This world is not set up for me.

Yay, look at me! I updated every goddamn day this month. EVEN WHEN I WAS PUKING. That is dedication, my friends. Thank you all for reading and for the many fine comments. I crave comments like candy. Delicious, self-affirming candy. I will probably be taking the weekend off, but I'll be back with a vengeance on Monday, now that I've gotten a taste for the daily blogging thing.

So, today on my lunch break I went to one of those Big Book stores to get a birthday present for my niece Dusty (of FreshHell fame). Specifically, I went to purchase this:


Here is the description from the Big Book Store's website:

Move over, guys; the girls' retort to The Dangerous Book for Boys is here. No callow imitation, The Daring Book for Girls contains oodles of information and instruction for tomboys and girly-girls alike. This handy 288-page fun tutorial teaches you everything from double dutch and cat's cradle to secret note-passing skills, making friendship bracelets and mastering a perfect cartwheel. It delves into higher mysteries like concocting science projects and deciphering the responses of boys. Novel, but not just a novelty; a bundle of practical fun.

Now. Where in the Big Book Store would you expect to find this book? This book that they have listed under -> Children - Social Issues on their website. I assumed, since it's a children's book, that it would be in the children's book section. Oh ho ho! I looked and looked and looked and looked. And looked. They had an island shelf full of SIMILAR books but not the one I was looking for. I finally and exasperatedly flagged down an employee and she said, "Oh! I know exactly where that is!" and led me out of the children's section and down towards the regular adult fiction section where there was a whole display of them. In.... fiction. This book is not fiction. It's definitely adult-friendly, in that, I think I would enjoy reading such a thing, but CLEARLY IT IS MEANT FOR CHILDREN.

I should add, this is the same bookstore that used to stock Henry James under Classics instead of Complete Crap, so what do they know.

Large Food. Good Times.

I went out for a work-event lunch today and we went to an emporium of Large Foods. The portions are so large that the weirdo waiter (who had a naaasty cold sore on his lip and was also nauseatingly polite) warned us that the portions were unmanageable. I just don't understand the whole quantity over quality thing, but okay. The lunch I got was fine and huge and afterwards their were giant slices of overly-ridiculous $7 cheesecake. Again, it was tasty and even I'm not so dumb that I'll turn away cheesecake even if it does have cookie dough and peanut butter and chocolate and whipped cream going on, but dang. Way Too Much. Why so much? SO MUCH.

Now I feel like I'm going to explode and lunch was hours ago. Dang it, Large Food.

In completely unrelated news: WHO'S WATCHING PUSHING DAISIES? If you're not, start. I mean, right now. Go to the website and watch the episodes online because it's the single best show on network television right now and you're missing it. It's good on so many levels and it's pretty much exactly my vision of... things. Basically, I want to live in an Amélie world and this show is pretty close to that world. Which is my ideal world. Also, Olive's cleavage is outstanding. Watch it just for that if you want, I don't care. Mostly I just want everyone to keep watching so that it doesn't get lost and canceled in the shuffle of the strike madness. I'm so worried that it will get Keen Eddied and I really can't let this happen so if I have to chain myself to the Porsche driven by whatever asshole Suit kills my favorite shows, I'll totally do that.

File under: Products That Need to Die

Clocky. What the hell. Clocky is not funny, Clocky is not cute, Clocky is the spawn of Satan. I mean, for the love of God, why would i want an alarm clock that will jump off my nightstand and go hide? It better hide somewhere good because I will take a hammer to that shit when I find it. It's bad enough that my alarm clock goes off at all. The only thing that saves it's ass from total destruction is that it's not running around trying to hide from me before it goes off again.

Also, the five minutes between each snooze is when I have my trippiest most fucked-up dreams. Why would I ruin that by stumbling blindly around the bedroom with a crowbar in hand?

Here's where I pimp my ride.

I really love Target as much as the next girl (I mean, dang, what did I do before Target? Where did I go to rashly spend gobs of money on things I didn't even know I needed? Where did I go to quiet my mind and touch shiny affordable objects?) but this year I'm making a serious effort to buy (or make) at least one handmade gift per person on my list. This has gotten so much easier to do with the advent of Etsy.com. Etsy is like Target - what the hell did we do before Etsy? Where did we waste hours of time searching for stuff we didn't know we needed? Etc.

If you like the idea of Etsy but get seriously overwhelmed by the mass glut of everything cool omg so much, there is a solution. A few very nice people have created a website to help highlight things you might like: All Things Handmade.

It's a great way to browse the handmade goodness without feeling like your head is going to explode. Also, because I'm pimping already, don't forget to visit Keen Designs because we're adding something new every day. EVERY. DAMN. DAY. If you buy something from our Etsy shop, please mention Amblus in the comments section and I'll take 15% off your order! (I'll need to send you an adjusted invoice, so don't pay until I do that.)

Finally, if you're desperate to buy something FOR ME (or fine, for someone else) here are a few of my favorites:

Etsy Buy Handmade KeenDesigns

Hidely Ho, Readerinos.

