Randumb

I really have nothing to say. Just feel as though I need to end the month with a blog. It seems that a lot of people are in a weird funk. Co-workers, facebook friends, bloggie friends. Not sure about my family. My sister keeps trying to get a hold of me (baby bro is graduating in June!), and I haven't been in the mood to talk. I have about 25 voicemails on my cellphone. I don't listen to messages. Most people who call me know this. But there are some die hards out there.

I've gone to the gym twice this week. I realized the guilt of not going was worse than the actual work out. Tonight I tried to read a magazine while on the treadmill. It isn't easy to jog and read. It isn't easy to jog. The worst part? The reading voice in my head was all out of breath!

I'm reading 2 self help books. One has short daily entries of things to ponder, broken down into 52 weeks. I'm using the receipt as a bookmark, so maybe I can look back in a year and see if I learned anything, or if the receipt is stuck between pages 12-13. I'm just looking for some focus.

I'd really like it if the Ex-Mr. Sarah K would send the papers that say I can legally change my last name...or get married again. You never know...Speaking of the ex and my last name...he messed up our taxes for the second year in a row. He put my legal last name down wrong. I specifically did not want to change my last name when we married. He pouted, I hyphenated. So the fact that he can't put my correct, legal last name down just irritates me. It's just one last thing to let go of, to be finally back to being me. Singular. Break ups suck.

Yesterday was the 9th anniversary of my cousin's death by motorcycle. He was 29. That sucked.

I'm writing this blog to avoid doing dishes.

I told my friend that I would think about joining Roller Derby. I hope she was too sauced to remember me saying that. I don't care if they train you. I'm delicate. But knocking down chicks after a long work week? Could be theraputic.

Went to a Mary Kay party last night. A co-worker started schlepping it, so we did the nice thing and supported her. Six bottles of cheap, sweet "wines" and 4 hours of laughing non-stop later, I gave her too much of my money. I better be pretty, dammit.

One last thought to leave you with: I got a lovely note from one of my oldest friends today. "Thanks for being you, even when I'm not being me." I know what that's like. Been there....I have my own zip code and everything.

Tears of Joy

I went to my favorite place on earth tonight, the facial spa. As soon as you walk into the building, you can smell the lemongrass aromatherapy. The ND Congressman has his office on the first level, and I always feel as though I should bless myself as I pass the State seal on the way upstairs. Odd, I know.

Tonight's appointment was lash tinting. I got to lie down on the comfy table/bed thing, inhale the various soothing scents they pipe in, and listen to the relaxing music. Too bad I'm always tense and wondering about what the tech thinks of my socks.

She slathered petroleum jelly under my eyes, then placed cotton strips on top of the that. Then she smeared on the tint. Kinda felt like a twelve year old slathering on liquid eyeliner. She waited a few minutes for it to dry, then wiped off the petroleum, and then the water works started. HOLY SHIT. An acid peel I can handle. But my eyes? Holy crap. She handed me a mirror so I could see the results, but I could barely open my eyes. "Well, I can tell you they look great! And you won't go blind!" Um...thanks....I had to sit in the lobby for a few minutes to let the tears clean out the poison.

Then I went to the grocery store even though I looked like, well, I had been crying. Hard. I bought a new room spray. No, nothing remotely close to lemongrass....but it makes the litter box smell nice.

The results?? Well, my lashes were dark to begin with. So now they just look darker. Maybe I should've opted for the sample laser hair removal on my big toes?


photo: deborah anderson photography

Letters from the Front: Saturday, Sunday

THE INFAMOUS "STUFFED ANIMALS IN THE TRUNK"

Well, after a few near death/driving related experiences, we are home safe, alive, but exhausted, from Marcy's Little People District 9 convention. Who knew Iowa would make Marcy forget to honor Stop signs and red arrows?? Or make her go temporarily deaf at the very moment I start yelling "STOP STOP STOP." MARCY: "I didn't even see that Stop sign!" ME: "Which one? The one on the left, or the one on the right? There are only two at this intersection."

DO THESE GLASSES MAKE MY BUTT LOOK BIG?

Clear Lake, Iowa is famous for one thing: The Day the Music Died, February 3, 1959. Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valenz, and The Big Bopper were on their way to Moorhead, Minnesota (across the flooding river from Fargo) when their plane went down in a corn field. We drove out the sight, but you have to walk a half mile in the field to reach the marker. It was nice that people had left poems and devotions from the era. What sucked was the random trash people left, also.



I had a good time at the convention, and maybe Marcy will bring me back to more. (Probably not after reading this blog) I met a lot of nice people. No one was selling mini-collapsible stools at this one, so that leaves us with 2 options for my Ford Escape: I'll either have to look into installing running boards for her, or I'll get one of those fire escape rope ladders for her to climb up into my car. Or I could keep pulling her up into it. It really wears me out, but what are friends for? (she's so gonna kill me...)

"HEY, MARCY! GO SEE IF THAT FENCE IS ELECTRIC"


ANTHONY (I NEVER ASKED ABOUT THE VOO DOO)

We went to the Harley store, and there was this trashy looking bum who could've used a shower like, 3 weeks ago, sitting on his bike in the parking lot. He saw Marcy's North Dakota plates and informed us that there are so many Norwegians in ND, they are thinking of changing the name to "Norske Dakota". Hahahahahhhh....yeah.

