Pissypants.

Hello! I'm not going to be writing here anymore. There are a couple of people reading this site that just piss me off royally, and it just isn't worth it - especially when I don't even really write much here.

I've got better things to do - and so do you.

Retro post.

For some reason, I get a ton of hits for this old entry that Martha and I wrote nearly two years ago.

I thought I'd re-post it, because nothing says funny like Sporty Jesus.



Martha: Jesus says, "You're eating too much, you little fatties! You'll NEVER make it into a professional ballet corps with that much meat on your bones!"


Me: Jesus teaches the children to look heavenward by holding a basketball just a smidgen out of their reach.


Martha: While the catcher folds his hands in solemn prayer, Jesus wonders whether or not he will get to third base with little Timmy.


Me: Is this two against one? Because with Jesus on the team? Player 21 doesn't have a popsicle's chance in hell.


Martha: Having Jesus as your gymnastics coach is even better than having Bela Karolyi. Mary Lou Retton has got NOTHING on these girls!


Me: Jesus says, "That's right, ease into it, Suzie." And look how damn happy the other kid is to be holding the golf clubs WHILE HIS SISTER IS BEING VIOLATED.


Martha: Jesus says, "Show me 'paint the fence!' Now go wax my car! No mercy!"


Me: Jesus trades in his flip flops for iceskates! And you know player "6" is going down hard, for "6" is an evil number.


Martha: With Jesus on your side, you will not only win the Wimbeldon Cup, but will also learn how to wear it upon your head, much like a crown of thorns!


Me: Jesus is possessed by the Holy Spirit and pushes Suzie off the side of the hill before doing some cool BMX tricks.


Martha: I bet Jesus is ruing the day that he decided to wear his sandals skiing, now isn't he?


Me: Jesus teaches serious cross training by proving he can run track in a robe and flip flops. CAN YOU?


Martha: Jesus imagines Judas Iscariot's face on that soccer ball and gives it a good, swift kick!

Cooking with Jan

Last night I wanted a hot dinner, but my pantry selection was not appealing.

I boiled some bow-tie pasta (there's a fancy name for it that starts with an 'f', but it escapes me now), and in a separate pot heated some Trader Joes Crab Bisque Soup and milk, a can of mushroom pieces, tossed in some fresh parsley because the soup was BLAH colored, and mixed it in the pasta.

DELICIOUS. I'm eating the left overs now for lunch. I love when an "Oh shit - What the hell" recipe becomes something delicious (even when it sounds gross).

Lady of the Manor

I'm pretty sure my cleaning lady hates my fucking guts. And I can't help but LOVE IT.

Since she started last fall, we've had some very interesting moments:

First of all, she clearly hates cleaning my house. I've done everything I could to try to avoid the exasperated sighs and grunts that come from her direction - I literally clean up every square inch of my house before she comes - and STILL the noises.

On like her second or third visit here, she was vacuuming the hallway, and I was just coming out of my office when I asked in quite the chipper tone, "Would you mind running the vacuum around my office?"

The vacuum shut off.

She put her hands on her hips and let out a huge sigh.

Now, the original agreement when she signed on was that she wouldn't have to clean my office, so I could tell I was turning her world upside down.

She closed her eyes, hands still on her hips, and tilted her head up to the ceiling. "You....know........?"

And I knew I was in for it. I then received a ten minute lecture on how her clients sign her on with intended chores, but then feel like they can just "tack on additional chores at their whim".

Uh. I was just asking if you'd do a once-around with the machine that was in your hand and you were right outside my door anyway? In the ten minutes she took chewing me out, she could have been done and on her merry way mentally berating me for leaving a piece of lint on the floor in another room.

I found it to be very funny. And also, I never asked her to do another damn thing.

Other awkwardly funny moments:

A client dropped by unexpectedly, and as he stepped into the entryway, he looked over to see her standing in the middle of the kitchen, sweeping ever so slowly. I know it doesn't sound very funny, but it still busts me up when I think of her forlorn expression as she swished the broom all slow, as if in her mind she were singing, "Swing low....sweet chair...iot..."

