I'm over here right now

http://elleemcee.tumblr.com/

Mostly because I'm still desperate for the social sharing of The Goog and I need to believe that Tumblr is the answer.

So, let's be friends.

I'm promise to be more brief and thereby less obnoxious.

(That last part is a lie.)

Typical

Scene: Talking on the phone with my mom one weekend morning.


Me: Yeah, I just got woken up by my wine being delivered.

Mom: Oh, most people wake up with coffee, but I guess, with you, it's wine.

Me: I guess?

Mom: Yeah.

Me: Well, the delivery guy was terrified of Rocco. He rushed my signature and didn't even check my ID!

Mom: Aw.

Me: What if I was underage??

Mom: What if you were an FBI agent??

Me: Ri--what, what?

Mom: FBI!

Me: So... Basically, you're saying it's more believable that I'm an FBI agent than that I'm under 21?

Mom: ...Yeah.

Me: ...

Me: Whatever, you're almost 60.

Twilight, part two

Ang, Maris and I just watched Twilight part two.

I'm still not clear whether this was Breaking Dawn or New Moon, but there was definitely no sex in it. Much like my first review of a Twilight movie, it was hilarious.

The movie starts out with Bella in a field with an old lady, who I assumed was her dead grandma. Turns out, it's her old self, in a dream...? Or something? I mean, she IS turning 18 which is SO FUCKING OLD. (So. What's the symbology there?)

Next thing that happens is Jacob running into the scene with his long, gross hair. Instead of hoping for a sex scene, I start praying that this is the movie where he chops off that god-awful mane. (Spoiler: it is.)

Speaking of hair, Bella basically doesn't shower for the entire movie and her hair looks way worse than mine after 3 days of not showering and 24 hours sitting in the rain with no access to an umbrella. Tragic.

There's also a lot of rain in the movie.

Aside from the long man-hair, greasy girl mop, rain and not-so-subtle symbolism, the second Twilight movie is also filled with shirtless men. Or maybe "men," in quotes, since I think they may be 17 and under. Related: how many 17-year-olds do you know who have broad shoulders and six-packs? Not in my high school, kiddos. Not in my high school. Or my adulthood, except for the gays.

Oh, and did I mention they kill off the one black guy in the entire movie? I bet he was half-Jewish too. As two half-Jews, Maris and I are one-whole offended. I think. (There was a decent amount of wine and champagne during this viewing so things get a little hazy...)

What else do you need to know? Edward didn't really make an appearance except for weirdo ghost-like visions in Bella's head, Dakota Fanning looked pretty, Carlisle started developing a British accent, Edward wore a robe that I really think was a dress for Hugh Hefner-esque cross-dressers...

Other random events:

• Edward and Bella say "I love you." About 4 second later, he dumps her. Bye, bitch.

• To illustrate the passing of time, we see Bella sitting in a chair while the camera swirls around her and the months pass by on the screen.

• Bella has crazy screaming dreams and her dad rushes into her room to comfort her every time. Something about her being a grown woman makes me feel weird about this.

• Bella gets all bad-assy after the breakup and jumps on a random motorcycle with a random dude who looks more like a teddy bear than the murderous thug we're supposed to think he is. AND she does this even though Ghost-Edward tells her not to. Bye, bitch.

• We realized that the chick who plays Bella's BFF Jessica is the same girl who appears in Up in the Air. Thanks, IMDB!

• Vampires still run fast.

• JACOB FINALLY CUTS HIS HAIR. I guess turning into a werewolf does that to a guy.

• Speaking of Jacob, he totally parkours up Bella's house to get into her bedroom. Pretty sure he was shirtless.

• Bella goes off the deep end -- literally -- when she hurls herself off a cliff into the murky water below. She pops up, floats around for a while on the surface, then "slams" her head into a rock... I CALL BULLSHIT. Do you know how hard it is to move fast in the water? I don't think you could knock yourself out if you tried. But, no matter, because a shirtless Jacob saves her.

• Bella continues to be depressed, at which point I urge her to invest in some Lexapro. And maybe take a shower.

• Bella keeps acting like she's into Jacob and going to kiss him, but never does. Because she hates abs?

• Bella keeps trying to email Edward's sister with the bad hair (I guess bad hair is a major theme in the movie), but all emails go to that goddamn Mailer Daemon. Send fail, Bella.

• Buuuuut, Alice still shows up at Bella's door because Alice see the future! And she saw Bella throw herself off the cliff! And get knocked unconscious! And die! ...Except that last part didn't happen. Geez, Alice, take a lesson from Sylvia Browne and get your psychic shit together.

• Bella and Alice fly to Italy via Virgin airlines, which Angie says had monitors on the seats and you can message people in other seats, all creepy-like. I hope that's not a lie. because that sounds awesome.