Hi! I'm at work which is usually fine but today makes me want to drum my head on my desk. Shit, even the cats looked all depressed when I left the house this morning and they don't have jobs, unless sleeping all day is a job. Fuzz will probably drag some of Kenny's gross socks around the living room and Stripes might hack up a hairball, but still. Not jobs.

I don't have much of an entry today, but as promised, I have pictures! Here is the table my sister and I picked out (click for a bigger version):



I need to find cute chairs to match and paint the wood trim a non-minty color, but really, I'm completely delighted with how cute it looks. YAY.

My mother bought me this little chest of drawers for my bathroom:



I'll probably paint it eventually but for now it's shabby chic. Why are you laughing?

Anyway, if that's not enough entry for you I also (finally) added a new picture-full entry on my bike blog: http://amblus-whitewhale.blogspot.com/2007/11/neglected.html

I am an updating MACHINE today, people.

Sunday Dread

Meh. The end of a really really long weekend is always kind of depressing and I have a bit of the Sunday Dreads. Today was pretty good overall and I did the stuff I wanted to do, but still. Sunday night. Meh.

I did manage to go back out to the antique/thrift store with my mom and pick up the cute table for our dining room and also a little cabinet for the bathoom. Our house is so cute right now! I'll have to take more pictures so I can remember how it looks when things go back to their usual slovenly state.

In Crazy People news, I got this email today in the Keen account:

Hello ,I own a Boutique/gift shop here in Florida, and after looking over your website I am extremely interested in your products, I was wondering if I might request a few samples to see what I think of your product before making a large purchase for my store , thank you and I look forward to doing business with you.

I felt like responding:

Dear Crazy, You fucking wish.

Seriously, was I born yesterday? I did a quick search on her incredibly stupid email address (the first part was Mothertomy2girls@...) and what a surprise! Other indie designers have gotten the same scam and I'm sure it probably works too. I know when we first started we were green enough to fall for this kind of thing. It really pisses me off though, because dang, if you have to steal, go steal from a big corporation or something. Or hey, don't steal at all! Preying on tiny independent artists is just nasty. I sort of might have written her back to tell her I though so too. Hmph.

Exactly what a Saturday should be.

Today was a template for what a perfect Saturday should be. I got up and went to the gym for a couple of hours and then spent the rest of the day eating. PERFECT. I did some other stuff too, but the eating was so grand.

Kate and I went to Can Can Brasserie for lunch and I got a giant portion of Moule Frite and we split a carafe of wine while we caught up on the past week's happenings. Then we tottered tipsily around Carytown and had vaguely inappropriate conversations with strangers. I think that's my #1 favorite thing about living in the South- complete strangers will talk to you about ANYTHING. Unfortunately they're often crazy complete strangers, but today that wasn't the case. Conversations that were had:

- charming older women at the next table chatted about their insane giant jewelry.

- woman in the bathroom and I got down about our hair and it's abilities or lack thereof.

- had an eyeopening talk with salespeople in EQ3 about Lance Armstr0ng (unanimously agreed: a doping creep), his relationship with Ashley 0lsen (so so so creepy), and then one of them piped up that they'd been at a party where Miss 0lsen was busy getting snorty with the coke. GOOD STUFF.

Kate and I then did some shopping (beads, Christmas presents, candy) and tottered back to Can Can for coffee and chocolate cream puffs. Was today excellent or what? So nice to have a free Saturday to play.

Now I'm waiting for a couple of butternut squash to get roasty so I can make them into soup for dinner. I can't think of a better way to end a good day than with a bowl of butternut squash soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Wait, I can. Add a glass of wine to that. And George Clooney. And a pony. Okay, the end.

PS. As promised, here's my friend Marianne's recipe for the savory cookies (click on her link for other fantastic recipes):

cheddar-pecan-cranberry cookies

1/2 cup butter, room temperature
1 1/2 cups very sharp white cheddar, finely grated
1 1/2 cups white flour (I'm considering using half whole wheat next time, though)
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
2-3 pinches cayenne pepper
a few shakes of Tabasco
1 teaspoon baking powder
about 1/2 cup toasted chopped pecans
about 1/3 cup dried cranberries

Cream the butter and cheese together at high speed in your stand mixer. Add baking powder, salt, cayenne, and tabasco. Mix until blended. Slowly add in flour, nuts and cranberries with the butter mixture on high.

Turn dough out onto a large piece of waxed paper or plastic wrap. Shape into a log shape, roll the paper around it and twist the ends shut. Refrigerate for at least an hour. I usually just chuck the dough in the freezer at this point, you can bake it frozen.

Preheat oven to 375F.

Unwrap the dough log and, using a very sharp knife, slice the log into rounds a bit less than 1/2 inch thick. Place rounds on cookie sheets and bake for about 12 minutes, or until the bottoms of the cookies are golden brown. Remove to a cooling rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight container.

Makes 25-30. I usually double the recipe and keep a couple of logs of dough in the freezer for the whole holiday season.

