Remember When?

The other day Paco and I were talking at work. His wife told him that his niece(my cousin's daughter: age 13) told her she was no longer friends with a certain girl(his own daughter is sixth months younger). The conversation went like this:

"Oh My God, Heid. Katie is no longer friends with whaaa wuh whaaa wuh," he says, brow raised, somehwhat red faced.

"Why?" I say, eating raw almonds, crunch, crunch, crunch.

"Because she got fingered."

OMG. REE REE REE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"OMG. Ugh. Remember those days? That's ugh. Ack."

"I know, I know" he says, yammering, "I don't even want to look at this girl anymore!"

"You have so much to look forward to! I'm so glad Snowflake is a boy," I blurt, freaked and laughing.

"Heid, I don't even want to think about it."

Neither would I.

Double Whammy

A few weeks ago I was tagged by Jimmy for something introspective. I wasn't in the mood. Then The Fabulous D, tagged me for another something-something. I'm making no promises that it's anything worth reading. You may want to print this out and line your catbox with it.

Eight Things About Me

1. I enjoy taking sexy hot pictures of women.

2. I usually listen to Coast to Coast AM at least for a few minutes in the wee morning hours every day/night. It freaks me out to be awake all alone and hear recordings of exorcisms and sightings of Shadow People.

3. When I was little, I was scared that when I ran up the stairs in the night( I stayed up alone a lot)someone would grab or slash my ankles(Especially reaching through the steps in the basement and grab them).

4. My first R rated movie was "The Incredible Melting Man"

5. I despise having to go into the bowels of my basement and do the laundry in the washing machine I have from 1975. The hot water hose busted so I've been making due with cold. I know, pretty skanky. Using soap liberally.

6. I told the agent at the library that I was artificially inseminated when I applied for our passports.

7. It said "Father Unknown" on Snowflake's application.

8. When my friend Dennis walked into the office this week with a loaded, brand spankin' new Canon 5D, I almost pledged my eternal and undying love to him in exchange for its use.


If I Were:

If I were a beginning, I would be:...a slow sweet kiss.
If I were a month, I would be:...howling for October and pumpkins and Halloween.
If I were a time of day, I would be:... 4:20, Baby. Or cocktail time.
If I were a planet, I would be:... The Moon.
If I were a season, I would be: ...Autumn with it's crackling fires and dusky smoke. Homecomings and Halloween.
If I were a sea animal, I would be: ...Definitely a jellyfish or a sea sponge, floating around brainless, just chillin' in the current.
If I were a direction, I would be:... The East
If I were a piece of furniture I would be a Barcelona Chair or a Bean Bag.
If I were a liquid, I would be:... A sweet and salty margarita.
If I were a scare, I would be: ....Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
If I were a gem, I would be: A Diamond( I like sparkly things).
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: ....A wisteria vine.
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: a crackling thunderstorm, the kind that shakes the foundation.
If I were a musical instrument, I would be:... A smooth jazzy clarinet
If I were an animal, I would be:... A dolphin because they're really horny and have lots of orgasms.
If I were an emotion, I would be: ...pure joy.
If I were a vegetable, I would be:.... a juicy watermelon, succulent and sweet and shapely like my ass. Hell yeah I'm goofy. Goofy like a melon.
If I were a sound, I would be: ....The sound from the minarets as they call the morning prayer.
If I were an element, I would be:...... water
If I were a car, I would be:.... a Nash Metropolitan Convertible
If I were a song, I would be:.... Lady Marmalade the Original version
If I were a food, I would be:.... Baklava, difficult to make, with irresistable layers of buttery goodness, in the end it's worth all the work.
If I were a place, I would be:.... New York City
If I were a material, I would be:.... Temperpedic Mattress Foam
If I were a taste, I would be:... HAGEN DAZ COFFEE ICE CREAM
If I were a scent, I would be: ....patchoulli.
If I were a religion, I would be:.... non denominational
If I were a sentence, I would be: ....You want pizza?
If I were a facial _expression, I would be:.... a garish funny face, making SF laugh.
If I were a subject in school, I would be:.... Pottery
If I were a shape, I would be:... hmmm how about a decahedron
If I were a color, I would be:... Cool and green
If I were a thing, I would be:.... someone's life changing thought
If I were a book, I would be: ....The Catcher in the Rye
If I were an artist, I would be:.... Frida Kahlo
If I were a collection of poems, I would be:... Annabelle Lee by EAP
If I were a landmass, I would be:.... the desert
If I were a watch, I would be:... a platinum Piaget
If I were God, I would be:... giving everyone the help they need and drinking lots of margaritas
If I were a vowel, I would be:... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Like the Fonz.
If I were a consonant, I would be:... ssssssssssssssssssssss
If I were a theory, I would be:... relative
If I were a famous person, I would be:.... Isabella Rosellini
If I were an electronic equipment, I would be:... an iPod
If I were a sport, I would be:.... synchronized swimming
If I were a movie, I would be:... Blue Velvet
If I were a cartoon, I would be:.... Jabber Jaw
If I were an explorer, I would be:.... hanging out in the Galapagos
If I were a scientist, I would be: ....doing alot of pharmaceuticals
If I were a relation, I would be:.... Faithful
If I were a river, I would be:... most likely polluted
If I were intoxication, I would be: ....a very anticipated first kiss
If I were alone, I would be: ....under the pergola, reading
If I were a question, I would be: ...What?
If I were a habit, I would be:.... mastubation
If I were in an atom, I would be: ....part of something
If I were you, I would be:....needing a good stiff something.