• At the end of the movie, Bella wants to be turned into a vampire, which Edward says he'll do "on one condition." ...... "Marry me." I feel like it would have been fantastic is Bella was like, "Look... you're great... but, I mean... being immortal and committing to marriage is, like, a big thing. And have you seen Jacob's abs?"

Eh, that's basically all I remember.

Overall, I have to say that I enjoyed the first one better -- maybe because I had no idea how bad it was going to be and I was just so damn tickled the entire two hours. This time, I expected ridiculousness and I got it. But the edge goes to part one simply because it had the element of surprise.

I'm planning to watch part 3 sometime in the next, like, year or whatever, so let me know if you want to take part of this mess.

Just don't forget the wine.

Best gif ever?

Basically.

Related: I miss you, Goog Reader. NEVER FORGET.

Terrifying or terrified?

Happy Halloween from the most humiliated little shark on the planet.

Thanks to Aunt Suz for passing along Hanny's old costume.

Gives "spooky" a whole new meaning

What started out like this...

...was planned like this...

...and then turned into this...

I call him: "The Diabolical Redneck." Who needs all their teeth anyway?

Happy Halloween, y'all.

The finished products:

Just...no.

That is what popped up on my TV this morning.

I thought to myself, "Lisa, you have never seen an episode of Jersey Shore. I know your initial reaction is UGH HATE, but maybe give her a chance."

So I did.

And now I hate myself.

But not as much as I hate the word "guidette."

Apartment of death

Tonight, it rained it Chicago and everyone forgot how to drive.

I don't know why. I don't make the rules.

After sitting in traffic for about an hour, I finally got home to my apartment. As I walked up the back stairs, I heard a faint beeping...

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP...BEEP-BEEP-BEEP...

That's not coming from my place, is it? I thought.

Okay, it definitely is.

I threw my key into the lock and pried it open (janky old door), wondering just how long the beeping had been going on and how bat-shit-crazy-insane Rocco probably was after hearing it nonstop.

That's when I realized it was my carbon monoxide detector.

And my place smelled like gasoline.

OH MY GOD WE ARE GOING TO DIE.

In one fluid motion -- that's what it felt like, but I bet I looked more like an epileptic on meth -- I grabbed Rocco by the collar, swiped his leash from the couch and hauled ass outside.

Standing in the rain, I frantically called Dave and told him about how our apartment had turned into a beeping deathtrap. He told me that carbon monoxide doesn't smell and that I needed to call our neighbors to tell them what was going on. I demanded that he come home immediately and marched upstairs with my confused dog. We hug out with our cool neighbors while trying to describe what that smell was. Gasoline? Poisonous gas? GASOLINE? Totally gasoline.

We also brainstormed the source of the problem -- no question there. It was our "handyman." He sets up shop in our basement and makes random shit for our landlord. The latest project has been a pair of doors. Whatever.

Anyway, Tony soon decided I should go downstairs and open the windows while Lindsay decided she would call our landlord and give him a piece of her mind. I did, and also took a time out to put on some sweatpants and grab a few beers because, duh.

By the time Dave came home, our place didn't smell as bad and he decided it was safe to head back down to our floor. Also, he determined that the weird smell was clearly spray paint that our "handyman" had been using on the doors he was building.

So here we are.

The apartment's been aired out, I don't think I'm high and our dinner just arrived. All is right with the world, but just in case we don't wake up tomorrow, it's been nice knowing you.

All the things

My current Facebook status:

Happy Daughter / Mother / Breast Cancer Awareness / Puppy Dog / Wearing-White-After-Labor-Day / Gambling / Palm Tree / Hipster Appreciation / Dyslexia / Tea Party / Pygmy-Goat-Riding-A-Unicycle Day/Week! I love/hate all/some of those things. If you do too, repost, like, comment on, share, print, frame and worship this status.


amirite?


PS - The palm tree mention is throw to my mom.  HI, MOM.

Expert travelers...or something

Dave's been on Long Island for the past 10 days and is almost halfway through his business training for work. (Yeah, it's about as exciting as it sounds.) Meanwhile, I have successfully fed myself and kept this apartment from looking like a home on Hoarders, so things are going QUITE well over here too.

Tomorrow, though, I leave my dear Chicago and venture off to Denver for some work training of my own...whatever that will include. I'll only be there for a few days, but I'll be renting a car and hopefully only getting lost 5 or 6 times. Really, anything under 10 would be rad.

Anyway, this coming weekend, Dave gets a break from training and travels over to Manhattan for some good, ol' city fun. And, apparently, he's very excited about it.

