Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

It’s my Friday, bitches, and believe me when I tell you I have earned every minute of the mini-vacation we’re taking this weekend.  Work has been exceptionally challenging this week and some time away from work, family, the house, chores, EVERYTHING is exactly what we both need.  Saturday is our first wedding anniversary* so we’re headed to San Francisco for a couple of days of relaxation, drinking, eating, and general awesomeness.  Sunday is my cousin’s wedding in Livermore and it feels perfect to spend our anniversary weekend celebrating another marriage.  Plus, there will be booze.

Between time away from a job that has been increasingly frustrating each day and a few days in my dream city, Ed is going to need to chloroform and drag me home on Monday. 

Have a delightful weekend, lovelies.  And happy anniversary, Sweetie.  I’m so glad you’ll be the one to pull the plug someday. 

 

*Can you believe it’s been a whole year since my recurring stress dream that no one could find my wedding dress and so I got married in sweatpants.  MARRIED IN SWEATPANTS, YOU GUYS.  It’s like my subconscious was telling me “Don’t even TRY, just go straight for sweats.”  Jesus.

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The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Bad/Ugly:

  • I had every intention of leaving my hair appointment looking like this and now I am bald.  Not really, but my hair is way shorter than I would like.  I dig short hair on other people and wish I could pull it off without looking so lame and soccer mom-ish but I can’t.  And I am pissy and irritable because YES I KNOW IT WILL GROW, but this isn’t what I wanted and I am irrationally annoyed.  There it is.
  • To add insult to injury, I was burned in a rather sensitive area by a new esthetician which leads me to believe the universe wants me to an unkempt yeti.  I’m bringing sexy back, y’all!
  • Two BRAND NEW, FULL BOTTLES of red wine met their death at the hands of our tile kitchen floor.  I am choosing to blame the Zooey Deschanel-wannabe cashier (death to the manic pixie girls!) at Trader Joe’s and her half-assed bagging skills. 

The Good:

  • We planted a bunch of new mums in our window boxes and they make the house look roughly 700% better.  I know this isn’t rocket science that flowers = making things pretty, but I guess I had underestimated how happy they make me.
  • There’s nothing like singing “Burn in Hell” in the garden department of OSH and being with someone who knows the lyrics too so that you both look and sound insane.
  • Sunday champagne brunch turned into “Let’s have friends over and continue drinking in our living room for the next several hours.”  We blew through three bottles of champagne and watched football and ate cheese.  Best Sunday in a long time.

Not That You Asked

You know what we haven’t done in awhile?  One of those My Favorite Things/Current Obsessions posts.  Let’s fix that poste-haste!

Disclaimer: I am not in any way saying that any of the following are unique or cool or that I am the first person to ever recommend or declare “This shit is awesome!”  However, all of it reflects how I feel and I am in no way compensated for saying anything nice.  My word is solid, yo.

1.) Parks & Recreation:  This show may be nudging 30 Rock out of the beloved space it occupies in my heart.  I was unimpressed at first; it seemed like a knock-off of The Office with the faux-documentary crew and bumbling-but-well-meaning boss but I was wrong.  The cast is ridiculous in a non-manufactured way.  I hate when a show does that, you know?  Gives a character a really distinct trait that’s supposed to make it edgy and funny but just becomes tired and worn.  Smart, witty, and silly, the awesomeness of the show could best be illustrated by this site.  I would not hesitate to vote for the Knope/Swanson ticket in 2012.

2.) As an unapologetic product whore, I am always looking for ways to feed my addiction without having to turn to hooking to finance the goods.  And honestly?  A lot of the pricey stuff isn’t THAT amazing.  However, a lot of knock-offs of the good stuff don’t do the trick.  I was proven wrong this weekend when I tried Suave Professionals Rosemary & Mint Shampoo and Conditioner.  This stuff does smell and work like Aveda and even if it didn’t?  It’s not like I dropped a whole paycheck on it.  But I’m digging the smell, the way my hair feels and the convenience of being able to pick this up when I’m grocery shopping.  For while I may want to appear fancy, we all know I’m lazy.

