Sarcomical

11 Years Old...

We celebrated our anniversary of being married 11 years and dating about 14 1/2 downtown this year, and after a shockingly ravenous meal of multiple varieties of meats (scurried about via 'Meat Gauchos' carrying giant skewers of sizzling non-veggie-ness), at Brazilian Steakhouse Fogo de Chao, we paused to pretend with The Sexy. It was dangerous for all who passed by our radius. As you can clearly tell.

(More photos and awesomeness to come from the past few days...*including MY BIRTHDAY ahem ahem*. Oh, I assure you.)

Does this mean we can finally shut off the gas to the freaking fireplace?

 

Saturday's 68° laughs in the face of the last "big" one...

(Though a few weeks ago this was pretty, if it happens one. more. time. I swear to God...I won't be taking any pictures...I'll be banging my head against a door.)

 

Blonde, Brunette, Redhead...

...one of my favorites from a recent shoot I just finished editing; might trickle a few more in later. click to enlarge

Scenes from a January Drive...

(from our trip back to Indiana from Illinois after the in-law Christmas...a Hella Thrilling trip, as you can see)

Happy Holidays from the SarcomiHouse, in pictures.

The photo that went in our Christmas card this year...which A FEW of you will be getting in the mail SOMETIME this week. Let's just say we were a little...tardy.

I made this garland one night using construction paper, red file folders, a silver calligraphy marker, silver brads, a star-shaped stencil, tiny razor blade cutter, and a long silver fabric ribbon...all things I found in the house. (Which is very odd, considering I am not a "crafter" in any way...although I did try to do collage journaling for a while, maybe that's where some of it came from...?) It took about 3 hours. And yes, it was an insomnia night.

 

Lucy doesn't know how to hold her surprise chewy stick. But she reminds me of some cigar-waving wise guy..."Lishen heere, sheee, I'm gonna give you one more chance, sheee..."

I went super cheap this year with the tree, and liked it that way. Found red beads that hadn't been used for a few years and bought rolls of red raffia (for about $1.99 each - only used one), cut it into even lengths and tied each in a plain knot on random branches. They curled from being on the roll. So easy.

Ricky gets the urge to take a nap even from simply watching ME do work.

We have a trio of tiny trees so we can have something lit in the room we watch television in, where we put up a very small amount of our older or more favorite unique ornaments.

Shiloh, uhhh, needs a bath. Pomeranians are hard, yo. The hair. It just...keeps growing, and the undercoat, MY GOD the undercoat.

I have a fever & raw larynx, so look at this while I lay here dying...

p.s. taken just now

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

Self, 11.12.08

 

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

Half-Week Haiku 48: Tiny Bumps

Even though the full amount of itchy rash that invaded my arms from the weeds I yanked out of the backyard in the middle of the night during a manic caffeine rush isn't fully visible here, suffice it to say that whenever my skin gets in direct contact with weeds or cut grass, I become a scratching machine. When I was younger, sometimes sitting in the grass while wearing shorts would cause an entire blanket of red pimply bumps to explode on my thighs and behind my knees. I know what you're thinking. Sexy.

For this week's 5-7-5 assignment, get creative about telling us something that YOU'RE allergic to or seem to have an otherwise strange reaction to. Yes, this has the potential to get a bit icky, I realize, especially if you do it well. But who ever said the Internet was always pretty? Maybe sometimes it's got a rash.

Ew.

I'll get the ball rolling:

nature-hostage teen
band camp wasn't bad enough
my legs looked like braille

NOW YOU.

Maggie! Also, Welcome to the Take Luck Club

Today, my blogger friend Sarah and I went to see Maggie Mason (of Mighty Girl and Mighty Goods fame) talk about blogging and her book, No One Cares What You Had for Lunch - 100 Ideas for Your Blog.

I started reading Mighty Girl at the beginning of my blogging here at Sarcomical, about three years ago. Through reading her clever observations about life and what she heard in conversations when she was out in public, I realized the importance of paying more attention to the little things going on around me, so I could use those bits and pieces to generate interesting blog material.

I must say, in person her sense of humor is just as clear and witty as it has been in her writing style. She was really very sweet, smart, and also? My God, her outfit was damn cute. The girl's rep for being great at putting things together is not an exaggeration.