So, my New York friends, keep an eye out for this nerd. Might I suggest you focus on gutters, bar floors and gypsy cabs....?

My drunk grandma...

...Now has her own corner of The Interwebs.

http://www.mydrunkgrandma.com

You're welcome. Or, I'm sorry. I'm not sure which yet.

Renegade

Renegade Craft Fair has its pluses. It's close enough for me to walk to, it takes place during a glorious time in Chicago and it even has some cute things for sale.

But it's also overrun with hipsters, some handmade trash and high price tags, and THAT is super-annoying.

So when I see posts like this (Missed Connections), I can't help but smile.

Of life and legs

Over the last decade or so, I've found that the stages of a gal's life and relationship status can be measured by the state of her legs.

In my experience, there have been 4 leg/life/relationship levels.

Status: Single
Legs: Shaved often enough, but only really before heading out for the evening
Reason: You never know. *wink, wink*

Status: In a relationship
Legs: Shaved to perfection. With shaving cream, even!
Reason: Look how flawless I am. You totally want to marry this.

Status: Married
Legs: Shaved haphazardly in a speedy shower
Reason: I'm late for work and it's not your birthday.

Status: My business-traveling husband is in New York for the rest of September
Legs: I have legs?

It's a new low, y'all.

Open mouth, insert foot, cash paycheck

Well, folks, it looks like my professional purgatory is coming to an end. Here's how things have gone down.

Sam
Sam, the dude with no real personality (read: not cool work) proposed (offered me the job) with a verrrrry expensive ring (excellent salary). I told him I couldn't accept because I was waiting for Barry. Sam didn't care to wait so he moved on. Bye bye, Sam.

Barry
Oh, Barry. Rather than proposing outright, he asked me to start living with him (writing for free for his blog) for one week. I agreed...but the work I had to do was not suited to my strengths. Suffice to say I was disenchanted. So, after all this time, I broke up with him. I think it was the right thing to do.

Miles
Remember when I was all, oh, this bullshit guy? Well, we're totally getting married. He waited for me, there turned out to be a lot of substance there, I like his family (my new coworkers) and it just feels right. And the work? The work looks awesome. We're talking magazine-style publications, kick-ass marketing campaigns, shocking creative support from the top and lots of room for creativity. We're working out some details now, but the wedding should be at the end of this month.

So there you have it. Retirement will be over, I'll have to start wearing pants again and my bank account won't be so shriveled up. (ZAPPOS, I'VE MISSED YOU.)

It's a new step -- hopefully one in the right direction -- and I'm excited to see what will come next.

Someone had a bad day

Over the weekend, I received a text from a random (773) phone number informing me, "This is my new number."

Unsure who "my" referred to, I tried to think which of my friends was not only getting a new number but was also absent-minded enough not to tell me who the heck they are. I came up with nothing. Sooo, I responded.

Done. Won't hear from them again, I thought.

The next morning, I was awoken by my phone going off before 8:00. As I do with all communication attempts before I've rolled out of bed, I ignored it.

Then my phone beeped again. Again, I ignored it.

When I woke up an hour and a half later, I checked my phone and saw this:

Oh, dear. My sweet, dumb, mystery person. Not the best morning for you.

So I responded much more directly this time.

And then all was right with the world.

Alaskan near-death cruise?

Mom and Dad are back from their Alaskan cruise.

Alive.

Thank god.

A sucker for nail color

I rarely get manicures.

Mostly because I opt for basic color rather than this cool shit, and I simply can't justify spending the money (or getting my ass off the couch) to have someone do what I can do in my home...albeit sloppier and slower.

But one thing I do spend money on is nail polish, which is exactly what I just did in anticipation for Fall/Winter 2011.

Behold:

 British Racing Green

Dark, “hunter green” that was the backstage darling when used at this season's shows.

Fash Pack

An edgy and unusual color. Putty meets mushroom. Sounds strange and wrong, but somehow it works, like deep fried Mars bars. 

Pillar Box Red

A good red is like your favorite LBD. It makes you look and feel your best, even when you’re faking it.

Chimney Sweep

Smudgy, sexy, and just a little dirty. A proper charcoal grey with a touch of a metallic finish. Hot.

La Moss

Vampy and full of red wine, just like its inspiration.

ButterLondon.com

Hide yo' kids, hide yo' iPods

J recently had a break-in to her apartment. Thankfully, she wasn't there when it happened, but good lord that's freaky. Someone else. In your home. Taking your stuff. I kind of wanted to move her into my second bedroom for a while, but anyone who knows her knows that the offer would be met with a genuine smile and a "no thanks, you're being insane" eye roll.

Even though I've been locking all the doors I can possibly find ever since I heard this news, I don't think anyone would have an easy time getting into my particular apartment because of my gigantic dog...