3.) I am roughly a hundred years behind on this bandwagon, but thanks to the magic of OnDemand our household is fully immersed in the world of Mad Men.  This show has convinced me I was born in the wrong decade.  Not only would I rock the shit out of those gorgeous dresses, but WHY THE HELL DON’T I HAVE A MINIBAR AT MY DESK?  Pretty clothes, day drinking and hot men aside, the show is amazingly well-written and layered.  One of the things I like about it is that while it takes place in the early 1960’s and definitely has elements that are specific to that era, it addresses more universal issues of identity, relationships, and career.  Plus Jon Hamm is shirtless and/or brooding a lot.  Yes, I am easily entertained.  What of it?

4.) Since Trader Joe’s decided to up and be a total whore and discontinue my beloved Tangerine Sugar Body Scrub (excuse me while I pour some out for my homey), I have been on a mostly-disappointing search for a replacement.  If you ever need to shower at my house, you’ll notice a wide array of half-used scrubs in the guest bathroom.  I am the Goldilocks of this stuff: some are too greasy, some aren’t “scrubby” enough, etc.  Salt scrubs are great, but gods help you if you have a paper cut that hasn’t healed.  That old saying about rubbing salt in a wound?  That is rooted in some serious truth.   Alba Sugar Cane Body Polish is impressive but a bit pricier than I’d like.  Plus, it seems I can never find it at the first store I try; Target is almost always out, and I end up driving around to three CVS stores and maybe two Rite-Aids.  Maybe one day I’ll buy MORE THAN ONE so I have a little stockpile but that would require logical thinking.  I recently stumbled upon a new scrub by Eco Tools (made from nutshells of all things!) and have been pleased by the way it works and the price.  However, I noticed there is no link to this on their site, which leads me to believe it has been discontinued.  WHY GOD?  WHY ME?  WHO DO YOU FORSAKE ME AND MY DRY SKIN?

5.) You know what can be found on our countertop/in our wine rack on the regular?  Cupcake wine.  How spoiled are we that we live in an area lousy with vineyards?  This stuff is a nice alternative to Two-Buck Chuck if you want something inexpensive-but-yummy to share with friends.  Or drink by yourself while you watch Mad Men.  I won’t judge.

 

So, it would appear that among my favorite things we have television, products, and booze covered.  Yep, sounds about right.  Anything fantastic you’re loving these days?  Share with the class.

 

Talking Turkey and a New Potential Band Name

I have told a few people about The Great Terrifying Turey Incident of ’11 fully expecting them to be as freaked out about it as I was.  Or at least mystified as to how a family of turkeys wound up in a small business park.  I mean, can we all agree THAT little detail is slightly odd? 

First off, I have had to clarify EVERY SINGLE TIME that when I say “turkeys” I mean the BIRD, not “turkeys” as in some sort of slang term for weirdos or something.  Does anyone even use that word in that context in a completely unironic way anymore?  Maybe I’ll bring it back. 

Perhaps more disurbing than the appearance of the turkeys themselves is the reaction I’ve received from various people.  There’s some surprise, sure, but usually coupled with, “Isn’t that so cool?”  Uh, no.  No it isn’t.  I mean, it isn’t as disturbing as the masturbating hobo* I saw outside my old office, but I still wouldn’t call it “cool.”  The other response?  Nonchalance coupled with a similar story.  “Oh yeah, there were some turkeys on my front lawn the other day.  So weird!  What are you gonna do?”  Hey, no one likes to be one-upped, Captain Better Turkey Story.  Please at least pretend to be shocked and/or intrigued.  Maybe some concern for my safety?  Hey, why are you laughing that I ran away from the turkeys toward my car?  You can’t guarantee they won’t go crazy on me.  BITCH YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE!

While it’s clear that I am the Big City Weirdo around here, at least I maintain some street cred by declaring that while I don’t want to hang out with the wildlife roaming about I’ll totally enjoy it with a salad and glass of wine.  Rock on, carnivores!

 

 

*I am calling Masturbating Hobo as a potential band name.

This Explains So Much

My mom brought over my baby book and the few items of baby clothes she saved (a pink dress, a hand-knit sweater and bonnet and a sweet-ass 1970’s yellow track suit my Grandma Pat gave me).  I flipped through the book and almost choked when I read that one of my favorite “cute sayings and phrases” was shit.  My thoughts:

1.) OF COURSE IT WAS.

2.) What the hell kind of parents record that kind of thing in a Peter Rabbit Baby Book?  Oh wait.  I just remembered who my parents are.  Nevermind. 

