A foursome sitting by the window. A twenty-something girl, her parents and her scruffy boyfriend. All are drinking coffee, laughing, chatting. And then this.
MOM: So, we're going to visit your aunt in Idaho.
GIRL: Oh, really? How's she doing?
MOM: [a lot of blahblahblah about aunt's ailments]
GIRL: Hmmm.
MOM: But you know what the worst part is? Our airline tickets cost us $2800!
[a split second of stunned silence]
BOYFRIEND: WHAT?? TO IDAHO?? FROM PORTLAND?? ARE YOU INSANE?? I COULD FLY TO TIBET FOR THAT! I COULD FLY AROUND THE WORLD WITH TWENTY-EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS!
GIRL: Mom, seriously...?
DAD: Well, you know, the airlines are charging a lot of extra fees these days and--
BOYFRIEND: NOT TWENTY-EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS WORTH! OH MY GOD!
GIRL: Mom, I hope you guys are flying first class.
MOM: Well, no, we're not. But we are leaving very early in the morning. And we're going to Sioux Falls, so...
BOYFRIEND: No, I'm sorry, but-- what website did you use? I mean, did you compare prices, like, at all?
DAD: Well, we needed to get there on a certain day and--
GIRL: You guys got totally screwed.
BOYFRIEND: [quietly, shaking head] Twenty-eight hundred bucks... to Idaho...
All chatting and laughing has stopped. It's uncomfortable. And awesome.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Roadtrip!
I've been itchin' to get out on the road lately. So with the three-day weekend ahead, I decided to just go ahead and do it, depite the fact that Jon is working and can't come along. It's cool -- a little mommy/son bonding time never goes amiss.
So Finn and I are hopping in the car and heading northward to the beautiful Olympic Peninsula to visit my brother Kevin, sister-in-law Val and cousin Kieran in Port Angeles, WA.
Finn loves staying in hotels nearly as much as I do (so he says), so we are going halfway there on Thursday night and stopping to enjoy a hotel with an indoor pool and jacuzzi, some TV in bed and free breakfast -- whooo-hoooo! So it breaks up a 4.5-hour drive into two smaller parts, with the second half culminating in a spin through some of the most scenic country in the Pacific Northwest. Everything is all sky, mountains, water and forest. Gorgeous -- looks like this:
And we'll arrive here:
And perhaps do some of this:
And probably a bunch of this:
And maybe, just maybe, I will finally see one of these:
So Finn and I are hopping in the car and heading northward to the beautiful Olympic Peninsula to visit my brother Kevin, sister-in-law Val and cousin Kieran in Port Angeles, WA.
Finn loves staying in hotels nearly as much as I do (so he says), so we are going halfway there on Thursday night and stopping to enjoy a hotel with an indoor pool and jacuzzi, some TV in bed and free breakfast -- whooo-hoooo! So it breaks up a 4.5-hour drive into two smaller parts, with the second half culminating in a spin through some of the most scenic country in the Pacific Northwest. Everything is all sky, mountains, water and forest. Gorgeous -- looks like this:
And we'll arrive here:
And perhaps do some of this:
And probably a bunch of this:
And maybe, just maybe, I will finally see one of these:
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Gratuitous Kitten Pictures
Took the kitties to the vet today. Ear mites? No. Fleas? Most likely. Tape- and/or roundworm? Maybe. HIV/Leukemia? Won't find out for another couple months.
Turns out kitties are kinda gross.
But, nonetheless, here are some gratuitous kitty shots. [Keep your x-rated commentary to yourselves -- "kitty shots." Yeah, I get it.]
Iba is a solid 1.7 pounds, while Ryan tops out at a hefty 2.0 pounds. The boys are tiny. But healthy, for the most part. Finn came with me to the vet and is absolutely fascinated by the worm factor -- everytime a kitty goes to use the litter box, off he trots to see if he can identify any errant worm parts. [shudder]
Whose idea was this whole kitten thing, again??
Turns out kitties are kinda gross.
But, nonetheless, here are some gratuitous kitty shots. [Keep your x-rated commentary to yourselves -- "kitty shots." Yeah, I get it.]
Iba is a solid 1.7 pounds, while Ryan tops out at a hefty 2.0 pounds. The boys are tiny. But healthy, for the most part. Finn came with me to the vet and is absolutely fascinated by the worm factor -- everytime a kitty goes to use the litter box, off he trots to see if he can identify any errant worm parts. [shudder]
Whose idea was this whole kitten thing, again??
ZAP!
When I went in for a check-up on my scar a couple weeks ago, they said, "Hmmm... it doesn't seem to be healing properly. Weren't you massaging the area?"
