Finding Zen

About Last Night

Here is a picture BOSSY posted on her blog from our little gathering last night.  I must confess, that this picture really just says it all for me.  This is Amber and her 18yr old Dude-"friend".  Cannot remember Dude's name because both BOSSY and I were in such awe of the sheer radiance that was the arrival of Amber from Knoxvull.  And since BOSSY has way more sense COUTH than I, I'm just going to come right out and say it because it needs to be said - and I am okay if you need to be all... "Like, Oh-mah-gah!, Becky, I can't believe she just said that!".   We'll all get over it and the spade will still be the spade.

Amber has the most awesomest boobs I have ever seen in my life.  I felt like a teenage boy - or perhaps, Dude, from the moment she sat down.  Amber did you notice?  I hope not.  And I won't go into great detail about it, other than to say that if I ever find myself in a doctors office for a set of them, I want hers.  If I had those, I'd never leave the house.  I'd insure them.  I'd charge Zack admission to see them.  I'd only sleep in silk sheets, wear French bras and I WOULD NEVER RUN AGAIN.  I'm just sayin.

With that out of the way, I can move along.  To Dude.  But not before I say this one last and more substantial thing about Amber.   I have met few people in my life who can short circuit my most unattractive tendency to SPEAK OVER PEOPLE.  To do the whole 'me my mine!' thing.  While rare, it is actually possible for me to SHUT MY PIEHOLE.  And Amber made me Shut The Fuck Up last night.  Fascinating.  We all must go forth unto Amber's blog-o-sphere.  If it is 1/2 as interesting and engaging as she was in person, you will enjoy it - I'm sure.  Okay.  On to Dude. 

HE SMILED LIKE THIS FROM THE MINUTE THEY ARRIVED UNTIL WE ALL LEFT.  JUST.  LIKE.  THAT.   And YET, he hardly said a word!

It was the sort of smile that made you think:

a) can i just put Dude in my pocket so i can pull him out on occasion and be reminded that life is friggin SWELL? (He was SO CUTE!!!)

orrrrrrr,

b) there MUST be something going on IN Dude's pocket!  And it's probably because Amber's boobs are so awesome.

I mean for christsakes.  Guy got dragged into a 3 hour road trip to visit the Vagina Monologues at a bar where he can't even get a goddamned PBR and was probably thinking to himself the entire time...

"I better be getting a blow job for this". 

(And don't EVEN TRY and get all freaky over this...because in case you didn't get the memo, THEY ARE ALL ALWAYS thinking that - and if you don't believe me, I'm sorry to have to tell you but you're in denial.)

I had to say it.  It is too spot-on to ignore.  I've never seen anyone smile that long who was clearly on the shitass end of someone else's good deal (ahem...that would be you Amber! - Ms. Saving On Gas Money).  You need to keep that one close.  He's a keeper.  And you both were awesome to meet.

Now.  On to BOSSY and crew.  To the ladies - it was a genuine pleasure to have the opportunity to connect with some of my very own neighbors!  Thank you to BOSSY for introducing us to one another, and for including us in her great adventure.  I also want to thank you all for humoring my inner FRAT BOY long enough to fake a smile as I chugged an Irish Car Bomb with the waiter.  You all are clearly more intelligent than I, with real jobs, and childrens, and sponsibilities.  And I...evidently preoccupied with channeling WILL FERREL.

You all had good boobs too. 

BOSSY.  You feel like an old soul to me.  I look forward to a time when we can visit (sans swolled toes and schedules and OnStar BOSSING BOSSY on to the next destination) - I wish you all the energy, stamina, and endurance you will need in these coming weeks - with the hope that your journey falls nothing short of all that you had hoped it would be.  You are a brave woman with great intentions, and I think what you are doing is pretty awesome.

GOOD LUCK.  SAFE TRAVELS.  AND remember...

Those Bugle Chips - just prop those puppies in the eyelids, get a little shut eye - and you'll be in San Francisco before you know it! 