On the Range

Egyptian Modern

The Boy King

Lacks the Skilz

I've been having a terrible month. Rather than sugarcoat and glaze over things in a phony superficial way, I'm just going to lay it out. Snowflake hates Little Explorers. My father informed me that I will most likely be laid off in two months("you'll get $XXX a month" he bellows "if you file for unemployment, but you're too good to do that" that however doesn't pay a mortgage and car payment I can't afford without his fvcking Poo-Bah Benevolence).

"You should find a husband to take care of you instead of me!"

"You're exactly the reason I don't want a husband!"

It makes me sick. He makes me sick. He makes me feel like the most helpless and insignificant person in the world. Is it any wonder I'm alone? Is it any wonder I have such a twisted view of men?

"And what have you been doing with your Y membership? I paid for that too. Just like when you were in college and you didn't use it."

"I'm glad you're keeping a running tab on everything you've given me. Don't talk to me anymore."

And so it goes, around and around. If it sounds pathetic, it is. I have been trained to know this, from day one. Kept under the big thumb. Self-loathing. I have glimpses where I like myself sometimes. Here's my blog, I'm worthy of something. I actually feel nauseous, sick to the core. I have no savings, unless I cash out my successful stocks(thanks to the Benevolent Father) and use them to pay off my house and say fvck retirement.

I just spent the last three hours searching job listings knowing I have no skills in any microsoft application. I can't type efficiently. I'm fvcking worthless unless I want a job cleaning toilets. I will have to refinance my house for 30 fvcking years and get a job whoring coffee. At least I'll get decent insurance. And cheap coffee.

Dear Diary

I've had a week of feeling disgusted and frumpified. I have an entire closet bursting with clothes that just don't fit right. I'm uncomfortable and I feel like a bloated toad. I know I have no one to blame but myself. When I was younger, like 33, the weight magically peeled off without much work. Now it seems like I can kiss that sweet ass goodbye(me May 2002).

The other day I was bending over, weeding the front yard when some smart ass yelled "nice ass". Fvck. Right.

When the mysterious Eric commented that I could have looked "old and creepy" in the mind's eye of the Summertime Girl, I knew it could be true. Last night after eating pizza with Snowflake, I decided I had to cleanse my body and soul of negativity. I decided to start a week long fast, just to purify myself.

