Happy Birthday to ME!

And Merry Christmas to you!

Enjoy my birthday present with me courtesy of the Lamigraws. They rule so hard!!!

Download this into your iTunes...it's worth it!!

Page Turner

All I want for Christmas

Is for Micah to post something new and funny on his blog.

Pretty please.

Your Early Christmas Present

Oh blessed readers. Are you ever in for a treat. You're welcome:

it's the holiday season so whoop dee do and kiss my ass

i received an email from hashifa with 3-d pictures of the baby growing in her. i was not expecting them to be actual photos of an actual baby. but they were actual photos of the baby. shocking. almost as shocking as the pictures she emailed of her husband's thanksgiving elk kill. shocking.

today i am home sick. i have a cold. i woke up with dried snot all over my face. pretty. i took a picture of myself today because i am bored. maybe i will include a lot of pictures in this post.

here is a picture of the bike micah is building for me. did i mention i am afraid of riding bikes?

here is a picture of my food on thanksgiving:

here is a picture of myself after i had eaten too much and had too much too drink.

i am excited about christmas and enjoyed getting out my decorations. here is a picture of me getting out my decorations:

here is a picture of regis destroying my decorations:

i can't wait to put up giant santa. here's a picture of him from last year when we first got him:

my comedy show, "christmas is so special" was a great success. that's all. twas good. i have no pictures from it.
what a dumb post this is. bye.

Hashifa Won't Post So I'll Post For Her

Jenny emails H.V: I forgot to bring your Design*Sponge ornaments.

H.V. emails in response: i know. and damn you for that. We also forgoted to get thur candle. Hey, I am not knowing if Saturday will work out for her...Mom wants me to come up on Friday afternoon and have lunch with you bi-otches and buy me a "top" but I told her I can only do that if it is after 1 and someone comes to get me because we have a b-day party to go to on Ray rd. that night so James would drive up later and take my ass home. And we're already driving up there tonight for our childbirth class at the hospital so...I just don't know. I could possibly spend the noche on Fri and we could do candies on Sat morn or we could wait and do it next Fri, the 14th. I hope I am painting a clear picture for you here. Let me know what your brain is generating. Amen.

Pick a Topic

Hashifa: Please post pix of JJ. Now that we've seen him, this stupid gestation widget on our sidebar is really annoying me with its inaccuracies.

E.J: Please post about Christmas is So Special/ or Please post about any future travel developments.

Self: Please post about six year old Kendall's collection of used communion cups and how she entertains herself with them.

Readers: You suck. Except Jenn and HV. (I'm bitter about the lack of commenting on my posts. Didn't you like my ornaments?? Christmas IS so special DAMN IT!)

Catching Up

I don't even know where to start, so I'll just start somewhere and you can sort it out from there.

After Philly we did the Halloween thang. It was fun. No big whoop.

Hashifa, in her ever-loving nesting obsession, invited me to help her with little J.J.'s room. So we collaborated,cut and pasted and patted ourselves on the back all weekend. Highly satisfying.

As Thanksgiving approached, Nick's preschool held a little pilgrims and indians presentation. Me thinks it was not PC, but shamelessly cute.

I invited Mom to the program and she came. It was an exercise in personal serenity. I had to self-talk myself down from the ledge about three times in the 60 minute encounter. Nick must have channeled my anxiety because he was not happy to see her there and was not shy about expressing it by saying, "Why is Grammy here? I don't want Grammy at my preschool!" Big frown. He came around in the end and I captured this freaky-deaky picture of the power of genetics.

Thanksgiving was nice and it was casserole and can-free! Scott made everything. Yum. We asked Mom and Dad to bring an appetizer. She had a hard time just bringing an appetizer. She asked several times if she could bring more. We said no thanks. We said come at noon and we'll eat at one. They showed up at 12:45 with this (it's a turkey/fruit sculpture):

And now we're getting ready for Christmas! The kids and I made these after I saw them on design*sponge.com.
I was telling Mom about them and said that we had made some for her. She stopped by to see them. She said that they looked like they should be hanging in "Nordstroms." She has a hard time focusing on anything except her stories, so she proceded to sit on my couch for the next hour and tell me about her chocolate pizzas and toilet paper rolls for the troops in Afghanistan and how she's too tired to put up decorations and so she didn't want ours, either. She also told me about her neighbor who makes some sort of scrapbook for the official Josh Groban fan club, only she kept alternating between saying Josh Grogan and Josh Groden. Then she left.

That's about it. Emily said she was going to post pictures from her Christmas Is So Special Show that performs tomorrow night. So, post your comments on my posting quickly because she's going to steal my posting thunder. I do like comments. I'm very lonely and needy for attention and affirmation. I'm not proud. I'll take anything (spelling corrections, grammar corrections, style critique, hateful comments, etc.)

this blog blows

wow. this blog is boring. i have nothing to say but i will say things anyway. it is cold here. i got a new winter coat. my old winter coat was dumb and stupid but my new coat is nice and fun. a very, very old woman with a scarf on her head touched my arm gently as i was messing with the cracker display at work and said to me in a soft, raspy voice, "christmas is coming. you need to get a lot of rest. this is the city. this aint the burbs, baby. this aint the burbs." then she hobbled away shouting, "this aint the burbs! no! this aint the burbs! it's the city!" i really should get some rest. she's right.

my comedy group is working on our new show, "christmas is so special". i came up with the title. catchy, no? i wrote a fantastic opening song.

i am personally working on my own show called, "emily! live! a night of song and stories". i will be wearing a fancy dress, have fancy hair and will be wearing fancy makeup. it will be a fancy show. i will sing poorly and will be heckled. this is all ok with me because this show will fulfill a lifelong dream. it will be just like the shows i performed in my bedroom when we lived on gold cup lane when i was 15 and had trouble relating to my peers because i loved barbra streisand and judy garland and doris day and knew all the words to gershwin songs. i would make up cabaret acts and perform them in my room when i was grounded (which was often) and sometimes for an audience of hashifa vachoo. hashifa would watch patiently but would roll her eyes and throw her body around in agony. this new show will be great!

i have to go to work now.

Props to our hosts and benefactors

Wow! We had so much phun in Phili! Hashifa and I began our adventure bright and early Thursday morning. She spent the night in the Casita at the LamFam casa so as to avoid getting up super-super early and driving in from Casa Grande (can you handle all of this southwest gringo lingo?) Mom made some muffins for our journey. They were bran muffins with raisins, walnuts, craisins and chocolate chips. This is a very typical perversion of a normally good idea. She loves to take something in it's natural, healthy state and molest it until it is a junky, distant cousin of it's natural-born state.