I seriously almost forgot.

Here it is, 10:30pm and I am just now getting around to blog-time. Lord how the time flies when I'm not working.

If I was a smart cookie I would carry my camera around with me everywhere and would have a picture of the fantastic new table my sister found and bought for me for a Christmas present. I needed a dining room table to fit in our tiny little 1950's miniature dining room (was everyone an elf back then?) and decided that one of those cool vintage kitchen tables would be just the thing. The one we found is super cute and super still at the store because neither of us has a car big enough to fit it in. I'm going back for it on Sunday, never fear.

Yesterday I watched a lot of HGTV, especially my beloved House Hunters with Suzanne Whhhahang. This is the best show ever because you get to watch complete idiots throw over wonderful cute houses because, "I really don't like the paint color in this room." Because paint is permanent, people! My other favorite comment is when they walk into a simply ginormous and lovely kitchen and whine, "Hmmm. The kitchen is pretty small and outdated." OH MY GOD. They do not even KNOW small! Let me tell you about OUTDATED. I just want to crack skulls at that point. I also love love love the people who look at a perfectly perfect little Craftsman style cottage full of charming built-ins and then worry that their giant-screen TV won't fit. GOOD, BECAUSE THAT HOUSE IS WAY TOO AWESOME FOR YOU SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO BUY A NICE SPLIT-LEVEL, ASSHOLE.

I get a little...involved is what I'm saying. I love you, television.

Thanky.

Lord, what a day. It was bizarrely summer-like outside, all breezy and warm and sunny. I don't care how unseasonable it is, I'll take it. I spent the morning cooking and cleaning in a frenzy and then took pictures of the house to prove that it could actually BE CLEAN with some effort. How sad is it that I have to document the clean like it's a fleeting and rare state? Sad but true. Here's what I created:

• Sweet Potato and Apple Gratin
  
• good old fashioned mashed potatoes
  
• fresh green beans with lemon juice and zest
  
• savory cheddar-pecan-cranberry cookies (a recipe I begged off my friend Marianne)
  

The family brought the rest: two kinds of pie, black bean and sweet potato stew, mac and cheese, turkey, dressing, cranberry relish, the works. Good stuff all around.

Happy Thankgiving, kids!

Stealth-like, it comes.

You never know when it's going to hit, when that moment you've been anticipating with gleeful dread will happen. For me, it was today at the mall. I went to my favorite upscale outdoor mall today to return something and was dismayed to discover that, not only did a lot of people also have the day off, but it was all the people I hate. The wealthy-giant-stroller-pushing mommies, the gaggles of teenage snot, the PEOPLE, they were EVERYWHERE. Hate. Ugh.

Anyway, I was stomping towards the Gap when it happened. Silver Bells. Oh yes, my friends, that dirge of Christmas future! It was being piped into the outdoor mall. (How do they even do that?) Silver Bells is extra specially special for me though, because at one point in my life it was my #1 favorite mode of torture. I'd call my friend Ashley up (or she'd call me) and sing,

"SILVER BELLS. SILVER BELLS. IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME...IN THE CITYYYYYY."


Then I'd hang up.



Let that marinade for a second.



What's stuck in your brain? What will be stuck in your brain until CHRISTMAS?



Hahahahaaa. Sucker.

Ode to a Crotch Bow.

Holla, how freaking awesome is my new masthead? HOW. FREAKING. AWESOME. I have my friend Suzanne to thank - she is a brilliant master of the Photoshop. She makes things pretty for me.

That crotch bow photo was taken at my friend Noah's prom-themed party a few years back. Here's the original picture:


Now I'm sure you're wondering, "Damn, girl, where DID you buy a dress so awesome?" and my answer would be, "no where" because you can't just buy a dress like that. You just can't. No, in order to get a dress that fantastically ruchy, faded and crotchy-bowed, you have to know people. In this case, I knew Kate's husband Justin who, at the time, was a key-holder to the University's costume shop. Oh, glory day.

The costume shop is housed in what used to be a swimming pool, so it's basically a graduated pit filled with costumes and donations and hideousness the likes of which I'd never seen. It was glorious. Kate and I spent an hour looking for THE DRESS, the one to rule them all. It was work, people. We squeezed in and out of any number of weird and unflattering ensembles, but finally we settled on the cream of the crop. Kate's was black velvet with giant panels of red satiny goodness on either side, complete with hip poofs, and mine was, of course, the green explosion seen above. People still talk about it, I have to tell you. Someone mentioned it at Noah's Halloween party last month, "Hey, you are the girl who wore THAT DRESS." Yes, yes, I am that girl. Please, no autographs.

Sadly, stupidly, I only had the dress on loan and I gave it back. Why did I do that? I can promise you that dress will never be worn again by anyone because who would want to? It was only me who could make a crotch bow shine like that. Au revoir, my shiny green sweetness. I think of you fondly.

A conversation with my iPod

"Shuffle songs, please."

"As you wish."

