

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
This is the first time I've ever been truly excited about the holidays. We're in our new house this year and we don't have neighbors banging on the wall and telling us not to sing to our son after 7PM.

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?
Yeasayer's 2080 was on repeat.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?
A) Happier B) the same weight C) I make more money but I have more bills, so it evens out.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Traveling.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Eating out.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
We drove 50 miles and celebrated it with friends. My brother bought a roasted 60-lb pig and no one thought my suggestion to put it in a car seat for a photo op was very funny. Come on! It would fit! The Britax holds up to 65 pounds!

21. Did you fall in love in 2007?
I fall in love with my husband and son more every day. And that's why I am going to have a career in writing movies for the Lifetime Network.

22. What was your favorite TV program?
I really liked Pushing Daisies, LOST, and CSI Miami.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
I don't think I hated Rachael Ray as much as I do this year.

24. What was the best book you read?
I re-read The Great Gatsby and it reminded me how much I love mint juleps.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Yeasayer.

26. What did you want and get?
I wanted to move out of the tiny hovel apartment and I did. Into a hizzouse!

27. What did you want and not get?
The Nintendo Wii. I'm trying to convince Mike that it'd be a great workout and it would help with my love of double vowels.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Knocked Up.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 24 and my husband took me out to an Italian restaurant. We then spent the rest of the night watching Sopranos DVDs.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A plane ticket to Saipan.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
A What Not to Wear candidate.

32. What kept you sane?
My son's laugh, my husband and blogging.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Bear Grylls.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
This war we are embroiled in and how much good the money we've spent could have done.

35. Who did you miss?
My sister Bobbie and all of her children.

36. Who was the best new person you met?
I met Ashley and her adorable sons as well as Linda's son Riley. I also met Drew. And grrltraveler!

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.
The world will not end if you are five minutes late.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

From Yeasayer's 2080, "I can't sleep when I think about the future I was born into."

Mona's Year in Review

Ah, 2007, my friend. You were a good year to me. Like remember when we had the Tila Tequila Drinking Game in which we had to take a shot whenever Tila said, "I'm a bisexual"? You knew how to have a good time, 2007. Let's hope 2008 is just as fun as you are, and even more of a riot than 2006.

Here's a rundown of my favorite posts, videos, and pictures from these exciting, expensive and exhausting 365 days. Thanks for reading.

I wouldn't say my vagina is adorable.



Am I really too fat to help fight against cancer?

I got a job! A paying job! With benefits! Break out the exclamation points, who's expressing strong feelings now, playa!





Sorry, dear husband. You're really savoring the meat section from Safeway, not the soul of Tenochtitlan.

I felt like I was back in my short-story writing class with the idiot, who smoked pot in the woods and got water for his bong from a puddle, explaining that the robots added to the "dream of fiction."



I don't know what's more awkward to hear, a bad writer admitting she's a bad writer and bringing it up a notch with a compliment that makes no sense or being recognized as having secured the advancement of man. I seemed a lot smarter when my mouth was full of cheese.



"...half of Nathan's room is our office, so when I tell you that his nursery theme is Microsoft Word, I'm not kidding..."

There are few things in life more embarrassing than contemplating, "How big is my ass that a call from under it would include roaming charges?"



My pants are so big, they're like two windsocks sewn together. I've gotten offers from used car lots to borrow my conical leggings so they attach it to a high powered fan and turn it into one of those air-blown balloon attractions used to attract customers.



Resolved: Double strollers are cool and baby number 2 may be evil

Granted, if you've had a camera examining your crevices for a few hours, then you have every right to announce the amount of pain. But not in front of me, dude, especially when I'm waiting for my husband who may or may not have cancer. Let's get all Depeche Mode and enjoy the silence, mmmkay?





I'll clarify with this: my relationships on Saipan were tainted with "who the hell were you talking to" arguments.

If I'm already unsatisfied with the state of my breasts, why would I want them in a larger size? It would just be more of boobs I don't like.

