Monday, February 27, 2006

Today is the Day I Allow Mary Liz to Lie

It was her birthday yesterday, but we're celebrating today. In order that she might not have to explain that, I just let her say, "It's my BIRTHDAY!" So far we've gotten a free drink at Starbucks, a sticker at the Apple store (which I think she may have left there accidentally), and a Twinkie at Tomfooleries. Not bad. We also got to hear Nasty Boys, which is perfect, truly, because there's no song that says, "Happy Fifth Birthday" quite like that one. As an added bonus, we used the most powerful hand dryers in the universe. You know how most hand dryers take years to dry your hands and usually turn off before you're done, so you end up drying your hands either by waving them wildly about or just using your clothes as a towel? That is SO not the case with these hand dryers. They're called XCELERATOR, and in Kansas City you can find them in the bathroom at Tomfooleries. If you're not in Kansas City, you'll have to either order one for home use or find an alternate venue that has them already. They're so powerful that they contort the skin on your hands, which is both creepy and kind of cool.

Other than that, it's Monday, which is (for me at least) also laundry day. By the end of the day my clothing selection will be at its fullest, and that makes me a little happy.

Happy Monday, and Happy Not-Exactly-Mary-Liz's Birthday.

Happy Birthday, Mary Liz!

My youngest charge turned five today. When I called to wish her a happy day, no one answered; I'm hoping it's because they were out partying it up somewhere fun. I'm guessing she chose Joe's Crab Shack, but who can say?

I meant for this to be longer and more meaningful, but what I really want to say is quite simple:

Happy Birthday, Mary Liz. I love you very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very much.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Lazy Days Are Here Again, The Skies Above Us Clear Again, Let Us Sing a Song of Cheer Again, Lazy Days Are Here Again

(And the Longest Blog Post Title Ever award goes to...OH! ME!)

I had every intention of getting up, having a good breakfast, and doing my long run today.

I did the breakfast part, so, yay or something. But then I was tired so mostly today I've done this:

what i did with my day

That's a couch. And a cat. And a girl who likes to nap a whole lot.

To make the day even better, I've been eating this (after my nutritious breakfast of organic oatmeal, of course):

portable snack supply

I put it all in a basket so it's easier to tote to whatever location I decide to move my slackerly self. Not pictured: water, coffee type beverage.

I also took the time to find out where I belong in the annals of punk history. Enjoy:

Sex Pistols
This is where you belong in the annals of punk history!
You'd really like to change the way things are in the world, but you just don't know where to start. You're pissed enough to move mountains but if you could only motivate yourself and if by chance you do take the world on, make sure you don't self destruct.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 54% on wild apathy
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 1% on pissed off
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 7% on comically evil
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 95% on socially aware
Link: The What classic punk band are you Test written by DrLebowski on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Happy Saturday!

Friday, February 24, 2006

We'll Call It "Funny Friday"

Or something else alliterative. Make something up if you want.

As Jack and I were walking from his school to The Plaza yesterday, we were trailed by a bunch of what I call "the bigger boys" from the junior high (or do they call it middle school?), who were horsing around and raising a ruckus but generally not doing any harm. At one point the party moved right out into the street, thus the following bit:

Jack, observing the bigger boys, asks, "Mary, why are those boys messing around in the street like that?"

"Well," I answer sagely, "there's no big reason, per se. Sometimes boys just do things like that."

Jack turns to me, squints up his eyes a bit, and says accusingly, "Yeah? Well sometimes they get hit by BUSSES."

The kid is just killing me.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006


I just received some spam from someone (supposedly) named Ocean Lacour. For some reason, now I really feel like walking up to a stranger and saying, "Hi, I'm Ocean Lacour."

Except that I'm scared of strangers. How unhandy.

If I'm Panting a Little Bit When You See Me, This is Why

But first, one for the quote book, from Mary Liz: "Mary, when you die you won't be able to see your kitties anymore. Because, you know, you'll be gone." Well, um...thanks for letting me know.