...Counting Crows....click

...Gwen Stefani...click

...Gwen Stefani...click

...No Doubt...CLICK

"Seriously? Is this still on shuffle?"

"Sigh."

...Cowboy Ju...click

...Arca...CLICK

"God, lady, make up your mind."

"Just give me something I'm in the mood for!"

...The Clash "Clampdown"...

"Perfect, thank you."

...David Bowie "I Know It's Going to Happen Someday"...

"Well played!"

"Thank you, I try."

...The Specials "Little Bitch"...

"Seriously, it's like you're reading my mind today."

"I'm so happy you're pleased."

...The Strokes...click

...Duran Dura...click

...Kaiser Chi...click

...Dixi...click

...Ai...click

... ... ... ... ...

"Crap, crap! Are you frozen again?"

ll

...
...

"Shit. Sorry. I'll hit reset."

>ll

"Are you feeling better?"

"I guess."

"I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I just feel like I can't do anything right today."

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm just in a weird mood. It's not your fault, you're doing great."

"Thank you, I really do try."

"I know you do. I appreciate it. I don't know what I did before you came into my life."

"Wow, that's nice to hear."

"I mean it, sincerely. Okay, do you feel ready now?"

"I think so. I think I know what you want now."

>

...Arctic Monkeys...

"Aw."

IKEA = LIVIG ROMM LOKS GUUD

Do you know how dumb I am? Here's how dumb I am and aren't you happy I'll even admit this: Today at Ikea I realized that POÄNG isn't a Swedish word. Neither is ENJE, DIGNITET or MANDAL. These are complete nonsensical stupid fake words that they made up so you sound like an idiot when you're trying to describe your item by name. "Well, we have the POÄNG chair already, but we thought it might be nice to get the TRÄBY system to go with it." Thanks Sweden, because I needed to sound dumber than I already am.

Oh Crap! The weekends are hard.

I'm not a weekend blogger at all, so if I fail this every-day thing it's going to happen on a Saturday or Sunday, mark my words. I have less than an hour! Shit. Today was action-packed. I went to this gym this morning for my usual two classes, but halfway through my weight lifting class my legs were shaking so much I decided to skip spinning and give myself a break. I felt completely exhausted afterwards, I think that was the right decision. I think I also overdid the squat track because my legs feel like complete shit right now. OW.

I met my youngest sister for a nice lunch (she's 21! I remember when she was born! This just in: I'm old!) and then hightailed it to the northside for two hours of barbershop quartet...ness. Wow, I'm not sure what I was expecting but it was...entertaining? We'll just leave it at that. I do admit to having to do a LOT of facial re-adjustments during the all-that-jazz middle aged dance number and a even more adjustments during the patriotic medley. I think I was the youngest person in the audience by a good thirty years. Rockin'. I'm glad I went, though, and the chorus that my former teacher was in sounded great. They all looked like they were having a good time.

Then home, dinner, movie of ridiculous cuteness. By this I mean, I rented this movie knowing that Wes Bentley was in it, but big bonus: Gavin Rossdale and mega-bonus: Gerard Butler! I didn't a shit about soccer before but I sure love it now.

Okay, is that enough? Sure. Tomorrow: Ikea! Woo.

What you gonna do, when morons come for you?

I am so over this Blogger template but I can't seen to find another one that will work. Blogger people, any sources for non-sucky templates? I just want one that fits my pictures and doesn't hurt my eyeballs. If my template appears to change twelve times today, do not be alarmed. I'm just playing with my sad options.

Anyway, what's up, party people? I just had lunch with my dad and in the name of making up for lost time I ate the fattiest thing I could find on the menu. It had two kinds of meat, swiss cheese, fatty dressing AND guacamole. Booya, that was fun. Now I have to go back to eating like a normal reasonable person, as I think I gained back all the sick-weight I lost in one Single Sandwich Incident.

So, weekend plans. This weekend is pretty jam-packed with stuffs. Tonight I'm eating sushi take-out and watching Ocean's Thirteen with Kenny, which pretty much sounds like heaven to me. Mmmm....George Clooney Roll.

Saturday I'm having lunch with my youngest sister to celebrate her birthday that was...last month, but who's counting. Then I'm trotting off to see my second grade teacher perform in this: http://www.grcsings.com/sound_celebration!.htm

She's very nervous and excited, it sounds like, so I'm happy to go watch. It should be something! She wasn't just a teacher (though she was certainly one of the best I ever had), she basically took me under her wing for a year when things were very hard - my mother was single and raising me and my sister while also working full time and going to grad school. My teacher desperately wanted kids (she has three grown boys now) and I was a good substitute. She and I have always stayed in touch and meet for dinner from time to time. Anyway, a cappella isn't totally my thing, but I'm proud of her.

On Sunday my sister and I are going on our bi-annual journey to IKEA, land of cheap stuff. I love shopping and I love cheap. Woo.

And that's the weekend. Next week doesn't even bear thinking about, what with the holiday madness and house cleaning frenzy that will occur.