As much of a lover as he is, he sounds like he could do some serious damage to your bones if he hears you outside.

Like my own little murdering alarm system.

But I realized something this morning.

If we ever buy a house -- like, with more than one story -- he'd let anyone in, as long as they break into a floor that he is not on.

Burglars above us, on the roof? "No biggie," he'd think.

Thieves below us, in the basement? "They probably belong there."

Roly-poly kleptos stealing all the food from the kitchen (while Roc rests in MY bed upstairs)? "I wonder if they'll drop anything for me..."

FAIL DOG.

(Yet another reason not to buy a single-family place.)

Anyway, stay safe out there, people. Lock your doors, lock your windows and let me know if you ever need to borrow The Roc.

Puppy update

Well, Bella's gone and we're back to being a one-pup household.

She was obviously a sweetheart, but it was a little too much for us to handle -- and would have become impossible once Dave starts work and begins traveling 4 days a week. (SINGLE PARENT FTW.) I have decided that I don't want to be outweighed by my pets, so we can only get little fouffy dogs from here on out.

Of course, the good news is that our little girl went to a foster-to-adopt home with a woman that works remotely and can give Bells the attention she needs. Fingers crossed it works out because that dog really deserves it.

In the meantime, Dave casually mentioned something to me while on our rescue's Facebook page the other day...

"Hey, Lis, look at how cute this pit is."

Yes. Cute.

Cue me scrolling through to read the comments about this sweet-looking gal.

Cue me seeing DAVE comment about fostering her.

"Oh, yeah, I said we might be interested in fostering her," he shrugs.

You what, now?

"Just a foster, not adopt! Come on, look at that face."

Look at MY face.

"We'll just do a meet-and-greet and see if she and Rocco get along."

I don't recall that ever being a problem with Rocco.

"Oh, look, they already emailed us."


So, we may be fostering another Court Case pup next week. And we may not. Someone is already interested in adopting her, so she might not even need a foster home at all. We'll see...

Breaking up is hard to do

Well, Miles took a leap and invited me to go away with him for a weekend out of town. To meet his family. To be, ya know, SERIOUS.

(Translation: I was invited to interview at the company's HQ out west. This, after 2 phone interviews, 1 local in-person interview and a writing sample.)

I got a weird feeling like he was going to propose on this trip.

So, like an abnormal person, I panicked. I don't really want to take this step in our relationship. I mean, I'm seeing other people! Other people that I like better! My instinct was to spill my guts to Miles and tell him about my other main prospect (Barry). I don't want to waste Miles' money if I'm not really all that into him. I'll sleep better if I put it out there. But is that the right move, professionally?

To find out, I called my friend to ask her what she thought I should do.

"Well, what if Barry comes back tomorrow and tells you 'no'?" she asked. "Would you want to be with Miles then?"

"Nope," I told her. "Maybe Sam. Most likely Carl. Not Miles though."

We talked through all the details and my friend confirmed my instincts. It was time to have The Talk with Miles. Time to be honest. Time to do the right thing.

Which is what I did on Friday.

And then I held my breath.


Update: Miles totally doesn't care and still wants me to visit. Okay, bud, will do, but this isn't going to end well (for you).

He called the shit "poop"

If there's one thing I know about my husband, it's that he will always laugh at a poop joke. Without fail. I guess most men will. But one little poop joke recently took his amusement to a level I had never experienced before.

It won't surprise you to learn that the joke came from Louis CK. Before I link it, let me just set the scene...

We are driving back from our beach vacation, listening to one of Louis' sets from 2010. Specifically, Dave is driving and I'm in the front seat.

The joke starts out about Louis' 3-year-old daughter getting bit by a pony and soon drifts into poop territory.

With the first visual description of a turd, Dave bursts out into booms of laughter. His mouth is wide open, his eyes are watering and he is practically having an amusement-induced seizure.

"TAKE...THE...WHEEL," he gasps, in between convulsions.

What the hell is wrong with my husband? I've never seen him so giddy he's practically blind!

I then begin exploding with laughter. Not just because the joke is hilarious (it is) but also because I have never seen this man laugh so hard at anything during our 7 years together.

I grab the wheel and take over the steering while Dave alternates between approving claps and involuntary convulsions. This goes on until I can no longer see the road through my tears and beg him to drive himself. With one hand clutching his stomach, he puts his other hand on the wheel and manages to get through the entire poop joke without killing us.

So what was so funny?

This.

Either that's the most hilarious clip I've ever seen or else I was beyond delusional after hours upon hours of travel.

How Pandora should be

I love Pandora.

I would love this Pandora even more.

