Sunday, July 27, 2008

It seemed like a big deal when I started the post 10 minutes ago, but now I'm having second thoughts.

Woot. We won again. Me and me mates destroyed all the other bored housewives of Montana and are going to Salt Lake City for the regional team tennis championships. I won't fill you in on the details, because they're boring. I mean really, really. I got another cups, though. See...

It should be full of Makers Mark - I need some o' dat. But if Ifs and Buts were candy and nuts, we'd all have a merry christmas.
My psych song for the weekend? This little slice of genius.

Edited to Add: My kids are not impressed by the cup. Why not? What is so terribly underwhelming about a cheap tumbler, tell me! If it were my mom, I tell you. I mean it, yessir. I'd be super whelmed. Full of whelm. Whelmful. About a cheap tumbler full of water. You could knock me over with a feather if my mom showed me a glass of water that someone had just give her FOR FREE!

Also, I'm a Leo, and I believe this means my birthday is in August. Also it means I like it when people take note of me. I hope this explains why today, in a short tennis skirt, I climbed a 12 foot chain link fence to unhook a US Tennis Association banner for our team to pose with for our team picture. Leo = climbing fences in front of people. I read that somewhere. But seriously, we all had some boob sweat going, as I was explaining to myself as I was hauling my ass up that fence. I was doing it for the boob sweat.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

My first and last post about Richard Dreyfuss.

Golly I've got a short fuse. I had a dream that a Danish guy told me I made him feel small. Like Richard Dreyfuss. So my temper is thusly small like Richard Dreyfuss. Once I lied to a group of new coworkers about my role in Mr. Holland's Opus. Meaning, I said I had a role. Because I wanted them to like me. Or no, I actually just wanted to take part in the conversation. Whatever the motivation, right? Because I lied about being an extra in a shitty movie starring Richard Dreyfuss. That was a low point. Small and low. But today, yelling at the kids because they were making silly echo noises in the bathroom at a coffee shop downtown - that was pretty low too. Equally Richard Dreyfuss-y.

Jim and I won the mixed doubles and my friend Suzy and I won the women's doubles final at the Western Montana Open. I got a pint glass and Jim got a bj. Ha ha. Just kidding mom and brothers and close friends that see me often! Also, I totally got duped yesterday by the hunky, balding gymnastics coach and I wrote a big-ass check for the kids to go to gymnastics camp next week. Because he asked me if I was a gymnast. I demurred and then showed off on the rings. Today I can't raise my arms above my head and I'm checking to see how soon that check's gonna bounce. Boing boing. Checks on Trampolines. That's the song of the day.

Except it's not really the song of the day, because instead I'm listening to 27 Jennifers. And Chaiyya Chaiyya. Lawn mowing, you know, really takes me back to my Bollywood roots.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Because dancing naked in your underwear is for Scientologists.

The kids are at pre-school summer camp today. Madeleine went with Quinn to introduce him to the staff and go over the syllabus. According to her. I believe it had something to do with it being Ride the Trolley Downtown to the Carousel Wednesday. So shit. I came home from tennis and the house was empty and so I ate all the leftover pancakes. Things to do when you're home alone: eat cold dank baked goods - check; sit on the toilet for a long ass time reading the comics - check; finish a cup of coffee while it's still warm - check; clean, pay bills, finish editing story, read intelligent websites about deforestation - hell to the no.

Now I'm sitting on the front porch watching the garbage guys and my 70-year-old lesbian neighbor talk about her pet pigeon. Which is why we don't live in the suburbs anymore. We've got a middle-aged couple living across the street who keep to themselves. Which is my way of saying they're virtually mute. I say hi, she says meep. I say How ya doin Tom, he says half smile, half shrug. It's all right. Not everyone runs off at the mouth like mi when confronted with new social situations. Jim and I had a discussion about how we would behave on Letterman (after watching Julia Roberts totally bomb and make Dave ask her stupid questions about her hair). Jim said he would answer in grunts and shrugs. Hm, that's so surprising. I would tell embarrassing, revealing stories in quick succession, so that during commercial breaks Dave would wander off-stage to talk to Paul while I tried to collect the dirty laundry I'd scattered about.

And there you go. Time for lunch. Oh yeah, peanut butter and jelly crusts, I hear ya. Come to mama.