blaugra

"The hell he is getting my Klonipin!"

This is a true story, as told by Little Spot and Rainbow. I made it and posted it earlier this year but thought I would bring it back for you because it cracks my shit up. Please to enjoy.

Showtime

Last night I went to the theatre-formerly-known-as-my-employer. I took my visiting Auntie. While we were waiting a exceedingly long time for the show to start, late, she asked me, "Would you go to the royal wedding?"

I thought about it. I remembered seeing an interview with Kelly Osbourne where she and her mum were asked if they would be attending, and Kelly said she'd rather watch it from home on the telly.

But I don't agree with Kelly. Why wouldn't she go? She can wear anything and be British and everyone likes her now that's she's not a sullen teenager.

I said, "I would go. If someone would dress me."

Up-Chuck-E-Cheesy

I picked up my little friend/nephew Bertie at his school yesterday. We were going to go for a night out on the town while his mom was away and his dad was working. 

Bertie is really smart. And he knows how to play me, Auntie Laura. But sometimes I can pull one over on him.

I installed him in the car seat, and before he could beg me to take him to Dunkin Donuts for a blueberry munchkin, I gave him a bag of snacks - fruit punch, a cheese stick, and cheddar cheese goldfish. Headed him off at the pass. Yessss!  Cheese is his favorite food. He told me he appreciated the snacks as well as the bag so that he could put his snack garbage in the bag and he was impressed that my car was so clean.

Did I mention the kid is 5 years old?

Our plan was to go to Toys R Us so Auntie Laura could buy him one toy, then to dinner, then to Chuck E. Cheese (a.k.a. Hell On Earth) for gaming.

The kid is obsessed with Star Wars. But the new Star Wars, the Clone Wars stuff.  I heard more about the relationships of Anakin and Captain Rex and Commander Cody than I ever thought I would need to know. 

He led me through Toys R Us, swiftly, I don't know how because everything is so distracting and full of colors! Sounds! Hello Kitty aisle! Wait a minute Bertie I just have to look at the Hello Kitty purses! He humored me. Then, "Come ON Auntie Laura, we have to get to the Star Wars action figures!"

Bertie's been talking non-stop about getting a Clone Captain Rex figure. Apparently Captain Rex is a tough guy to find, as I'd discovered on other shopping trips. So tough that Bertie's dad had just ordered one from ebay and was really excited to give it to him.

The kid immediately spotted the ONE Captain Rex in the entire aisle. Before I did. Before I could have pulled a switcheroo and hidden the elusive Captain Rex so that he couldn't find him.  Then he'd be really excited when his daddy gave him the special-ordered captain.

I spent the next 20 minutes attempting to distract him. "Check out this rebel ship that transforms into a Captain-Rex-like-character!"  "Look it's Count Dooku! Oh...you already have him?  Don't you want a second one, just in case?"  in case what? that was lame.  "General Grievous! What a cool name. No...?" We were sitting on the floor in Toys R Us with 10 thingies lined up in front of Bertie. I tried my hardest to sell each one of them, while he clutched Captain Rex with his little hands. Fuck. I'm gonna ruin a specially planned father-son moment if I buy Captain Rex for him. Finally I called his dad and explained the situation and his dad said, "Well, that's OK, avert the crisis and I'll just deal with Captain Rex later."

Bertie skipped alongside me to the car. He's still at the age where he will grab my hand to cross any street or parking lot. Which is so very cute.

He freed Captain Rex from his confining package and started a monologue about Rex and Anakin going to get Jabba's son and I was all "Jabba...you mean THE HUT?" WTF I thought Jabba the Hut was a bad guy who chained up Princess Leia? 

And then "AUNTIE LAURA!! I LOST CAPTAIN REX'S HELMET!"  3 minutes is all it took. How do you parents hold on to your patience?

"Are you freakin' kidding me, Bertie?!" not the right response, Auntie Laura. Thankfully it was found in the middle of the street. He then put it in his mouth to clean it off. COME. ON.

I wanted to avoid eating at Chuck E. Cheese because I didn't want to be held captive by the Giant Rat Cabaret. So I was hoping I could convince Bertie to eat a kids' meal at Chick-Fil-A (could any of these places have names that aren't all cutesy?) but that didn't work out in my favor. We had to go someplace where they served lameass macaroni and cheese accompanied by FUNNEL CAKE STICKS and another new toy.