One time I came home to find her already cleaning, and she asked, "Oh did you have a big meeting or something?" And I responded with, "No, I just got a manicure! What do you think of this color?" I'm sure her response in her head was, "Oh, is it called "I Don't Clean My Own Fucking House, I Get Manicures Instead?".

Another time she showed up in the late afternoon, just as I was stumbling out of my bedroom with massive bed head and sheet creases on my face all, "Yeah, I just took a little nap." Her: "Of course you did, BITCH."

Once she was still here in the early evening, and I had finished my work and was waiting on a friend to pick me up for dinner. I didn't want to just hang out in my office until they arrived, so I wandered out into the living room. She was cleaning my bathroom, so I figured it was safe to sit in the living room with a nice glass of wine and the paper. She came in all exasperated, carrying an armful of cleaning products, and RIGHT THEN I looked up from the paper while taking a sip of wine. Oh, The Look.

It's just sort of funny, this impression she is gleaning from me. What she doesn't see? That most mornings I get up at 5:45 to start work. The times I'm sitting here at midnight working. All of the nights I'm out working. All of the weekends. All of the times I'm out trying to have a social life and I have to either take client calls or stop what I'm doing to go to them or back home to work on something for them.

Instead, she just thinks I'm this bitch who would rather pay someone to do my dirty work, for sweeping is beneath me. When really, it's just that I'm so crazy busy, I work hard, I make decent money - so why shouldn't I treat myself to having someone else clean my house? (And by clean, I mean, she doesn't run around PICKING UP after me, she just dusts and stuff!) And why is she so pissy about it? She's the one who decided to BECOME a cleaning lady.

Anyway, she hates my guts, yet she has no problem cashing my checks. Lovely.

Refusing to look in the photo albums.

Did you ever wear something that you thought was really hot/cool/hip, but when you look back at it now do you wonder if you were smoking crack back in those days?

Well then, go visit Liz and check out the help she is giving her friend Zoe, and THEN tell Miss Zoe all about YOUR fashion nightmares.

I did.

(Also, do not laugh at Liz's cats playing piano shirt. I like Liz, a lot. And I would never laugh at such a thing.)

(Except I laughed really hard. NICELY.)

Oh, and if you're going to do it, do it stat - the deadline is Tuesday March 21st at 3 p.m. EST.

Ice diving.

Yesterday I was holding a glass under the "ice" dispenser on the door of my fridge, and I could hear the ice maker make this weird grind/halt noise. I squatted down, peered up at the opening of the dispenser while of course still pressing the glass against the lever. I was peering up to see if ice was stuck, or what, I don't know.

Finally an ice cube broke through - shot out, rather - and landed in my cleavage.

Want to see something scary? Worse than that awful movie I wrote about? Something that will give you nightmares and worry? Here you go.

I'm sorry.

Want to know something scarier? I own a shirt very similar to that one.

Some friends and their six year old son are going to be visiting this weekend. I called to get a feel for what they'd need, and I spoke to the little boy.

Me: What can I get for you while you're here?

(long pause, occasional breath to let me know he's there)

Me: What do you like to drink?

Him: SEVEN AND SEVEN.

Well, that'll be easy.

Blah/Fucked Up Movie/Edith

Right now I'm sitting at my desk, eating a Costco chocolate chunk cookie (have you had these? They are so dreamy. As in, I could never make a cookie so perfect. So, I don't even try.), and taking a much needed break. In a little while I have to go to this thing where people stand around and sip wine and eat those little rolled up sandwiches and talk about how successful they are. I'm not in the mood, frankly, but I promised I'd be there.

Every inch of my desk is covered, and my blessed cookie has to sit on a napkin on my datebook. Poor cookie doesn't even get prime real estate on my desk.

It's been a crazy start to the month, I'm so busy and I've been putting in lonnnng hours here at this desk. Long, long, long.

After the Big Shit Contest, I have to go to yet another meeting. I'm tired. But, don't cry for me Argentina, I like the way things are going right now.

There's really no point to this post, other than I'm killing some time. Saying hey.

Last night I was up quite late, sipping the wine, and surfing for something, ANYTHING to entertain me at 2:00 a.m. on the tube. It's not an easy thing to accomplish.

