original pookie

14 10 2009

So, Internetz, I have a secret.  I know that you think I am a saint, a peach, a gem of a woman.  Even if you do not know me In Real Life, I know that you think I’m as holy as Oprah because of my previous posts which are charming, curse-free, and reference butterflies and unicorns and Jesus.

Alas, I am not perfect.  Internetz, I have an illegitimate love-child.  She is three years old and I will be meeting her for the first time this weekend.

Let’s go back eight years to when I was living in Baltimore city all by my lonesome.  I was a young girl in a giant, hard-knock-life kind of city, fresh (dropped) out of high school, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, plus whatever other innocent and naive sounding phrase you can think of.  My first day at my new job in a tourist-trap restaurant downtown, I walked in and WHOOP THERE SHE WAS, her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight, temporarily blinding me, which caused me to accidentally grab her titty instead of a menu.

She goes:  “Excuse me, hon, that’s sweet and all but I am in the fuckin’ weeds.  Move.”

Those fifteen words marked the beginning of a beautiful relationship.  She is my OP (Original Pookie), someone with whom I can sit and watch chick-flicks– she’ll wipe my tears while I spoon ice cream into her mouth.  Someone that I am not afraid to fart in front of, not that I ever do that, but if I did, I would totally do it in front of her unabashedly and most likely fan it in her direction.

Pookie is an original Baltimore Hon, full of attitude, brash and outspoken.  She is full of the best stories, all true, all things she’s lived through.  She is the most generous, caring, warm person you or I or your Grandma Louise will ever meet.

Anyway, fast forward to the summer of 2005, Pookie and her husband were trying desperately to have a baby and it just wasn’t happening.  Then his job sent him overseas for what was to be a two-year project, and instead of putting their family plans on hold until he returned, she asked me to knock her up.  When he moved overseas, I moved in (with my infant son) and poked her multiple times daily (with needles full of hormones and other IVF drugs).  Soon after, she was pregnant and crying on my shoulder/yelling at me/throwing things at my head/making me get her ice cream at 2am.

Unfortunately I never met this child of mine as I had to move back to Arizona before she was born, but I always felt like I had some claim to her since I was the one putting baby furniture together and cleaning up after dealing with her mother’s hormonal highs-and-lows and gestational diabetes and cats.  Ugh, I despise cats.

Wow, that was a long-winded story just to point out that I am meeting my illegitimate love-child tomorrow and I am very excited.  Also I’ll be working with Pookie on a 12-month Secret Project starting this weekend which will be sooo much fun, not to mention (hopefully) lucrative (eventually).

Aside:  It is supposed to snow in her town over the weekend and I am so! not! ready! for that kind of cold yet.  Luckily she still has those fucking cats, which I will gladly skin and wear to keep warm, if necessary.





for sale: 2b/2b townhome, friendly neighbors, clear air

6 10 2009

If you’re a parent, you have probably found at least one, if not all, children’s television shows to be ridiculous.  I mean, there’s large talking dinosaurs, creepy extra-terrestrials who worship a baby in the sun, and over-enthusiastic singing Australians.  Ridiculous.

Regardless of the intended “message” of any show, there is always an underlying “accept everyone” theme in all of them.  That in itself is ludicrous.  Well-intentioned, surely a good lesson, but also: never going to fucking happen.  Look.  Most humans cannot even accept another human who happens to have different-colored skin, so what do you think would happen if a large talking dinosaur with skin (scales?) in an offensive magenta color walked up and told you to share?  Exactly– The only thing you’d be sharing is expletives and ammunition.

The irony of it is that while shows like Sesame Street are trying to teach kids about reality, hard decisions, doing what’s right, real life, etc., they are not realistic at all.  HELLO, MR. HOOPER, YOU LIVE ON A STREET WHERE COLORFUL, FURRY, SPEAKING CREATURES ROUTINELY LOITER IN YOUR PLACE OF BUSINESS.  In real life, that’s called Baltimore, and in real life, the cops get called.  I always thought Linda was waiting anxiously for a second alone so she could call in the National Guard and quarantine Sesame Street.  “Yes, I need help.  A large canary and a bashful woolly mammoth have occupied my block.  NO, EVERYTHING IS NOT A-OK!”

I propose that these shows start teaching something useful.  Maybe computer programming… financial management…  real estate?  I betcha Maria and Luis would like to sell their townhome, move to Yonkers, and enjoy their golden years without Elmo beating down their door all day.





your face has no place in my book

2 10 2009

Most people between the ages of 20 and 50 are on Facebook now, and sure, sometimes it’s fun.  Personally, I’m not into Farmville or any other “application” thingy on there because it’s just too complicated and I use Facebook to keep track of the friends I already have (the writing between the lines right there says “because I am a shitty friend who does not call people”).

Anyway, do you ever get a friend request from someone and you just have NO CLUE who they are??  I find that maddening.  I check out their page and see that they went to high school with me and I sit there and rack my brain trying to figure out if they ever sneezed in my general direction, or something ANYTHING that would make me think I should know who they are…  Then you see that they graduated years before/behind you and there’s no reason you should recognize them after all!  Aha, I’m not insane!  So, why are they friend-requesting me?!

I do not believe that having gone to the same high school as me in the same decade as me is enough of a tie to bind.  It would be totally awkward to become Facebook friends with someone I didn’t really know.  I can’t just commit like that- that’s a serious friendship- without knowing who the fuck you are.  I mean, it’s not like I could just delete you from my life with the click of  a button.





cozy accessories

1 10 2009

Yay!  There is a chill in the air, fall is here and winter is arriving on the next train.  This is my favorite time of year; The reasons why are almost endless.  In eight short weeks you can cram in Halloween (costumes and candy, two awesome things in one night!), pumpkin carving, scarecrows, hot apple cider, pumpkin pie, crisp chilly air, colorful trees, pumpkin pie,  corn mazes, Thanksgiving, pumpkin pie, decorating for Christmas, and eating one last pumpkin pie after the decorations are up.  But the Number One Reason why fall is scrumptious is:  cozy accessories.  Being that I’ve spent the majority of my life in sizzling Arizona, I’ve not really gotten the opportunity to use mittens, hats, arm-warmers, fingerless gloves, jackets, and scarves.  Maya has been wearing mittens on her hands all summer, but it’s less “cute quirk” and more “foolishness” when an adult does it, so I curbed that notion.  But now!  Now it is my turn.  I’m going to wrap myself in so much fluffy apparel that I look like the Michelin tire man.  What about you?  Do you like this time of year?  What is your favorite (or least favorite) thing about fall?