FUNNEL CAKE STICKS.  Shit. That's like Pennsylvania Dutch crack, especially with the little dippy icing.  I was all, "Bertie are you done with those? Because I can take them off your hands..."  He's not old enough to know that these aren't even half as good as a real carnival funnel cake. And what's with Burger King and the stick-foods?  Apple Fries?  They're just cut up apples. Why call them fries?  Don't get me started on chicken fries either.  Ironically, the BK french fries made from POTATOES really sucked, *sigh* If I'm going to eat a small fries I should do it at McDonald's.

Walking into Chuck E.'s on a Tuesday night, I was surprised that it wasn't very crowded at all. It was actually kinda quiet. BECAUSE IT WAS 8:00 PM ON A TUESDAY. What kind of auntie am I !?

We had our run of the place, and my fave games were there! Well almost all my fave games. No Galaga. But we were high-fiving during our Skee-ball tournament, laughing uncontrollably playing some squirt gun race thing, and screaming on the Arctic Thunder. Wait, that was just me screaming. I freakin' love that game.  Candy Ice FTW!  Bertie was like, "Really, Auntie Laura? We have to play this one AGAIN?"

I lost track of time, and Bertie's dad called and was all, "Where are you guys? Are you bringing him home soon?"  oh, yeah. We cashed in all our prize tickets and went to the counter to see what we could score. 

Along with the horrific animatronic rodent cabaret, Chuck E. Cheese really screws up with the prize counter. Unless you have a thousand tickets, you get shit. Or puke. Really, the only things Bertie could pick from were those giant phallic twistie lollipops that the counter guy and I mutually decided with one look between us would not be offered as an option, or plastic fake vomit, hard candies that 5 year olds don't eat, and a crappy ball. All that was missing from the crapload was a giant pencil.

We were at the gates to Meltdown City, and I was not about to drive into them.

Bertie wanted a prize upgrade, which would mean spending eight dollars more to get a slightly less crappy toy. The negotiations began. The whining. The indecision. The final decree from Auntie Laura: "Just get the ball. We're going." The verge of tears.  His, not mine.

So I summoned the power of a higher being and said,  "If you don't get off the floor and come with me now, I will not let you keep Captain Rex."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Fine, then let's get out of this germ-infested monument to the 1980s.

Totally tangential: at the entrance to Chuckie's you get your hand stamped. I was like, what, is this a night club?  Duh. On the way out, I realized that they had stamped our hands with identical numbers, which only they can read under the purple light, to make sure that I was leaving with the kid I came in with. That totally creeped me out, thinking about people taking kids at ChuckE's or maybe getting drunk on the scotch that they packed in a flask and taking the wrong kid out the door with them. Sick.

Chuck messed it up with the crappy prizes. Plastic upchuck?!  Really? 

Bertie held the ball he won and before we even got to the car he said, "I hate this ball. It belongs in a dumpster."  He attached himself to my leg like a broken puppy.  Waaaah. 

I had to do some damage control, talking about all the great fun we had and how all that fun is really the prize for the night, not the shitty ball. Nice try. And when that logic failed to make him completely happy, I just asked him more questions about Captain Rex's amazing talents.

Followed by: "Auntie Laura?"

"Yes, Bertie."

"Auntie Laura [he has to say it twice], could you help me find Captain Rex's helmet? I lost it."

p.s. Here is another photo I found of Captain Rex. Just his CROTCH. Who posts a photo of only the crotch of an action figure?  I mean, besides me?

p.p.s. We found the helmet.

Scrappling

Every so often something in my local paper will make me giggle in hysterics and want to share it with the rest of the world. This time I'm pleased to feature:  pig parts.

Item 1:  fresh butter-tender lean sausage, sounds good to me!

Item 2: FAMOUS, MEATY and HURKY? WTF?! This is what rice sausage is. It's a Slovak thing, hurky must be short for hurka, which is short for jaternica, which is special. White or dark? Hmm. Choices. I'd imagine the dark might have more blood in it. And I've eaten blood sausage, so, no thanks.

Item 3: EXTRA MEATY Scrapple! More mushy pork bits. I've never tried the scrapple but some people are obviously huge fans. You fry it up in lard and it's supposably delicious. 

Then you have your blocks of cheap white cheese, famous hams, and another local specialty, ring bologna. I grew up on ring bologna. It's bologna sausage, and you slice and eat it. It is not at all like sliced Oscar Mayer bologna.