And I said, "Um, no, since you never told me to do that. I've preferred to simply pretend it doesn't exist."
And they said, "Well, looks like we're going to need to jack your face full of steroids and then zap the hell out of the scar tissue with lazer beams. It shouldn't hurt that much."
And then I got four hurty shots in which, I swear, it felt like she was sticking the needle in and then moving it around in there. Gross. And then they did the lazer therapy which felt exactly like someone was holding a giant rubber band against my face, taking approximately 47 steps back, and then letting said rubber band fly. Ouch.
And then they said, "OK, we'll see you back in four weeks for more shots and lazer beams!"
I promise you that I plan to have about four Advil and a shot of tequila before I go in. I am apparently what is commonly referred to in the medical profession as a pansy. But, pansies are kind of pretty, so I'm just going to go with it.
And I said, "Um, no, since you never told me to do that. I've preferred to simply pretend it doesn't exist."
And they said, "Well, looks like we're going to need to jack your face full of steroids and then zap the hell out of the scar tissue with lazer beams. It shouldn't hurt that much."
And then I got four hurty shots in which, I swear, it felt like she was sticking the needle in and then moving it around in there. Gross. And then they did the lazer therapy which felt exactly like someone was holding a giant rubber band against my face, taking approximately 47 steps back, and then letting said rubber band fly. Ouch.
And then they said, "OK, we'll see you back in four weeks for more shots and lazer beams!"
I promise you that I plan to have about four Advil and a shot of tequila before I go in. I am apparently what is commonly referred to in the medical profession as a pansy. But, pansies are kind of pretty, so I'm just going to go with it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Coffee Talk -- Make It Stop
Working on my freelance project at a totally different coffee shop than the last time I wrote about this type of stuff. While the last place I went had an annoyingly mellow vibe, this place is exceedingly hostile. The chick behind the counter was visibly disgruntled so I asked her how her day was going. It's fun. And she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Fine." But that was nothing compared to the earful the next customer got.
COUNTER GIRL: What would you like?
CUSTOMER: I'll have a large coffee. Not so much room this time.
COUNTER GIRL: Huh?
CUSTOMER: Last time there was way too much room in my cup.
COUNTER GIRL: OK, whatever.
CUSTOMER: ...whatever? What's that supposed to mean?
COUNTER GIRL: Look, I don't know who the fuck you are, so whatever.
CUSTOMER: Seriously? Why do you have to be such a bitch?
COUNTER GIRL: You're the one with the shitty attitude. I don't know or care who. The fuck. You are.
CUSTOMER: [looking around] This is unbelievable. Give me my fucking coffee. You know who I am. I'm in here all the time!
COUNTER GIRL: I'm AT WORK. I see hundreds of people during every shift! Like I give a fuck who you are!
CUSTOMER: Give me my fucking coffee, you bitch.
COUNTER GIRL: No. Fuck you. Get out of here.
CUSTOMER: [grabs coffee from counter, pours it into a to-go cup, and walks out without paying]
COUNTER GIRL: Fuck her. Like I need this shit.
Yeah. Not lying. Couldn't make it up if I tried. Well, that's not true, I totally could. But I didn't. If I owned this coffee shop, I would call it Beans 'n' Aggro.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...
COUNTER GIRL: What would you like?
CUSTOMER: I'll have a large coffee. Not so much room this time.
COUNTER GIRL: Huh?
CUSTOMER: Last time there was way too much room in my cup.
COUNTER GIRL: OK, whatever.
CUSTOMER: ...whatever? What's that supposed to mean?
COUNTER GIRL: Look, I don't know who the fuck you are, so whatever.
CUSTOMER: Seriously? Why do you have to be such a bitch?
COUNTER GIRL: You're the one with the shitty attitude. I don't know or care who. The fuck. You are.
CUSTOMER: [looking around] This is unbelievable. Give me my fucking coffee. You know who I am. I'm in here all the time!
COUNTER GIRL: I'm AT WORK. I see hundreds of people during every shift! Like I give a fuck who you are!
CUSTOMER: Give me my fucking coffee, you bitch.
COUNTER GIRL: No. Fuck you. Get out of here.
CUSTOMER: [grabs coffee from counter, pours it into a to-go cup, and walks out without paying]
COUNTER GIRL: Fuck her. Like I need this shit.
Yeah. Not lying. Couldn't make it up if I tried. Well, that's not true, I totally could. But I didn't. If I owned this coffee shop, I would call it Beans 'n' Aggro.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...
Monday, June 22, 2009
What's in a Name?
FINN: Mom, when will I have a baby?
ME: Well, when you grow up, you might fall in love with someone and get married and have a baby together.
FINN: Like with a girl?
