Disclaimer: CKD has no formal education in film. CKD has rather juvenile tastes and doesn’t see a lot of movies, so her frame of reference is pretty weak. CKD cannot be held responsible if you see a movie upon her recommendation and think it blows. Side effects of following CKD’s advice may include feelings of awesomeness, unexpected inebriation and diarrhea.
Last night we hit up The Pageant Theatre for Cheap Skate Monday to see Away We Go. You will be happy to know that my love of John Krasinski has grown, but will be sad to hear that Maya Rudolph didn’t use her Donatella Versace voice. In fact, she sounded more like Megan from “Wake Up Wakefield.” You know those movies where characters are assigned “quirky” traits so we know that this is the work of someone really creative? This wasn’t like that. Thank God. However, some of the characters were entertaining as pretty broad stereotypes (rude social climbers, pretentious yuppies, and uber-attachment parenting are not spared mockery) but the two main characters were people I would hang out with. OK, maybe just the John Krasinski character. Still, it was a sweet movie and a nice break from the usual summer fare.
Skipping lunch meant that I was ravenous when we reached the theater and tore into a box of Red Vines like I had never seen food before (Gross Alert #1) and consumed a few before even thinking to offer some to my companion. I’m really charming when I’m hungry.
After the movie we went to Chili’s for dinner (Gross Alert #2) where I scoffed at the salad menu and held back tears upon discovering they do not serve mozzarella sticks (Gross Alert #3). No worries! I’ll just order some chicken fajita quesadillas (Gross Alert #4)! And throw some guacamole on there, too (Gross Alert #5)! Guess who went to bed clutching her stomach in pain? Guess who hate her leftover quesadillas for breakfast (Gross Alert #Areyoushittingme!)?
To sum up: Away We Go is a decent movie and CKD needs to upgrade her eating habits to that of an adult.
It has been so very hot here for what feels like an eternity. This delicate flower, however, refuses to wilt in a pile of despair. Some small, yet meaningful, things that bring a smile to my face when it would be easy to be snippy and whiny:
The sincere “Thank you” and smile from a young woman where I volunteer on Friday mornings reminds me that while standing outside in the heat isn’t always fun, it is appreciated.
Dancing up a sweat to 80’s music on a Saturday night.
Wine, snacks and movies on a lazy Sunday.
The student worker who took my lunch order and did not call me high maintenance over my tomato weirdness.
DJ Kool, House of Pain and Beastie Boys: sometimes you need the right soundtrack to psych yourself up for a busy week ahead.
Hope you’re keeping cool like The Fonz, my friends.
Today at work I uttered the sentence, “I can pick up the sacks of nuts.”
And I did not crack up laughing, shriek “That’s what she said!” or behave in a manner unbecoming of an adult in a professional environment. We call this growth. We also call this becoming really fucking lame. Either way, I’m kind of amazed by myself.
I will accept my award in the form of cookie or whiskey. Your call.
For someone who has no problems bossing other people around and declaring How Things Should Be, I am having some troubles pulling the trigger in my own life. None of the decisions that need to be made are life-changing…which is why this is a frustrating feeling. I have moved, changed jobs and ended relationships with more certainty and confidence but I cannot figure out what to get a friend for a wedding shower gift? That’s healthy, right?
Things That Need to Be Decided In the Nearish Future and Yet I Cannot Deal HALP!
Aforementioned wedding shower gift. Despite the presence of gift registries at two nice stores (and lots of great options at various price points and such) I am having a hard time clicking “Purchase” and moving on with my day. Since when do I have trouble shopping? Now, apparently.
What to wear for said shower. I know. I KNOW. The creative genius behind “What to Wear Wednesday” cannot tell herself what to wear. For the type of event that I have attended approximately eleventeenhundredjabillion times.
Where should we stay in San Francisco when we see Wicked? (OMG! SO EXCITED to see this show with some of my favorite people. So. Excited.) I am obsessively searching various travel sites, hotel sites and polling the Interweb. Lots of great deals, but unable to pull the trigger because what if I miss out on another great deal at some place I didn’t even know about and my life ends because of it?
