In Which Fall Whups the Llama’s Ass

Posted on August 28, 2006 by iasshole

Dear Mother-Spanking Diary,

Today a couple of cool things happened. First, Franny, Strudel, and I were on the way to the Zoo for a quick spin on the new carousel. I say quick, because today is the day she went back to her dad’s house, and she will be leaving for France tres rapidement. I reminded them that they had not arranged to get a letter of permission to take her out of the country signed by me and notarized. They seemed unconcerned about this, though, and I felt like I had done my good Samaritan bit for the day. They probably won’t have a hassle, though, as Lady Federline II and I have the same initials and same last name.

“What will you say if they ask you questions at the airport?” I asked Franny, after talking about the situation with a friend, who said her biological daughters were heavily quizzed upon reentry from Canada without birth certificates.

“I will say THIS WOMAN IS NOT MY MOTHER!!!!” she shouted.

I swear I had nothing to do with that. Good luck at the airport, Federlines.

ANYWAY, the cool thing that happened is that on the way into the Zoo I ran into Elswhere from Travels in Booland. She flagged me down and we chatted, and it was nice to meet her in person. Sometimes it really pays having the day-glo hair. Otherwise I might not have met Joshua Norton in person either.

The other cool thing was riding the carousel. I get all tied up in knots when I have to see SeaFed, so it was good to have something fun to do with Franny as a last thing. I am so glad school’s starting so we can just trade her through there again. Franny’s stepmom, though she seems to have no idea what my problem is, has taken over and I just talk to her now, which is a lot more pleasant. No more illiterate, nonsensical emails, just mindless pleasantries. I can do mindless pleasantries in a way that I can’t do PTSD, ARE YOU FEELING THAT PART OF WHAT I’M TRYING TO EXPRESS TO YOU? IS IT SQUISHY? I’d say chewy, yet crunchy.

I’m sure you’re all on tittyhooks to know how the whole barfing thing with Franny came out. Drumroll…she stopped eventually. These are the Days of our Extremely Boring Lives. On Saturday, Day of Barfing, we were stuck in the house, so to distract Franny (who wasn’t barfing constantly) I gave her some pretty smudgy eyes and took some glamma! shots with the new camera. I think I’ll have one blown up and framed, just for kicks.

Figure 1: Franny Glammy!

So on Sunday we were able to go up to Sky Nursery and get the hella fall hookup. Our yard is all MIZZLE STEWART in the HIZZY, BREECHES. I totally yoinked planter ideas from this month’s issue. YES, I am a SUBSCRIBER now. I have NO SHAME. And no volume control today. You are so lucky that you are not here to hear me actually yelling as I type this. The bug up my ass is so large today that even the Metro will yield to it, and those motherfuckers yield to no one.

FALL ATTACK! lulz

Figure 2: Planter box next to door.

Figure 3: Our big front bed, which we fertilized the hell out of this time, because the summer flowers mostly croaked or didn’t bloom.

Figure 4: AUTUMNALLY PWNED!

Despite my best efforts to keep her out, Strudel flung herself into the pond at the nursery (to the amazement of all the giganto koi). She bellyflopped in and her dad was so quick that he caught her before her back got wet. She gasped and cried and then got over it very, very quickly. Strudel knows how to live life to its fullest, for reals.

Also on Sunday my Companion sewed some minty little curtains for the basement, made from leftovers ends from Der Strudelheimer’s room. Yes, that’s her official title now. Lederhosen coming soon. I loves them. It’s nice to have someone around who, if I don’t get to things will just jump in and say, “I’ll do that” and get out his own sewing machine and shit.

Figure 5: Aww FWEE little curtains. It’s almost a room now.

In Other News: They Cause Scenes

These people are perpetrating some very non-Satanic improv in public places.

Now That The Kitchen’s Done, I Can Resume Fighting The Patriarchy Tomorrow

Posted on August 24, 2006 by iasshole

Yesterday my gracious houseguest and I were busy painting my kitchen. It turns out that Gracious Houseguest is a painting dynamo! I kind of knew that, but to see her in action…woo. My head spun, and it wasn’t just the paint fumes I was huffing. I think I was much less helpful than I should have been, because I was drinking champagne at two-thirty in the mother-humping afternoon. On a Wednesday.

There was a reason, of course–isn’t there always? Right before my friend Whippet went to Asia she threw herself a huge birthday party and received a bottle of German sparkling wine. Whippet’s husband wouldn’t drink it with her, so she came to pick up her kid, who was playing with my kid, and brought the champagne with her. “I thought you would drink this with me, SJ,” she said.

Right you are, my friend.

Anyway, the kitchen was a milquetoast shade of yellow when we moved in, and scuffed and cracked besides. It was one of the only rooms in the house that wasn’t freshly painted when we moved in, but this place is great so that’s the tiniest quibble. I am not anti-yellow, generally, but this shade was just a little too wan for my tastes, plus all the dirt and random nails. Now that I am looking at the pictures it looks bright, but it looked blah in person.