Via The Oatmeal

Professional Purgatory

I'm at a point in my coming-out-of-retirement job search that is nothing short of awkward. Uncomfortable. Uncertain.

I don't like it.

I imagine it's a lot like dating a few different guys at once -- one of which you really, really like, but you're still unsure about how he feels. If my job search were a relationship, this is where I'd be with Suitor #1. Let's call him Barry.

Barry and I have flirted before, but we've been on 3 actual interviews dates. He's out of my league, but I'm going for it anyway. Sure, it seems like he might be ready to make it official, but he moves soooo slowly. All my cards are on the table and the final decision rests with Barry now. It's a waiting game. Will he call or won't he? Should I wait? How can I not? I NEED TO KNOW WHERE THIS RELATIONSHIP IS GOING, BARRY. I know you told me you need more time, but I'm dying over here.

In the meantime, there's Suitor #2. We'll call him Sam. Sam and I are going on interview date number 2 this week, and I'm still sorting through my feelings. He means well, he tries hard and he's made it clear we could be together for the long haul. He's got a lot more money than Barry, but less personality. And I don't know how long he's willing to wait while I wait for an official proposal or rejection from my first love.

Then, there's Suitor #3: Miles. Miles is like my boy toy. I'm not terribly interested in him, but I like having him around as an option. We've got our second interview date this week too. Dude can't really afford my tastes, but he adores me and I like the attention. I'm charming the pants off him and using his affection to fill the void I feel from Barry's silence. I know. Pathetic.

Finally, there's Potential Suitor #4. Carl. We have a mutual friend and even though I know nothing about him, that's good enough for me to keep him in the running. She likes him, I'd like him. We could be great together.

And as if this isn't enough of a mind fuck, I'm still giving my number out to other suitors too. Maybe "The One" is still out there.

Or maybe I'm just ridiculously neurotic.

Either way, I'm hoping this mess with all be straightened out within a month so I can get the hell out of professional purgatory. I guess I'm just not meant to play the field.

Senior Bachelorette: Drunk Grandma Edition

On Monday, we watched a bit of The Bachelorette. It inspired us to pimp out my grandma for a Senior Edition of the show... So, we pumped her full of wine and asked her a bunch of questions.

This is totally unedited (and thus awkward), but it's just one of our family vacation amusements.

Enjoy.

PART 1

Senior Bachelorette: Grandma Roz Edition from David on Vimeo.


PART 2

Senior Bachelorette: Grandma Roz Pt 2 from David on Vimeo.


Also... we have another video full of Grandma's life lessons. Consider this fair warning.

It's time

Well, family vacation is here once again. Time for my fam (minus my sister) and Dave's fam (minus his dad) to venture off to Virginia Beach.

It's a little awkward to take a vacation in the midst of, well, your retirement-vacation, but whatevs.

On Wednesday, we drive to Cleveland.
On Thursday, we celebrate my niece's 7th birthday.
On Friday, the boys go to an Indians game.
On Saturday, we wake up at 4am and begin the road trip to the east coast.

Then it's a week filled with sand, sun, good food and too much booze.

But not my sister.

Like I mentioned, my sister has chosen not to go this year, which is...sucky. Back when she was using, she came on vacation and was AWFUL to my uncle's family. Specifically my aunt. No one was blameless in their volatile relationship (and I had my fair share of issues with my aunt as well), but Carrie crossed the line. Big time. I would have thought it would have done irreparable damage to the family, but I would have been wrong. Forgiveness is a powerful thing.

Last year, Carrie came on vacation for the first time without a single drug in her system. My aunt was not there. I think it went really well and was a great primer for this year.

This is what I woke up to at one point on our fishing trip.

Our little chef

With mom

In the middle of it all

This year, my aunt WILL be there and my sister has decided not to join us. I just don't understand it. The house we're staying in was built for two families, so there's plenty of space. Carrie would have her own bedroom she could escape to whenever she needed. Hell, she could escape to Dave's family's condo if she wanted! She's also the only of us kids with a steady job right now and she's kicking ass in the kitchen she works at. She's in such a good place. There's nothing to feel down/defensive about. So why not spend time with the family for a week?

I even suggested she just come for 4 days and then fly back home on her own. She was interested in that, so I don't know why that didn't pan out.

It will be an interesting year at the beach, I guess. I'm still looking forward to it, but... it really won't be the same.

My own ghost adventure

I can't be sure, but I think I might be haunted.

The other night, sometime after 12am, I woke up to Dave kneeling at the end of the bed. One of the dogs was down there, so I assumed that he was probably moving her or something of that nature. (She tends to take over his side quite a bit.)