So, the time came to talk to her at the table afterward, and Sarah (being shy, her words) and me (feeling inferior in the presence of Maggie's mind and very cute boots) both had to suck it up and just say hi, even though we felt as if we were quite stumbly during the conversation. I mean, what do you say, really? "Hi, we know who you are, and see that baby and husband of yours over there? We know them, too. And we really, really like your shopping site. And you're very awesome. I'm a fabulous blogger, by the way. No, really. And I am totally NOT phased by your internet stardom." NO. No, you do not say that. Instead, you find yourself saying things like "Thanks for coming!" and "The two of us met online!".

Wow. Clever.

It felt very much like Brian Regan's act "You Too and Stuff", where he talks about that awkward feeling you get when you meet someone or are talking, and then for some reason you go and say something stupid like "Take Luck!", because your ability to string intelligent words together in certain social situations seems to vanish into thin air. Then all you are left with is blaahbitty.

technorati tags: Maggie Mason, Mighty Girl, Mighty Goods, Awkward!

Some Things Friday # 53: If You Don't See the End You've Missed the Best Part (I'm Serious)

(Seriously, make it to the end and you'll be rewarded. Grandly.)

Some Things I Love:

1. French accordion music.
   
2. Rubbing my puppies' ears. They're so soft. It soothes me.
   
3. Root beer floats, baby. The foamier, the better. Did you know there's an A&W Root Beer Stand/KFC (yes, that's a "slash KFC" because someone thinks chicken and root beer mix well) near our house? By the way, if you use Barq's instead of A&W you are a freedom-hating psycho who wants the terrorists to win because all Freedom Lovers drink A&W. Barq's sucks ass. Oh no. I've tripped my "Must Have a Float" wire inside my brain. Now I'm all obsessing. Shit.
   
   
4. Switching it up and using a bar soap every once in a while in the shower. Blast the shower gels and body washes! You can't get more Old World than bar soap, my little friend.
   
5. Alan Freaking Cumming. I know. I KNOW. Say what you will. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to agree with me. (I'm not sure I understand it, either.) But I think he can be seriously hot and I can't help it. Now, just move along down the list and leave me and Alan alone.
   

Some Things I Hate:

1. Being pissy with The Husband even when I don't really want to. But it's so easy! For instance:
   Him: Okay, so I'm going to go back to work now.
   Me: Yeah. Fine.
   Him: I'll call you later, okay?
   Me: WHAT. the hell EVER.
   Huh???
   
2. Dry foggy goddam contact lenses. *squintsquint* *rubrub*
   
3. Dodo birds. Yeah, they're extinct. But they're ugly. So, BUH-BYE Dodo!
   
   
4. Coconut in chocolate. I hate the texture! It shouldn't be there!
   
5. When the puppy pukes cat shit all over the floor. Oh, I recognized the Puke Smile beforehand and rushed to pick him up. I grabbed. I ran. But I didn't make it. A trail resulted. I had a panic attack. (You do NOT understand how close I was to having a puked-up cat crap strewn about my body.) The Husband had to clean it up (naturally).

Some Things I Just Don't Get:

1. I only need to give you one today. It will satisfy all your needs. Trust me. This was just after the Ice Mountain guy dropped off our water and was driving away. Wait for it. Waaaiit for it. I don't know why he does this. If this doesn't make you laugh then YOU MUST BE DEAD. Be prepared. The cuteness and freakiness just might render you unconscious.

   
   Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing

Half-Week Haiku 34: Child-Like Wish

My neice turned 3 on Tuesday. We had a party for her this weekend. Basically...it was Dora-fest. Dora plates, Dora napkins, Dora cake, Dora gifts, Dora party bracelets, Dora movie-watching, Dora decorations, "Dora Pizza!" (which was the only way to get her convinced to eat lasagna), etc.

She's so cute, though.

This is my favorite picture from that day, because she took it herself.