Okay, so remember when I had my keys stolen a few months ago? Yeah, that sucked. What especially sucked was that the person who picked up my keys took with them my only good keyless remote for my car. I have another one but it's dicey and has a tendency to fall apart into bits, usually in crowded parking lots. It's currently being held together with electrical tape which is really classy, let me tell you.

Well, last week I finally found a reasonably priced replacement on eBay. YAY FOR EBAY. The seller promised programming instructions with the remote and emailed them as soon as I paid for it. I read them and immediately wilted into a pile of sadness because OH MY GOD, ITS TOTAL BULLSHIT. I'm not saying the seller is making it up, but really? I mean, really? Here, see for yourself:

Programming Instructions

1.) Start with key out of the ignition, driver door is open (all others closed), and driver door is unlocked.

2) Insert key into the ignition (don't turn it) and pull it out

3)Perform these steps within 40 seconds:

a. Using the power lock switch on the driver’s door, perform 5 lock/unlock cycles with lock. Use an even pace and try to go about one cycle per second. 1 cycle = 1 lock and 1 unlock)
b. Close, then open driver’s door.

4) Perform these steps within 40 seconds:

a. Using the power lock switch on the driver’s door, perform 5 lock/unlock cycles starting with lock. Use an even pace and try to go about one cycle per second.
(1 cycle = 1 lock and 1 unlock)
b. Insert the key in the ignition cylinder.
c. Turn the ignition to ON (as far as you can without cranking the engine) then back to OFF.
d. Turn the ignition to ON (as far as you can without cranking the engine) then back to OFF.
e. Remove the key from the ignition.

5) Within 3 seconds, the power door locks should cycle automatically indicating successful entry into programming mode. Return to step 1 if the locks do not cycle at this point.

6) Perform these steps within 40 seconds:

a. Press the lock and unlock buttons on the transmitter simultaneously for 1 second.
b. Immediately after letting go of the lock and unlock buttons, hit the lock button by itself and hold for 2 seconds. Within 3 seconds, the door locks should cycle once indicating successful programming. If the door locks don't cycle, or cycle twice, repeat steps a and b-your remote has not been accepted.

7) Close driver door.

8) Weep angry tears while banging head on driver door at about one cycle per second.

SWEET JEBUS. This is the clown car of all instructions! It's a cosmic joke and I'm convinced that when I perform these rituals someone is going to be hiding in the shrubs taping it for YouTube. Which is fine, as long as I get residuals.

The Masons are totally going to kill me for this.

So, quick show update and pictures! For whatever reason, most of my pictures came out sucktastic and blurry, but you can just suck it up and squint your eyes.

We did the Handmade Parade put on my the Norfolk Craft Mafia and it was a really good show. The venue was issue-prone but more than made up for it with charm and weirdness. I love me some weirdness. The main thing I give those Mafia folks credit for is the CROWD. There were so many people! Many of them actually bought things! It was quite nice, except for one customer who was so uncertain, so waffling, so in need of affirmation that we almost clubbed her over the head with a necklace bust. I mean, lady, it's a necklace! Buy it or don't! After dithering for, no shit, nearly an hour, she finally bought a necklace. Half an hour later she brought it back to be adjusted for length. Sheesh! Can you imagine being her hairdresser? (She actually mentioned hating her haircut and when we said it was cute she said, "Really?" with a look like she thought we were crazy.)

My other favorite was woman who looked everything over and then sneered, "I don't see any prices listed." Um, they're on the...price...tags?" Lord. My best overheard exchange was the woman incensed by a button another vendor was selling that said, "Jesus Wasn't a White Man". She was dressing down that vendor in all seriousness about how HE WAS TOO WHITE. Apparently middle eastern folks are Caucasian and therefore "white". Whatever you say, crazy. See also: GET A SENSE OF IRONY.

The show was held at a Masonic Temple which was awesome in it's weirdness and 1950s-trapped-in-amber. Especially in the bathroom. The woman's room had this awesome feature (this pic courtesy of Tasha, because mine sucked):



5¢!! I love it. Another interesting feature in the women's room was that the first two stalls contained urinals (I think):



Surprise! Not a toilet! Methinks the Masons weren't always so eager to allow the ladies in.

Definitely a men's club when you have to be so specific:



Oooh, showcase of top-secret Masonic gear:



The show was in two different rooms, the prison-like dining room (where we were) and the auditorium (aka scary sacrifice ritual room). The lighting in both was pretty bad, as you can see in this picture:




Ugh to the tiny prison windows and fluorescent dimness. Still, other than making our stuff less shiny and making us all look like we had cholera, it didn't matter. The show was fun and we made some sweet moola.

Enjoy Yourself. It's Later Than You Think.

Wow, back at work after three days of gutastic fun. My stomach still feels like it has a small alien living within (NO I'M NOT PREGNANT) because the reintroduction of food has made it very vocal and blurbly. It's embarrassing how loud my gastric business is, right now. It's good times. Food makes it sort of unhappy and the lack of food also has the same effect. What can a girl do.