That Crazy Girl

BOSSY is coming indeed! 

She likes to tan - just not her face.  "Sun" on the face, is bad.  I also happen to suck in Photoshop and am hoping for a tutorial in exchange for the fact that her coming to visit has forced me to do laundry and stuff.  I wouldn't want BOSSY to think we live like college students.  Shah. 

I really aught to have gotten some t-shirts made...

So BOSSY is coming to town.  The anticipation of her arrival has made me uber (because I love that word and I don't care if you're sick of it already) frantic.  I had put off cleaning the house until last night - because I don't understand what 'pacing oneself' means.  Let me describe to you how this all unfeld (cuz unfolded don't even sound right!).

For starters, all our interior doors (you know to bedrooms and bathrooms), have been in our garage for the last few months.  Why?  Because privacy is overrated when you're married.  At first it was awkward, taking a "deuce" and all with the dogs staring at you from the hallway - but after a few weeks, we started to realize how improved circulation is when you arent holding it up in a 6X6 room for the unfortunate person who needs to brush their teeth...or whatnot.  In addition to improved air circulation, it's just less work people.  All that opening, and closing, and opening.  Ridiculous!

We have joked about 'what will we do if someone ELSE comes to shit in our house?'.  But considering Vern is the only one who ever visits us - and since she is probably one of THE Founding Hippies, we were all like 'eh'.  'We can't be bothered!'.

Oh - so the doors were in the garage....because they were UGLY.  Dark Brown.  And with frightening scrapes up and down most.  We think the previous owners were in to feline torture.  One of the last remaining traces that we are in fact living in a home that was built in the 60's.  Unfortunately the TURQUOISE BLUE TOILET, FLOOR TILES, AND TUB in BOSSY's bathroom - just spoils the whole illusion of MODERN CHIC RANCH.  That and the giant white columns on the porch.  But we're working on that.  So it was Zack's hope we could revive the doors.  He had sanded them down - but since I am the 'painter' in the family - it was my  job to get them painted so he could put them back in.  Hence the few months gone by since they came off their hinges.  I've been stalling.

But then Bossy decided that since I am often UNEMPLOYED and without chirrens - that I would be the most obvious candidate for hosting her during her tear through the southeast.  The booze, knitted potholders, pillow-top euro-to-the-max with lbs of cashmere-laden-thread we can't sleep on because it kills our backs BED, and abundance of Prilosec were just a few of the upgrades I offered to provide.   What she doesn't realize is there may be a paintbrush waiting for her on her nightstand and a tip jar on top of the PADDLER magazine behind the toilet - she's sure to enjoy.  So needless to say, the doors had to get put back on. 

I was up all night.  Painting, scrubbing, cleaning.  Chasing furballs into dark corners.  I want BOSSY to feel comfortable enough to take off her shoes without slipping on Zoe's winter coat.  It's the little things.

Can't wait to report tomorrow.  As much as I wanted to kidnap BOSSY and take her to THE CLERMONT LOUNGE where she could learn how to crush beer cans with her boobs - afterwhich we would go to the VARSITY for CHILI DOGS and ONION RINGS - I figured some margaritas and tacos in the trendy Decatur neighorhood I consider home, would be more appropriate for our 'first date'.  A bunch of us will be meeting to talk amongst ourselves and with any luck, I'll get them all shitty enough on tequila to think that Irish Car Bombs at the BRICKSTORE would be fun.  Wouldn't you like to see a shot of BOSSY with her face down on a plate of french fries at 3 in the morning?

THAT would be AWESOME - if I weren't such a shit talker who starts to yawn after a half glass of wine - who will probably be asleep in the car while Bossy and Friends party all night long.  We shall see...

Saturday Chickens

*Zack and I made the observation last night after coming home to YET ANOTHER empty water dish, that - MAN could the dogs like get their own water and shit?  We feel like slaves to the water bowl.  You think we could contract this job out?

