Speaking of things that I don't need...

My Momma got me a pair of really cute legwarmers for Christmas. Did you know that legwarmers are coming back in style? She found them in the Junior's section at Foleys along with matching skirt and top. I'm wearing the top. She didn't buy me the skirt because she thought it was too "slutty-slutty." I suppose the skirt resembled a butt ruffle that seems to be all the rage these days.



I'm not sure if legwarmers are an improvement over the oh-so-2005 look of Sherpa boots with a short skirt in the middle of summer. Ah well.

Onto another item... I got an electric guitar and an amp from my brother. Here I am rocking a mean D major chord. LOL:



I have a feeling that I'm a little too old to quit my day job and join a rock band, but hey, I can pretend and bug the neighbors every now and then. Maybe I can team up with the sucky drummer who has no rhythm and happens to live right next door and for a thrash metal group (I've decided those types of guitarists can't really play chords). We could freak out the crazy family across the street who decided to erect a 5 ft tall sign that says "Jesus Saves" in christmas lights in their front yard. I suppose they're nice people, so we'd only bother them every fortnight.

Speaking of brother, this is him, Mr. Johnny Luck himself sporting not a dolphin, but a sea lion named "Snowflake." It's a little too complicated to explain here, but somehow he thought it would add to the "whistful dainty harp player's" pose he was mocking. Not a bad rendition:

Too Much Stuff...

I'm at this awkward stage in my life at the moment. I'm out of school, working in a stable job, married to a great husband, settled in a city I like, living without debt (except for morgage, of course) and most importantly, living without children. When I was in school, goals were a lot more clean cut, simpler even, and in many ways easier to attain. All I had to do was study every now and then, pull an all nighter when necesasry, pray for good grades and graduate. I suppose picking a major wasn't a particularly easy task, but it only took about two years to figure that one out. Job hunting was really the same game. Instead of papers there were resumes. Instead of tests there were interviews. Instead of grades there were call-backs and offers.

So, it seems to many people, the natural step is to start a family. Now I'm not particularly opposed to having kids, but at the same time, I'm just not in the mood to birth one. That whole maternal drive that most women have doesn't exist in me and the idea of needing to take care of a helpless little human being who could potentially hate me in the future is utterly unappealing. I'm happy with my kitties, thank you very much. With that said, I've found lately, there isn't much to strive for and that's somewhat uncomfortable.

People tell me I ought to travel more, but I'm not big on travel. Never was. Maybe it is because I traveled so much as a kid. In fact, I went to kindergarden in a Brittish-run Catholic school in Taipei, Taiwan for international students. How's that for being multicultural? I also hate planes. I've got issues with my eustation tubes and a permanently blocked sinus so often I'm in physical pain when I fly. I remember once when flying to Tokoyo, I had a bloody nose that kept resurfacing every hour. Fortunately, that doesn't happen often anymore, but oh the trauma...

All these things combined means that I spend too much money. Sarah can tell you that I can blow a couple hundred dollars on beads when I get in the groove.

To partially remedy the situation, I went scavaging through the house finding things to sell today. None of them were made by me, btw. I love crafts and I make jewelry, but I have a hard time letting go of items that I create. If I do let them go, it is usually to a good friend who can appreciate the labor involved. I have sold things in shops, but they're usually high end specialty establishments that give me 75% to 80% of the cut. Can't loose there, but at the same time when I see a stranger wearing one of my creations, I can't help but wonder if they understand what went into the trinket that adorns them. Then I start making up reasons why they're not worthy. You can see the issue here.

Anyhow, today I went rummaging for things that I own that I could sell. I really suck at parting with things.

The problem?
Once I start describing the item, it starts sounding too good to let go of.

Here's an example:
I have this beautiful custom made sapphire and diamond ring I bought when I landed my first job. I wear it on occasion, but I'm not really attached to it. That is, until I started taking pictures. I spent all afternoon polishing the ring, getting the lighting right, making sure the hues of the sapphires were properly represented, etc. Once I uploaded the image, I fell in love with it all over again. I mean, look at this ring. Is it not gorgeous?