I feel like I've sort of worn out my welcome on this "I'm sick" thing and while wildly combing my brain for a story to tell I remembered something that happened at the upscale farmer's market where we sell jewelry in the warmer months. We vended in September and it was not terribly profitable, but there was an incident that still makes me laugh. It also makes my ovaries more uncertain than they already are. (There seems to be a running theme here: INDECISION 2007- ADRIEN'S INNERDS. VOTE NOW.)

Anyway, the story:

At the farmer's market was a politician giving away balloons and such. A woman who was vending a few booths down from us had a passel of kids and they all had balloons, which seemed to make them happy. Well, almost all of them. Her little boy (maybe two or three years old?) really wanted to let his balloon go, even though his mother told him he wouldn't get it back. He let it go anyway, delightedly watched it fly off, and then burst into incredibly loud, drooling, square-mouthed shrieks of anger when he realized he couldn't get it back.

To stop the shrieking, his mother handed him another balloon. He released, he was gleeful, he was utterly furious, all within a two-second span. Another balloon was handed over, lather, rinse repeat. At this point we're all quietly cracking up. It's funny! Yet kind of annoying!

His mother starts to get irritated (perhaps with us for laughing) and finally ties the balloon to his belt loop. This sends the little boy into a rage like I've never seen. HOW CAN HE LET THE BALLOON GO WHEN IT'S ATTACHED TO HIS PANTS. NO NO NO. His solution, which reduced me and the rest of the vendors to convulsions, was to remove his pants and try to set the whole shebang free. Picture if you will: an angry, crying, towheaded, pantsless little boy trying to set free a balloon that is being dragged down by his pants. He was FURIOUS, marching along the row dragging his pants balloon behind him.

Finally, his mother caught up with him and untied the balloon, handed it to him with a warning. And looked on with blank despair as he gleefully let it go.

You gotta give that kids marks for consistency, I guess.

Progress!

OMG, you guys! I can sit up without clutching my head or my stomach in agony. I can eat something without immediately regretting it. I ate an entire waffle this morning, and even though it took me an hour to finish it, it stayed put. Now, if I could just manage to walk upright without feeling like my brain is cracking in two, we'll be all set. Did I mention that I fucking hate chicken noodle soup? Probably because the only time I ever eat it is when I already feel like crap. Gross by association.

This whole lack of interest in food is pretty interesting though. I mean, the idea that it would take me an hour to eat any kind of bread product is pretty hilarious, but when you don't trust your body to not immediately hurl it right backattcha, it's little wonder I'd be leery about consuming anything, much less a dry toaster waffle. (I've read that sentence three times and I'm still not sure it gramatically makes sense. Huh.)

So, with any luck I'll post some pictures tonight, or maybe not. Who can tell if I'll still be feeling moderately not-awful later this evening. We'll see.

PS. thanks for the comments!

A list of things I've eaten in the past 48 hours

- lemon popsicles (3)
- orange Jello (4)
- Saltine crackers (5)
- Gatorade (2)
- chicken noodle soup (1)

Someone please put me out of my misery.

It came out my nose, for god's sake!

I am sick. Sick sick sick. Sorry to be a tease about the photos but as soon as I'm able to sit upright and not puke, I'll post them. I don't know if I have food poisoning or a virus but really, does it matter? Urp.

Today I took a picture of a urinal and a Kotex dispenser.

Another show, a bunch more stories. I refuse to tell them tonight because I current feel like I might barf. I ate not a thing that wasn't complete crap today and topped it off with half a pizza. Urp. I feel completely grody.

We had a great show today, though, and made a bunch of money. The show was held in a Masonic Temple, hence the odd pictures. How can you not take a picture of a vintage Kotex dispenser? Only a nickel for some sweet pad goodness!

Oh, By the way...

More info: http://www.norfolkcraftmafia.com/index.html

Why Rich Kids Suck, Part Two.

I shake my head at today's wealthy youth, those who live in a safe little bubble created by a lifetime of fiscal security and really good skincare products. Now, I like my job and the benefits are great, HOWEVER. I'm still going to have moments where my inner 18 year-old, the one who went to art school and worked two jobs and usually didn't have enough money for cigarettes and lunch, wants to kick some rich kid butt. Not literally, just...maybe.

Last night I went to the gym on campus. I use the regular student locker room instead of the fancy faculty/staff one because a) there are lockers I can actually use and, b) I would rather not change in front of co-workers. (Really, think about how many ways that could be awkward.)

Anyway, I'm in the middle of changing when this student comes prancing in, singing a little song. She continues to sing as she changes, flinging her stuff hither and yon. Then she left...and left all her stuff splayed across one of the four benches in the locker room. Her coat thrown down, her bag wide open, clothes everywhere, her shoes in the middle of the floor. Basically, acting like it was her bedroom. I went and worked out for an hour and when I came back to change her shit was all still there. I couldn't believe it.

I was SO CLOSE people. So close to shoving it all on the floor. I really considered it, but I had to remind myself that I AM AN ADULT and also that it is not my job to school her. Plus, for all I know, there are security cameras and shit in there. Not worth it.