I need to refocus my mind and fasting has always been a positive experience for me. I'm not sure if my mind is in the right place. G*d, I feel ugly. I have two parties to go to today. It goes without saying I will not be eliminating alcohol, so Heidi, go lightly. I think will tan just so that my blubber looks more acceptable to myself. Golden brown looks better than limp boiled pierogi. Here I am last weekend. Chins up, right?


And a journey of a thousand pounds miles...
Om.

No Fear

Summertime Girls

I wonder what she's thinking...

My Heart Hurts

"Heidi, I can't go to Little Explorers today because my brain hurts" Snowflake squeaked to me this morning. I had to laugh.

The tone was set for the day. After negotiations over a peanut butter and jelly breakfast, and an afterwork ride on grandpa's boat, he would go. At the end of last week's emotionally trying time, I noticed the beginning of the runny nose, an inevitable christening, a welcome to the world of group activity and a permanent ticket to Germ Central.

He went this morning and cried a little as I quickly said good bye. At 11AM the director called to say that I should come and get him because he was consistently complaining about a pain on his right side.

When I picked him up, he was asleep in the director's office, sitting in a chair. He woke up and on the way out the door he said, "Oh, I was missing you mom". The girls in the office swooned. When we got to the car I asked him if he was hungry and he said hell yeah, he wanted cheese pizza and a coke. He agreed when I asked him if he was just fibbing about being sick.

I got him the pizza sans Coca Cola and took him to work. I called the director and told her he was fine. He lazed around like a brainwashed and electroshocked baboon. The boy was not himself. His doctor double booked and squeezed us in just to check him out.

They checked his oxygen saturation. It was 92(91 and she would have admitted him overnight!)She thought his lungs sounded funny so they gave him a 'breathing treatment' and sent us up to radiology for chest x-rays. The little bug was so cooperative, it was like having one of those quiet polite three year olds you hear about. It was insanely nice.

We came back down and his lungs were clear but had some "mucusy patches" on them. Apparently it's nothing to worry about but anything patchy and mucusy freaks me out. She prescribed prednosone for four days and a nebulizer w/ albuterol treatments every four hours. She thinks he has a minor viral infection. I hope he's okay.

Tomorrow at 9am we go back to have his o2 level checked again(it's a good thing he quit smoking Camel Wides). We then flew to Walgreen's where I had to deal with an assy pharmacist who gave audible instructions through his assistant, who then repeated to me what he dickheadedly already said. They gave me a friggin' case(that's 60 vials) of albuterol(minimums, minimums). It was completely frustrating and my insurance sucks.

I've never had to deal with this kind of medication before. A nebulizer? Christ, it has a "Bubbles the Fish" mask for my little Ebenezer. I know he's toast because he slept through the entire treatment in bed. Poor fella.

I am sad, not just for my little Snowflake, but for the people out there who have incredibly ill children and can't get the help or the respect they deserve. I called the director and left a message that he was sick and he wouldn't be in for a few days.

(I may not be either)

Little Brother

I just submitted this photo to JPG.mag, under the category "family." As they say, family- you don't get to pick them. Keep your fingers crossed that my public whoring of this image gets me published.

This Is

4,997 Miles Away from London

Be a Cook in the Kitchen

I miss the glory days of Sunday Night HBO. Nights of really good episodes of The Sopranos or Sex in the City. Combine that with a gourmet nosh and a bottle of good wine and you had a weekly event to look forward to. I've found a way to bring it back.

I've always had a thing for Anthony Bourdain. He's articulate, rebellious and talented. He's the one person that still makes smoking sexy. When he wrote "Kitchen Confidential" I snapped it up and read it quickly. It was smart ass and hardcore. I wanted more, more, more.

The Fox Network picked up the book and made it into a series that lasted one season. Bad timing and baseball playoffs signaled its demise. It's a shame really. But luckily the entire season plus nine un-aired episodes are out on DVD. This will revitalize your Sunday night.