This morning I was the model of productivity. It should be against the law to do so many things at once, lest all of America does it at once and we all have to take a big nap, thus making our nation more susceptible to attack by members of the Axis of Evil. Or something. But let's just take a look at my list and see what was done before 11am. Here it is:

fat monkey (you know, the bread with the bananas and the cranberries and the chocolate chips and all the other crap--I made some. So: CHECK!)

guacamole (homemade, with too much garlic, oops, and just the right amount of fresh lime juice: CHECK!)

fruit (strawberries and grapes, rinsed and sorted: CHECK!)

o'henry bars (dessert for tonight's potluck: CHECK!)

YWAM (check written, envelope sealed, stamped, and return addressed: CHECK!)

tristan (prettyman, that is--tickets for March 1 show at Record Bar purchased, confirmation number obtained: CHECK!)

bank (deposit: CHECK!)

ipod (which was sad--again, I know--and offed itself, thus necessitating exchange: CHECK!)

Please note that the first six items were completed before 10am, and that we (Mary Liz and I, as she was along for the ride) also managed to make a birthday card (Mary Liz did most of the work--I just helped with spelling and removing stickers from the plastic backing), stop into Starbucks, play games at the Apple store (partly while waiting to exchange the sad iPod, partly after that was done), and deliver the birthday card. In addition (but post 11am), I made lunch, updated my Blockbuster queue, and loaded all 2542 songs onto the new iPod. So hooray, you may now give me a virtual pat on the back and I may head back to the work homestead for a nap. I am SO ready for a nap.


Monday, February 20, 2006

A Time for Giving

Happy President's Day!

(I just thought I'd remind you that it's a holiday before launching into the rest of this. Because, folks? HOLIDAYS = GIVING Please keep this in mind and be prepared to open your hearts, your hands, and your wallets.)

This first part I meant to do last week, when David LaBruyere was working it hard over at myspace to raise $5000 for Habitat for Humanity by the end of the week. So, um, except for my paltry personal donation, I'm a little late to that party. (And you're all going, "NO. Really?" Yeah, yeah, shut it.) But guess what happened? David managed to raise his goal amount without the help of the marymuses readership. Isn't that fantastic? It is, except that now you feel left out. I am so, so sorry I didn't post this sooner. Oh, but hey! Don't cry! It's okay! You can still give to Habitat for Humanity through David's page. See? All better, yes? (You'd better be ponying up the cash here, people, or you won't feel better. And don't you want to feel better? Yes. You do.)

Second up on the giving roster is a little project called Canstruction going on down at Kansas City's Union Station. Artists and architects have created sculptures using canned goods (all of which will be donated to Harvester's) and you are invited to vote on which one you like best by placing a dollar in one of the envelopes they provide and marking on the outside which sculpture is your favorite. There are also bins for donating non-perishable food items, so head on down with your dollars and your foodstuffs. You'll enjoy the exhibit and you'll have a chance to help those in need. WIN-WIN! The exhibit is only around until this Friday, February 24, so don't dilly-dally or you'll miss it.

If neither of those suit your fancy, consider giving to another worthy cause. Just don't let the opportunity to share with those in need pass you by. You'll be glad you seized this day to make someone else's life brighter.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

I Did It, and I'd Do It Again

When I went out for my long run today, there weren't many others out working out. In fact, it wasn't until the second five-mile lap that I saw anyone at all in Loose Park. I wonder why?

feels like zero

I'll admit I was nuts to do it, but I always feel so lost if I don't get my long run in. Also: It may be true that my favorite pants are a little snugger at the waist than usual, and I need them to fit. Thus, I run. (What, did you think I was going to lay off the M&M's?) To make the exertion a little more bearable, I wore this get-up:

Please note how everything matches, right down to the embroidery on the dorky hat (not that you can see that part, but trust me, it's there). Yes. It's true. You may now be amazed.

I went out to run thirteen miles, but only made it ten. I have several excuses for this, two of which I deem acceptable:

1. During the run, I sweated a bit under my hat, but the wind whipped right in there and froze my sweaty hair to my head. I only wish I were exaggerating.

2. I got really hungry. Like a hippo. And I would rather hole up in my apartment and accept the lost mileage than crap out a mile and a half from home. Because have you heard? It's COLD. Not exactly the perfect weather for meandering home when I've hit the wall.