I felt the end of the bed moving as if Dave were fidgeting down there FOR NO REASON. I dislike being woken up, so I figured I'd squint open my eyes and give an exasperated sigh that meant, "Stop whatever the hell you're doing and go to sleep."

I opened my eyes and saw his outline -- his hair looked messy and he was facing me -- and even though he couldn't really see me in the dark, I rolled my eyes. Then I did my sigh and flopped over on my side, facing his part of the bed.

And that's when I noticed Dave sleeping peacefully right fucking next to me.

WHO THE HELL WAS ON MY BED?

The foster dog does not have a human face with messy boy hair, so it wasn't her. How freaky is that?

Even more freaky when I remember two nights earlier when I felt Dave touch my stomach while I was half-asleep. I peeked open to see him and, once again, he was passed out next to me. I brushed it off thinking that it must have been one of the dogs (their paws turn into human hands at night, right?) and went back to sleep.

But now?

I don't know.

I'm gonna have to call Zak Bagans to investigate.

Not pregnant, just PMSy

While watching Dexter last night, this thing made an appearance on my screen.

Me: What is that for?

Dave: Warming bottles. Because I guess microwaves aren't "good enough" anymore.

Me: Oh, that's right.

Dave: Dumb. Just use a microwave.

Me: No, Dave, microwaves seriously don't heat bottles evenly.

Dave: Oh, please. That thing is pointless.

Me: NO IT'S NOT. Microwaves don't heat evenly!

Dave: Come on.

Me: SHUT UP, DAVE, WE'RE GETTING ONE.

Dave: Uh, what?

Me: DEAL WITH IT.

Dave: No. We're not buying one. Ever.

Me: IT'S A NECESSITY. I'm buying it tomorrow.

Hi, I'm Lisa and I'm PMSy today.

Who-dy what-y?

These are the last few @ replies I've gotten on Twitter.

Spambots and someone who thinks I am her "BF," which I thought meant "boyfriend." And, no, that's not the first time that's happened.

Calm assertive state

I admit it: I've watched quite a bit of Dog Whisperer in my day.

I've learned a lot...namely, little dogs are huge assholes when you act like they are human babies, a swift "SHHHHHPPPPPT" noise will correct many behaviors and Cesar Millan really, really likes rollerblades.

A common theme in the show isn't just training dogs, but having the owners become the Pack Leeeeeeeader. In my house, I like to think I'm Pack Leader, but if we're being honest, this is the one the dogs listen to:

Spray bottle of doom.

[It's filled with water. I don't *actually* Febreze my dog(s)...]

Yep, that's the trick. When the spray bottle comes out, the dogs go right to a submissive state. Oh, you want to bark incessantly at nothing? SPRAY BOTTLE. You're going to play right after eating, so Rocco throws up? SPRAY BOTTLE. You're going to play on my awesome, new couch? SPRAY BOTTLE.

It's hardly parenting pioneering over here, but it works and that's all I care about. I am Mom. I am dominant. And I will spray the shit out of you if you act like a jerk in my house. And then I will cuddle you afterwards because I feel a little guilty. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

Housewifery

Today, Jessi had the day off and she wanted a real "real housewives" day. As someone who watches the trainwreck that is the Bravo reality series, this is my specialty.

But, our adventures were decidedly less dramatic...


THE PLAN VERSUS THE REALITY

Wake up late.	Woke up late.
Greet each other with European air kisses.	Said, "What up."
Be drunk by noon.	Left my apartment after noon.
Get chauffered around in a limo.	Drove us in my Jetta.
Run errands.	Ran errands.
Parade around with my baby while holding a glass of wine.	Paraded around Whole Foods with a glass of wine.

Get in a fight with each other.	Enjoyed each other's company.
Throw a drink in someone's face.	Spilled some wine in the kitchen.
Eat lunch outside and glare at people.	At lunch outside and smiled at Honeycat.

Get Botox.	Talked about Botox.
Spend thousands of dollars on frivolous things.	Spend tens of dollars on necessary things like food and booze.
Run into someone I hate.	Ran into a nice man who educated Jessi on the finer points of canned fish.

I'll take my reality over theirs any day.

Decisions, decisions

When I was young, I wanted to get my ears pierced. I told my mom, who, surprisingly, told me that I could do it -- but that it would hurt. Even then, as a durable, injury-prone, bounce-back-from-anything gymnast, I wasn't good with pain. I started to reconsider...

Then, my mom and grandma told me to make a pros and cons list to help me decide. I thought of tons of pros (I'd look pretty, I liked jewelry, I'd be grown-up, etc.) and only one con: needle through ear hurts. A lot.

If pro-and-con lists were about length alone, the decision would have been easy. With far more pros than cons, I'd have done it instantly. But that one, singular, painful con carried much more weight for me. It took me ages to actually pull the trigger, no pun intended. But I finally did it. And now? I hardly wear earrings.

