My quasi-FIL

My sister started stalking my brother-in-law like prey when they were in high school, so he's been around since I was in 11 and officially in the family by law since I was 13. With so many years of shared family history, his side of the family--though not technically my in-laws--are kinda my in-laws by proxy.

His dad is responsible for telling 2 of my favorite jokes of all time. These aren't typical jokey-jokes, but are more like little non-sequiturs that he said to me eons ago, that still make me laugh to myself whenever I think about them. I have told & retold them countless times, always saying first, "This is why I love Jim's dad..."

Sadly, in merely reading them, you're missing out on the twinkly-eyed man with a charming southern accent whispering them in your ear. Try to enjoy regardless:

"You don't know anything about how bad a bad date can be until you're the man at the square dance whose girlfriend hits the floor every time the announcer yells, "Hoedown"!"

Even though it's a little Jeff Foxworthy/Blue Collar Comedy Tour-ish (and there's no group of comedians I loathe more than those 4 dudes), I really think that is SO funny. It always puts my bad dates into perspective.

Before I type in my #1 favorite thing he's ever said, a little background. During a holiday visit about 16 years ago, he had a really bad cold and bought some cough drops that had the herbal ingredient horehound in them. The packaging enthusiastically boasted quick sore throat & cough relief, all due to this medicinal herb. They smelled really terrible, but the smell was apparently no match for the truly horrifying taste. Having shared that, I give you the #1 funniest thing Jim's dad has ever said to me, which still makes me laugh after 16 years:

"I'm sick and can't taste a thing, but it doesn't take taste buds to know that these are terrible. Someone must've already sucked all the hore out of this hound."

****

I wish I knew how to quit you

Two of my very favorite people in the entire world happen to be married to each other. Emily is one of my college roommates and Mel is the best borrow-a-husband I've ever had. They don't make them like Mel anymore, or if they do, they don't make them anywhere near here! He's the gold-standard, I'm telling you. Then again, so is she. It's a perfect match!

Em was born & raised in Wisconsin and Mel was born & raised in Canada. They're really Californians, though. Just like them, their home is warm & beautiful and when I visit, I never want to leave. They're the kind of people who refer to the guest room as "your room", as in: "Come see us! Your room is waiting for you!" They probably say that to all of their out of town guests but it doesn't feel like it. It feels very much like I am their favorite person and that if I'm not staying in their house, "my" room gets sealed off until the day I return. Of course that isn't true, they are just the kind of people who make all of their friends feel like they are #1, and we all believe it.

This weekend, Mel updated his Facebook status (which he doesn't often do), and since they are known to vacation in exotic locations, I wanted to know where they were. This screen cap pretty much says it all:



C'mon. The man knows how I prefer to be welcomed, in any situation. Open arms & a large alcoholic drink! He totally gets me.

I wondered, when I went back to make that screen cap, if I might have already been enjoying a large alcoholic drink when I commented on Mel's status.

NOTE TO SELF: YOU HAVEN'T LIVED IN WISCONSIN SINCE COLLEGE, WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE ALREADY QUIT WISCONSIN*.

*Sausages from Wisconsin, on the other hand, I will never, ever quit. Ever.

I have big plans to Blo the Po out of this Mo!

...so I'll do my best to fit the daily blogging in between all of that. HAHAHA! Just kidding, Mom.

I've done NaBloPoMo for the past couple of years, so I figured, hey... why not do it again? Why not? Really! I mean, WHY NOT?

aj amcv';oa jfg[ioah'acm 'jkpfagj[aaeora!

Oh, sorry. I stroked out for a second, but I'm back now. Looks like I'll be around every day, all month long. In addition to the interaction with you lovely people in the comment box (Oh, please join me in the comment box! It's much more fun when people are being sociable. As sociable as we can be while facing a computer, not talking out loud to anyone) and out there in the universe, NaBloPoMo is also about the prizes. Those who succeed in blogging every day in November get randomly drawn out of a proverbial hat to win kickass prizes that have been donated by kickass people. What's driving me to complete another year's NaBloPoMo is the horrific thought that this would've been my year to win a huge sock monkey or a hand-knit bacon scarf. Mmm. Bacon.

It's good for me to have this pressure for daily blogging. There are entirely too many things I've put off talking about on here, not the least of which is the continuing saga of a diabolical, inter-postal battle I'm having with THIS GUY.

But that's a longer story that I'm saving for another day. Today, I have something else that made me laugh & laugh. I have gone back to look at it no less than 10 times, just to get those giggles revved up again. What I'm talking about are 2 comments left by this other funny guy after he read one of my recent posts.

Let me back up a bit. Last month, I decided that it would be excruciatingly torturous fun to start a series called, Mindfield, which is best described in this way:

{The inner workings of my brain in certain real-life situations are not unlike frolicking through a minefield, or rather, MINDfield. Boom; explosion.}

This is where I'll have a conversation that starts out by asking you a question, but that I rudely continue by answering it myself. Then, I repeat that process:

We all have those little moments of clarity brought on by the strangest things, don't we? Of course we do. Why not drag them all out, into the light? Oh, I don't know. Something called privacy? Having boundaries, perhaps? Everyone knows that boundaries are no fun whatsoever!