Right. So all I've been able to do since then is sit around my apartment in pajamas (shorts and a tank top, by the way, because have I mentioned? It's like the Sahara in July in here, and I can't control the heat.) and drink kool-aid. As much as I'd like to tell you that I came in from the run full of vim and vigor and ready to clean my whole apartment, the truth is simply this: Running in the cold kicked my ass.

I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Friday, February 17, 2006

So That We Might Go Home Happy

I broke one of my cardinal rules of nannyhood today and we all ate a doughnut right before lunch. Let me say that again, but differently: We each ate a large ring of pure lard and sugar RIGHT BEFORE LUNCH.

Normally, though I am terrible at eating right when I'm on my own, (Doughnuts ARE lunch, aren't they?), in front of the kids I try to be a Good Nutritional Example. However, the doughnuts were free, and they were from LaMar's, and did I mention they had the cinnamon sugar kind which are my favorite? The nutritional ship was sunk before it even left the port. Oh, well. We loved our doughnuts, and they loved us back.

No, really, they did.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Cupcakes Really Do Make People Happy

Yesterday, in honor of Valentine's Day, and as a means of spreading my own personal baked goods gospel, I wore my shirt that says "Cupcakes Make People Happy." You may ask how this is related to Valentine's Day, and I would tell you that, duh, holidays are all about cupcakes. And also that the letters on the shirt are pink, and pink is valentine-y. See how that works out? (Pretend you see how that works out.)

As I was checking out at Target, I noticed the cashier staring at my chest. I assumed it was because she was reading my shirt, not because she generally stares at customers' boobs while scanning items, and it was confirmed when she read aloud what my shirt says, but with a rising inflection at the end, as if it were a question. "Cupakes make people happy?"

"YES!" I encouraged, perhaps a little too emphatically. "They have frosting, and sometimes pretty sprinkles..."

"Oooh," she chimed in, grinning, "sometimes they put those plastic rings on the top, too!"

"Aha! You're smiling! See, just thinking about cupcakes makes you happy."

So tell me, reader, are you smiling by now? I hope you are. If not, may I offer you a cupcake? I'm certain it will improve your mood.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Okay, So Wait a Minute...What?

Some time ago whilst troubled and unable to sleep, I succumbed to an online marketing ploy and downloaded what I like to refer to as The Stupidy Embarassing EBook. No, I won't tell you what it is. But I will tell you that in the process I got signed up for all sorts of Stupidy Embarassing Spam, some of which comes nearly every day. Since it goes directly to my spam folder, I haven't bothered to unsubscribe, and because I am entirely too curious for my own good, I've read a couple of the e-mails. Which: Oh, dear. Please stop.

They all have titles like "What A Man Should Do For You" and "How To Keep Him Interested," which from the get-go should indicate DANGER! DANGER! RED ALERT! The very best part, though, is when the dispenser of spam e-mail dating advice admits that she has a really hard time getting dates. So, um, ma'am? What are your qualifications again? Oh, you have none? Oh, okay. Well...uh...good luck, then, to you and to all your faithful readers.

I'm off to unsubscribe...

Friday, February 10, 2006

There's Nothing Like Raw Meat in the Morning

Especially if you're mixing it with your hands. Mmmmmm.... Considering that I have a freakish fear of food poisoning, and that the meat in question was ground turkey (salmonella! ACK!), it's a wonder I came out of it without developing a few nervous ticks. I think what helped is that I got to do one of my favorite things in the process, which is crushing crackers with a rolling pin. If you think I'm joking, I ask you, "What? Are you new?" There are a lot of small things that give me great satisfaction, one of which is reducing an entire sleeve of whole crackers to a fine mist of crumbs via rolling motion. Very therapeutic, really, which allowed me to finish making the food as opposed to washing my hands excessively and wiping the entire apartment down with Clorox. In the end I had eighty kazillion turkey meatballs, a crick in my neck, and the urge to buy markers. Turns out it takes eleventy hundred years to make eighty kazillion turkey meatballs, leaving a lot of time to think about any and everything, thus leading to plans so outlandish that they must be mulled over until a fairly reasonable desire comes to the forefront, thus: markers.

I bought twenty in both standard and bold colors. I'll show you what I make; you can count on it.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

I'm Going to Reply to All Your Comments

No, really, I am. Because I have things! To say! About the things! You said! About the things! That I said!