And in a neighborly way, I offered, "If we make too much noise, let us know because none of the people staying there before ever said anything." But what I should have said is this, "NEVER let us know if we make too much noise."



I tried to think up a sexy way to say, "Let's not go into the bedroom yet. I have to find the airpump first."

Women in their 20s don't have minds of their own; they don't gain wisdom until menopause!



Fat and gassy: does that sound glamorous to you, Stacy Ferguson?

He shuffled into his house and shut the door behind him and if I could have struck him down just with dirty looks alone, he wouldn't have made it to the porch.

Have you ever heard that phrase? Butter face? Like in, "Everything about her was fine but-her-face?"



I'm trying to think of a witty name to call the escrow idiots. Es-hoes? Doesn't work. That sounds like I'm dissing some latinas. Break out the cervezas 'cause es hoes esta aqui! Note to self: must hone biting comments, need not be bilingual.

If someone had told me two years ago, "Mona, don't spend $171 on MAC makeup because you'll need that money for your unborn child," I would have said, "You shut your mouth with that baby talk. They're offering FREE SHIPPING!"



I guess this is what they mean when they say there are a lot of boobs in Washington

Truth is, I'll never be able to begin a sentence with, “I was shopping at Nordstorm’s the other day…”



But what they did instead was draw some acid-trip math equation, some circles that look like butts and initials.

After watching the Sopranos series finale last night, I have one question for David Chase: Um, the hell?



...what kind of woman waits in a parking lot until 9PM for a car that may or may not show up? (Answer: streetwalker!)

She asked me once, "So, do you WAWK?" And I said yes because I wasn't sure if she had asked me if I walk or if I work because yes, I work and to get to my work, I call upon my mobility.

I can just imagine sharing with my moms group how I had paced the toy aisle at Target, and how it was between the penis and the Sit-to-Stand Giraffe and as you can see, the wang definitely won out.



only comic standing



Happy Indepants Day!

On the weekends, we have custody of my mother.



When I was 13, I committed the requisite teen errors in judgment such as the time I decided to show off the new dance move I learned from MTV's The Grind which in retrospect, should have been called, "The Slutty Limbo."

When I was pregnant, I shared my wish for our unborn child with Mike: "I hope he has your eyes and my brain."

A letter to my teenage self



the customer is always right, unless it's my mother

I can't talk with my foot in my mouth

I celebrate my alma mater through a variety of UW-emblazoned sweatshirts, t-shirts and single bumper sticker. But my husband? He paints the inside of our garage purple and gold.

"It's not 'who can pee now.' It's 'who can it be now.'"

"Of course I'm not pregnant!" The minute I said that, the voice of God bellowed, "Hello, Mona? Did you know denial is a river in Egypt? Just some geography trivia for you!"



Even if I said, "Well, sometimes I drop him off at the taco truck on the corner," they'd say, "Oh that's great. He'll be able to order burritos in Spanish! HOLLA! I mean, HOLA!"

I need a mother who still has stories about debauchery and no-gag reflex victories and geez, would they get off Britney's back already?



I told Mike last night, "I would like to have another baby. But it doesn't have to be with you."

this is what you get when you marry me

This afternoon was the first time for me to experience the magic that is the Hot Doctor.



In which I stared at a lot of boobs but in a non-lesbonic way, though there's nothing wrong with that 'cause, hey, everyone experiments freshman year

Children, did you know that all Africans are all about their hair! Yes, it's true! There was also a civil war over a coke bottle that fell from the sky! Also true!



there was much swearing when this happened

I opted for the Mirena IUD instead of the copper version after hearing so many stories about copper wire theft. It's desperate times, people!



Because kissing is a gateway to whoring and whoring is a gateway to blogging. About whoring.

On Iowa and why I can't take narcotics

I want the space and freedom to freak out. I want to have the ability to tell someone there’s something wrong but we’re working on it.



We're raising a homeless man. What's that? Your son is going to be a doctor? My son is going to be a transient.

can he hear me now?