Dad and H.V. picked me up at 6:00 a.m. and we headed toward the airport. He dropped us at the curb and we went inside to check in. We did not check in on-line and were flying Southwest. We ended up in group C. Bad news. We entertained ourselves at the airport with the local fare: hamburger persona cutouts, big, fancy men dressed in high heeled cowboy boots, high-waisted jeans and button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up and cut-off at the waist to reveal a little tummy , you know, just stuff.

Anyway, we had to sit apart, being in group C and all, so that meant me and William Faulkner worked it out visa-vi As I Lay Dying (which I threw down violently on my lap tray at the sucky, sucky ending!) But if I tell you everything about this kind of stuff I'll never get to the good stuff: THE LAMIGRAWS!

Did God make such a couple ere before? They are like no other. They are entertaining (we awoke to many the Neil Diamond revelry), gracious (I drank a lot of their beer and H.V. ate them out of everything), knowledgeable (Emily knows all the rules of public transportation and street walking), educational (Micah knew the historical sights to see and the ones to avoid, like the Liberty Bell because he said it's broken), cultured (Emily performed her Adults show for us and they were always singing Lamigraw originals like: Micah McGraw is a son-of-a-bitch, a son-of-a-bitch? a son-of-a-bitch!)

Everyday we slept until 9:30, drank coffee and ate yummy breakfasts like puff pastry stuffed with eggs and bacon and maple yogurt with granola. We left the house around noon and set out on various adventures involving shopping, eating, eating, eating. Aunt Patty gifted us some money, so we indulged in a few yummy extras that made things even more fun. Thanks Aunt Patty!!

I have nothing bad to say except that Regis the Cat was not as gracious. He was constantly getting stoned on cat nip and acting CRAZY! He wouldn't leave our room and every time we picked him and threw him out he left behind a rotten fart. He was constantly drinking out of Hashifa's glass of water on the end table. Naughty kitty.

Phili was great. The Lamigraws shared their great food, great friends, great weather, great lifestyle all with us. We had fun being sisters together again. I enjoyed time away from my precious, precious children (insert gratuitous eye roll here) and Hashifa enjoyed her last, big travel hurrah before she issues her first wee babe.

Fun times all the way. Our trip home was uneventful. Engaging our noodles, this time, we pre-boarded on the basis of Hashifa's disability AKA pregnancy. Although we were able to sit together, I forgot to pack the headphone splitter, so we had to watch Anchorman with subtitles, which is its own brand of funny. We arrived back in Penix on-time and quickly collected our bags and fed the hungry one. Again.

And now, we're back to our own, boring suburban lives sans taxis, trolleys, trains, and Lamigraws. Love to Phili. We love all things Lamigraw.

we keep posing for pictures with peace signs. we are at war people. WINKS HATE WAR!

what a fun time we are having. the first morning started out fun when hashifa was punished for getting up last by being forced to drink her coffee from a special mug reserved for people who sleep in too late. the mug has an image of a man with his underpants on. when the mug is filled with a hot beverage, like, say, coffee, his underpants come off revealing a large how you say, wiener!

after these glamorous ladies got glamorous while i watched sesame street, we went out on the town! food! anthropologie! h&m! macy's! the market!


micah came along with us and served as tour guide. he even took us to a fancy baby store. he's alright, i guess. just kidding. he cleans up our messes and i am grateful. thanks sarge!

just so you know...

the winks have reunited in philadelphia. stay tuned.

Oops

Hi.

I know I haven't posted in a long time. I've been weird and stuff, I guess. Sometimes I think my life is funny and other times I think I need to start over.

Like today.

I was walking Kendall down the street to her friend Thomas' house per an invitation to play for a couple of hours. I've met his mom, Julie, at the school and she seemed pretty cool. They have a hand-crafted door ornament with a big sliver "S" on it for their last name and they have harvest decorations on their front porch. I never have cared for the "S" and I categorically judge those who set out scarecrows, witches and pumpkins this time of year but actively tried not to harbor ill will on Kendall's friend's family.

So, maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut. But, then the door opened...we were politely small talking...I was trying not to stare at the flecks of paint or something she had in her dyed-black hair...my eye wandered to the five-foot stacks of boxed food directly behind her and I inserted,
"Wow, what have you got going on here?"
She replied, "It's freeze-dried food."
My response? "Going to the moon are you?" (I know, Emily. I'm so rude. Impressively rude, actually.)
It just came out.

She continued,
"Oh, it's part of our home project here. We're trying to access the space under our stairs through the hall closet, so we had to move out all the boxes of food, punch through the wall and then move the food under the stairs."

Those are the painful parts anyway. We arranged for a kid swap time and I left. I walked back home reviewing what had just happened and trying to reconcile it in my mind; Why do I assume everyone's like me? On the other hand, why does she have all that freeze-dried food? Is it left over from Y-2K?

Was it funny? I think so. Is it deplorable that I have such bad manners that are borderline Turrets? Probably. I have been charged with the development of three young lives from birth to maturity.

Funny?

'Fraid so.

ACL '07: An overall success

Here I am, surprising you and following through on my Labor Day resolution - to blog more! James and I (and JJ) got to go to Austin City Limits this year and it was super good. We stayed with our friends that live at Fort Hood which was fun because we learned all kinds of military secrets. For example, do you know that the
military has a secret internet called SIPRNet? It's true! Ironically, our friends live in a neighborhood (not technically on the base but very close) and the majority of their neighbors are Iraqi. I'm not sure why they are all clustered right there but he said they are super friendly and supportive of the army people. Anywhosers, in addition to ACL, we got to a lot of fun other stuff.


On the first day, Bill Clinton, who Emily has a presidential crush on, was doing a book signing in downtown Austin and we went to that which ruled. There were secret service people everywhere and when we finally got into the room where Bill was, people were crying and really excited. One lady cried so hard that Bill hugged her and grabbed her ass!! J/K, just a hug. We got our books signed and I told him he got skinny and he laughed. But then, this other guy started going on to him about how Hilary sucks and she's the devil, etc. As like 8 secret service guys (which came out of nowhere, by the way) were tackling him and hauling him off, Bill said in his sympathetic raspy voice, "I'm sorry you're so sick." It was awesome. Next we went to the festival and watched these bands:

Crowded House (hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over)
LCD Soundsystem
Queens of the Stoneage
Kaiser Chiefs
The Killers
Bjork

Everybody was really good, the weather was super hot and humid and we only had one chair. For day 2 we went to REI and picked up some more gear like another chair, a fan, and an umbrella. These items made a big ass difference.
On the second day we saw these bands:

Cold War Kids
Stephen Marley
Andrew Bird
Damien Rice
Indigo Girls
Arcade Fire
Muse

That night we went to this place called the Alamo Draft House where you sit in super comfy chairs and can order really good food throughout the movie and eat on a table in front of you. Oh, and they have like 40 beers on draft which I did not get to sample :( I had an artichoke, garlic, and goat cheese pizza and chocolate ice cream with a shot of espresso poured over it. YUMSERS!