And then? I freaked the shit out of myself by clicking on a movie, with the same name as this year's Oscar winner. But? It wasn't. OH MY GOD, it was not the same movie! Was anyone aware that such a movie had been made? Of course I watched about twenty minutes* of it, because I couldn't turn away. Seriously one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen in my life.

Today, I saw that Maureen Stapleton died. Only, I thought it was JEAN Stapleton and immediately sent an e-mail to a few friends with the subject line "EDITH'S DEAD!!!!". I do a mean Edith Bunker impression, which I had just done over the weekend in front of said friends, and I was very concerned that I had jinxed her. Glad to see she's okay.

Also, thanks for all the 24 feedback. Can't wait to watch tonight's.

Also also, I'm very boring. And apparently easily startled.

*Okay, I watched about an hour's worth. YIKES.

Question.

Let me do this Keifer-style, yo.

Who watched 24 last night?

WHO WATCHED 24 LAST NIGHT?

Gah, I have called everyone I can think of and NO ONE HAS WATCHED IT and I need to get all "WOW!" about it with someone. And I don't do discussion boards, so that's out.

I tried laying it on my dog, but he's all, "Yeah yeah KEIFER, I KNOW!"

Someone wow with me, please.

No To-Do List

A relatively quiet weekend was had by me! It was the first weekend in I don't know how long that I didn't have to be on the go go go, and I was loving it.

Except? I didn't really know what to do with myself. One would think I'd catch up on all sorts of neglected things, but even then I didn't know what to do. I don't know how to be bored!

So, there was a lot of walking around my house, staring blankly at walls, and pausing in the hallway - not sure where I was going or what I was doing.

Alas, I DID have dinner plans last night, to celebrate a friend's birthday. This involved getting dressed up, hightailing it to a very fancy Japanese restaurant, and FINALLY I was in my element. Something to do! Social! Not work related!

Yet, I believe my nearly 48 hours of doing nothing rendered me dumb. I couldn't think of anything to talk about! "I like using chopsticks." REALLY? RIVETING!

Then I invited everyone back to my place for birthday cake, and I was SO EXCITING, that everyone was yawning and putting their jackets on to leave BEFORE 9:00 p.m.

Secretly, I was happy. It's nice to take a break.

Morbid, yet important.

On Wednesday night, between cooking and cleaning up dinner, I started to have a really weird headache. I was also extremely stressed out about a project I was working on and was waiting for a phone call back from a client that was going to determine whether or not I was going to have to stay up all night to work on it, so I'm quite sure that's where the headache came from.

For a second there I was feeling all light headed and stressed and headachey and for a brief second I thought I just might die. So, I turned to the person who was watching American Idol with me while all of this was going on and said, "If I die right now, please change the channel before the ambulance comes. I don't want them to know that I was watching this. Please change it to PBS or the History Channel or something."

Of course I was joking, but for a brief second I thought, "Please don't let the last thing I see in life be DAVID RADFORD."

Which is exactly why I wanted the channel channged. "You'll be happy to know, she died peacefully at home, watching American Idol. She was enjoying David Radford."

BECAUSE NO.

And then last night, I was driving happily along to meet some friends for dinner, and while making an already scary merge an idiot about crashed right into me.

And I quickly thought to myself, "What song is on? WHAT SONG IS ON? Do I need to change it, in case I die RIGHT THIS SECOND? (reaching for volume on stereo) What is going to be playing when I exit this earth?"

"You'll be happy to know, that although she perished, she was on her way to have dinner with 5 girlfriends, and she was listening to Lady Lumps."

Things I Don't Understand - Part 2

Things My Dog Will Bark At:

1. Air.

2. A breeze. Then it is REALLY ON, BUB!

3. Someone walking by the house, minding their own bees wax.

4. Someone thinking about walking by the house, and yet still minding their own bees wax.

5. A weed.

6. Randy Jackson on American Idol. Maybe it's the dog pound references?


Things My Dog Will Not Bark At:

1. Me yelling "Oh SHIT!" out front.

2. A huge cat versus birds fight on my front lawn.

3. Someone actually walking up to my house, not minding their own bees wax. Unless they are carrying lawn maintenance gear.

4. Paula Abdul. Although, we are both pretty disappointed that she isn't batshit crazy this season.

5. A freaking thunderstorm that makes me hide under the covers. He's all, "meh".