Two more life lessons from Tupac: 1) how to make a dollar out of fifteen cents and 2) California sounds a lot cooler if you pronounce it "Californ-i-a."

Why I refuse to watch Desperate Housewives



mona, interrupted

hog heaven

hog heaven
Originally uploaded by hello insomnia.

Chris Christmas Rodriguez

Yesterday I went to the mall.

It was the absolute worst day to venture into retail hell because I'm sure the 20,000 other people there were thinking, "If I shop today, at least I won't be the jerkface who waited until Christmas eve to buy gifts, and at least I'll be better than Mona who didn't buy her husband a gift last year until CHRISTMAS DAY and had to resort to whatever the only drug store open had left!"

I would have told each person passing by with his beady judgmental eyes that, "HEY! My husband loved his $30 Visa gift card, paperback copy of Running With Scissors and Planters Mixed Nuts: Special Christmas Cashew Edition!"

All Mike wanted was a jean jacket which (spoiler alert!) none of the stores carried! I shuffled through the masses with my son's body hanging out of the stroller, his blanket catching in the plastic Graco tires. I swooped in and out of congested stores, flagging any employee down who would look at me. Again and again, I heard, "No, we do not carry jean jackets for men. Why don't you check out the S.E. Hinton Outlet where the Greasers line is 70% off?" As I was exiting the Gap, I caught a glimpse in the mirror of what these employees must have seen: a frizzy-haired woman suffering from face Ebola.

I did finally find the jacket tucked in a warren of men's sportswear racks. I dropped the Seahawks sweatshirt and cap I had settled on and grabbed my denim prize. Sorry, retail employees, maybe if you weren't so afraid of my face Ebola, I would have put them back where they belonged.



I spent about one dollar on this gift for Nathan. I've been noticing a surge in classic Fisher-Price gift nods and luckily, I found this Fisher-Price Chatter Telephone at a thrift store. I picked up an armful of books and small toys and left spending only $6.24. That's all I spent on Nathan's Christmas presents.

Nathan's small vocabulary doesn't include phrases like "Halo 3" or "BUY THIS ELMO NOW WOMAN!" If Nathan ever gives me that kind of smack talk, I'll have to call Chris Christmas Rodriguez. He'll know what to do:


(Thanks Branan!)

Merry Christmas, my dear internet friends!

heroes in a half shell

This weekend, I ate oysters for the first time.



My brother told me that I was to slurp it out of the shell. Nathan's over there thinking, "Oh this is going to be good!"



But it was stuck!



My slurping powers failed!



And then they worked, but I wasn't as happy with the results.

in which I make someone else's wedding all about me

My very pregnant friend Kim married her beau Sean yesterday. I offered to take pictures because that's what friends with dSLRs do, along with stepping in before you drunkenly resurrect the "raise the roof" arm pump on the dance floor.

I was jittery walking into the courtroom because 1) we were late thanks to someone who didn't drive aggressively and whose name ends in "usband" and 2) HOLY HARRY POTTER THIS IS A WEDDING! CONTROL YOUR PARKINSON'S FOR ONE NIGHT WOULD YOU? I don't think I could handle wedding photography until I had some mortal kombat shaolin photography training. I don't deal with confrontation very well, especially when it's from some mega-bride who will find out that I didn't set the exposure correctly and will use her superupper cut to my torso along with some cheating moves she downloaded off the internet until her bridal party yells, "FINISH HER!"

Luckily, my friend Kim is a sweet woman who never played Mortal Kombat and appreciated the photos I did take.



Requisite maternity heart.



I never went to a prom, but I've heard they stand like this. Rumor has it, couples dance awkwardly to Journey ballads and get into crazy booze-filled shenanigans that inspire pop-culture lines like, "DONNA MARTIN GRADUATES!"



Nathan was there for the ice cream. He was confused because unlike his usual fare of sugar-free popsicles, ice cream has no structure.



He didn't care. He pwned that sucka.