Man, being an adult sucks sometimes.

Top Ten Least Favorite Workplace Smells

1. Whatever that crap is you're heating up in the microwave.

2. Especially if it's microwave popcorn.

3. REALLY extra especially if it's burnt microwave popcorn. Thanks for the cancer!

4. You know what's worse than microwave popcorn? Cabbage soup. At 10:00am.

5. Mmm, I'm glad you propped the (unventilated) bathroom door open so that the smellrific-ness can waft down this way.

6. Especially if your stink is top-noted with eau du Tropical Ass air freshener.

7. Which, I might add, I totally threw away, but someone DUG IT OUT of the bathroom trashcan. OMG.

8. Thanks for not smoking right outside the door so I have to walk through it.

9. Hi! You're wearing too much cologne if I can smell it from here, hall monkey.

10. I need a vacation.

Death by Krispy Kreme.

I just sent this email to a friend:

For lunch we went to this Italian place for my bosses birthday and I ate the world. Then I ate the world's dessert. In five minutes there's going to be cake. I might hurl.

Yesterday someone dropped an entire dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts on my desk as a "thank you" for helping with an event. I wanted to ask that person what I did to make them hate me so much that they'd leave TWELVE DOUGHNUTS on my desk. What the crap? Why? It's really completely impossible to have an entire box of doughnuts in front of you and not eat one. Or two. It's a conspiracy.

I am generally pretty healthy with my eating but I'm not made of steel, people. I do have a weakness and it's name is sugar. If I lay off altogether I stop wanting it so so so much, but it doesn't take much to get me to throw myself backwards off the wagon, clutching a Krispy Kreme box to my bosom.

I think I've turned the corner, though, because when offered a chunk of store-bought birthday cake, thick with a wedge of lardy white icing, I politely declined. I mean, shit, I don't even like sheet cake! I know this statement pretty much translates into, "I hate freedom and puppies" for some people, but really, why would I eat something I don't even like, just for the illicit caloric joy of processed icing sugar gritting between my teeth? It's NOT WORTH IT.


(The doughnut, on the other hand, was fucking fantastic.)

Why any kid would want to be a crafter is beyond me.

HI WHY DID I SAY I'D DO THIS. Nothing noteworthy or terribly annoying happened today so I guess I'll post those pictures from the show that I keep yapping about. It was an indoor show which was nice for a change, except that we basically spent the entire day indoors. This is a sad feeling for me unless the weather is crap. It was not crap last Saturday.

Ahem, our booth with Kate behind it busily working on something:

I like this one because you can see me in the mirror. Kate is still busy and pretending to not notice I'm taking a picture:

This is Modern June's corner. Unfortunately some guys that smelled like motor oil moved in next door:

This is Erica of Bees Knees Studio being mad at me for taking a sneaky picture:

So I took this one to appease her. Nice of me to post both:

This is our next door neighbor Darling Company's view . She was fun to eavesdrop on and was wearing cute boots:

This is Cleo Dees. Cleo Dees rules so much and Kate and I are practically squid-stalkers:

This is Disquieting Designs. Y'ALL, SHE MAKES ALL THAT:

Lord, that's all for now, except how did I not get a picture of Missing Monsters? Sorry Deanna.

Make me a happy girl and click on some of those links and do a little handmade shopping, okay? Okay.

Bread Pudding is my God Now.

Really, it's always right before bed when I realize, oh shit, I have to do that every-day-blog-posty-shit. Lord. I have better things to do like brush my teeth, take out my contacts, and stare at my pores two inches from the mirror. Anyway, yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary (yay us!) but the restaurant we wanted to go to doesn't do dinner on Sunday night. So, we went tonight and holy crap, holy crap, it was awesome. They do this date night special where you split a bottle of wine, a giant salad, a giant-er bowl of pasta and a dessert for $35. The price doesn't even matter though because the restaurant (Avenue 805 if you're local) is so good that you don't care if it's a bargain or not.

The dessert is always bread pudding and it's always the most amazing thing I've ever eaten. I snarfed it down in moany little spoonfuls and was secretly delighted when Kenny declared himself full because MORE DELICIOUSNESS FOR ME, SUCKER. We rolled home with happy full bellies and halfway through Chuck I realized I was still thinking about that bread pudding and cried a little tear of sadness and joy. Which reminds me of a story:

The Story of Kenny's Brother's Pig Petunia Who Cried.

Once Kenny's brother had a little potbellied pig named Petunia but he overfed her and she got crazy-ass enormous. Little pigs are cute. Crazy-ass enormous pigs are not, but that's not the point. Anyway, some friend of Kenny's brother gave him some barbecued elk meat and he gave some to the pig. Petunia was apparently so overcome with joy over the delicious elk meat that she wept. Yes, she cried tears of meat-induced joy. Kenny still cracks up when he tells me about it so I know it's true. Now go to bed.