Loosely based on the book, you'll immediately recognize the characters. It is laugh out loud funny. The writing is clever and hilarious. Here's a gorgeous little nugget from the fourth episode, wherein Jack, the character inspired by Bourdain is having a conversation with his crew over a little local warfare between their restaurant 'Nolita' and the French joint down the street:

Jack Bourdain: So... It's official. We're at war.
Jim: We're at war? What do you mean we're at war? We're chefs!
Jack Bourdain: They attacked us. Twice!
Steven Daedelus: They poked our head waitress
Jim: Yeah, but didn't she enjoy it?
Teddy Wong: That is not the point! If he's willing to have sex with Mimi, there's no telling how low he will go!
Seth Richman: We sent Mimi on a diplomatic mission and he sent her back soiled and defiled
Jim: and satisfied...
Jack Bourdain: Jim, go to your idiot hole.


Another scene I loved was when Jack steals bread maker extraordinaire "Adam" and Seth has to go down into the bowels of Nolita to give him a message. In the book, Adam is a real rogue. Wonderous one minute, non-existent the next. In the series he's a faceless, creepy basement dweller wearing night vision goggles.

Seth cautiously inches down to the basement. You hear the fear in his voice as he approaches the darkened landing. We then see how Seth looks through Adam's night vision apparatus. As Seth ventures further into the black fearfully calling for Adam, we're right there in his face, LED green as Adam takes a baguette and caresses Seth's face. He freaks and goes screaming up the stairs like a little girl. Priceless.

The cast is excellent. It's chock full of lusty ribaldry. It's really pitiful that it never realized a grand fruition. I've read that the series is being run in England and Australia. I think Bravo should pick this gem up and "reconstitute" the series, considering the popularity of Bourdain and it's own excellent hit "Top Chef."

Sometimes, like Jack, you need a second chance. Pick up this DVD and you won't be disappointed!

Feeling Coy

Nut Free

"Hi, Heidi? This Heather from the Y. The reason I'm calling is talk to you about the menus. On certain days, maybe you could bring something comparable for Snowflake to eat during lunch? Thursday we're having turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy. He won't be able to eat that."

"He likes Peanut Butter & Jellies," I offer.

"Oh yes. Well, there are five children with allergies in the room. It's a nut free room."

I'm Sorry

Snowflake told me this morning he did not want to go to Little Explorers Camp. I told him it would be a blast, he was going to make a visor and do gymnastics. He said nothing but I knew he wasn't buying it.

We got to the Y and everything was fine. I gave them some more sunscreen, told him I loved him with a smooch and left. Half way down the hall I realize his backpack is still over my shoulder. I go back to hang it on his hook.

That's when it started. He came running to me, clinging and started to cry. Meanwhile, the crew cut little toughies sat at the table eating french toast sticks staring at us, snickering in the way only a true brat can.

I swooped him up and said it would be okay, but told him he had to stay and they would take good care of him. His counselor then told me he did really well yesterday but cried from 11:30-1:00. The only thing they could do to comfort him was to rub his back.

As she's telling me this, he's wrapping himself around me like a lobster. I had to pry him away from me, hand him over to a girl he's met once and leave. It was heartbreaking for me.

I walked out of the room with his little tinfoil fingerpainting in hand and started to bawl. I felt sick and I still do. My eyes are welled up just writing about it. Instinctively I know in my very core that his place is with me. He is only three years old. THREE.

I can't stand those who blindly say that kids learn how to socialize by going to daycare. My conscience is not clear, but what can I do? I have no choice but to send him.

I hope this doesn't scar him. I'm sorry Snowflake.

I Get Misty

All day I thought about my little guy, wondering how he was geting on, if he could relax into naptime(he's never been a napper willingly) etc. By 4:15 and after way too much Bravo, I had to go and get him.

When I arrived, there was a note on the door saying they were on the playground. I went towards the lock down and had to knock to get in. The nice girl gave me the code and showed me to the area.

There he was, captain of the ship, looking out of the telescope at the top of a tower. I met his other couselor "Kim" and got the low down on the first day. Both of his counselors are the most adorable sweet young things you could hope for.

