Fractious. Easily angered. Unruly. This is how our mornings go. The lovelies become fractious beasts.
It’s nice on days that it’s not my turn to take them off to school because I lay in my cozy warm blanketed bed…and I listen to all the fractious conversations.
Turn off the tv and get your shoes on.
No, you can’t have cheese puffs for breakfast.
Why did you wait until the last minute to start your homework?
Please stop gnawing on my arm.
Why are you being so fucking fractious right now?
Just look at this brown eyed beauty. Her pupils are actually not zombie white. Her breath smells like crunchy cheetos. Not the puffs…those smell completely different. Only cheeto aficionados know the difference. Is it sad that I know??
Or is it just my superior sense of smell? Women have a better sense of smell than men, I’ve heard.
My husband admitted to cheating on a smell test in high school. He said he could see through the blindfold. I think they were testing the man vs. woman smell superiority and he was slightly annoyed that women were superior. Cheater.
He also finally admitted to me and to himself that he doesn’t really like broccoli. He’s choked it down for years. Steamed, deep fried, in soups, stews, with cheese, without cheese…enough is enough, I suppose.
I love it. And cheetos. And smelling.
Who watched the Oscars? I did.
I had a brain splitting migraine and it was painful to keep my eyes open, yet more painful to close them. I hate that. I had my head wrapped in a blanket hoping a little pressure might help. Nope. I had the volume turned down so low…yet the tv seemed to be screaming at me.
And all the musical numbers? Ouch.
I’m not positive why I watched the whole program. Something about the gowns and hair and movie clips that is mesmerizing. It is. You know it.
The only movies I saw this year were The Hobbit, Paranorman, and The Guardians. 2 are cartoons…one is somewhat animated. And I read Silver Linings Playbook. I’m sure they changed the story a lot for the film. They always do.
And how about that Barbra singing Memories? I don’t quite see what all the fuss is about. Russell Crowe can sing pretty well too, you know. I woke up with the song in my migraine-free head today though. Except I don’t know the words, really.
I think it should go, ‘crispy crunchy candy coated meeeeeeemories…’
Making cakes is fun sometimes. My frosting always turns out too runny…which makes my decorations run down the sides of the cake.
I like it.
I had a 100 dollar bill to deposit today (yeah, big money). Being Sunday, I had to make this deposit in the atm.
I love the atm deposit abilities of my bank: checks, cash…and no envelopes or human interaction necessary.
But it wouldn’t take the hundred. It was one of the older styles. Didn’t have that huge, off-centered, fat face on the front. Just a centered, petite Benjamin.
Denied.
Is this a counterfeit??
Tried again. Denied again.
So I went to Target and spent it. They took it. Smiley face.
How lucky will I be to eat these pancakes? Pineapple and coconut?? It’s too good to be true. I just love Hawaii. It’s sad.
I try to think up money making schemes so we can afford to move there and grow pineapples and mangoes in the yard. But aside from ticket scalping…I got nothing.
Until then. I shall pay exorbitant amounts of extra shipping to have kona coffee and hula girl pancake mix sent to my door. And the very moment it is warm enough, I will wear the shit out of my flowery dress.
It must be sickening to be around me though. I’m simply still infatuated with the islands. Just a pale, freckly Midwestern gal trying not to make everyone too jealous about my piddly week long trip.
I can’t surf though. I can’t even swim that well. Especially after eating all these delicious pancakes. I’ll float like a buoy.
So I’m 32. It feels pretty stellar. Yesterday my friend said that women are their most beautiful at 36, so I’m working up to that. Shit, a lot can happen in 4 years.
I intend to practice some gratitude this birthday year and here are the things I am most grateful for since Wednesday.
*free bday coffee (I may or may not have prepped lovely #2 to help with that one)
*a job that I really love and working with people that make me laugh and appreciate my strange-ness
*cash
*birthday cheeseburgers and tacos
*free birthday cake
*Pina coladas with friends (obviously we call them penis coladas…which then morphs into turd-a-coladas…don’t ask me quite why
*tums
*friends that make you beautiful handmade things.
*friends who buy flasks as gifts
*spotting a midget walking his dog
*anyone that will sing a song to me on my voicemail
*coffee and pie
*the coziness of my bed after having to get up and get 2 stubborn people ready and bring them to school
*those 2 little stubborn people
*my wife-pup
*spotting another midget in the same day across town…this one was an extra tiny old woman. Fascinating.
*taking the double midget sighting as some kind of sign…and hoping that there will be more double midget days this year.
Hooty hoo
I’m 32
Let me shift my focus from Hawaii for a moment and discuss another current obsession: Pearl Jam.
You guessed it.
Tickets for the show at Wrigley field in Chicago went on sale while I was in paradise. A very good friend of mine volunteered to help me get tickets. She spent 2 hours on the ticketing website…and never even had the opportunity to purchase any before they sold out.
Strange that there are seemingly hundreds of tickets for sale on other ticket sites now. Yeah…plenty of choices now. Trouble is the price increase.
*prepare yourself for small annoyed rant*
What were once very affordable 45-75 dollar tickets….are now minimum $275. Minimum!! These ticket scalping assholes get to make a profit of over $200 just for buying more tickets before anyone else gets the chance? Just for clicking their fat fingers on the right link at the right time?
Unfair.
That wasn’t even the highest. That was the lowest mark up. I saw tickets for over $2000. No shit.
This may be a dream of mine, but it is also not my dream to support stub hub and ticket king….not to support some loser who can make money with out even really working. I work very hard for my money, as most people do, but my dream may have to wait.
Maybe I should all start scalping tickets. Then perhaps I can retire to Hawaii at 35.
This tv show I found tonight on HGTV is killing me. It’s called Hawaii Life. As if coming back to 20 degree weather wasn’t hard enough.
It’s basically like taking my already sad, dry skin and scraping it over lava rocks and then dipping it in salt water.
Like forcing my Midwest pale-ness to sunbathe minus sunscreen during the hours of 10 am and 2 pm.
It’s like taking that 3rd degree burned skin and sending it out to the pineapple fields to pick a peck.
Torture. Yet I can’t look away.
The Brain of Kate 