Letters from the Front: Friday

You all love Marcy, right? I'm with her all weekend at her LPA district conference, in another armpit town, Clear Lake, IA. (Iowa is boring, dude.) I was too tired to blog last night (her driving wears me out, and it was about 6 hours of it), so I'm writing now while she's at her meeting. Learning about....stuff. And planning where next fall's meeting will be.

Marcy was very excited about this conference. I called her yesterday morning to tell her I was leaving work and would be at her apartment soon. "OK, I'm in my car in the parking lot, waiting." Um..ok....let's hope I hit all green lights...

I start loading my stuff into her trunk, and see about 5 stuffed animals in there. (I'd insert the pic here, but my camera is officially MIA. Karma's a beotch) ME: "What are these?" MARCY: "Thooose aaare....stuffed animals." ME: "Yes.....but why are they in your TRUNK?" MARCY: "I can't bear to part with them, but I don't want them in my apartment." ME: "OOOOhhh...we've just found blog material #1!! PHOTO OPP!!" (and that's where it all gets hazy. not sure where I put the camera after I took my exploitation opportunity)

The drive down was OK. She has a tendency to look at me while I'm talking to her, while she's driving. I have a tendency to look at the road while she's looking at me. And then I freak out when the car veers to the left. It's always to the left. *shudder*

We met up with the other district members for dinner. I was surprised to see the variety of people here. Children, adults, lots of different types of dwarfism. I guess I thought they'd all look like Marcy, and her friend Anthony.

Anthony offended me within 10 seconds of meeting him. ANTHONY: "You're from FARGO?" ME: "Yes." ANTHONY: "You SOUND like you're from Fargo!" ME: (what the..??) ANTHONY: "Were you in the movie?" ME: "Yes, I had a bit part." (Why I didn't come back with "Do you know the Roloffs from TLC's Little People, Big World??" Little People loooove it when you ask them that question. *sarcism*)

Anthony told us about his mission trip to Haiti. He totally lit up while talking about the good they did for the community, building a church, impromptu services, etc. He said the people practice Catholicism , Voo Doo, and Witchcraft. I didn't know if it was acceptable to ask a hard core Christian about Voo Doo and Witchcraft, but I really really wanted to!! "Like with chickens, and stuff??"

And that brings us to this morning. Marcy is notorious for sleeping until noon on the weekends, so I was planning on waking her up for her morning meeting. At some point, her sleepy breathing stopped, and the room was really quiet. She actually got up on her own, and I was happy I didn't have to poke the bear. MARCY: "Yeah, I've been awake for awhile." ME: "Well, I figured when I didn't hear you breathing, you were either dead or awake." MARCY: "Thanks a lot!! That's going on my facebook...."

"Yes, I'm from Fargo.....

……yeah, like the movie.” I didn’t always answer that way. I was living in Chicago when it started. The first few times I heard the questions: “You’re from Fargo? Like the movie?” I was offended, taken aback. No! Not like the movie!! It’s a movie filmed in Minneapolis. People don’t really talk like that! OK, they do. That’s not the point. At first I would try to explain the differences. After feeling bad from seeing the disappointment on their faces, I started to answer, “Yeah, like the movie.” People seemed to like that answer better. I became a novelty in their eyes. The way a Fargoan would look at a person from exotic California. I knew they would go out into the world and tell their friends and family that they had met a real person from Fargo, like the movie.

I don’t mind Fargo so much. It’s normal, almost wholesome. People are simple and friendly for the most part. Not everyone talks with long O’s. I get irritated when I watch the news and the only people they interview have the worst North Dakota accents. Where do they find these people? Wait. I was interviewed on the local news. Oh, crap. If anyone reading this saw me, please let me know if I talked like a local, OK?

Something else that entertained my Chicago neighbors was when I would unknowingly say “Uff Da”. I always figured out quickly that I had said it when the person next to me would give me a confused, quizzical look. I can’t help it, it just comes out. I once explained it’s definition to someone as the Norwegian “Oy Vey”. They readily accepted it, and I was off the hook. I met a man who had lived in Norway for a few years. I asked him if Norwegians said Uff Da. “No, not really. Not the younger people anyway. You might hear someone older say ‘Uff‘”. Great. So I’m uncool on two continents. I could never live down the way I said “hamm-ock”, though. I still don’t know the proper way to pronounce it. Do you say it fast? “Hammick”? I know it isn’t two words. I just don’t know how to sound normal when I say it. You can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the hamm-ock out when it’s -32 below……

Run for the border

What do you get when you pile 6 giggly overgrown teenage women in a mini-van with a stack of birth certificates, one passport, lots of perfumes, and even more alcohol? A very annoyed Border Patrol Officer that asks too many questions. "Where are you going? What will you be doing there? How do you know each other? How much alcohol do you have? When was the last time you visited Canada?" Why Denise felt the need to elaborate and tell the young officer we were going to see The New Kids on the Block in concert, is beyond me. She told the officer on the way back, too. Seriously!