The last day at ACL was definitely the best in terms of comfort. The weather was nicer, I had my chair adjusted just right, and I had my port-a-potty technique down so I didn't touch nothing. The morning before we went to the fest, we went to the gospel brunch at Stubbs BBQ and that was really fun. I ate the hell out of the buffet and drank way too much coffee but JJ liked it. Then we saw these bands:

DeVotchKa (they did the Little Miss Sunshine soundtrack)
Lucinda Williams
Amos Lee
The Decemberists
My Morning Jacket (they had hula dancers)
Bob Dylan

Bob was really cool, and we had good seats. They didn't do any close-ups on the screens and he had a hat on so we never actually saw his face but we're 90% sure it was him. When he sang his older stuff he sounded like Astro from the Jetsons and then a little more normal on his newer stuff. But still, it was Bob Dylan. We heard a lot of the youngsters saying stuff like, "who is this guy? He can't even sing!" I was all, "Whaa? You can't even sing!" Kids. On our walk home that night, James found this statue of Stevie Ray Vaughn.

So as you can gather, we had a good time but it was good to come home where there are regular toilets and not everybody wears a bikini top.
Oh, and here is what my belly looks like for all of you sick puppies that like that sort of thing:

we did the last of the adults shows last night. it was fun. there were real adults in the audience. i feel good about it. a lot of people saw the show and i finally convinced 6 people to sing and dance with me in public. we even got a nice review.

micah has a new blog

micah has a new blog. it's called the new yes let's.

he created this new blog while i was at work. he also did a lot of laundry. i'm scared, hold me.

Adults!

so, yay! hashifa shall issue a boy. i am glad. but now, about me:

i am in a sketch comedy group. there are seven of us. we have a new show called, adults! all the sketches are about what it means to be an adult. i have always been obsessed with adults, so this show is close to my heart. the theater where we do our shows lost it's zoning permit in march, so we were sure we wouldn't be able to do adults for this local arts festival. we wanted to do the festival because we have already gotten some nice press and would maybe get more, plus, we've been working on this show for a long time and wanted to perform it. long story short, it looked like we wouldn't get the zoning permit in time, so we performed the show twice in one night at a small theater. i did not have a good time at this show. it felt thrown together. plus, everyone was in a bad mood. the two shows were not fun.

i wrote a musical number for the opening. tabitha helped me write the verses and we coreographed it. i thought it was awesome, but when we performed it, i got a bad vibe. i thought i had made a mistake. here is one of the verses (the one i sing) and the chorus:

I HAD THREE KIDS BY SURROGATE SO I WOULDN'T HAVE TO GET FAT.
CAN'T WASTE NINE MONTHS BEING BLOATED,
AND NOT GETTING LOADED AT ALL.

WE'RE ADULTS NOW.
WE'VE GOT IT TOGETHER.
MAKE IT COUNT NOW.
CAN'T GO BAT SHIT CRAZY!

it has an adult contemporary feel. anyway, we ended up getting the permit and now we're doing the festival. six shows, the first was last night. i did not want to do the show again. i felt i had missed the mark. i had nightmares about the show all night and then felt anxiety all the next day. but after last night, which was an awesome success, i decided that i am funny again.

Gimme a Break!

Well I am just really sorry that I didn't come through with the announcement. My work blocks this website, we went on vacation, etc. Now I have let too much time go by and I'm sure you all have lost interest in my news but just to get it out there here it is: we're having a boy. It was either that or a girl and the ultrasound lady said it was "definetely a boy." Now here are some names that I will allow you to judge:
Eli
Samuel
Jack
Caleb
Dylan
Micah (he already said it was ok)
Everette
JJ ( as in James Junior. Not a real possibility but a name James calls the baby now to annoy me.)

James and I are going to Austin City Limits in two weeks so maybe I will post some pictures of our trip. I don't want to say I will because I probably won't.

It's time for another episode of "Jenny's Dream Journey"

Well, HV, I tried to call you and run this by you first before I blogged it. Alas, I was met by the infamous ring-beep which screams, "I know you're calling me, but I'm on the phone with someone better and more interesting." You promised to blog yesterday and you didn't. You drive me to do this. I won't reveal your actual annoucement, but I will paint a picture that I hope will entertain and elaborate on your news. And so now, I blog.

Last night, as I slumbered, my mind took a journey into the future. Namely, a future with Hashifa's newly born babe. If you all could see Hashifa right now, you would see a very svelt person with an ever growing little baby bump. It's very cute and very weird to see my little sister, well, knocked up. So it's unknown why my mind chose for her to birth a 20 pound, bald baby! This baby came out with red gingham over-alls on. We all held the baby and tried not to comment or show our amazement/disgust at the solidness of this baby. Especially since HV and James had this look of pure pride and un-ending love and wonder with their baby. During our first visit to their home (baby still wearing the same outfit) the baby started walking! It was more creepy than amazing. But, once again, HV just looked proudly at her highly advanced infant. And so, we all smiled and nodded.

It was also a family event to take the baby to the doctor for a check-up. And it was timely, since we all were wondering what to think of the candy cane striped, quarter-sized welts on the baby's body. The doctor, too, seemed perplexed but too embarrased to say anything about the baby's size. He said the welts were nothing to worry about. Disturbing.

And so, we continued to warm the baby's milk in empty water cooler bottles (I guess they were the only things large enough to keep up with the wee one's appetite.) And James shared the load (no pun intended) by carrying the baby in a white sling.

That's about all I can recall. There were some other details about remodeling their bungaloo in the jungle and eating dinner at a tiki hut where I ended up leaving my purse. Annoying.

So, Hashifa, reveal to us your annoucement. And Emily, summarize for us your most recent comedy club performance. Kendall hopes you don't get your jokes from bubble gum wrappers.

Tomorrow all will be revealed

Come back tomorrow for an exciting announcement.

Company!

what fun we've had with all our company! matt and lisa rolled in to town last thursday before completing their long journey to new york. amanda, andrew and our new friend esly left yesterday morning. we are dummies and didn't take hardly any pictures, but i will tell you that we had fun. it was great to see familiar faces and then stare at those faces.

we want more company. everyone! come visit and we will do a lot of this:

Regis!

Dialogue with our mother

I recently became aware of a produce co-op in our neighborhood and ordered my first basket of produce to be picked up Saturday morning. It's a $50 value for $15. Exciting, no? I thought Emily would be so proud of me--it's so urbany. I thought Mom might want to get in on it since she claims to eat only protein and vegetables. So I forwarded the link on to her to order one and offered to pick it up for her. The following is an actual exchange that I just had with our mother.