3.) What the hell kind of parents record this and DON’T think, “Hey, maybe we should dial back the swearing around our wee impressionable precious baby girl?”  Oh wait.  I just remembered who my parents are.  Nevermind. 

Ed, ever the optimist, thought maybe it was a mistake.  “You were probably trying to say something like ‘sheep'”  Uh, no, dude.  No.  It was most definitely Baby CKD swearing (see aforementioned parents and also my Grandpa who had ZERO filter or ability to edit himself, goddamn it) – probably because she lost another motherfucking Lego in the brown shag carpet.  Ed realized I was right, and that he had married someone who has always spoken like she is in the middle of a Tourrette’s fit. 

“Shit.”

 

It’s Raining Bullets So Take Cover

It’s Monday!  My brain cannot organize itself into a coherent post so you get mini-updates, you lucky dog!

  • We saw Willie Nelson in concert the other night, which was as fantastic as you’d imagine.  It was my second time seeing him, and Ed’s first and we kept leaning over to each other saying things like, “My dad used to sing this to me!” which is oddly comforting.  I felt sort of bad for the parents in front of us who had to take turns walking around with their fidgety toddler, but then I realized that it was almost idiotically optimistic of them to think the kid would just chill on someone’s lap for two hours straight.  Anyway, he is an amazing performer who is the anti-Lady Gaga.  No dramatics, crazy lights, stylized set or anything.  Just him, three back-up musicians who are also amazing, and his music.  Highly recommend.
  •  I am in desperate need of a hair style/color intervention ASAP.  I liked the cut about three appointments ago, but cannot seem to get my stylist to replicate it.  As for color I feel like fall/winter=darker, but is that expected?  Help me, Internet!  I’m sort of loving this.  The shape is nice but it’s not too short and it obviously would work with waves.  Thoughts?
  • Sunday was the annual Taste of Chico, which basically brings every restaurant (and winery/brewery) to downtown to sample great food and walk around and bump into everyone you know.  Despite not paying for The Cantina (aka Drunk Tent) I found myself declaring “CHICO I AM TASTING YOOOOUUUUU!!!!” very loudly.  You cannot take me anywhere, as Ed will attest. 
  • My legs and feet are COVERED in horrible mosquito bites.  They don’t just itch: they hurt.  Wake-you-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night HURT.  Look, I want to be an outdoorsy type but between the turkeys and now mosquitoes actively trying to kill me I think it’s time to face the fact that nature has it in for me.  And by “nature” I mean “my backyard.” 
  • So, I guess it’s football season or something now?  The things I like about football season are as follows: sitting on the couch drinking beer, having chili in the crockpot, and…well, that’s about it.  Wake me when pitchers and catchers report to camp.

 

Not-So-Angry Birds

There were some turkeys outside of my office this afternoon. 

This is the sort of thing I have learned to deal with and accept and not question since moving here.  A mama turkey and four baby turkeys wandering outside near the parking lot of our business park?  Sure!  Why the fuck not?  Totally normal. 

Except I sort of freaked out (internally) when it came time to walk out the door and past them.  I was gripped with fear that if I even appeared to approach one of the babies (which I can assure you I WOULD NOT), the mama would come after me.  And do WHAT exactly?  I have no idea.  Peck at me?  Follow me to my car and shit on it?  Throw up some sort of bird signal to other wildlife in the area and it would get all Hitchcock up in here?  All I know is the fear was REAL and INTENSE and EMBARRASSINGLY PARALYZING.

I talked to a client for a few minutes to stall.

I thought about leaving through a different door.

I thought about just eating at my desk.

I thought about running to my car, driving away, and never coming back because this shit is outside the paint.  Turkeys?  Near my office?  Nope.  I’m out.

In the end, I just sort of… looked at the turkeys to gauge their awareness and slowly made my way out the door.  Every couple of steps I would stop and look at them like I was totally fascinated not terrified by the scene because not only would MY co-workers totally be able to see if I lost my shit, but several other businesses have windows that look out onto the courtyard.  Like hell was I going to make an ass of myself over some goddamn bird that can’t fly.  Once I was confident that a.) the turkeys wouldn’t try to kill me and b.) no humans could see me I took off running to my car like I was being chased by a crazy person with a knife.

It goes without saying that I parked near the other entrance when I returned.  And those sneaky assholes had migrated over to that end of the building.  They have probably circled my car.  I will feel zero guilt this Thanksgiving.  It’s ON, fuckers.