Wow, if I saw this on e-bay, I'd buy it immediately! I thought to myself. So, obviously I'm having separation issues. I don't need this ring. I don't even really wear this ring, but then again, I don't like the idea of some stranger buying this ring either even if they did cough up my asking price of $2000 in cash. *sigh*

Silly ain't it?

I went through this same exact problem with my beautiful Buffet oboe that I don't play because it makes blood vessles in my eyes explode and I sound terrible on it (think wounded goose...). As I was looking up its value, I was like: Holy shit! This thing retails for four grand. Wow! I should hang onto it so I can sell it one day...wait a second.

I think the real issue, in the back of my mind is that I'm terrified that one day my comfortable living will end (damn, that stupid on-line tarot reading) and I might be hard up on cash. God forbid, I may need to hock all my treasured items, so that's why I'm having a difficult time letting go. Who knows?

I really do need to get rid of that damn oboe though.

Johnny Luck

There are a few simple facts about my brother:

1) He loves dolphins.

It's almost a fetish. This started with a McDonald's Happy Meal back when they didn't suck and back when the toys were actually decent. He got a stuffed dolphin and I got a stuffed snake. One of them took more labor to create, I'm sure, and I think I got shafted, but that's besides the point. Anyhow, he named it "Seaweed." A few weeks later Mom took us back to Mickey-D's and I got a stuffed ball and he got yet another stuffed dolphin. This one was cuter apparently and he named her "Weaseed" Okey Dokey. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I got the shorter end of the stick again.

2) Johnny = Good Luck

As indicated by part 1, luck follows my brother like an abandoned puppy. You know those cheesy games you find in cereal boxes that are along the lines of "One in one million will win a wonderful-useless-toy-that-is-only-cool-because-this-is-a-contest?" It usually involves a scratch off card that's packed in cellophane. Anyhow, from these games my brother has won:
-A He-Man action toy
-A New Bike
-A Cabbage Patch doll (Neither of us wanted that, so he chucked the ticket. I do wonder if the people who set that game up had a word with Nabisco)

Now, it doesn't end there. He's won small amounts of money from random stints with scratch off lottery tickets. However, by far the best prize Johnny has ever obtained was back when he was only in 1st grade. I was in 5th. It was back when school cafeterias were offering items from fast food chains for the first time and HotPockets was doing a promotional contest in my district where each time you ate one of those stinkin' things, you'd get a ticket stub placed in a hat. No limit, since the point was to sell as many of those fowl inferior under-achieving strombolis as possible. The prize? A brand new Sony Play Station. I ate those fucking things every day for an entire month. My brother, due to leaving his lunch on the bus one day, bought one. Who won the play station? You guessed it. A twerpy little 6 year old from Colony Bend Elementary.

3) He reeks of southern bachelor.

You know Hank Hill from "King of the Hill?" That's pretty much my brother except he's Asian. Not only is my bro a staunch republican, he sounds like Hank. The boy's got 3 guns. One is a semi-automatic named "Missy." Here are what some of our conversations sound like. Imagine a guy with a drawl saying these things.
**
J: You know that band HIM. They suck. Unwholesome for a boy to look like an emaciated chick. Silly Swedes.
Me: I think he's from Finland anyway.
J: Shoot, it don't matter. They're both foreign. They're both white. What's the difference?
**
For Christmas I asked for a guitar stand.

J: I have a perfect guitar stand to give you... It's a big ass guitar amp.
Lean your guitar on that. It looks cool and bachelor-padish.
Me: Your guitar amp isn't that big
J: Compared to nothing, it sho is.

**
On abortion...
J: Well in case you haven't noticed, I can't exactly be doing any birthin' anyway. Oh, you're serious? Well, yeah, I'm for. Just ya know, staple a hussy's legs shut if it gets to be a problem. It's a cheaper solution anyway.