Then the sugar high pwned him.

in which I attempt to grow a pair

My bank account's back to normal, thanks to several exhausting phone calls in which I had to listen to interminable Josh Groban ballads or Christmas muzak until the customer service drone came back after talking to her "team leader." I don't think she ever talked to her team leader. She probably put me on hold, finished a couple more Sudoku puzzles and then huffed a, "There's nothing we can do, ma'am," which was customer service speak for "Lady, why don't you grow a d**k and suck on it?"

And during this call, I said, "Fine. I'll just call back then," which was customer speak for, "Thanks for being so succinct! I've been saying, 'Why don't you sprout a penis and perform fellatio on yourself?' But that's too many words!"

in which my husband and son arrive home 97 minutes late

Me: Where were you?!?

Mike: We went to the pool.

Me: I thought you two were dead! I thought I was going to receive a picture of you holding up today's newspaper, or you were going to call me and tell me to meet you at a warehouse and then when I got there and walked in, you would say, "No! Mona, it's a trap!"

Mike: Um...sorry to disappoint you?

Random x 7

I was tagged by Crystal about seven years ago which makes sense since this is all about seven things.

1. I used to watch Unsolved Mysteries religiously. I desperately wanted something mysterious and--wait for it--unsolved to happen to me. Sadly, I have never seen an apparition, or found a love letter tucked in a book and reunited two lost lovers. I didn't have a thing for Robert Stack, if that's what you're thinking. Robert Stack is way too young for me. I bet he still has all his teeth and hasn't had a major joint replaced. Move aside, young Bobby. I need someone who graduated in '06. 1906. Wassup my octogenarians!

2. For my eighth grade graduation, my mom bought me a pager. All the cool kids had pagers proudly clipped these beeping bricks onto their rolled up jean shorts. Unlike all the cool kids, no one actually paged me, save for the guy who liked me and whom I bossed into paging me whenever I was in public.

3. My favorite Christmas movie is Home Alone, followed closely by Home Alone 2.

4. I have difficulty spelling "obsessed," and "restaurant."

5. I can wiggle my ears.

6. I have a bad habit of quoting The Office to people who do not watch The Office. No wonder they're put-off when I say, "Green is a whorish color!"

7. My first celebrity crush was on Dave Foley while he was on Kids in the Hall. I would have moved to Toronto for that guy. Only, I was 10 and didn't even have enough allowance money to smuggle myself out of the country.

fighting the man

I am just livid right now because my mortgage company charged me TWICE for my mortgage payment, sending my account into the red. They'll reverse one of the charges only if I fax them over my bank statement. Here's the kick to the utero: my bank statement will show these payments TONIGHT and the bank cannot do anything about the inevitable fees until those payments are posted. So here I am, with nothing in my checking account and two companies that are quick to take my money and disabled in returning it.*

Also pissing me off today? The multitude of catalogs filling up our mailbox addressed to my husband's ex.

*Edit: Expedia did the same thing to me last year. I hope you do not use them this holiday season.

santa babies

We had our first attempt at Santa photos about two weeks ago. That's my nephew Alejandro and Nathan performing in The Crybaby and the Country Yokel: a Musical of Hope. We had waited for about forty minutes at the local mall with nothing for the kids to do other than to wriggle on the floor or launch sippy cups into the line at Dairy Queen.

At first I was secretly hoping that we would get to the front of the line before Santa took his break, but the longer we waited, the louder those hopes became until I was practically threatening, "OH SANTA HAD BETTER NOT TAKE A 15 MINUTE BREAK!"

--



Our second attempt at Santa photos was much more seamless. Mike and I stationed ourselves in a tiny line at Westwood Village. There were security guards flanking both ends. They must have heard my earlier Santa threats.

--



Later at the sub shop, we were treated to an amazing version of "Little Drummer Boy," Mike's favorite Christmas song. Mike and I debated whether they were carolers or wassailers. Mike didn't think they were carolers until I said, "I don't have a master's degree, but why are they holding a book that says 'Dickens Carolers' if they are really 'Dickens Wassailers'?"