"How did he do? This was his first time away from home" I said.

"Oh he did really well. After lunch though, he said 'I just want to let you know that I'm going to start crying in a little bit because I miss my mom'. He did great!"

Big HUGE lump in my throat as she's telling me this and my eyes well up with tears and then Snowflake spots me and I hear his sweet chipmunk voice chirp, "Mamma!"

Oh, dear friend, my heart melted. I am so proud of him. I have never loved someone so much. I'm so fortunate we are sharing this journey together.

Two O'Clock & All Is Well

It's two o'clock and I haven't heard from the "Little Explorers" program, so I'm assuming my little hooligan is having fun and not causing any disturbances. Yesterday we planted a bunch of stuff in the yard. The highlight had to be when Snowflake, in all of his naked glory squatted behind his castle and took a shit. I flew inside the gate as fast as humanly possible, but it was too late. The Shit Eater had gobbled the majority of the turd so I didn't have to.

Fvck(thanks, Gem). It was reminiscent of that scene in that film where the dog goes running off with the human hand, but it wasn't a hand, it was a turd! SF's TURD!). It was one of the gaggiest shit experiences I've had. They knew I steaming mad like Yosemite Sam. I told SF that only animals shit outside(yeah, I said poop, not SHIT). He went running into the house and when I came in, he was angelically dumping on the pot. He got the point.

After my hellacious moment and the planting was done, I made myself an incredibly delicious and strong margarita. We went up to the neighbor's where I drank and SF swam in their pool. When I dropped him off this morning I was a little numb, I didn't cry.

That's Life.

Disco Duck

Shit For Breath

My name is Heidi and I own a shit eating dog(okay, maybe two). I tried to be in denial at first, thinking it was the low grade dog food they ate at the shelter I adopted them from. Nine months later, I would have to say that's not the problem. It's a complete gross out is what it is.

Before the fence was up it wasn't bad because when I took them out on a leash they went inside as soon as they were done. Me, being lazy, now likes to let them out into the fenced back yard so I can languish in bed for a few extra minutes in the morning.

Oh, I'm on the shit, believe me. I drag and bag at least three times a day. They're quick, especially Gingivitis. She knows I despise her for 'something'. I've read about the pills, the pinneaple, the chili powder, but come on. I suppose I will reluctantly pick up a few giant sized cans of pineapple juice and start supplementing their "super premium dog food".

Dare I say it makes The Chidler's Ass Breath almost downright delightful?

He's Leaving Home

Monday morning at nine o'clock...

Excuse me while I break down over here. I stopped at home before flying Up North to get SF and there was a message on the machine from "Devon", his sweet sounding Camp Leader for the summer. He'll be going on field trips and I'll be freaking out.
Not only will they apply the sunblock I provide for him, they'll also be taking him to the Splash Pad AND to meet Woody Woodchuck next week. He's going to have so much fun and I won't be there. My little dude is leaving home on Monday at the ripe old age of three.

...Bye-Bye

Have a Nice Day

Productivity feels so good. Today I completed a leather bound portfolio via Shutterfly. It helped that book itself was courtesy of Amazon, since I bought some gear from them in February. It's almost 70 friggin' pages! I hope I'm happy with it.

Also, I'm really excited because my work is available locally and exclusively at River District Antiques. This morning I put them up. I have five pieces matted and framed and ready to take off the wall and put on someone else's wall. I have my own little corner. There's no red light, though.

Have a nice day!

What I Need

I was aimlessly wandering around tonight when J's post made me smile. Here's what you do: Google "your name + needs" and pick the first thirteen that make sense. WTF.

1.) Heidi needs a day off! (From her life. No shit.)

2.) Heidi needs to finish her latest novel, and make it very very good.

3.) Heidi needs a lifeboat.

4.) Heidi needs to know that every man she meets is drooling over her.

5.) Heidi needs her own site.