**
Random e-mail which really confused me.

J: I wish I could make seaweed and weeseed christmas cards. Don't you be thinking they're gay now. My dolphins are God loving creatures.

Good God...that's a Gummy Bear?

Something that big probably possesses cognitive skills.

Frankly, I'd be a little scared to eat it. I mean, after taking a bite out of its ear, I'd start to wonder if it'll get up in the middle of the night and maul me to death for mutilating it. Look at that face. Anything that smiles like that has got to be evil.

I really mean I wouldn't be able to finish that thing one sitting. That bear is big enough to feed a family of 4 and I'd probably get tired of sour apple or whatever the fuck flavor after a while.

Still, it is pretty cool looking. It looks like it's made out of glass and I suppose it's sorta cute. Although garrish, it would match the decor of my living room. Hmmmm....

The picture is originally from Rob Sheridan's blog post about naked transvestites engaging in lackluster stage sex by the way.

Quintessential Sarah and Me

I wouldn't say it's a stunning picture or one that conjures any sort of strong emotions from an outside viewier, but this is one of my favorite photos in my stash of digital mush residing on my computer (I really need to organize my files one of these days). It's quintessential Sarah and I. She has a tiara on and I have no makeup on my face (yes you may go screaming from the room). We're sitting at my dining room table, crafting jewelry sometimes blathering about various topics relating to:

a) making fun of co-workers
b) making fun of Nine Inch Nails fans
c) making fun of each other because technically we fall into categories a) and b)

Every now and then due to our current mode we go into:
d) how much Martha Stewart sucks ass.

However, I should point out that much of the time, we don't say anything to each other because both of us are incredibly introverted. Given this, it should be pretty obvious that we also ended up marrying introverted spouses. Hence, one can only imagine the bounty of quality conversations we manage to have when all 4 of us dine together....it damn near approaches the amount of living tissue matter on Wacko Jacco's face. But, that's totally okay :)

One thing is true...I love salmon

Anyone who knows me even just a little knows I love food and I love to eat it. Thank God for a good metabolism and a great sense of smell is all I can say.

Last night I was feeling mightly ill. Some germ-laden wheezy snotty individual decided to sit next to me on the bus and converse with me about how he was a hard worker and never liked to take sick leave. Never mind that I had my ear phones in and had Black Sabbath blaring. Never mind that I kept simply smiling and knodding, not really answering the guy. No. The man kept talking. Meanwhile, I kept trying to dodge the bits of spittle flying out of his mouth and attempting to breathe non-tainted air. As you can imagine, that's an impossibility.

Anyway, needless to say, by the time I came home, I was starting to feel icky. My husband's holiday party was that night (oh wait, maybe I've offended some people...his Jesus Jamboree was that night) and I knew that salmon was on the menu (as well as lemon tart for dessert). Feeling like shit, I hit the sack, huddled under layers of blankets with a stuffed cat under my chin groaning and whining about how I'd miss my salmon. Darling husband suggested I take a nap, so I did. When he woke me up, I felt even worse. I was queezy and lightheaded. Sniffle. There would be no salmon for me, I decided and plopped back into bed near tears.

Meanwhile, as T was getting dressed, in my half-sleep state, images of salmon were dancing in my head. Salmon with mango. Salmon with homemade tartar sauce. Salmon with holidase and currants. Salmon baked with potatoes. Marinaded Thai salmon with ginger and black bean sauce. It was torture. My brain kept reminding me of all the various way salmon could be made and i couldn't fall asleep. I WILLED myself to get up and get dressed.

Was it worth it?

Yes and no. The salmon was okay. The company was fantastic, but by far the best thing was downing a gin and tonic made with Bombay Sapphire. That cocktail burned out any soreness in my throat and cleared my sinues thus getting rid of my cold symptoms. Today I'm fine. See? Everything works out in the end. :)