We have little debates like this often. I represented the affirmative for the last debate topic, "RESOLVED: Washington is a community property state therefore half of that plate of nachos is mine, you stingy."

getting back to business

Mike: Thanks for helping me put the sheets on.

Mona: No problem. I give good bed.

breathing this week

Thank you all for the wonderful and sincere comments. I am very humbled by all the love, empathy and concern sent my way.

I created the tribute to Isa shortly after she died. Even though this blog has disappeared and emerged a few times, that site has remained static.

Thank you for allowing me to admit what has been a difficult struggle, one that has taken me eight years to acknowledge.

I am feeling worlds better today. Thanks for sticking with me.

mona, interrupted

I cried yesterday at work. In my well-lit, easily viewed cubicle. In front of my co-workers. I used this month's sick leave so Mike could come and pick me up.

I consider myself a level-headed person who is not quick to throw fits or ramble interminably about who'll win Survivor China. And yet I was a dramatic, hot, red-faced mess, crying in the absolute worst place to cry.

I could say that my mini-breakdown began that morning when I caught myself in the bathroom mirror, crying and brushing my teeth. Have you ever tried to brush your teeth and cry at the same time? It's pretty pathetic and difficult to maintain oral health when you're sobbing.

I could also say that this began the night before, when Mike drove our family around to look at Christmas lights but all I wanted to talk about was how sad I was feeling, how this wasn't just holiday-induced and this year I can't seem to shake it off.

But really this started eight years ago when my best friend hanged herself in her front yard. She died one month after my brother did.

There are moments when I try to believe that I'm better now and that somehow time has worked its healing powers the way it does in love songs and romantic comedies. And then I realize how long it's been since I buried my friend and all of a sudden my co-workers are asking what's wrong and I'm crying so hard I can't even explain any of it.

All these years, I've been able to live different versions of myself: the professional working woman, the frazzled mom, etc., but it's this version of Mona who is coming back and affecting all of these other neatly segregated personalities: a sixteen-year-old Mona who has to give the eulogy at her best friend's funeral.

I would rather talk about more light-hearted events in my life like one of my oldest and dearest friends is having a baby boy and getting married soon. For the first time in three years, we are not traveling for Christmas. We are spending our first Christmas in our brand-new home. A home that is necklaced with white, shiny icicle lights, thanks to my husband. Our decorations include large cumbersome wreaths! And a tree!

I've been hesitant to write about this, much less talk about it out loud because of how sad it is and the enormity of what I am facing. But I'm not doing anyone any favors to let another year go by and wallow in this trough come next December.

There is no shelf life to grief. I'm not going to wake up in two years, a decade having passed and magically I'm transformed into a emotionally-balanced and functioning human being. There is no I've decided this is the last year I am going to suffer without any help.

I would like to think that in a year I would have made some progress. I have to believe that I will be able to process what happened without breaking down. I have to believe that this will make me a better person.

But I don't know. I'm not there yet.

marks the spot

Chuck Norris doesn't have a Google Reader. Google has a Chuck Norris Reader.

I was reading Nathan a book about animals when we stopped for gas at Costco today. I was kneeling backward on my seat, leaning over the chair and asking my son what sounds the animals made. I had asked him about dogs when he started the deep bellied Rice a Roni laugh.



I regret not buying the FLIP video camera while we were shopping because I didn't have a way to capture my son going into hysterics. I did hold the camera up and wave it at my husband, subtly hinting, "Hey look here! This would make a GOOD PRESENT. Especially if you are looking for a GOOD PRESENT."

I live for Nathan's guttural laugh and would do anything to keep the red-faced giggles going, even if it means having my butt suspended in air while I bellow, "WHAT ABOUT A...DOGGIE! WHAT ABOUT A...DOGGIE!"

Spock Efron and OMGZ LEADZ!

Nathan's hair looks like a cross between Zac Efron and Spock. He's like Spock Efron. You'll be able to see him in High School Musical 15: The Next Generation. Worf and Wesley Crusher vie for lead parts in the Starfleet play but the auditions are cut short when Picard orders the saucer section to separate from the main drive.