Companion was worried the color would be a little too deep, but I reminded him that when I lived in Ye Olde Ghetto Crown Hill house I painted the living room there Mexican Whorehouse Red (hi-gloss) with metallic gold trim around the windows. That was the TITS, yo. I wish I could have cut that room out and taken it with me.

BUT NO. Because now I have the kitchen that is absolutely the perfect shade of terra cotta. Not too orange, and not too pink. It will be perfect and warming for slogging through the long dim winters here. Now that we have a little extra cash, we will also be investing in some full-spectrum light bulbs.

Confidential to Anne in regards to the Dore Alley Fair….

Anne said:
“SJ, can I ask you a parenting question? Would you have gone to the Dore Alley Fair if you had had Franny with you? What about Strudel?”

To recap, the Dore Alley Fair is a street fair/gathering for gay men, many of whom wear leather outfits and accessories to the fair. I wrote about attending it recently in the entry before this one, and Anne left her question in the comments.

No, I would not bring either of my children, and here’s why. To me, the Dore Alley Fair seems to be a meeting about celebrating one aspect of sexuality. I think children are inherently sexual (or at least sensual) beings, but my children are pre-pubescent and not out in the world of sex with their peers yet, so I wouldn’t take them.

I also wouldn’t take them to a political convention or violent movies, because I don’t think that’s appropriate at this point in their lives either. It’s not the nudity. I brought the kids to the Fremont Solstice Parade, which features a naked bike ride and lots of random hippieness, but is about celebrating the solstice and has lots of cool floats and costumes that would interest kids. I just feel like something that’s totally about sex is not for my kids. If anyone else has something to say I’d be happy to hear it.

In Other News: Cat Soup

Hooray, I found one of the most disgusting and delightful cartoons ever, now on You Tube: Nekojiru Gekijou. The short of it is that it’s about a Japanese cartoon about a cat brother and sister who are so evil it’s astounding. The pigs in the cartoon are all second class citizens. I wonder what it all means? Japanese culture is an alluring mystery to me. I was always so jealous of my friend Manuel who got to visit there.

Also, poor Dr. Tran. Thanks to JP for that one.

In Other, Other News: I Am Rewarded For My Compulsive Spewing

In June, I entered my first ever writing contest with the intention of winning a free trip to BlogHer next year. The subject was summer vacations, and the story is an expanded version of a blog post here. I placed as a runner-up and got some seriously cool swag: a new digital camera, a tee-shirt, and a book. I would just link to the site, but I believe you have to log in to view them. I have reproduced my winning story under the cut. (Loyal readers: don’t worry, I have not married without telling you. I referred to my Companion as my husband to make it scan better. Also, it’s kind of lame and commercial–no swears. Boo!)

Continue reading →

(Opera Voice) DEAR M F DIE-A-REEEE!

Posted on August 22, 2006 by iasshole

Ah, that felt good.

Dear MF Jank-Ass Super Princess Mashbook of Assmittentry,

1. Toddler Sabbatical

This weekend, I was Companion-less, because he went to Portland to visit his family. He came back all amazed by the fact that he was able to sit down and…have real conversations with his family.

“It was like…I don’t know,” he said eloquently. “They are so interesting.”

“Was it like, not chasing a toddler around? Because I find that makes conversations better,” I said.

Then I could see the little PIF bubble that appears above cartoon character’s heads when they are gobsmacked by something.

“Yes,” he said. “I was not chasing a toddler around.”

Time off is awesome, isn’t it? I am so glad I could go to California last month. Which makes me realize, I totally forgot to post about staying in San Francisco after BlogHer.

Continue reading →

Don’t Worry, Our Health Insurance Finally Kicked in on the First

Posted on August 5, 2006 by iasshole

Last night Daniel came over for dinner and I made some improvised Spanish rice and chicken thing, which was okay. Can I tell you that what I really wanted was a bag of Vigo yellow rice? Does the giant chain natural and organic food supermarket I stopped at for the sake of convenience carry anything as pedestrian as Vigo yellow rice? No, it does not.

Comfort food from my childhood never tastes as good when it’s from scratch and all natural and stuff. I think I need to buy some MSG. So’s I can get MSG’ed.

Figure 1: For once, someone actually takes a picture of me. I am always the photomaster.

Later we taught Daniel how to play Citadels. Daniel was making us awesome drinks that were like mojitos, but still hella tasty, unlike my dinner, which was like something delicious, but turned out so-so. He pulled mint out of my garden and muddled it with vodka, Summertime Lime by Odwalla, and some freaky mint seltzer water. He makes drinks stronger than I do, so cooking became a challenge pretty early on. He also brought carrots from his garden for the salad, which we combined with cherry tomatoes from ours.