Documenting The Crazy

Okay, I'm kind of a liar because you'll have to wait until tomorrow for the photos. I'm tired and this time change thing isn't helping at all. I did enjoy my extra hour of sleep this morning, though. That part ruled. Anyway, one story before bedtime:

Toothless Crazy Lady Steals Our Shit

When she walked up I sort of held my breath because I am very adept at recognizing the crazy when I see it and usually it's 1,000 weird questions but no purchase of any kind. We'd been having a good run up to that point and were feeling mildly successful. Before she got started, the toothless crazy lady (who in retrospect looked a bit cracked out and had this insane tongue that she kept lapping around her lips in a way that was truly, truly disgusting.) asked us upfront if we'd except her husband's credit card because, "The card is in his name but I pay the bills."

Sure, we're pretty trusting and haven't been burned yet. She picked out a couple of pieces pretty quickly, we ran her card with our little knuckle-buster and off she went to the next vendor. I suggested to Kate that we call in the card as soon as possible and then we realized we didn't have our merchant number and the phone number with us. We shrug, we carry on sitting out the Longest Show Ever.

A while later I come back from the bathroom and Kate says, "I have bad news and worse news." The bad news was that all the info we needed to call in the charge was, uh, printed right on our card swiper. Duh. The worse news is that Kate called in Crazy's charge and it was all, DO NOT HONOR.

So yeah, it was pretty dumb of us, but in three years this is the first time we've been ripped off so we're not too upset by it. It takes too much time (and cellphone $) to call in each charge as we get them, but from now on we'll call in anything that raises alarm bells. I don't like to judge people by appearance, but she had the swirly-eyed stamp of crazy written all over her face and we should have trusted our instincts on this one.

Kate's take on it was that if the crazy lady needed some sparkly jewels in her life badly enough to steal them, then maybe they were meant to be hers. Heh.

Three Days In and I'm Flailing.

We got back from the DC Craft Mafia show at 10:30pm. It was semi-succesful except that we got ripped off by a toothless woman. I can't make stuff like that up! I swear. I also got to meet Essaywriter which was pretty cool too. Those were the highlights, such as they were. I bought a few little things, the best of which is a button that says "Gah!" I think Essaywriter got one too. You are so jealous. I am going to bed now - more tomorrow with a few pictures! Woo.

You Could Be RAD. R-A-D!

HI HI OMG HI. HIHIHHI. Guess what I did this morning? I got up stupid-early and went to spinning class at 6:15am because, seriously, desperate measures. I missed my workout yesterday and tomorrow I'm out of town for a show, so I had to do what had to be done. It's not that bad, really, once you're up. My brain continues to snooze until I'm actually in the spinning studio at which point it wakes up all, "Wassah...bikey...whoosat...WHY?" and then we're off and no more thinky, just spinning and sweat and good/bad loud music. Love it.

By the time I leave I am a) completely starving and, b) WIRED. WHICH I STILL AM. Seriously, someone put a helmet on me because I feel like I've been mainlining pixie stix and it's two in the afternoon and I'm vibrating. I'll probably go home and fall in the door half-asleep, but still, all this energy can't be normal. I guess getting up at 5:30am to exercise ain't so normal either but I HAD TO.

The craft show tomorrow is in D.C. (though actually in Bethesda) and hopefully will be awesome. Thankfully, it doesn't start until noon. Unthankfully it goes until 8pm. What the hell is that? Eight hours? Seriously? Add in drive time and that's a 12 hour workday. That sucks. Suckety suck sucks. We better sell some stuff, is all I'm saying. Hmph.

Okay, I'm off to bounce off some walls. BYE Y'ALL.

It's gonna BLOW UP, Y'ALL.

I suddenly got a wildly Halloween candy-induced urge to make the internets blow up by posting every goddamn day in November. WHY WOULD I DO THAT.

The kitty told me too. And maybe it'll net me some COMMENTS AROUND HERE. Because sheesh, I open up my soul to you bitches and I get nothing back so then I'm reduced to groveling for your approval. I don't know why I need it so much.

Since there's a giant kitty up there I guess I should tell you what's going on with my cats. Something strange happened recently in that it got chilly out and all of a sudden the girls are real friendly-like. They are very pushy about the laps and very insistent that they need to be in your lap right this second and oh, I'm sorry, were you eating? Can I have some of your food while I sit here in your lap? Can you just drop a fry in my mouth? No? Whynotwhynotwhynotttttt.

Wait, that was pretty much just Fuzz who does that. Zephyr is mildly interested in food but mostly just wants to be in Kenny's lap. I don't think she's ever so much as looked at my lap even though I saved her from an untimely death and raised her myself. Stella couldn't care less what you're eating (unless it's tuna steak) and also has no lap interest except when the moon is three quarters full in odd months and it's also Tuesday. She's such a bizarre cat. She'll talk your ear off but get offended if you try to pet her. Or, she'll settle comfortably near you and welcome petting with sweet purring until she wants you to stop, which you'll know because her eyes will begin to glow red and she'll razor her paw at your throat.

Pets are so enriching to our lives, aren't they?