*Is anyone else loving Sara Bareilles as much as I am?  I'm sorry for those who may be sick of it, but I can't get enough of LOVE SONG.  When I'm at home alone, I put my little headphones on (the ones that came in my ROSETTA STONE - FRENCH kit....with the little mic and all) so I look like Britney Spears, and I belt out the lyrics to...IM NOT GONNA WRITE YOU A LOVE SONG, CUZ YOU ASKED FOR IT!!!  Then the dogs come running down the hallway into the office staring at me and wagging their tails like 'WTF is going on?'.

Hell yeah.  You rock Sara Bareilles.  Also downloaded the latest Jack CD (Finally...I know), and I'm in love all over again.  So if its possible, my new death request for Zack is to get Sara Bareilles, Jack Johnson and MG THE VISIONARY (who by the way, I opened a myspace thingy JUST so I could tell him personally how badass he is and guess what?  he TOTALLY emailed me back, and now we tight.) to come sing a concert at my funeral service.  Then I've got Pop, Accoustic/Hippy, AND HIP HOP covered - so no one gets offended.

You may not know this, but I'm also a big fan of Electronic/Downtempo music.  This type of music, for those who haven't tried it out yet - is fantastic bedroom music (TMI TMI!).  Rubber ducky makes bathtime lots of fun right?  Downtempo makes bedtime lots of fun!  Well, you remember in high school when you made out with your boyfriend after popping the ENIGMA CD in?  Oh, I'm sorry...was it ENYA?  Yeah.  Same thing.   I recommend Thievery Corporation and anything that Mark Farina does.   

I spent a bit too much time rooting around in the ITUNES store the other night.  For example,   Mark Farina & Sean Hayes:  Dream Machine.  Awesome.

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.  Oh, I crack myself up.

I'm Fiending for UK Sweets

To my lovely UK friends.

Can someone please hook a sister up??  I will get you whatever American shit you may desire.  Old Navy...Target...Velveeta Shells and Cheese, Hellman's, Reeces Pieces, Maple Syrup...ICE...you name it.

In exchange...for MINSTRELS (not to be confused with MENSTRUAL), AND (and this is the more important part), TUNNOCKS TEA CAKES.

You see, I had a very good friend once.  Her name was HILLARY.  She was like my twin.  Only - the separated at birth fraternal kind - because, well look at us!  She looks like Eva Longoria and I'm more like....Pippi Longstocking.  She married a military man, ran off to Cambridge UK and is busy being fabulous somewhere - BUT HAS FORGOTTEN ABOUT ME.   I miss her.  And when Zack and  I left her 'flat' during our great adventure, I entrusted her with dozens of tea cakes she promised to forward along to me...but never did.  :-(  And now, tonight...I am thinking of them.  And her.  And missing them both terribly. 

 

No.  I'm not pregnant.  But I might be one day.  Soon.  And I'd like some TEACAKES for the RIDE.  Umkay?

Anthropologie. Eat Your Heart Out.

This is what 'freelancers' and 'carpenters' who spend every dime they make to live in their pricey neighboorhoods can look like if they shop at USED CLOTHING STORES.

The tag says FOREVER 21 - I scribbled over it and wrote FREE PEOPLE - to make myself feel better.  No one will ever know the difference.

So here are your bangs people.  The only thing missing from this first picture is a caged parakeet in the background.  Or the President.  Or an apple pie a gin & tonic.  Don't you just LOVE my stately columns?   

The second is entirely for the sake of THE DRESS.  Can we not spend any time discussing anything from the neck up or the knees down?  My legs haven't seen the light of day since August.  Preciate ya.

The third...is just proof that the frown lines OWN MY FACE even when I'm smiling.  SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!

 

*For the record.  FULL SKIRTS are the next big thing.  SEE.  Don't hate cuz I'm FASHION FORWARD!