AMIRITE?

Go on ahead & answer me. I'll wait.

Where were we? Ahh, yes. Here's a shortened version of the post I wrote last month:

And so it goes until the day you die
He quietly sang along to "Love Stinks" as if he truly believed in every word, and my excitement in the possibilities of where things were headed turned into feelings of impending doom.

Here's the what has kept me laughing for nearly 2 weeks now:




Thank you, G. I owe you one.


****

A spooky, scary and spine-chillingly appropriate holiday story, also see: hilarious cautionary tale

Awhile back, my good friend Alex was telling a group of us a story that I have never quite been able to shake from my mind about her married life. I still laugh out loud when I envision the real-life scene. Alex was one of my roommates in our off-campus house during the college years and I am well-versed in her romantic history. In those days, there was more than one random Tuesday afternoon when I'd walk into the house to be greeted with Madonna's Justify My Love pounding through the speakers and the view of a veritable Splendor on the Carpet because Alex and her college boyfriend didn't have class that day.

Never mind that she had her own bedroom with her own door, or that she knew when her roommates would get home for the day. That kind of stuff never seemed to bother her at all.

I have so many great stories about living with her that I could fill a book, but I'll wait for my publishing deal to come through. I don't give it all away for free, you know! If you twist my arm a little, I might tell you the story involving candle wax removal...but not today! I have something else in mind for you. Without further ado:

Alex and her husband were looking to spice things up in the bedroom with a little bit of role playing. Her husband worked second shift and she suggested that one night after she's asleep he should come into the bedroom with a mask on--like an intruder--and, you know, seduce her. He shouldn't tell her in advance though, because that would ruin the surprise. So far, so good, right?

She assumed that when the night came, he would wear something like this:

A textbook ski mask. They had an entire front closet full of them.


Or this:

The bank robber look. Simple. Classic. Never goes out of style.


Or, if he was feeling REALLY creative maybe he'd show up in something like this:

She didn't REALLY think he'd go to the trouble of buying a mask with rhinestone detailing, but this was about as much credit as she was giving him for pulling out all the stops. That was the last time she'd ever underestimate his creativity.


Here's the part of the story which emphasizes the great divide between women and men, and how we are not wired the same way AT ALL.

Several weeks had gone by, and she drifted off to sleep one night, with nary a thought of their previous discussion. Her husband came home from work and figured it had been long enough for her to have put the "seduction by masked man" idea out of her mind so he excitedly went into action, going to the garage to pull out what he planned to wear from the very first time she brought it up. He just knew he had the perfect thing! He then skulked into the house, and tip-toed into their darkened bedroom. Just as he hovered over her side of the bed, he flipped on the low-wattage nightstand lamp while shaking her shoulder to wake her.

She groggily opened her eyes, to see this:

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Turns out he had an old Halloween costume in the garage that she didn't know about: Jason, from Friday the 13th


She screamed her head off, jumped up from the bed, and kicked him so hard that he fell to his knees. Her violent reaction shocked him! Her incredibly accurate kick knocked the wind out of him! This was NOT part of the plan! Even though he was reaching for her from the floor, attempting to say, "It's ME! It's okay, it's only ME!" all that was coming out of his mouth was a succession of low and indistinguishable moans of confounded pain. In the meantime, she ran to grab the kitchen phone and locked herself in the bathroom on the lower level of their house, where she immediately called 911.

By the time her husband gathered himself and made it downstairs, the police were already on their way, and boy, did he have some explaining to do.


Do yourself a favor this Halloween--and especially any other day of the year-- resist waking your loved one while wearing a terrifying costume, no matter how perfectly seductive you think it is.

And so it goes until the day you die

He quietly sang along to "Love Stinks" as if he truly believed in every word, and my excitement in the possibilities of where things were headed turned into feelings of impending doom.

LOVE STINKS

J. Geils Band

You love her, but she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes until the day you die

This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues, the reds and the pinks
One thing for sure

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

Two by two and side by side
Love's gonna find you, yes it is
You just can't hide
You'll hear it call
Your heart will fall
Then love will fly
It's gonna soar
I don't care for any casanova thing
All I can say is love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

I've been through diamonds
I've been through minks
I've been through it all
Love stinks

{The inner workings of my brain in certain real-life situations are not unlike frolicking through a minefield, or rather, MINDfield. Boom; explosion.}

A.) Things I won't be doing in this post, and B.) Why:

A.) Making references to blowing or eating.

B.) Because I'm a lady*.


Full story on my Piven birthday cake HERE. Thanks, Missy! You're the bomb!



*Why does everybody always laugh when I say that?!

My father's daughter

Happy Birthday, Dad!

For as long as I can remember, I've always been told that I'm my father's daughter. If you believe that astrology has any affect on your personality traits, then I suppose it was kind of unavoidable since I was born the day before his 31st birthday. We share--for the most part--the same sense of humor, the same temperament, the same taste in cars and the same ass-kicking driving style (and speaking of driving: the same ability to drive my mom crazy), the same lack of patience with rude people, the same inability to beat-around-the-bush, the same love for people-watching, the same fascination with all things Chihuly, and the same appreciation for anything that is of-from-around-or-about Italy. Oh yeah, we also have the same nose, though mine is MUCH smaller and cuter.