ME: Seems that way, yes.
FINN: The only girl I love is you.
ME: Awww, thanks, buddy.
FINN: So will you marry me?
ME: Nope. Not the way it works. I'm married to Daddy.
FINN: OK. But I already know what I will name my baby.
ME: Really? What?
FINN: Kyle.
ME: [dying laughing]
FINN: STOP LAUGHING! IT'S NOT FUNNY, MOMMY!
ME: [still laughing]
Kyle. Baby Kyle. Where did he get this from? I have no idea. Maybe on TV or from baseball. File it under "random." I love the random stuff. No one tells you how great the random stuff is.
ME: Well, when you grow up, you might fall in love with someone and get married and have a baby together.
FINN: Like with a girl?
ME: Seems that way, yes.
FINN: The only girl I love is you.
ME: Awww, thanks, buddy.
FINN: So will you marry me?
ME: Nope. Not the way it works. I'm married to Daddy.
FINN: OK. But I already know what I will name my baby.
ME: Really? What?
FINN: Kyle.
ME: [dying laughing]
FINN: STOP LAUGHING! IT'S NOT FUNNY, MOMMY!
ME: [still laughing]
Kyle. Baby Kyle. Where did he get this from? I have no idea. Maybe on TV or from baseball. File it under "random." I love the random stuff. No one tells you how great the random stuff is.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Cathouse
After much deliberation (Jon finally gave in to my near-constant whining and wheedling), we adopted two kittens today. I found them on Craigslist, under the heading "Mainecoon cats."
I have always wanted a Maine Coon cat. They are supposed to be big, smart, gentle, loveable lugs that can grow up to 20+ lbs. I've looked into getting a purebred Maine coons and they are upwards of $500 a pop. No thanks. Plus, breeders generally turn out to be kinda weird -- I had one lady extolling the virtues of her cat by telling me she'd taken it skydiving and how it also liked to play ping pong with her. So, in the end, I went for the lowbrow mutt Maine Coons that may or may not have had, somewhere in their ancestry, a brush with the real thing.
No matter, these two little guys are flippin' cute. Long, fluffy, dark, stripey fur, big huge floppy paws, ears tipped with long whiskery things and the prettiest black liner around their eyes.
We went through a range of names from Finn (Sharp Paws and Elliot, Shamrock and Swishy) and also got some excellent suggestions from Facebook friends (Pacey and Dawson, Chuck and Nate, Mario and Luigi, Dennis and Ray). In the end, Finn came up with names that all three of us think are funny -- Ryan (after Ryan Howard) and Iba (pronounced "ee-buh," short for Raul Ibanez). Both are Finn's favorite players on the Philadelphia Phillies. Done and done. The boys are now settled down for the night, tucked side-by-side in their litter box. Not my idea. I had a cute little bed all set up for them. But, apparently, kitty brothers who poop and then sleep in it together stay together.
Pics of Ryan and Iba to come. Or, if you haven't already, look me up on Facebook and "friend" me to see their photos. [Note: Normally I have a problem using nouns as verbs, but in this case, "friend" (quotations mine) is as good as any.]
I have always wanted a Maine Coon cat. They are supposed to be big, smart, gentle, loveable lugs that can grow up to 20+ lbs. I've looked into getting a purebred Maine coons and they are upwards of $500 a pop. No thanks. Plus, breeders generally turn out to be kinda weird -- I had one lady extolling the virtues of her cat by telling me she'd taken it skydiving and how it also liked to play ping pong with her. So, in the end, I went for the lowbrow mutt Maine Coons that may or may not have had, somewhere in their ancestry, a brush with the real thing.
No matter, these two little guys are flippin' cute. Long, fluffy, dark, stripey fur, big huge floppy paws, ears tipped with long whiskery things and the prettiest black liner around their eyes.
We went through a range of names from Finn (Sharp Paws and Elliot, Shamrock and Swishy) and also got some excellent suggestions from Facebook friends (Pacey and Dawson, Chuck and Nate, Mario and Luigi, Dennis and Ray). In the end, Finn came up with names that all three of us think are funny -- Ryan (after Ryan Howard) and Iba (pronounced "ee-buh," short for Raul Ibanez). Both are Finn's favorite players on the Philadelphia Phillies. Done and done. The boys are now settled down for the night, tucked side-by-side in their litter box. Not my idea. I had a cute little bed all set up for them. But, apparently, kitty brothers who poop and then sleep in it together stay together.
Pics of Ryan and Iba to come. Or, if you haven't already, look me up on Facebook and "friend" me to see their photos. [Note: Normally I have a problem using nouns as verbs, but in this case, "friend" (quotations mine) is as good as any.]
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