E-mail correspondence:
Jenny: I’m doing this…if you want me to, I can pick one up for you. Click on the link below to buy a basket.
Mom: I’m passing on this one—we are doing Christmas in July at church and I am visiting a non-profit tomorrow for our class.
Jenny: Okay, but just so you know, the deadline is only to place your order on-line. The pick-up is Saturday and I could pick it up for you when I get mine.

Conversation in my apartment parking lot as she's dropping off Nick's bike:
Jenny: Hey, I sent you an e-mail, but I just wanted to make sure you understood that you go on-line and buy the basket by tonight at 10p.m. and then I would pick it up for you on Saturday.
Mom: Hmmm, no, I don't think so, we're already doing something else for school supplies.
Jenny: What? It's a co-op. A cooperative? It's where a few people get together and say, hey, why don't we buy a bunch of local fruit and veggies and then divide it up among others who want to participate. So you bring your container, basket, box, whatever and get your stuff.
Mom: Then where does the basket go?
Jenny: Home. With you. With your fruits and veggies.
Mom: For you? You don't give it to anybody?
Jenny: No. It's your very own to eat.
Mom: Hmmm, no, I would feel too bad.
Jenny: What? Why?
Mom: Because if they're going to do something like that, they should give it the needy.
Jenny: Okay. Bye.

I tell you, I was so perplexed that I burst out laughing and haven't stopped. I think she's on drugs.


On 7/24/07 7:44 PM, "Jenny Leggett" wrote:

Baby Names

Here are some suggestions that were inspired by Kendall's new first grade class list. These names are not fake. For reals, people named their children the following:

Arielle
Guy
Bauer
Viveka
Vincent
Giselle
Israel

29 and lookin' fine!

Takin' one for the team

So. I spent some time with double-L AKA Mom today. The kids and I thought we'd go over and entertain her since she's confined to the couch due to her recent foot surgery. I really can't bear to fill anyone in if you don't know why she had foot surgery, but just know that this is round two on the same foot because the first surgery didn't take.

As some sisters have experienced, Mom is not the most gracious of patients. Instead of being bored and pitiful, she develops a very surly and demanding demeanor to the tune of, "My ice melted. I need more ice in my water!" and "Where's the lemon in my tea? At the bottom? I can't see it and did you squeeze it first? I need more lemon in my tea." I brought her a grocery bag of movies to watch and she responded with "I don't want all those. I have channels to watch. I don't need those. What a mess. You know, believe it or not I do sit in the quiet and don't have the boob tube on all the time." I believe it not.

Some may wonder, "Why Jenny. Why don't you bring your poor, invalid mother a meal." Well, inexperienced one, she doesn't eat other people's food from their home. She'll eat a total strangers food from an industrial restaurant, but not my food or anyone else's. So, I thought this was a genius idea that she would allow me to prepare a meal of her choice from her refrigerator in her kitchen. What did she pick? Taco Salad. Hashifa's favorite. Believe this not.


It was quite a surreal adventure; going through her vegetable drawer where she keeps the veggies in the plastic bags from the produce department. Washing and tearing the romaine lettuce the way she always does with the hand towel lined bowl. Going through her drawers looking for utensils and bowls. Cooking the hamburger the way she does with the taco seasoning using that terrible, terrible, melted, spoon from 1985. Opening the cans and jars that make up the contents of this salad.


And then, the piece de resistance: Eating it on TV trays in front of the TV complete with the red cup containing your beverage of choice. I have to admit that I requested the TV trays because I wanted the full effect. But they only had to get one more out, because two were already set up from previous use. And not because she's on the couch for a few weeks.


So anyways, all in all, it was a successful day. We watched some I Love Lucy episodes and laughed together at the candy making one. It was funny.

That's all.

decorating with trash!

one of the things that used to bother me about micah was the amount of shit he had. i like throwing out shit, he seeks shit out. when we got married and moved in together, i went through a box of his. among the useless crap i found, there were a couple of beat up harmonica holders. he did not own a harmonica at this time and we lived in a teeny, tiny apartment (as you all may recall) with no room for junks. i told him i was throwing them out. he got mad. i told him that if he could find a harmonica in 24 hours, i would not throw out the holders. he didn't and they are gone. and i am mean.

dumpster diving and trash treasuring are an important part of what makes micah, micah. when he was a kid, he and his dad went dumpster diving for magazines to read. the neighbor's trashed lawn mower became the m family's the following day. micah sees the world through a different pair of eyes. garbage eyes. or are they?

this may come to a shock to most of you, but micah and i don't have very much money. we have company coming (hamilton3 this summer, matt and lisa are moving this way and sisters in the fall) and we want our apartment to look awesome. i've been doing what i can with buying stuff on the cheap and deciding which pictures to put on the wall, but micah has taken things to a whole new level.

i now love micah's love of trash. i have a new coffee table and a cute side table. (which is pictured sideways, sorry.)


both tables were desks that micah cut up and painted. he found the coffee table yesterday, and carried it home. three blocks on a hot day! trash rules.

speaking of pieces of shit, i inherited a hutch when our aunt nora died. i was told by our mother that it was originally our beloved grandmother's, who bought it in the 1950's. i hate this hutch with my whole heart. it's a bitch to move, and it just not cute. but, alas, i have always felt guilty about it and have kept it. long story short, when moving it into our current apartment, it was discovered that it was made in the 80's. we took it apart and our t.v. rests upon it. the finish and hardware sucks ass, so we're going to paint it and replace the pulls. any suggestions?


among our other many home projects, i've been really wanting to frame and hang these awesome photos. no one was doing anything with them. i think they're awesome.

our grandpa owned a bike shop and invented a kit for three wheelers. some of the photos are of my grandparents and some are snapshots people who bought the bikes sent to them.

this is what my living room looks like now:

you'll have to come over to see how much more shit we can make pretty!

if you are in philly...

come see this show. it's a competition to see who has the dirtiest sketch in philadelphia. we might win. our's is really bad. really bad. really, really bad.

