Feb 13 2008


Did I mention that I signed up for The Great Interview Experiment? Well, anyway, I signed up for The Great Interview Experiment. You should too! It was great, though I had a hell of a time thinking of questions for my interviewee. I guess I should have thought about that before I signed up. Usually, I avoid doing any more work than necessary.

But it was fun. I was interviewed by tina over at Deep Green Seas. In turn, I got to interview Stacy at la boudoir. I’ll post both interviews up here when it’s all finished.

Feb 11 2008


To Beth, Chris, and Mia on the newest member of their gorgeous family. Yay for baby Owen!

Feb 11 2008

My toast was burned to inedibility this morning, the snack drawer is empty, and I am so hungry that tea is just not cutting it. I’m totally eating a 3 Musketeers bar for breakfast. Don’t you judge me.

Feb 08 2008

He’s already caught cute.

Cole in the car last night, upon seeing a high-flying flock of birds:

“*clap, clap*”

Me: “Whacha doin’?”

Cole: “Ima catchin’ BUTTERFLIES!”

Me: “Those are birds, baby.”

Cole: “Ima catchin’ BIRDS!”

So cute, had you been there you would have grown ovaries and ovulated on the spot. Good thing I was the only witness.

Feb 08 2008

Skeezy Creeps!

So, most of you probably know that I work for a company for which my father is co-founder and CEO. (No, he didn’t hire me or have anything to do with hiring me and I deserve my job and got it on my own merit and it’s not nepotism at all so shut up.) Because he’s a chief “decider,” he gets a lot of telemarketing calls. A. LOT. In fact, they don’t leave him alone.

We have receptionists who answer the phones and screen the calls for certain employees, my dad included. My dad is out of the office today, so when a call came in for him, the admin who answered had to holler over to me to see if she should give out his cell number. It went like this:

“Hey, D- do you have a Daryl in your family?”

“A WHO?”

“A Daryl. This guy is claiming to be Daryl Maidenname and wants your dad’s cell number.”

“There is no Daryl in my family.”

“Ok- oh look! He hung up. What a shock.”

… a minute later…

“Hey, D- How about a Donald?”


“Cool- oh look! He hung up again!”

Seriously? What does this guy think would happen even if he did get that number? Does he really think that my dad would listen to him for even a SECOND before hanging up or verbally reaming him a new one? Dude- dishonesty won’t get you far here. What an ass.

Feb 06 2008

What the Heck, Mom?

Where are my matching sparkly shoes?

(No, darling, we don’t DO cabaret in this house.)

Feb 04 2008

Open Letter to You. Because You Are Awesome.

(I couldn’t let that vile ranting stay on top. Not when there are so many beautiful people in the world!)

My darling friends:

We may not see each other often, hell- we may not know each other in real life at all! But your lives are so important to me. Thank you for sharing them. I DO actually care about what you had for lunch, and I DO care about the funny things your kids say and do. Quite honestly. I am voraciously greedy and voyeuristic about you because I find each and every one of you absolutely fascinating. I think we could all be best friends, if only given the chance. You are all much funnier than I am, too. I’m jealous, but I deal with it because we are friends and I wish the best for my friends.

If I am seemingly stand-offish in real life, it’s because I’m so painfully self-conscious. In my head, I am running up and giving you all big hugs and telling you how great you look today. Because you do- I’m not about to blow smoke up your asses. You are my friends, and my friends deserve the truth. You can’t help it that the truth is that you are always so devastatingly gorgeous to me. But I hold back from displaying it in person because I don’t want to embarrass you by being seen with me.

When you comment, it’s like the heavens have opened and sunlight is pouring into my heart. It’s glorious. And it’s not because I’m an attention whore (maybe just a tiny bit). Instead, I think “Look! My friends! Who I adore and care about every day! They are caring about ME today! It’s reciprocal!” Basically, when you comment I feel less like a stalker and more like a friend, which is all I want to be.

If you think even a word of this has been facetious, you are wrong. Nor is it a plea for more comments (though they are ALWAYS well appreciated, of course). No, I truly feel this way about each and every person I read every day. No matter how different we are, your life is special to me. I think you’re wonderful.

You should think you’re wonderful too. Go on- only the best for my friends!

Feb 04 2008

Open Letters. I’m Sure They’re Not For You. You Are Awesome.

Thanks, you wonderful, oversharing, generous people who decide that lunchtime in an echo-y cafe is the totally appropriate place to talk about your childhood ear-piercing debacle that ended with you at the bottom of a flight of stairs with blood all over your face and still no ear-piercings. That’s awesome. What a great story! Oh, hey! You see this that I’m trying to do over here? It’s called eating. It’s also called not gagging. It’s something that I enjoy doing. It’s also something that, oddly enough, is hindered by your discussion of bodily fluids being smeared all willy-nilly. So, please? Inside voice! Or just shut the hell up entirely- either works great for me.

I know its been snowing recently. It’s great, isn’t it? And, wow, maybe you’ve never seen snow before. I get it. And yeah- you do look SO DAMN COOL with a foot of snow on the top of your car. You must be some kind of bad-ass to have gotten out of that kind of snow. I’m creaming my panties, I’m so damn impressed. You certainly rock- it’s clear. However, when said snow slides off of the back of your car and crashes onto the road in front of MY car in a big, slippy-slidey, spin-outy kind of mess, I get a little… hmm… fucking perturbed. I realize that you view the snow as proof that you really NEED to be driving that big-ass SUV and that you really feel so awfully vindicated now (gosh-darn those liberal hippies and their griping, right?), but CLEAN THE FUCKING SNOW OFF OF YOUR FUCKING CAR BEFORE YOU DRIVE IT, YOU LAZY-ASS MOTHERFUCKER. For all of us.