The haiku this week? What was your most wished-for gift as a child?
I'll go first:
who knows what comes out
light bulb baking at its best
easybake, baby

Half-Week Haiku 30: Yep, You Got It, I Feel Like Crap

Just HOW sick I am is still in question, but I definitely feel crappy tonight. Yay me. Big freakin' hairy disgusting goddam Yay. A little bit feverish, very tired, and plain old yech. The lumpy throat? Now verging on scratchy and pissing me the hell off. Pretty sure I'll feel better by tomorrow, but right now I just want some soup and a blanket and Gilmore Girls. AHA! Gilmore Girls just might do the trick. Well, that and a shot of vodka (hey, my hot Russian sis-in-law says it kills the germs dead, so shut up). Oh, and if my husband would COME HOME FROM WORK ALREADY DAMMIT AND TAKE CARE OF ME LIKE THE PITIFUL LITTLE GIRL THAT I AM! *sigh*

On the up side, I looked really good at work today.

I'm trying to be entertaining here while not at my best, so hey, JUST DEAL. Some of you've asked to see my new hair color (L'Oreal Couleur Experte in Caramel Glaze), so here you go. Please ignore the a.) Cheesy GlamourShots Pose, but you know, if I've got control of the camera I'm going to try to look cute dammit and b.) the shiny-ness of my face, ick. Anyway, I like it. It looks a bit more reddish because of the flash, but it was really cloudy today so hey suck it up. Just kidding. I'm sick. Did I tell you? Be nice to me.

So...I have to go watch Rory and Lorelai NOT TALK TO EACH OTHER SOME MORE. And also, get a blanket. Oh, yeah that Haiku thingy. Here's what I'd like you to do for this week: Haiku how YOU revert to child-like behavior when you're not feeling well. What do I mean? Allow me to demonstrate:

whimpering vocals
blanket and fuzzy slippers
"honey, i can't reach"

Half-Week Haiku 29: Shifting

Not feeling so much ironic today as philosophical (oh crap, way to ruin your Wednesday!), so tell me how you feel about this shift in seasons. What do you sense, smell? What do you love about fall approaching...or what makes you sad about summer ending? How can you put into words your personal experience as things begin to change this time of year?

I'll go first:
warm days, cool crisp nights
earth and plants take a fresh breath
i feel awakened

Some Things Friday #34:...You Know What, Screw It

I simply cannot write a normal list for you this week because, to put it quite bluntly...

OH. MIGOD.

Yep. That's me. After a concert last night. Oh, and that other girl? Is Imogen Heap. Immi, formerly of Frou Frou fame. Imogen Heap that did THIS unthinkably cool as hell thing for me about a year ago. The lovely talented amazing darling whose music has meant so much to me over this past year of change in my life.

I was in a completely surreal state last night, and I think drove home a little high from it all while my husband, who met me at the concert, followed me (wait, maybe it was the smoke in the room that made me buzz?). Well, whatever. SO not the point. I talked with her. Like a dumb, blustering fool I asked my husband, "Should I talk to her? I should talk to her, shouldn't I?" See, it was a super-small venue and all the artists were just hanging out watching each other and being completely cool with everyone in the bar.

So there I went when she was done with her set (can I just say? - hearing her singing live is completely, unfathomably fantastic), after debating over whether or not I'd need a drink before getting up the nerve (must. be. COOL!) and started to fumble an attempt at introducing myself. Something like..."...um, hi, so I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself...um...see...I read Zefrank, and, ..." Okay, PAUSE: See, the reason she sent me her CD last year was because she saw a comment I made on HIS blog, and she knows him, and then checked out my site from my comment, and wanted to do something nice for me seeing that I had the last Frou Frou CD on my Amazon wishlist. Because she's bitchin' cool like that. But if you clicked the link above, you already know the story. *ahem* So anyway, I was going to try to segue into something like "...so I read Zefrank and comment there sometimes, and you probably don't remember this but you sent me a CD last year and..." but I had barely gotten out the "...see I read Zefrank and-" "-OH! You're Sarcomical!" she exclaimed. And this, oh Internet, is the point in the story where I lifted out of my body, floated above while Butch Walker sang, hovered over my real self and totally peed my surreal pants. She then gave me the warmest hug ever, the kind you give a friend you haven't seen in a while, and after we chatted a few seconds and she said we could get a picture together later, she went back up on stage for one more song. But not before saying "Oh wait, hold on...what's your real name?" Pinch me. HARD.