Drum roll please

Well hello everyone. I would like to take this opportunity to personally apologize for my recent hiatus. Jenny and Emily have resorted to leaving me threatening voicemails and publically humiliating me into blogging so here we are. If there is anyone who feels especially offended by my absence, you can leave your address and favorite candy on comments and I will mail you some candies. Now then, on to business.
Updates: Frances and Sasha are still alive and enjoying their dog lives, James graduated from Seminary with a Masters in Divinity, and now he has Gout (which is not a foot disease as we thought). As a side bar, James' doctor told him that the world will be ending in the year 2012 so watch out for that. Also, this doctor is a personal physician to Mr. Benny Hen.
And now, people, for the BIG news: there is an alien growing inside of my uterus that is due to exit around the end of Jan. For the last three weeks, the Winks have been obsessed with all things baby. E & J have successfully convinced me that 900 one dollars is a completely reasonable amount of money to spend on a stroller and Emily has been interrogating strangers regarding the origin of their baby items. We are currenty accepting baby room theme ideas, preferably something that requires a giant mural that Micah can paint (don't worry, Micah, LL will never has to know you are here). So far, my idea is Sock Monkeys and Emily's idea is Global Warming to include real-time melting polar ice caps.
Everything seems to be going well in the ol' oven. We saw (not heard yet) the hearbeat yesterday and it was weird. Below you can see the u/s photo which is Baby W at 7 weeks old. It looks like a little peanut but if you look closely you can see what I think is a little arm. I will divulge name ideas later even though Jenny told me not to tell anyone but her because you all will judge me. In related news, the aforementioned sister and I will be visiting Philly in Oct so we will get to meet some of you! I can't decide if I want to take or post the ol' watch-my-belly-grow pictures, I will open that subject up to comments. So there you are, that is the new news, I hope it has satiated everyone's longing for Hashifa Vachoo.

Hashifa. It's Tuesday.

And yet, she posts not.

Seriously.

hashifa. write something. now. seriously. i can't take it anymore. i'm going to work now. when i get home, i want to read something awesome. i am too tired for threats.

Ladies and Gentleman. Boys and Girls

It's the moment we've all been waiting for. Drum roll please. Lights, camera, action, etc. Our very own Hashifa Vachoo!!

Dumby Me

I've really been a good girl most of my life. I've been accused of my clothes matching too much. I only smelled marijuana for real in the past year or so. And I only saw it for real, for real last year at Sarah's wedding. I've never seen or been in the vicinity of anything more hard core. Except for that half of wine cooler (split with Jenn) at a party after high school graduation, I really only had my first regular drink about two years ago. I enjoy beer and wine and the occasional mojito on a pretty regular basis now, but I'm still am a serious light-weight; Hashifa says I get loud after one glass of wine and two glasses I'm pretty much under the table. Ninety-eight pound Emily on the other hand can out drink a grown man three times her size. Magic, once again. I never went further than 2nd base my whole unmarried life. I think it was Hashifa who explained to me why 69 was funny. And I know that b.j. was not something that registered as anything besides our parent's friend's name until it was explained to me in college.

So, now I'm pretty much a bad ass, but this one gets me and it's really bothering me, so someone explain to me why this is funny so I can laugh for real and not just to fit in. I was with Hashifa and her crazy friends last night after her Copacabana Tap Recital (youtube video coming soon). Her friend Matt said something that I didn't understand and so I said, "Who?" and he responded, "Deeeeez Nuts!!! Ha, ha, ha, ha!" And everyone else giggled too!

Why dis funny? He said he recently saw it on a bumper sticker on the back of a semi and it said, This Truck Powered by Deez Nuts. Still not funny to me. I understand it's referring to testicles, but do they retain some sort of power or some sort of persona that would be the answer to "Who?"

I'm missing it. Help please.

Part 3: I Bet You Thought There Wasn't Going to Be a Part 3 or I Absolutely Do Not Have a Farting Disease

this has been a good year. i've felt really happy. things have been good. i like micah a good deal, i like my job, phladelphia rules, i have great friends and i get to be creative and funny with a group of geniuses. i have several reasons to get up in the morning and take a shower.

remember when gloria estefan broke her back in a horrific tour bus crash and the wrote the song "coming out of the dark" and then performed it with a choir at the grammys? that's exactly how i've felt. like i'm a bad singer with an unfortunate face who is overcoming adversity. soy feliz.

thursday, the day after my terrible surprise, i stayed home and didn't move. the doctor told me to lay low for bit. mom and dad called to invite me to spend the day with them. turns out, our parents love tour busses and planned to spend the day on one. i declined. i spent the day on the couch watching the trinity broadcasting network and trying to figure out who is more evil, pat robertson or joel osteen. i still can't decide. i didn't feel very bad about blowing off mom and dad. i was pretty angry that they showed up in the first place. i tried really hard not to think about it too much. i was trying really hard not to go bat shit crazy.

that evening nate, jessica, micah and i were in the backyard firing up the grill. i'd had a beer and a half. i went upstairs to get some lettuce. i had missed a call from jenny, so i called her back. as i was checking the lettuce and talking to jenny, i felt a horrble pain in my stomach. the pain got worse and worse every second. i abruptly ended my call with jenny so that i could lay on the couch to sweat and writhe in extreme pain. micah called my doctor. the doctor said to go to the emergency room. as leaving the house required moving, i decided to tough it out. i fell asleep.

the next morning the doctor called and told me to go to the hospital to have a cat scan. seems there was some stuff in my blood that suggested there could be an issue with my pancreas. i went to the hospital and they injected me with dye. the nurse said the dye may feel like i was peeing my pants. boy howdy! i was sure i was peeing my pants. what a nice surprise to find that i was dry as a bone.

i waited for results in the waiting room. a doctor called me in. he told me that i should have a nice weekend and i wasn't going to die. he said that i had gastritis. "great", i thought i have a farting disease. i had a cat scan so a doctor could tell me i have gas. i left the hospital and called jenny. she google gastritis and read what it was. it is NOT a farting disease.

mom and dad went to washington d.c. over the weekend (which they continuesly pronounced as "wershington d.c.") and i went about my business. i invited them over for a bbq at our home, monday.

monday morning, memorial day, i was cleaning my house and thinking about the past week. i hadn't gone bat shit crazy. there was a time not long ago when i would've lost my shit, but this time i didn't. then i considered how angry i was. then i fixated on how angry i was. then i felt like i was getting depressed. then i started going bat shit crazy. my rib hurt, my stomach was sore, my parents showed up unannounced. mom does whatever she wants. mom thinks she can control me. dad let's her get away with it. i am angry.

i called mom. she was looking at the liberty bell. i told her that she couldn't come over. i told her that she makes my life harder. i cried, screamed and yelled.

she laughed. she told me that she was an adult and she could go on vacation where ever she wanted.

then i couldn't breathe for a long time.

after an hour or so, i joined evryone downstairs. since mom and dad weren't coming over, we invited friends. the day turned out really awesome. we ate great food, played football in the street and watch the cat go crazy on cat nip.

i went to the doctor on tuesday and he explained to me gastritis. the cat scan showed that my stomach is infected from an over production of acid and the lining is inflamed and thickening. he gave me medicine. he confrmed what i had learned on the internet; that gastritis can be brought on with a stressful event. i have to take acid blockers now because i saw mom.

double l and dad stayed until wednesday. i did not see or hear from them. i still haven't.

it is sunday now and i feel good. my side feels a lot better and my stomach only hurts when i eat potato salad. life is back to normal and i must say, i am enjoying my normal life even more than before mom showed up. i have things to look forward to and lots to do. the ryhthm has totally got me.