Way to be a Debbie Downer, Jean-Luc. This isn't a hostage crisis on Nimbus III, COME ON.

--



This First Years 3-in-1 Flush & Sounds Potty Training Seat was made one month after the recall cut-off, so it doesn't qualify. I'm thinking that if my kid's licking off the lead from a chair, maybe he's not ready for potty training. I had purchased this chair in case Nathan suddenly honed his potty skills but so far he just lifts up the purple bucket, steps into the hole and frowns angrily that I bought a defective licensed-character toddler trap. The hell, Mom?

I'm still skeptical about the lead levels. What could have happened in a month that drastically changed the toxic makeup in the paint?

Having said that, I can tell you right now that most of the toys I grew up with had extremely high levels of lead. They were all assembled in tiny Chinese subprovinces and even other Chinese people tested them for lead.

Think about all the crazy shit made in China and shipped here. I wonder about the Chinese worker who subtitles pirated copies of Arrested Development and shakes his head at silly Americans who say things like, "Your hairiness disease?"

Beggars can't be choosers, even if they write out detailed shopping lists

Me: Honey, this isn't diaper cream.

Mike: It's not?

Me: No. This is a large bottle of baby lotion.

Mike: Really?!?

Me: Yes, really. I've never heard of a diaper cream called, "Giggles and Grins."

in which my inner gangsta asks, "Mona, why you be hatin on my Hooked on Phonics brothas n' sistas? Why can't you just tell us what you ate for lunch?"

A sandwich, homes.

hooked on being better than you

I have a few problems with this commercial.

First, why does every waiting room on screen have to be crammed in with loud, boisterous children? As if this is a message to please do not have any children, for all waiting rooms that previously provided ample space for patients suddenly transform into dens of squished, snotty, humans who will bite your ankles if you don't return that well-thumbed copy of Seattle Woman. And I'm already digressing before reaching what really pisses me off.

In this commerical, the other women in the room take notice of the bright, shining star of a four-year-old and ask how did he learn how to read. And then she smugly shrugs it off with, "We've been practicing," like it's some ancient Chinese secret when Hooked On Phonics is clearly labeled on the book. Why couldn't she have just said, "It's Hooked on Phonics!"? What's so hard in admitting that it took effort? That you made four payments of $39.95 and "practiced" every day?

I don't take issue with the product itself; it's the marketing that unnerves me. The woman had such a great opportunity to share a learning tool that obviously worked for her child and yet, what did she do? Hug her genius son, give herself a high-five for being so smart while the other mothers weep openly, their children forced to wear helmets because they can't read three-word sentences.

Who is your target audience, Hooked on Phonics? Asshole moms who need to feel superior?

This isn't Hooked On More Than You Phonics.

the list

Mike and I have separate lists of unattainable celebrities with whom we are given carte blanche to hook up if said unattainable celebs are suddenly attainable and are all, "The afterparty's at my body!"

I've been pretty open with Mike about who has earned coveted spots on my list--men like Justin Timberlake (shut up), LOST's Sawyer, and Bear Grylls (I'd like to change his show to Mona vs. Wild and he has to save me but honestly, I really don't want to be stranded on the tundra, instead I'd like to dial 1-900-Mix-A-Lot and kick them nasty thoughts, if you know what I mean. Bear would answer and then whisper dirty stuff telephonically like, "Oh yeah, you're dehydrated in the Sahara but I've brought you some moist camel innards." HOT!).

I don't really care to hear Mike's list because they house the women Mike grew up with such as turn-of-the-century tart Susan B. Anthony. "B" is really short for "Booty," and even that had to be abbreviated because her full name--"Susan Dance Too Much Booty in the Pants Anthony"--could not fit on a coin.

why I refuse to watch Desperate Housewives

When I was six months pregnant, Mike and I attended a taping of Northwest Afternoon. For those not living in the Northwest or those who do not watch television in the afternoon because your coolness > my coolness, Northwest Afternoon is your typical useless local programming--an hour of pandering to women who love crafts, cookie recipes and Soap Opera Digest. I never understood Soap Opera Digest. What are you digesting? The same damn storyline?