No need for an actual DNA test, just look at us. Dad at hardball league, holding a beer. I'm the shorty behind him, holding a beer of my own, or so it seems. 1982-ish.

Whenever our family is sitting around reminiscing, our parents complain that my sister & I only remember "the bad stuff"; like having to spend every hot summer Saturday weeding underneath the biggest magnolia tree you've ever seen, or how when we were teens we had a 10-minute time limit on every phone call and how they always knew when time was up even if they were an entire floor below us.

How about the time I got grounded in 4th grade for 6 whole weeks because I got a 'D' in handwriting, while the fact that Dad's handwriting was so sloppy he was often asked if he was a doctor seemed to escape him as he handed down my punishment. Irony, even as a 9-year old, was not lost on me. I just had enough sense to keep it to myself.

I also enjoy bringing up how I had a 10pm curfew all the way through high school when my friends were practically just beginning their weekend night festivities... but all those "bad things" are sometimes more entertaining to look back on now that my sister & I are adults.


Just let your soul glo! The afro seen 'round the world. 1979-ish.


The truth is that there was a lot more good stuff than bad. As a teen I would have disagreed, but it turns out that it's important to have parents who set boundaries and have high expectations of their children because as our parents always say, we turned out alright after all!


Dad & Mom, dating in their teens, plotting how to torture their future daughters with things like personal responsibility and curfews. THE NERVE!


Mom & Dad. Venice Beach, 1993-ish.

Thanks for everything, Dad. I'll try to bring up more of the good stuff when we sit around telling stories the next time, like when you taught me (at 16) to drive your hot new stick shift sports car and I almost killed us in the middle of an intersection when the car died as I was trying to make a left turn. You didn't lose your cool with me, not for a second; even when I was panicking because I couldn't get the clutch and the gas pedals synced up and the car died again, after it sputtered a few feet closer to the swiftly approaching oncoming traffic.

You just yelled, "GO! GO! GO!" and then... I did! That pretty much sums it up. You're always there, spurring me on to simply put my mind to something and do it.


Clearly up to no good in 1987. Speaking of that 'fro... It looks as if Missy decided to sport that look too, but it was just the wind.

You're the best, and not only is that a compliment for you, but it's a compliment for ME because I'm proud to say that even after all of these years, people still tell me that I'm my father's daughter. But they always add, "with a MUCH smaller and cuter version of his nose!" Really, they add that, I swear.

Happy Birthday! I Love you.

The Proposal: Timing really is everything!

The weekend we met, way back in 2005. Who is wrapped around who's finger, exactly?

I got an e-mail from my oldest (in years of friendship, not in age!) BFF last week, telling me about a conversation she had with her nearly 5-year old son, R. What you should know before reading any further is that they live several states away from me and though we talk on the phone often, we only get to see each other once/year.

The following will explain everything you ever needed to know about the effect I seem to have on men*:

I told R. your birthday is coming up and he wanted to color a picture for you. I told him you like hearts, so he asked me to draw some for him. As he was coloring them in, he said,

“I want to marry her, because I like her. I’m going to drive to her house and kiss her, and give her some flowers.”

Then he looked up from his artwork to ask,

“Wait, did anyone marry her yet?”

I said, “Not yet.”

He said,

“Good. I don’t know what time I’m going to grow up**, but when I grow up, that’s when I’m going to marry her***.”

That "AKA Your Husband" above his name makes this the best artwork by a nearly 5-year old (with help from his mother) of all time. OF ALL TIME!!!!!!


All I have to say is, Jeremy better step up his game (*cough* birthdayspankings *cough*) tonight!


*By "men", I mean "nearly 5-year old boys". Of course, I've dated several men who acted about that age...

**...who clearly didn't know what time they were going to grow up, either.

***Don't cry for me! Word has it that R. is going to propose to me with his favorite plastic spider ring. He is wise beyond his years.

Feel the burn

The other night, one of my BFFs was in town from another state for a Med School exam, part of which included diagnosing people acting as patients with symptoms from any number of illnesses. Sound familiar? Let me remind you of a classic scene from Seinfeld:


"I burned for her..."

We've been joking about that episode in relation to this particular exam for awhile now, which has included the unbridled joy of sending her text messages saying things like, "I hope you get gonorrhea!"

Matthew McConaughey* knows I'm alive!

(I just call him Matty, though!)

Dear World-at-Large:
I may have tweeted my love for Dazed & Confused's Wooderson. I may have even tweeted it directly to Matty himself.

Then, this happened:




Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some auburn highlighting work to do on my hair before Matty takes me to that kegger down at the Moon Tower*.

*It could be an imposter, but c'mon! It's probably not. The internet is a very truthful place.

**Where I'll ask him more about the pitfalls of being a movie star in between air breaks from our huge make out sesh***.

***Don't mess with the fantasy.