I know, I know, enough with the exclamation points, Excita-Girl.


So I'm going to do that but not right now because right now I'm about to have a breakthrough with my very trendy sudoku habit. (Also I'm going to eat oreos, but I could do that and reply to your comments at the same time, so that's not necessary information.) (But I just shared it anyway.) (Because I am just that sure that you care about my oreo consumption.) (Anyway.) (What was I saying?)

I am so serious about the breakthrough this time. You should see my face. It is Ser. I. Ous. Seriously. X-wing logic, you belong to me! All your digits will align magically under the spell of my Hello Kitty pencil and cheapo Target pencil top eraser!



I just, um, get a little excited about being all sudoku-savvy.

Talk amongst yourselves.

I'll give you a topic.

Oh, wait, no I won't. Mingle if you feel like it. I've got a puzzle to solve.

Monday, February 06, 2006

What Is It With You Mayo People, Anyway?

All over the city I find jars of mayo in fridges. Am I attracted to mayo people by some strange pull? How does this happen? What trait is it that inspires both my enjoyment of your company and your enjoyment of mayo? Don't you have the good sense to enjoy the tangy zip of Miracle Whip? Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but mayonnaise, flavor-wise, falls into the same category as Crisco. And you don't put Crisco on your sandwiches, do you? For the love of all that is tasty, just put some Miracle Whip in your fridge. I'm tired of nosing around your foodstuffs for an alternate spread.


The following conversation would not have occurred if I owned my own television:

"You know that now I'm going to have to come over next Sunday night to watch Grey's Anatomy."

"We already know that she's not going to blow up. They're going to--"

"Yes, but I want to know how she's doesn't blow up."

I also want to know what happens to Bailey's husband, though I didn't mention that at the time. There was an offer to record it if Sunday night viewing is not an option, which is great. Thanks! But now I'm wondering: Why wasn't there a similar offer to record Dr. 90210 when I expressed my burning desire to see the new episode? Is there something wrong with Dr. 90210?

Oh, wait. Don't answer that.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Don't Ever Tell Me I Don't Have Some Mad Skillz

Last night I did my taxes while taking care of three little muffins, ages two, four, and six. Turns out it's infinitely easier to calculate one's business loss and file the appropriate forms the second time around so long as you've made the proper mistakes the first time. Last year I filled out a few unnecessary forms and made several errors, but this year I am older! And wiser! And more relaxed! (Kind of. I still have an unnatural fear of being audited and not being able to explain my bizarre accounting methods.) I barely had to pay attention, and I'm still getting a healthy refund. Thanks, Uncle Sam!

Saturday, February 04, 2006

This Just Makes My Heart Happy


I never did approve of that coupling. I did a little dance of jubilation when I heard the news. Right here in my office, yes I most certainly did.

It's Officially Official

I deserve a nap.

After all, I did unearth what appears to be a really cute apartment from beneath the pile of rubble that had taken up residence there.

What do you think: Couch or bed?

I'm voting couch, but I am easily persuaded to change my mind in such matters.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

It's Thursday. Already.

Would someone please tell me where my week went?

Even if I were to forget what day it is, I can always check by looking around my apartment, which gets more cluttery as the week wears on. I'm a leaver-outer, no matter how I try to be one of those neat freak people. I just can't change the very fabric of who I am. I can make a decent effort, and it usually lasts for two weeks, at the end of which I throw up my hands and start leaving random bits of junk all over. The best thing for me, I've found, is to just relax a little and clean it up once a week.

My official de-clutter day is Sunday, so on Monday everything is still fresh and all put away and it looks like I can keep house. By Tuesday it becomes evident that I wear several different pairs of shoes each day. By Wednesday it appears that receipts have attacked my office, and by Thursday all hell has broken loose and there are scarves, shoes, shopping bags, and various cat toys strewn about the place. Fridays I try not to look, and Saturday I finally face reality and begin to put a few things away. So here we are on Thursday and, regardless of how quickly the week has gone, I can certainly tell because my apartment is moving steadily towards end of the week disaster.

Excuse me, there's a pair of shoes I need to locate beneath the rubble.