Why couldn't there be a Soap Opera Cut to the Chase periodical? It'd be a one page print-out with some random soap star on the front and big bold headline reading: SHE DIES! And you'd flip it over to read: BUT COMES BACK TO LIFE! And next week's Special Pins and Needles Edition headline would read: THEY GET MARRIED! Flip over: BUT ARE KIDNAPPED BY COBRA COMMANDER!

Since the show we attended had already been taped, the only live portion was Cindi Rinehart's talking version of Soap Opera Digest. Before taping began, she spoke to the audience about what she was going to talk about including LOST and Desperate Housewives and asked, "Who here loves LOST?" I raised my hand. "Who here loves Desperate Housewives?" The woman next to me practically jumped, saying, "Yeah! It's so addictive!" Cindi nodded and said she would ask us what we thought of the shows on-air.

I sat in the front row with my enormous pregnant gut casting a shadow on my feet readying myself with witty lines about LOST. Cindi skipped over audience participation until she said, "Oh I have some juicy tidbits about Desperate Housewives."

Cindi then looked directly at me and said, "What do you love about Desperate?"

I wanted to say, "How about nothing? I hate Teri Hatcher." Instead, what came out sounded like I had just emerged from an English as a Second Language class, having just corrected my erroneous but succinct, "Me love you long time," to, "I am prepared to love you for a great length of time."

"I love it." I spat out in a monotone-fresh-off-the-boat-voice. "It's great."

"You love it?" Like, come on pregnant ESL grad, give me something that sounds like, I don't know, a coherent answer?

"Yeah. Uh...It's addictive?"

I don't even remember what happened after that. I'm sure that the producer screamed into Cindi's earpiece, "Move on from stupid pregnant woman! I repeat--MOVE ON!"

two more salutes to vanity

I started reading Drew's blog One More Salute to Vanity a few months ago after finding it in the West Seattle Blog blogroll. And immediately I subscribed to the plethora of wit and fuh-uh-niness.

Meeting bloggers in person can be awkward because you both know but don't know each other. Especially when the other blogger is uber-intelligent and sits next to people with head shops in their purses. I didn't know what "head shop" meant so I googled it. AT WORK. So to negate the not-safe-for-work results of weed paraphernalia, I immediately googled, "hat shop." Riiight. I was just looking for a fedora, not a glass bong shaped like Homer Simpson.

I have a lot in common with Drew. Like Drew, I was also interviewed by the Chronicle of Higher Education, only I had no clue who these people were (hint: VERY IMPORTANT PEOPLE) and how many people actually read the magazine (second hint: EVERYONE). So in my regrettable interview, I came off as a idiotic writer-wannabe who blabbed to all those who read academic periodicals that my boyfriend at the time was a jerk. My boyfriend and I broke up but I still say idiotic things. It's like what Tupac Shakur said, some things will never change. That's just the way it is. Two more life lessons from Tupac: 1) how to make a dollar out of fifteen cents and 2) California sounds a lot cooler if you pronounce it "Californ-i-a." Tupac and the Chronicle in the same paragraph? Gold star for me!



We had drinks at Matador where we were squished into a table so tightly packed that I could hear the woman next to me ask her date, "What's a matador? Is that a devil?" The hell? Yes, honey. A "matador" is a devil. Because Satan wears sequins.

I'm glad I met Drew because she is just as funny in person as she is in writing, whereas I suffer from a medical condition called lameness.



Respectable pose.



Everyone say MYSPACE!

WINNER!

Thanks to everyone for participating in the first annual Friday Giveaway!

The winner is Pickles & Dimes with her suggestion of chicken saltimbocca.

But I'm so hungry right now after reading through a feast of rich dips, homemade booze, desserts and entrees. I need to wear my pretend maternity pants again if I'm going to host this hypothetical party but as long as you're there, my internet friend, we can gorge together.