I had to have 2 drinks afterward to settle myself. "I wasn't cool...," I told my husband. "I totally and completely was a stupid stupid fan and HOLY SHIT did Imogen Heap just KNOW WHO I WAS?!? I'm such a dumbass but she was so sweet wasn't she? She's so nice and also she REMEMBERS ME? That is not something I can wrap my head around"...and blah blah blah. Then I thought "I didn't even wash my hair! I can't BELIEVE I just met Imogen with greasy, dirty hair pulled into a ratty knot and there she is with her clean hair and I probably just completely blew her opinion of me with my end-of-the-wash-cycle hair. DAMMIT! One should always have flowy blown-out goddess hair when there is potential of meeting a long-adored celebrity type. FOR SHAME.

But I was like "be cool, be cool...you can be cool", willing myself to be a somewhat intelligent person when I talked with her again. So when we went outside to see her after listening to some more sets (and waiting for my drinks to mellow out), she was just as warm, gracious and humbly sweet. We talked a little bit and got to get a couple of pictures together. I told her how wonderful I thought she was that night, and how incredible her music is...and she talked about Zefrank doing live standup and had I seen it? (no, but I'd love to because he's freaking hilarious and his sketches rock my world)...and how tired she was from the group taking her to meet and hang out with Motley Crue backstage the night before when she got off her plane...she said she was so happy to meet me and gave me another hug while I told her how wonderful it was to be able to speak with her finally...and all the while I thought about how pretty she was and how talented, and would she ever know how much she had impacted my life with her simple act of kindness?

Immi, I hope you do know how very much that and last night meant to me (in a completely COOL and UN-STALKER-FAN way, OF COURSE) and how fabulous you were to listen to live. And thank you for the privelege of that personal time.
*****************************************************************
Oh, did I forget to tell you, patient Internet hotties, that this was part of the Hotel Cafe tour? We also saw:

Butch Walker - the boy can BELT IT, yo.

Cary Brothers - Uhh...so okay there is no other Brother. It's his name. I, um, thought there were 2 of them. Derrrr. Sorry, I wasn't thinking clearly...but when I heard him sing "Blue Eyes" (which was on the Garden State soundtrack) I completely remembered him. So shut up with the mocking and the pointing. And P.S.? He rocks.

Peter Searcy - A Hottttie who can definitely use that guitar.

Joshua Radin - Only heard him a bit, but VERY cool.

AND we got a free compilation CD with all the featured artists on the tour this year on it. Cool, eh?

****************************************************************
You can get Imogen's new album here (pre-order at amazon)...go to her site for US release info, and if you're like me, be completely and irrationally impatient and buy a UK version.

Half-Week Haiku 23: For the Love of God...We NEED to Move

So Monday night my husband, being the awesome dynamo of manly manliness that he is, was taking out the garbage and headed from the kitchen to the garage door. I, being the superiorly dedicated domestic goddess creature that I am, was busy heating something up in the microwave. I heard my husband open the door, then quickly mumble "shit" under his breath as he turned and walked back in. For some reason, this wasn't that odd to me.

But then I felt him standing there quietly in the kitchen looking at me, bag still in hand, and I looked up.

"I'm not going in there", he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because there. is. a. BIRD. out there."

"No way. Seriously, what?" (He was saying it so strangely that I thought it was some ploy to get me to look at something in the garage.)

"No. I'm serious. There's a goddam bird in there."

So I went and cracked the door to look into the garage. And sure enough, there right in front of my face, on TOP OF THE DAMNED GARBAGE BIN THAT WE KEEP NEAR THE DOOR, was this:

I shit you not.

Ladies and gents, I took this picture through a crack in the door about 1 1/2 inches wide. And it kept STARING at me with its beady CRAZY-EYES and devising plans to eat me. It started fluffing itself out and puffing up to triple its size, and contorting its head all goddamned sideways to leer at me - fucking bully was trying to make me cry, I just KNOW it. My husband kept freaking out and saying "Close it! Close it! It's going to fly in - IT'S GOING TO FLY IN!" Finally, he went around the outside of the garage and opened it with the keypad so the bird would fly away.

But I ask you, would you not pee your pants? I think our bird problems have been well-documented. We think this was one of those babies. We are being emotionally terrorized by these germ-infested feathered bastards.

So, tell me OH INTERNET...what the hell do you think about nature hatching a plan to come after our asses? Have you been confronted by a nasty creature? Haiku it for me if you're extra ambitious. Here's mine:

pointy beak of death
beady eyes black pools of hate
he wants to eat me