Part 2: Mom No Longer Flinches When I Say the F Word or My Doctor is a Fancy Gay Man and I Would Like It If He Invited Me Over for Dinner

i had never been to this doctor before. i hadn't been to the doctor since i'd moved to philadelphia. i hate going to the doctor. when i was twelve, i went to a doctor who made me stand in front of hime with nothing but my underpants on. he told me i had a nice body for a twelve year old. i told mom that this bothered me and she told me i should take it as a compliment. i tell you this because it explains why i don't like to see my mom and why i don't like going to the doctor.

i was nervous in the waiting room because i assumed the doctor was male, as his first name was "mark". i took a seat and perused the magazine selection. i breathed a sigh of relief when i noticed a neatly fanned assortment of vanity fairs, advocates and national geographics. then i noticed a tastefully framed print of a cross with scripture in the hall. a gay christian. my new doctor was a gay christian. despite feeling that i was on the crazy train bound for nutty town, i felt good.

my name was called and i went into the examination room. it hurt real bad to climb on the table. the nurse took my temp. i had a little fever. then, she took my blood pressure. she said it was extremely elevated and asked me what was going on. i teared up and told her that my parents flew out to surprise me despite me telling them twice that it wasn't a good time. i also told her that my mom was crazy. the nurse patted my back and said, "all moms are crazy! just wait until you're a mom". i told her that probably won't happen. she told me i would change my mind when i find the right man. i said, "maybe so. but i'm married already and don't desire children right now." the nurse asked me why and i told her that i had ice water coursing through my veins and felt children were loud. the nurse told me the doctor would be in shortly.

the doctor, who was a attractive and fancy man, came in and went over the questionaire i had filled out in the waiting room. periodically, he glanced at me above his glasses. i had filled out the form with funny answers. stuff like, "sure" and "that's a good question" and "bi-polar. jealous?". the doctor said that no one have ever made the questionaire so entertaining. i took that as a compliment.

i was examined and it was determined that i had popped out a rib. the next step was to go to the hospital down the street for an x-ray. on the way to the hospital i talked to my therapist, aunt patty, jenny, hashifa, jessica and micah. i felt really overwhelmed with my supportive "network". i called mom. she and dad were waiting for me at the market. she said that them coming might have been a mistake. i told her it was. i had the x-ray and walked back to the market. mom doesn't like to walk, so i took them across the street to macy's. mom took the dorrman's picture. we admired the pipe organ and a plaque on the floor. we walked further down the street to city hall. mom took pictures of pigeons. i winced in pain because my brain and rib hurt.

micah and nate showed up. micah had stopped at old navy to buy a shirt to wear to dinner. he was now wearing brown pants covered in paint and a brown button down shirt. he looked like a u.p.s. man. this both annoyed and delighted me. mom asked micah where he bought his cool pants. apparently, it slipped her mind that micah paints for a living and assumed that his paint splattered pants were a fashion choice. jessica arrived and we all went to magggiano's for dinner. i ordered beer.

as i write this, i am getting a headache.

mom was in top form. she was loud. she made little sense. she drank white wine. she announced that she now had a butterfly tatoo and had her belly button pierced. i asked her if she wanted to do tequilla shots. she didn't seem that into it. dad talked nate and jessica's ears off. micah said nothing and chuckled quietly. i ordered more beer. when everyone had finished their meal, mom, like she does, pulled out her mirror and carefully apllied her lip liner and lipstick. i had mentioned to jessica some time ago that she does this. i looked over at jessica and watched her eyes dance. i said, "oh, i seemed to have forgotten my lipstick". mom offered hers. i said, "no thanks, i think i'll just bite my lips until they bleed".

micah and nate left for band practice and jessica and i took a cab home. we watched t.v. that's when the bat flew in the house.

*note* this post is full of spelling errors. i don't care. don't judge me.

While we wait for Emily...

I give you Kindergarten Graduation

I did not have a Kindergarten Graduation. Natalie did not have a Kindergarten Graduation. Did you? Let me tell you, Kindergarten Graduation ROCKS!

I know I'm a sucker for the sentimental setting, but I te' you whut--I was teary the entire time. It was so cute to see these little kids in there construction paper graduation caps with yarn tassles. They had all of these songs memorized about counting and letters. They had all these little recitations memorized. Kendall and her two classmates said together in their little sing-songy voices: "Today we want you to pretend that you are in Kindergarten. Then you will see just what we do everyday when we're at school." And, have ever seen the Macarena done by a group full of Kindergarteners to help them count by fives? Try it, it's fun. Sing it a little bit more like "One little, two little three little indians" but do the Macarena moves, big finish with a little shimmy singing "We can count by fives!" Catchy, no?

It was pretty sweet, the whole thing. Especially watching poor little Kendall trying to snap and clap with her splinted arm. What? I didn't tell you about the tragedy of Butt Power, the game? Well, Natalie invented a game where in Kendall lays on bed while Natalie stands on the end of the bed and falls backward with her butt onto Kendall. After five times, Kendall had had enough and put her arm out to break Natalie's fall and that's when her right forearm bent back below the wrist causing her bones not to break, but to bend. Technically, she has several buckle fractures in both her ulna and her radius. Butt Power is a bad, bad game. Don't do it.

She came home with a little Kindergarten Memory book with a little samples of their work from the past year. (Anybody noticing the monotony with which I'm using the adjective little) I though some might enjoy some of the cuteness, obscurity and just plain creepiness from the section entitled: Poems I have learned.

A Cactus. Did you ever see a cactus, a cactus, a cactus?/Did you ever see a cactus a cactus so tall?/Did you ever see a cactus, a cactus, a cactus?/Did you ever see a cactus like the Saguaro?

My Teddy Bear. My teddy bear sleeps with me./He keeps me company./I hold him tight,/All through the night./My teddy bear sleeps with me.

Cookies. Cookies in a jar,/Cookies in a jar,/Not nutritious,/Just delicious,/Cookies in a jar.

I AM ME! I am not/a cracodile,/I am not/a bee,/I am not/a monkey./I am me!

I like... I like popcorn,/I like stew,/I like me,/I like you,/I like pizza,/And potatoes, too,/I like me/And I like you!

And so, get in touch with your inner Kindergartener and share some memories with your friends today. And check around and see whobody's mom ever wore shoes like this to any graduation of any kind. They were spectactular.