I thought about that little story in bed the other night when I was wondering whether or not we should keep this new dog in our house. There are plenty of pros and cons floating around, but once again this isn't a decision than can be boiled down to a few words on a piece of Lisa Frank paper.






This dog is sweet, smart and loving. She and Rocco get along so well. She likes to cuddle and sleep. She doesn't have a sensitive stomach. She's a pleaser.

But...

My house is more crowded. My floors have been peed on once a day. The dogs set each other off when one hears a noise. The playing is overkill.

We're all still adjusting, I know. Things have gotten better each day. If we didn't already have Rocco, this would be a no-brainer because this dog is just so awesome. But is it the right long-term living situation for the four of us?

As they say, time will tell.

Summer Updates

Well, it's summer. Bring on the beaches, beer gardens and barbecues. Chicago is an incredible city to live in during these few months, so I plan to take full advantage.

But, before we get to that, there are a few updates I should toss out here...

Goodbye to Oprah

While America said goodbye to their favorite afternoon talk show, I said goodbye to my beloved job. Working on the show was, by far, the greatest job I could have asked for. But, it's time to move on for many of us and I don't think there's a single person on staff who could say they were 100% happy to walk away from this job, these coworkers and this company. (Though, let me say, OW throws one hell of a farewell party.)

My dept -- best people ever.

Hello to Retirement

Where do you go from Oprah? I'm thinking the president...or retirement. You know, go out on a high note. I'm exploring both options right now but if there's ever a time to retire, it's Chicago in the summer. Plus, "retirement" sounds way better than "unemployment." This summer's retirement plans include:

• A trip to the West Coast to see a few friends like Billy, Joe and Dave's cousin.
• Many days spent at my fav beach -- Ohio Street. (Perhaps the only douche-free beach in the city.)
• Exercise. I'm less enthused about this, but it stays on the list.
• A drive to Memphis with the pup(s) to see my folks and all the new shit they're doing to their house.
• Our family vacation to Virginia Beach with my fam, my aunt/uncle and Dave's fam.
• Sleeping in, playing Call of Duty and drinking summery things like Vodka-Lemonades.

Welcoming Margie/Bella/Stella/Roger
Since Dave and I are both free from work this summer, we thought now would be the best time to bring another little furball into our home. So, we had Rocco meet his potential sister about a week ago and they adored each other! Her name is Margie but she responds to Bella, so we were hoping to keep a similar-sounding name. We're thinking "Stella," but my brother has already decided he will be calling her "Roger."

Now we'll be fostering her for two weeks starting on the 13th to see if she'll be a good fit in our home. If she's not, well, then we're never meant to get a second dog because this one is just awesome.

Aaaaand that's it! It's only June 6, but it's already shaping up to be a month of big changes... Hopefully all good.

So this happened

My grandma is quite the character.

She's an 80-year-old Long Island Jew with a penchant for Crown Royal and a love of art. She says words like "exquisite" on a regular basis and calls everyone "darling," though it sounds more like "daw-ling" with her thick New York accent. She has a boyfriend who lives in California, recently went white-water rafting, adores traveling around the world and doesn't go a day without wearing mascara. Oh, and she looks like she's 65.


Yep, that's my grandma.

Just yesterday, she was returning to her home in Memphis from a visit to her bf in California. In keeping with her unique personality, Grandma also like to chat with anyone and everyone. And I guess this includes heavy metal icons from the 80s, as evidenced by my mom's tweets...





Wait, what?

Grandma just made friends with a guy from Whitesnake?


Of course she did. Because it's Grandma.

Her life never ceases to amaze me.

POTUS

Hello, neglected blog. I wish I had more time to write, but things are too busy right now. So, in the meantime, here's a quick story.

Once upon a time, the President came to my work.

We made eye contact, he smiled, he winked and he said, "How ya doing?"

I think this is what my face did:


The end.

Help

I need your help, friends. Help with the following:

1. What eyeliner do you use?
I use a Revlon eye pencil or something and that shit smudges within 10 minutes of putting it on.

2. What book did you just read and can't stop recommending?
I'm a fan of mysteries, thrillers and anything that could be a Law & Order episode, but I'm open to all kinds of genres.

3. Do you have a favorite self tanner?
Never used one, don't want to be streaky. Or an Oompa. So, I'd need something idiot-proof.

Okay... GO.

OMG DADDY'S HOME

When Dave came back from China, I took (blurry) video of Rocco seeing his dad for the first time in 6 weeks.

Such a pea-brain.

Rocco! from David on Vimeo.

Also, the reason Roc ran away and took his Kong bone into the bedroom is because he's started ripping it apart instead of playing with it like a normal dog:


Again...