Yes, we saw NKOTB in concert. AGAIN. But the last time was in 2008 in St. Paul, MN. This is 2009, and we went to Winnipeg, Manitoba. CANADA. It doesn't count if it's a different year and country and currency, right?

One of the highlights from the last concert was when Bobby and I ordered Gin and Tonics. Kelley: "Is there vodka in that?" This time around, they had hard liquor at the concert. Kelley brought me a drink, and after I finished it, (ten minutes later) I told her it was the worst Gin and Tonic I had ever tasted. "It was a Vodka Tonic", she replied. Of course it was....We had GREAT seats this time! Two rows up from the floor. The boys came down to a secondary stage in the middle of the venue, and sang a few songs. And then, as they walked up the aisle to go back to the main stage, we reached our hands out, and Kelley and Cori were touched by Jordan and Jonathan! Yes. You'd think the hand of God reached out and anointed them. Our hotel was next door to the convention centre (Canadian), and a few doors down from the hotel was an odd book store of sorts. Kelley and I swear Jonathan was standing in front of that bookstore having a smoke. No one believes us. We think they sold gay publications, and well....he's totally gay. But I digress.

Cori and Bobby didn't bring jackets. Apparently they thought the farther north you go in North America, the warmer it gets. Or Canadian springs are more mild than in North Dakota? One degree celcius translates to cold. (If Bilby actually gets this far in the blog, and I didn't lose him at NKOTB, he'll know.)

Hm...other Canadian observations...If you've never had Poutine, french fries with gravy and cheese (melted or curds), you have not lived my friend! Holy crap. Speaking of, almost everything shuts down on Good Friday. (Holy day, everything shuts down, total crap that you can't drink without ordering a full meal) We drove all around, looking for something to do. Ended up at Shoppers Drug Mart.

Winnipeg was an armpit, to me. They have wonderful festivals and cultural events during the summer, however. I want to visit again and at least experience that. (Passports are required as of June 2nd.) But I wasn't impressed with the city itself. I expected everyone to speak with heavy Canadian accents. Nope. One of our waiters was from Duluth, MN. People seemed more European, however. Dark haired, dark clothing. I want to visit Montreal. Apparently there is a store dedicated to Poutine in Montreal!

The fields were extremely flooded! Normally when you are driving on the highway, it's flat farmland as far as the eye can see. It looked like a lake on either side of us. The water was on the shoulder in one area. (That's what this photo is showing. That and Bobby's chest. We stopped in the middle of the road to take pics) The flat lands continued across the border, also. I don't know what I was expecting. It was all so Amercian. Except for Poutine. God bless Poutine.

Apartment Therapy

Yes, I have a degree in Interior Design. Yes, I work at a service center for a bank. Let's not get into it. The extent of my design work is my digs, and spending friends' and family money while shopping. "OH, that would look perfect in your bathroom! No, not that. That's ugly. The other thing." I follow a few design blogs (decor porn, to me), and got some inspiration to photoshop pics of my place. It looks much better photoshopped. (The cat hair has been airbrushed out.) My apartment was built in 1935, original Linoleum, hardwoods, original toilet, cast iron sink, metal kitchen cabinets in near mint condition, light fixtures, etc, etc.


LIVING ROOM: Blogging central and "studio"






KITCHEN: Drippy faucet and lots of empty wine bottles

Metal cabinets: Once a flour bin and fridge


BATHROOM: Mostly soap scum and cat litter



BOUDOIR: Mostly cat hair



Reasons for cat hair:




I'M IN LOVE WITH :::HOMEBODIES::: (Voyeurism, I'm sure) Great concept, Liz!
{LUPHIA LOVES....} She is just too cute
The Paris Apartment (Need I say more?)
Laissezfaire Interesting, quirky, inspirational photos and blogs
A Field Journal Pretty photos for inspiration. Her blog is like...cupcakes!
Poetic Home Cool name, cool stuff
Apartment Therapy 'cuz I borrowed their name
Picnik Free and fun photo editing

You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing

Who doesn't love a good facebook quiz?? Of course I succumbed and took the "Which Crazy Bitch are You?" quiz. The answer was Sylvia Plath. I don't know anything about her, other than the oven mystique. I have not read up on her bio on Wikipedia (a.k.a. the dummy's cliff notes to just about everything). I guess she spent her honeymoon sketching. I spent mine plotting my divorce, and finding my first grey hairs. *sigh* Anyhoo..here are the results:

You are one intense bitch. You are almost abnormally introspective but this is where your abundant creativity flows from. You love handsome, brilliant, creative genius types but you pay the price when their egos and lustful ways cause them to betray you. You are a very intelligent, classy lady with a black streak and can be very emotional at times. You do have a bit of a morbid side but your words often lead you to be misunderstood as a dark figure but that is just how you protect your soft mushy insides.

Feel free to share your results in the "Whatchu Talkin' Bout, Willis?" comments. Oh, and I took the "How Sarcastic are You?" quiz. I think my polite midwestern ways got the best of me. Only "slightly above average" was the result. You can't always be a crazy bitch......