Tell me if you’ve heard this one before: I can’t decide what to wear when see Wicked. Like it fucking matters since a.) we will be sitting in a dark theater and b.) I’m not in the goddamn show anyway. I mean, really.
So if someone would like to come over and be The Boss of Me or maybe just punch me in the face and yell at me to snap out of it and put my big girl panties on and GET SHIT DONE, YO that would be great.
Don’t get me wrong: I had the time of my life. Snuggly time with a tiny sweet-smelling baby? Check. Soccer and catch with a toddler who is kicking potty training in the ass? Check. (Also doesn’t hurt that said toddler complimented my sundress AND my pedicure. Such a charmer, that one.) And of course, quality time with my girl Beth was fantastic. She is an excellent model for relaxed parenting. She doesn’t let her kids juggle knives, but she doesn’t sweat the small stuff and knows that things will get done and as long as everyone is healthy and happy, it’s all good. Even with two little demanding people in the house the atmosphere was always relaxed. Probably didn’t hurt that we had lots of Pale Ale on hand.* Bonus: she appreciate the pure genius of STFU, parents.
Here’s where I fail the Awesome Auntie Test: guess who failed to take a single picture the entire weekend? So you’ll just have to take my word for it that the weekend was filled with all sorts of precious moments and baby smiles and hugs and giggles and ohmyGodIwanttoeattheirfacessqueeeee.
The visit really helped snap me out of my “How am I going to get it all done?” dilemma as I realized that I thrive on time with my friends and family. I think that as long as I keep the best part of my life – the people – at the top of my list I can look back at my day, my week, my year and feel whole and happy.
*For US, not for the kids. We were NOT getting the kids drunk. Just wanted to clarify that.
Wow, how did most of the week pass me by and I didn’t manage to post any sort of follow-up to the Great Champagne-Saber Incident of 2009? What’s up, mad time management skillz?
Lately I’ve been expending a lot of mental energy gearing up for some busy times ahead. We’re down to just over a month until the conference I’ve been planning for work, which means some charming anxiety dreams (nothing is set up, no one shows up, presenters bail out – good times) and a lot of moments during dinner when I suddenly freak out and start worrying about how we’re going to fit all of the exhibitor tables into the hall. BUT! It’s not all work-and-no-play around here! Oh NO! My weekends (and even some weeknights) are filled with visitors and parties and trips and all kinds of awesomeness.
Dude, I am exhausted.
At the risk of sounding ungrateful (and like a pussy) I am not sure I how I am going to keep up with the pace over the next few months. (All of you parents out there can feel free to tell me how easy I have it and to just wait until I have kids and have to do everything with a kid strapped to me. I am fully aware that I sound ridiculous.) I consider myself to be a decent multi-tasker and pretty good with the time management (aside from, uh, that whole failing to live up to my post-every-day-thing) and yet I am worried that I am going to drop the ball at some point and let someone down. Or miss out on the fun.
Any advice from those of you who kick ass at doing it all? I am open to suggestions. Except for meth, even though being so close to Oroville would make it pretty convenient.
Want to know if your boyfriend (or girlfriend) is a winner? Utter the sentence, “I can open this champagne with a sword. Wanna see?” If he (or she) answers, “Let me get my camera” you have a keeper on your hands. Either that or the one beer you each had has already affected your judgment. Also, it helps if the other person thinks you have done this before. Which I, uh, had not. Guess my buzzed bravado inspires confidence. Good to know.
Since there weren’t any swords lying around the kitchen, I used a big-ass chef’s knife and the effect was pretty much the same: the top of the bottle went flying off into a corner of the yard. I freaked out for a moment and thought there might be shards of glass everywhere, but nope. Nice clean cut. Sharp edges and we were committed to finishing the bottle (see part of story where the top comes right off) but as experienced day drinkers, we were up for the challenge.
I’m not entirely sure if this has earned me a blackbelt in drinking, or just means I am more likely to lose a finger trying to be a badass at parties.