At parties you serve slices of ring bologna on toothpics with chunks of white cheese. If it's a hot summer day party you make sure that the plate of bologna and cheese is sitting on a bed of ice. Our friends make their own ring bologna with fresh venison tidbits. Don't even get me started on Lebanon bologna, that's delish, too, even if it's cow and not pig.  Real crowd pleasers.

Then there are the indoor specials. I know what they mean, more specials in the store. But I had to think about what meats are reserved for indoor consumption.

I used to eat anything and everything. Now I can't even think about digging into haggis or head cheese without feeling nauseous. The great thing is nowadays we don't have to eat the entire pig unless we want to. So I won't be stopping in this market looking for jumbo pans of extra meaty scrapple.

Do you have any local delicacies that you think are, frankly, kinda disgusting?  

Mmmmm peanut butter.

This is ridiculous.  Front page news story:

You know you're in Pennsylvania when the curious news of the day is a big hungry groundhog getting his head stuck in a jar of peanut butter.  I guarantee you when I go to the store later that people will be talking about it, so why not me?

You may be tempted to say, "Awwww...poor little guy." 

No.  The peanut butter is Skippy which is the best kind there is, so do not feel sorry for him.  And

5 embarassing things about me

These are things that I suppose I'd be embarassed about if I really wanted to appear yuppie-like and smart.

1.  I can't wait to see who wins Rock of Love Charm School tonight.  I'm pulling for Brandi M.  She's the kind of girl I'd hang out with at a bar and then probably get sick of after an hour of screaming and drinking and riding a mechanical bull.  And how about Destiney - her stripper name is "Stephanie" but her real name is "Destiney?!" 

2.  Today I cleaned out my fridge, pre-vacation mode.  For breakfast I ate a slice of Pumpernickel toast slathered with scallion cream cheese and a few very well done pieces of bacon.  It was not good.

3.  I clean my house with a 14-gallon Shop Vac - when I have to clean.

4.  I can eat an entire jar of salsa with a spoon.  Mixed with yogurt, even better.

5.  I talk to myself in my car and if someone happens to look over at me at a traffic light I just pretend I'm talking on an invisible Bluetooth.

Play

A teacher at a Catholic school was about to toss a box full of puppets that the children of today were not interested in using.  A professional actress walking by cried out, "No! I'll take them off your hands!" And lo and behold, these relics from 1968 stare down customers at the actress's playhouse. Even though the children of today want nothing to do with them, clearly I had some fun.

Granny War. Someone got the last marble rye bread.

Hey I'm down with the youth of today - what what!  Officer raisin' the roof!

Ooooh nooo - symptoms: eyes rolling back into head, hands clutching at chest, PeeWee Herman suit...oh, this wasn't on my final exam! We're gonna lose this one!

 

Officer, please, I told you I'm not going to indulge you. Arrest me if you must. Just stop acting like a proctologist!  I'm the licensed medical professional here!

Young doctors in scandalous love. 

"We'll have to keep our relationship within the confines of the janitor's closet.  Until we can clean off all these mysterious waxy-crayon spots."

Defaced.

I lied to Facebook. 

I told it that my age was a few years younger than my real age.  None of its business when my real birthdate was, right?

Which makes the following even sadder to me. 

These are ads targeted to a 30-something woman listed as "in a relationship":

• Is your man unresponsive?
• Hormonally aging skin
• Try Oprah's acai berry diet
• Need an egg donor?
• Lifelike Baby Dolls, amazingly realistic, as seen on TV
• Play Mah-Jong online

OMG.

on the DL

At the Dalai Lama's lecture this morning, I had so many monkeys in my mind I could barely focus.  I'm not attempting to be Buddhist or even enlightened but was curious about seeing the spiritual leader of Buddhism so I can round out my religious education a little.  I've seen the head of the Catholic church, Il Papa, zooming through the piazza at the Vatican in his popemobile.  And for Judaism, well, I have my mother-in-law.

I'll talk about emptiness and happiness another time.  This is what was really going on in my mind:

9:30 am :  HOLY shit, that's the freakin' Dalai Lama.  Where's Adam Yauch?  I bet he's here somewhere. I can't believe I'm checkin' out the Dalai in the same arena where I had front row seats for Adam Ant. 

9:37 am :  Wow, this chanting bit is going on too long.

9:42 am : Chanting is done.  HHTDL said to the chanters, "Thank you. A bit long." Hey, he's funny!

9:56 am:  Oh piss it, he's speaking in Chinese.  Wait, an interpreter.  Can't hear interpreter.  OK that's better.  Even spiritual leader types have technical difficulties.

10:05 am:  What's with all these people arriving late?