Figure 2: Daniel sips at his delicious beverage.

Strong drinks plus board game equaled a love affair betwixt the plastic gold coins that come with the game and our nostrils. I know you are on the edge of your seat…who will cram the most coins up their nose?

I wish the sound was synced. I hate how that happens on You Tube sometimes. Ah well.

Rancho Asshole Totally Lives!

Posted on June 5, 2006 by iasshole

O. Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying

Dear MF Diary, what a weekend. I don’t know what happened to me exactly. On Sunday morning I slept and slept and slept, which is not really like me. Years ago, after having Franny, I grudgingly left the world of the Night People (secret handshake, O my brothers and sisters), to become a chronically sleep-deprived morning person. So in that time I have learned to haul my ass out of bed with the little birdies, cheerfully make one or more persons breakfast that they will throw on the floor (or complain about and dawdle over until it gets too cold to eat), and get more done before noon than most people my age, who themselves are probably waking up around three on Sundays and petting their collections of expensive poisonous fragile things.

I have two things to say about this: A. By the time these people decide that they are tired of having collections of expensive poisonous fragile things, and get around to getting married, and then, wouldn’t it be nice to have some children, I will be booting my own children out and saying, “Bye-bye! Have fun storming the castle!” 2. On the other hand, motherhumping sunrises are overrated.

I am complicated. I am still a mystery to you.

But the summary of this pointless story is that Companion exploded into our room at eleven. “Do you want some lunch?”

Yes, I would like some lunch. How about your liver versus a nice Chianti? Morning people have no understanding for those of us who are recovering night people entitled to occasional relapses. I mean, damn.

M. Tooths

So I feel I should tell you that our last weekend with Franny was pretty stellar. She is still complaining about how neglected she is over at her dad’s house because of the New Baby, and whined her way out the door on our last morning. I am not about to call her dad up and say what up in regards to this. I am trying to empower her to speak up for herself. I have encouraged her to speak with him, or to stay here longer. She knows she can stay with me as long as she wants, but she needs to have that convo with her dad herself. I’ll smother that lil’ Pootypants with attention all month long, if she wants. I like her. Even more so now that she seems to have inherited my special bizarreness.

Exhibit A: Bacon tongue. “Ook, Om, Ah av a akin ung!”

She lost her second tooth!

We went out for celebratory ice cream sundaes. Here is Companion, holding the be-sprouted Strudel:

Doesn’t he look like Scott Baio with all that hair?

Joanie Loves Chachi, But Chachi Does Not Love Getting His Hair Cut.

Waiting for ice cream impatiently:

“You know,” whispered my friend Whippet, after Franny showed her and her kids her lost tooth, which resides in a special tooth box that came all the way from India, “the Tooth Fairy is actually cheaper than your way.”

“Well, Whippet,” I said, “I am trying to discourage my children from selling their body parts.” Snap, snap, neckroll.

Troodle conked on the way home:

G. More About Whippet

I shouldn’t be too hard on Whippet, because she means well and has no filter, so I always have to be prepared for anything. She walked by my house this morning after ditching her kids at school and I popped my head out of my upstairs window to say hello and complain about the fact that I was cleaning.

She promptly gave me some loud TMI about her sex life, projecting her voice up to my second-storey window and all over my block. Well, if she’s not shy then there was no reason for me to be embarrassed, am I right? I kind of feel sorry for our neighbors sometimes, who are quiet, polite people from South Korea. I don’t know a ton about Korean culture, but I’m guessing people don’t shout about sex with their husbands in the street there. It’s just a feeling I get.

They just had a baby a month ago and probably get annoyed when Companion and I pinch each other and yelp as we run up and down the stairs. And now Whippet shouting up at me about her sex life. I tried to get her to come out to coffee, so we could have a less-shouty conversation, but she had an appointment. So it was a shout-and-run.

Z. Free Kittems!

Free kittems? FREE KITTEMS? Yes, please.

Oh, wait. Kittens? Well, alright. We’ll have one of those instead.

A stripey little guy was in a box outside our local grocery store, being minded by a nine-year-old boy who informed us that they were “born on April Fools’ Day.” There were only two in the litter, and ours was being called “Joker,” and his brother, a handsome tuxedo cat, was called “Jessica.” Boy, I am glad we didn’t take that cat, because he is going to have PROBLEMS. Jessica. Man, it takes ten seconds to flip those things over and check, you know.

Anyway, we got the very handsome tabby boy. Meet Captain Vimes.

We are calling him “Vimes,” “Vimesy,” or “The Cap’n.” I imagine we’ll save his full title for more formal occasions.

Nietzsche, our resident grump, is, well, grumped. Now if I just look at her, she growls at me. “You son of a bitch,” she says. “Just when I was looking forward to retiring in peace.” She’ll get over it. And everyone knows that cats go better in pairs.