Pea-brain.

But we love him.

If I had a food blog

I made some food yesterday.

Apparently, it tasted good.

Jessi and Molly told me I should start a food blog.

Here is what it would look like:

Chop-a-Bunch-of-Shit-and-Throw-it-in-a-Bowl Salsa

Image: TKTC

Ingredients:

• Tomatoes
• Avocados
• Red onion
• Feta cheese
• Garlic
• Parsley
  
• Oregano
• Olive oil
• White wine vinegar

Directions:
Do exactly what it says here... http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Avocado-Feta-Salsa/Detail.aspx

Coleslaw That Isn't Boring But IS Really, Really Easy. And Good.

Image: TKTC

Ingredients:

• Shredded cabbage
• Basil
• Dill
• Mayo
• Half-and-half
• Cider vinegar
• Sugar
• Pepper

Directions:
Do exactly what it says here... http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Basil-Dill-Coleslaw/Detail.aspx


I read, therefore I cook.

Chemistry, y'all

Title page of Dave's dissertation:


Am I the only one that starts singing that song from Brownies/Girl Scouts when I see "silver" and "gold"? Make new friennnnds, but keeeeep the ollllllld... ONE IS SILVER AND THE OTHER GOLD.

No?

Okay, never mind.

Over and out

Well, friends, Dave's China trip is almost up. It's hard to believe 6 weeks have already come and gone, but as of right now, I'm 28 hours away from seeing my husband and I CAN'T WAIT. Seriously. It's disgusting, even to me.

But, now that Dave's Wild Asian Adventure is over, it's the perfect time to recaps my highs and lows of living alone...


HIGHS

• I learned how to parallel park by myself.
• I didn't forget to feed my dog once.
• I did some pilates a few times. Okay, fine, twice.
• I leveled up on Call of Duty.
• I finally got my hair cut.
• I had lovely, boozy playdates with Ang, Suz and Jessi.
• I wore my new, cute, yellow ballet flats from Cole Haan.
• I drove Roc to Cleveland so he could play with his cousin and I could get drunk with my sister-in-law and mother-in-law.
• I met my new neighbors and their adorable Boxer -- love them all.
• I bought 6 pairs of shoes, 6 dresses, 11 shirts, a pair of pants and 3 belts.
• The weather warmed up!... For half a second. We'll take it.
• I saw Suz's new condo and it's awesome.
• I found a convenient, lovely spa that I will be going to instead of the uber-expensive Bliss for my facials.
• My sister came in town and made amends.
  

LOWS

• I lost my apartment keys.
• And mail key.
• And almost locked the dog in the car. ALMOST.
• I rarely cooked for myself.
• I often ate popcorn for dinner.
  
• I got into bed embarrassingly early every weeknight.
• I got sick and sounded like a chain-smoking, truck-stop hooker for three days.
• I almost ran over a little woman with my boat of a car.
• We frequently lost at trivia.
• My dog may or may not have eaten chocolate, so I pumped him full of meds and Benadryl out of sheer panic.
  

Eh, let's call it a draw.

Dave's China

As of two days ago, Dave left the hellhole that is Lanzhou and embarked on his 10-day vacation across the more modernized parts of China. He's already seen Tienanmen Square and the Great Wall, and tomorrow he departs for Shanghai for more sightseeing and fun.

However, before this little vacation of his, he was stuck in one of the most industrial (read: crappy) cities in the country. This shit was downright Third World! Well... that might be a tad dramatic, but here, judge for yourself:

• Dave only had 2 hours of hot water allowed in his dorm. Showering, apparently, was a luxury.
  

• His lab had squat toilets. This is a squat toilet:

• He had no access to a laundry room or laundromat, so he had to do his laundry in the bathtub. The bathtub!

• He could really only stare at a wall for entertainment after work, since he couldn't stream any TV shows or movies online.

• His lab had no heat and typically hovered around 30 degrees, so when he worked, he had to bundle up and pray for sunshine.

Just a reminder to be thankful, America. We are so, so spoiled.

Another difference between the North and South

...High School Reunion Edition.


NORTH
My mom's 10-year high school reunion was held at a nightclub in Manhattan.

SOUTH
My 10-year high school reunion will be a family picnic in the middle of the afternoon.


There best be booze, otherwise Jessi, Molly and I are going to look like a bunch of drunk, child-less assholes.

Renters 4 life

This is what $730k would buy me in Cleveland:

It even has its own tennis court. TENNIS COURT.

This is what $730k would buy me in Chicago:
That, my friends, is why it's unlikely that I will be a homeowner as long as I live in this beautiful, beautiful city. I love it so, but... damn.