10:06 am:  What's with all these people getting up and leaving?

10:07 am:  Why would you wear high heeled white mules to see the Dalai?  OK, focus.  Karma, wisdom, suffering.  OK. Let me write those words down...

10:08 am: Wow, all those monks in saffron colors are so pretty.  Those would be great colors for a dining room.

10:25 am:  Why can't people sit still?  Seriously. Why did you come if you were just going to get up to go get coffee, sit down, then get up again to go to the bathroom.  OK, focus.  COMPASSION.  Write it down. 

10:30 am:  These bleachers are cold and my sit-bones hurt.  My yoga teacher said that, "sit bones," I love that.  Maybe I should go back to yoga.

10:34 am:  I smell B.O. wafting up from smelly hippies, and the guy behind me is eating something crunchy out of a crinkly bag, and the freakin' Dalai Lama is speaking.  Didn't he have breakfast?  Geez! Has he no respect?  Seriously.  Am I taking this too seriously?

10:45 am:  HHTDL makes jokes.  This guy's hilarious.  But could he tell me to calm down?  Could he just say into the mic, "Laura, be calm?"

11:00 am:  Why do people have to wear clothes that jingle-jangle with every movement?   Plus, I'm hungry.  But I had breakfast.  Gum, where is my gum?

11:03 am:  Where is everyone going?  Arrive late, leave early?  What the hell are you all doing here if you're not going to listen?  Settle down people!   OMG I'm SO irritated!!!   Laura, settle yourself!

11:10 am:   I really feel like this treatise thing is really repetitive.  Oh, look, a girl wearing a Burberry schmata!

11:13 am:  I think one of the monks on stage is asleep. That's funny.   Wait, what was that he just said about "contaminated karma?"  Fuck. I have to get out of here. STOP CRINKLING YOUR SNACKS.  A girl just fell off her flip-flops on the stairs and sprained her ankle.  Serves you right for leaving early.  OOOH that was NOT compassionate!

11:20 am:  I really really have to get out of here.  I hate everyone and my ass hurts.

11:27 am:  Dalai's funny.  He just finished up a bit about afflictions and then he said, "OK.  Break!"

Now we're on lunch break.  THANK GOD. I can't eat lunch here.  It looks crappy and there are waaaaaay too many lines.  I have to get out of here, I can't breathe.  I can't breathe  - I CAN'T BREATHE!

I left my friend with another friend (so I didn't just bail on her) and drove away to the familiar, where I could be alone and with some iced coffee and sushi and I contemplated a cookie in the shape of a flower with orange sprinkles on it.  Next time I go to see a big spiritual honcho, remind me to pack my klonipin.

Crafty!

Our local downtown district is sponsoring a make-stuff-with-Peeps contest.  I love Peeps.  And it has nothing to do with being proud that they are made here in my hometown.  Well, a little bit, actually. 

I heard today that there are many elaborate Peeps sculptures and artistic masterpieces made by professional artisans.   So... great.  With that deaffirmation I feel the need to offer a disclaimer.

I am not a crafter.  I have a hard time decorating cookies.  I actually can't even make a straight cut with a pair of scissors.  Also, I don't have any perspective so when I do draw or cut and paste, it's very flat.  And asymmetrical.  I had never used a glue gun before this week.

Now that I've beat myself up so that my sharing of my Peeps art can be more funny and less pathetic, I unveil to you the masterpeep...  "War -n- Peeps!"

I wrote an "artistic statement" to accompany the work, which I'm dropping off at contest headquarters soon. 

I am fully aware that it looks like an 8-year-old with ADD and a missing right arm put this together. 

"War-n-Peeps" is a darkly comic reactionary tableau to the chaos of wartime.  Chicks and Bunnies star as war's soldiers, antagonists and collateral damage.  Bite-sized candy children witness and imitate the horrors of battle.  Teenie-Beanies are stones to injure enemies.  Spilled blood is actually a delicious melted Hot Tamale.  And, even in the midst of marshmallow mayhem, Peeps can still find love. 

Up-close detail:

Poor Peep had his little brains blown out.  Note the shrapnel.>>

<<Bunny children beat the oddball senseless.

An Audi driven by a terrorist with a death wish breaks a Peep's neck and his family.  Protesting hippies, one with a hearing impairment, are under fire. >>

Aside from the candy, almost everything else on this deranged stage was "crafted" using recycled material I found in my garage. 

I feel much better after running down this path of destruction.  Give Peeps a chance.