Part 1: Nightmare Comes to Life or Who Do I Have to Sleep With to Not Have to See Mother

wednesday night, jessica and i were watching the american idol finale. i love bad television with my whole heart, so this was like my superbowl. i had been drinking a lot of beer. i love beer with my whole heart, so drinking a lot was like my superbowl. my nerves were calm. my fever had broken and my blood pressure had finally come down. i could no longer feel my heart beating in my brain. thank you, beer.

then, a bat flew through the living room. a bat. a low flying bat. we started screaming and crawling on the floor.

let's back up.

the previous saturday, i was at phil and marlene's singing karaoke. aroung 11pm, i got a text message. "urgent. call now." it was from hashifa. i called her. she said mom and dad were coming memorial day weekend to suprise me. i freaked out. i went home and called mom and dad and told them they couldn't come because i was going to the bay of fundy. this was a lie. nate told me to say that. why did i listen to nate? who knows.

monday, i called mom and told her that i wasn't going to the bay of fundy, but it was not a good weekend for them to come. i told her that if she ever wanted to come i would need at least a month's notice. i didn't tell her that i would use that month's notice to enter the wittness protection program.

i went to therapy on tuesday and told my therapist about my mom buying plane tickets to philly without asking me first. she said that she was proud that i stood up to mom and that i have come a long way. she said i should be proud. i was proud. i was in control.

wednesday, i got up to go to work. my side had been bothering me, but i had just chalked it up to a pulled muscle from too much dancing around. i dance around a good deal. as i was getting ready to leave for work, i bent over my purse to dig out a token for the trolley. i sneezed. i felt something tear.

i went to work anyway. i was in a lot of pain. at 11am , i decided that i needed to leave and go to the doctor. i couldn't do anything. everything i did at work hurt. i thought i might throw up from the pain. i had some time to kill before my appointment, so i called nate, who works nearby, and we ate chinese food. after lunch, i checked my voice mail. connie, my co-worker had called. her message said, "oh god emily, your parents are in the market. they wanted to suprise you. i didn't know what to do".

then, i started crying and saying, "no" very loud. people stared at me. i called jenny. by then she had found out that mom and dad were here. i called jessica. jessica was kind enough to remind me how to breathe. i had forgotten.

i went to the market and found mom and dad. i said to them, "what the fuck are you doing here?" they said, "excuse me?" i said, "you heard me. i asked you what the fuck are you doing here. i told you not to come."

then i left because i had to go to doctor to find out why my rib hurt so bad.

to be continued...

Emily. Bring it.

You know what you need to do. And you know what we need to read. The stars that have aligned for all of today's events to transpire will never align again. Please. For my children and my children's children, write about today's events.

I beg you. It must be done.

According to Nick

Over the years, the kids have made additions to our everyday conversational language.

Who can deny the practicality of 3 year old Natalie's lasterday? How many times have I been stuck trying to remember if something occurred last week or just yesterday? Well then, lasterday covers it all.

Kendall contributed more of a sentence structure application which intrigued us and influenced us. "I just did do that, Mommy!" As well as her W's instead of Y's. "I like wore shirt. Wore shirt is so pretty." Endearing.

3 year old Nick is not disappointing. My latest favorite is whobody. Because we all know that somebody did it, but whobody is what we want to know. I also like it when he says, "Mommy, I got a something-idea." Which is really pronounced more fluently as som-ping-dea and emphasized with a little chubby pointer finger in the air next to his little sideways tilted face lit up with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. I also like it when he tells me a secret and whispers loudly on my ear, which tickles a lot. He checks in with me often to see if "Did you hear that? My tumick said that." And last, but not least, here in Arizona when the grass is watered, the 'prinkelers come on. A carefully enunciated three syllable word.

And finally, I'd like to call out this mystery commenter and say reveal yourself, we want to know whobody just did do that lasterday.

Apparently, Feelings Are Always Important

Well, it was bound to occur. I move closer to Mom anticipating a glorious reunion and a Utopian existence. Only. It lasted for a mere 90 days post-relocation. Then the shit hit the fan.

Which in our family, simply means that Mom hit some sort of low point which triggered an attack with the usual rhetoric, her favorite, how Scott is an asshole, along with other songs and variations. It digressed into criticism of our parenting and even touched on the kids and how they only eat mac-n-cheese and hot dogs. Lovely.

Blah, blah, blah, long story short, we're in therapy together, blah, blah, blah, Mom's going to get a spanking, blah, blah, blah, instead, apparently 34-year-old Jenny has an 11-year-old Jenny inside her that has been made to believe that her feelings aren't important and didn't get loved and validated the way she needed to which all connects to my idiotic drive/need/dream of hoping this is the time my Mom will show up differently and not lash out with something hateful. Erroneous.

So cliche? Right? But dang it, it makes a lot of sense and I'm realizing what a downplay I've given my own feelings over the years. Hurt I can claim, but admitting something hurts during the time of infliction, hard to do for me. And so, I philosophize and wonder, do I make sure that my kids know that regardless of the issue, they're feelings are valid whether they make sense to me or not? Hmmmm.

And now, for homework, I'm supposed to process and mourn some of those old hurts and grieve them out of my system so that I don't energize new situations with old hurts. But even this is hard for me to do. "Hmmm. I have a spare hour, I think I'll sit down and bring up something painful and work it out. Then I'll check Natalie's homework and make dinner."

I feel tired.

Really? I mean seriously?

I know. Surely there must be something else to complain about. But this just won’t go away for me. Since the recent sale of our Michigan house, we have been quietly perusing the internets for an Arizona house. Now, everything is way more ‘spensive here, so that may be contributing to my general malaise and irritation.

But. Does anyone else have a problem with the personifying houses? I’ll give you an example of several things I’ve run across in house listing descriptions and hanging on for sale signs in the yard: I’M GORGEOUS INSIDE! Now, reading that once is excusable, but after searching for a while, I’m finding this is a strange new trend in marketing houses. It use to be that they recommend that you keep furniture in your house to sell it because it humanizes it, but must the house actually take on an actual persona?

Here’s another one: …CARPET IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES. Excuse me? Does that make anyone else uncomfortable? Is this appropriate? Has the housing market sunk so low that we must use sexual innuendo to sell houses?

If the houses are being so bold as to take on a certain form of sexuality, I’d like to know what else is going on. It’s creepy to me. It makes me wonder what my house thinks about me. What’s the word on the street and what are saying to the other houses on the block?

It’s just something I was thinking about.

Good Times

For the sake of future history (and the incredibly stagnate nature of our blog latetly) I thought I would post a little about the kids because, they're always interesting in one way or another.



Natalie
She's turning nine years old next week. She's very...dimensional. She's a lot of fun. She has a nasty temper. She loves to be loved and adored. She is age appropriately self-centered. She's very strong willed. She has a crazy sense of humor (ask HV about her questionable dance moves. Overall I'm very happy with who she is and am excited to see who she'll be. I'm lucky to know her.