6.) Heidi Needs our Help! and then it continues:If you know $Heidi at all you will know she is a huge fan of The Gilmore Girls.

7.) Heidi needs to open her big puppy dog eyes and see that hes a loser!

8.) The only thing that heidi needs done is a serious brain transplant!

9.) Heidi needs to pick up the current Rolling Stone magazine.

10.) Heidi needs a miracle.

11.) Heidi needs to realize that she can have a boyfriend and a best friend, but she needs to take control of the situation.

12.) heidi needs a new boy friend i just want to punch him in his face and heidi you know your not gonna last long with him because he is a player a bad on too ...

13.) Heidi needs to get a life. I guess as long as she can manipulate and abuse others on world-wide TV, I guess she can have as many children as she wants cause ...

What do you need?

Late Bloomer

All About Frank

Legs

I have these moments that burst upon my mind wherein I completely break down and sob, usually alone in my car. I was on the drive home speeding when two russet deer came darting out in front of me.

It was safe enough to slam on the brakes and spare them the steely death. They ran into the twilight, elegant, slender legs bouncing on shiny hooves and I slowly drove away. I keep thinking about you. Thinking about you and thinking about a Masters degree in the area of your demise. I dwell on the words of our mother who weeped when she said your legs were blue when she found you.

Actually she said, "His little legs were all blue". They weren't little. You were a grown man, face down in your living room. Dead. Still her baby. People who say they can imagine what 'that' must be like are shitting themselves. We can't understand.

There are little legs, warm and pink, chubby and fleshy sleeping upstairs. The blood flows, dreams come. He is alive. This is where I completely freak out and have to kill a fluffy looking centipede that just caught my eye as it crawled down the wall. They come straight from a very dark place, I know it.

I whacked it off the wall with a full case of room temperature Budweiser. Falling down, it continued undulating quickly across the floor and I slammed and swiped it with my heavy chunky sandals forcing every ounce of anger I could posess, leaving a putrid brown streak on the checkered floor.

That one was for you, Brother.

Bakfiets

Mod*Mom posted a link to the Trio Bike Company and now I'm perfectly obsessed. I'm going to beg, borrow or steal to get one of these babies.

Self Torture Book Challenge

I was reading Py Korry a few minutes ago and he has a wonderful idea for a summer read. He and his lovely wife J have a gorgeous tween daughter and together they were perusing the books at Target.

His idea: Pick a teen novel, read it and review. Is it any wonder the lovely J, with a Masters in Comparative Literature passed on the challenge?

I was so relieved! A few weekends ago, I picked up the new Albert Einstein biography and I'm having a hard time getting into it. Let's talk about periods, cramps, bitchy psycho jealous girls and cute boys! Bring it on. Now I just have to run to the Bullseye and find my project. Would you like to play?

Post some link love to Py Korry if you're game and leave a comment when you post your review. I'd love to read it.

Fragment

Not Missing a Thing

Last night I went with a gorgeous bunch of girls to my friend's bachelorette party. At the beginning of the evening we were joking that we would find someone for me to kiss, although I may need to bleach my mouth or use rubbing alcohol and flame it afterwards. Ugh. No gracias. Even with slight beer goggles I was just so turned off by the scene. I gave out a few of my Moo Cards(STRICLTY business, no flirting intended, that means you Costanza dome, Rollie Fingers 'stache dude), played darts, which I didn't totally suck at and learned that I absolutely can't stand Bud Light. Is that the Skinny Bitches Secret?

Gothic

"Save Your Cosmic Bullshit"

James Brolin and Margot Kidder circa 1979 in The Amityville Horror. Two hippies in a big scary house. He's unusually hairy, yet sexy in a wolfman kind of way and she's just stunning, lily white, creamy skin and pure. A married woman dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl, pig tails and all. It's 12:43 AM and the witching hour isn't until 3:15AM.

Tweed in the Weed

Lounging in the morning milkweed,



Dramatic shadows, tres chic.


Legs of the finest herringbone, my friend.