Kendall
She will be 6 years old tomorrow. She is...deep. There's a lot going on in there that she only let's some of it on purpose and some of it comes out in mad or sad. She's very selective about what she learns or remembers. For instance, unless you're a horse or a dog, she probably isn't going to remember your name. She still thinks that Uncle James is going to paint something for her. She can't remember to flush the toilet, but she remembers to feed her stuffed animals everyday after school. he's very compassionate and nurturing with others. She can't tell a joke to save her life, but it makes it even funnier. She's great and bound for greatness. I learn a lot from her.



Nick
Ah, Nick. He was three years old the end of January. He's my boy. He's very boy. he loves cars and planes and trains and motors and wheels and he's loud. I like him. He's fascinated by the cycle of the sun. Each evening as the sun sets he gets a wide-eyed look and whispers, "Mommy. It's darking." Then in the morning, he bursts into our room and shouts, "Time get up! The sun is back! Look!" He has an imaginary friend, but this friend has no name and is referred to with a southern drawl as My Friend. He pronounces all of his CL words (class, close, etc.) as PLs (plass, plose, etc.)It's endearing when he asks to go to his plass today or tells me to plose my eyes. In addition to his Friend, he has People. He'll recount what happened in plass and tell me what his People did. He's picked up a lot of our vernacular including the haughty "WHAT EVER!" and he loves a good silly face. He's highly entertaining.

Good times.

in an attempt to humiliate

dear hashifa vachoo,

i hope this blog finds you well. wait, no i don't. i hope this blog finds you in a state of deep guilt.

last week, you blogged. in the body of your blog you gave our four readers, and jenn, the opportunity to select, from a list, what we would like most for you to write about. the readers,and jenn, spoke, and yet, you never came through. this is disappointing.
i'm feeling so many things right now. i feeling abandoned. i'm feeling the way i felt when mom promised to pick me up from school on the days i had my cello but forgot and went to the dress barn instead and i had to walk home with my cello while scuzzy kids with long hair and dirt bikes would stop me to ask, "is that a guitar?" and i would say nothing and try to walk faster. i am also feeling torn apart. i'm feeling the way my gold fish that i won at the kern county fair must of felt when jenny's shitty cat spunky tore my days old pet to shreds, displaying it's guts throughout my bedroom. and lastly, i am feeling like i need to eat something sweet and wish i hadn't eaten the entire pint of ice cream in one sitting last evening.

in this post i have included a relic from your past. readers, and jenn, may i address you for a moment and introduce you to my sister, hashifa vachoo, who insisted and succeeded in dressing like the king of rock and roll for more than one of her birthday parties as a child. people, these were not all "dress up" parties. awesome? yes. strange? maybe. even stranger that this now grown woman is a pastor's wife? oh, hell yes.

hashifa, you know i have more photos. you know i have much more damaging information. i can still tell, you know. i am not above winning the fragile favor of "double l" by revealing what you thought i had forgotten about or no longer considered valuable. remember, she is crazy and will hit you with her comb. her blue comb. that comb hurts.

consider this your first warning.

warmly,
emily

winter wonderland

i was outside this morning enjoying the snowy landscape that is my neighborhood. it is truly breathtaking. then, i saw a man talking loudly to himself and raising his fist in black power to every passing car. we made eye contact and i feared he may cross the street to explain black power to me. i watched forrest gump on t.v. this weekend so i already know all about black power, so i hurried inside.

Feeling Guilty

Okay, I'm feeling bad about my comments yesterday. Especially after reading this.

Let's change the subject.

Speak to Me

Oh Wise One, lend your wisdom and interpret the mysteries of today's happenings.

I'm so confused!

Who the heck is this guardian who gets the baby and the body? And does this article actually state the truth that he choked up, blubbered and wept?
What's going on with the paternity tests? Will Zsa Zsa come to accept little Dannilyn as her own and forgive her poor prince?

And then, Britney, poor Britney! She's been at a Crossroads and broken Promises, will she be healthy and will someone tell her (pssst...you have two babies that are kind of depending on you for some basic needs and nurturing). What the hee?

Any comments on the crisis in North Korea would also be appreciated. And AIDS in Africa. Iran seems to be in some hot water, too. Blah, blah, blah.

I'm Baaaaaack!

Well let me tell you what my Christmas wish 2007 is- for everyone to get the frick off my back about the blogging! I am more of a lurker and enjoy lurking on my own blog. Besides, Jenny has kids to write about not to mention a very checkered past and present with Double L and Emily is much more comfortable typing the f-word than I will ever be. So that leaves me with nothing to blog about. I would like to, however, put the feelers out there and propose some topics and see what the people want from me....
1. My boss is a very peculiar lady that cuts her own hair, writes children's stories that always include a babbling brook, and always signs her name with her degree and job title after it on everything from legal documents to post-its.

2. Whether or not to wear nude panyhose

3. My adult tap class to include the upcoming recital (think, Copa Cabana)

4. My half chihuahua, half hotdog angel puppies, Frances Nachos and Sasha Bad Girl.

5. The origins of Hashifa Vachoo.

6. All of the bad things Emily & I did that nobody knows about.

Cast your votes.

I don't speak HTML

I hate HTML.

Who were the ad wizards that came up with this crap?

I'm very angry right now. I haven't showered. Nick has pooped his pants and has eaten two pears and an orange while I have been comsumed with getting my freaking code right. Apparantly it's a big deal if you have a " missing or a < when you need a > or a /. COME ON!

Then, after all of the HTML figuring, I decided to finally upgrade to the new Blogger and now I see that there's a simple click and type in the field thing to update and add sidebar links. Great.

Emily, I hope you like the changes and the requested sidebar links and if you don't...you know where to go and what you can do to yourself.

Hashifa Vachoo, I'm going to ban you from posting if you don't post in the next 24 hours. Your Wink status is in grave danger.

I'm very angry right now.

blog news

though hashifa vachoo and micah are about to be named "worst bloggers ever, 2007", i have really been enjoying reading everyone else's blogs. some of the blogs' authors are folks i know and love, and some are of people i knew and can't stand. so, without further adieu, may i introduce you to jeesaw! she's a great lady and definitely falls in the category of those i know and love.
(pictured above with cindy the turdbird.) jeesaw is my friend, my teacher, and my entertainment news informant when i'm stuck at work. you should read it and let her know what you think!

in other blog news, i've been feeling unusually ambitious and have started a food blog. i've only posted once, but have some ideas.

one more thing: jenny, since you control the look and features of the blog, maybe we could add some links on the sidebar. you know... design sponge, our long lost friend ahamilton, and that funny rich guy. think about it. you've got nothing going on, right?

p.s. mrs. billionaire may really enjoy jeesaw's blog as they have similar professions.

p.p.s. tell her hi!