Category Archives: Uncategorized

A Pocket Full of Poses

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There is a certain kind of mood, a scent in the air as soon as it stops being so wretchedly cold, and suddenly I am 15 again, walking the long walk past Journal Square and the jailhouse (the inmates howling out the windows for us to lift our skirts) to my high school, my headphones tuned to Book of Love, Howard Jones, Heaven 17 and Depeche Mode.

Well, it is not quite that time yet, but I have been waking up listening to Lifestyle and Freezepop and whaddya know it’s skirt-lifting and chirping birds all over again.

-xo

Kitty Dukakii, Karaoke, and Bukkake

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I am so sure you are all following along at home our adventures with a brand new drink, sickness the Ktty Dukakis. This weekend we unleashed Kitty on an unsuspecting crowd at my house. They smelled her perfume and the glow of her cherries, treatment and were lulled into guileless drunken bliss. Which explains the impassioned duet of Careless Whispers I did with my roomie. Or it explains my adventure in the broom closet, I know not which.

-xo

The hours

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Tonight we celebrate a birthday!

So far I have managed to buy myself presents instead of buying them for the birthday boy. I just don’t think he would enjoy a polka dotted umbrella as much as Lambchop and I do. I did get an extra bottle of wodka for the making of many rounds of the Kitty Dukakis. Perhaps we should just fill the bathtub?

In other news, my sister is staying with me until some shadowy future point. Yesterday we went shopping, and today I made her go to the grocery store. I was seized with a craving for Chewy Chips Ahoy!, and this reminded us of all the horrible crap my mother used to let us eat for breakfast. We could have anything, as long as we “had it with milk.” I guess milk redeems even Little Debbie snacks or Entenmann’s cupcakes. This is a far cry from early childhood, where we suffered through home-grown vegetable stews and TVP (textured vegetable protein) and weren’t allowed store-bought cereals. A breakdown obviously took place by the time we started having fast food roast beef sandwiches every night. Five for one dollar! From Hardee’s.

In still more loosely connected news, I joined a gym. It has a pool, so the thought of being seen in a swimming costume will ensure that I either go all the time, or never go at all.

-xxoo

My house sits your ass down…

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Oh, you know things are bad when the events of your life trot out UB40 songs in your head on eternal repeat. There has been a rat in the kitchen for a while now. Pennywise started out living in the basement and got greedy. We were content to trap him and out him into the street, but he is a wily fellow. Just when you think you have not seen him in ages and he must be gone for good, off to more posh digs in the dumpster behind Shaws, his shadowy step will be seen again. The line has finally been drawn in the sand, however. Pennywise has taken to sitting on our sofa, eating our snacks! There he was watching VH1 Classic and eating Seth’s cheese doodles like he was one of us. We could tell he was an imposter, though, because he didn’t warble along incoherently when they played Michael Mcdonald. So the exterminator is coming. The dawn shall rise on vengeance! YA MO BE DERE!

In other news, I received my letter of acceptance to the Big Sister program. I am going to go practice mentoring something. Like maybe the coffee machine or my pencil case.

-xo

Fine dining

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This being a blog, I am obligated to report on topics of food consumed and parking spots occupied. Tonight I had a lovely mahi mahi with a fruit salsa and coconut risotto, and the highlight of the evening was the creepy waiter we always get at this establishment. We parked right outside the front door, in case you were wondering. This is a one-horse town, with ample parking day or night, like South Park.

Creepy Waiter knows us by name now, and he delights in rattling off the specials while making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. He always looks like he’s about to crack up, and we try really hard not to do the same. On our last visit, he described salmon as a “pink-flavored fish,” and mahi mahi is pronounced “maui maui.”

He also let us know how swamped he was on Valentine’s Day, and I deftly inquired “Wow, they must work you all the time, do you ever get a day off?” So now we know to come on Mondays instead.

Still, this is not as bad as the time Mr. H’s mother picked the restaurant where the waitress rammed the bottle of wine between her thighs and pulled for dear life on the cork, right next to the table. I got kicked under the table when I said “Someone’s been kegeling!”

-xxoo

Valentine’s Day Round Up (on President’s Day)

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Valentine’s Day is indeed our new favorite holiday- it has all the perfume and red fur you can ask for. The trick to avoiding any nauseatingly contrived sentiment is to celebrate it like we used to in the third grade, with little cards and candies for our friends (plus that doughy kid with the big ears our mom wouldn’t let us exclude). So there were hugs and little gifts and red stillettos all weekend for me and Clammy, and all our pals. (Note: if you invite me to your house anytime ever, make sure you keep some martini glasses on ice, so I can fix myself a Kitty Dukakis.)

I feel a bit holiday’d out from Friday the 13th- President’s Day. But it got us all to thinking about the special meaning of friendship and sharing as we dove into our chocolate raviolis on Vday. And me and Clammy realized just how lucky we are to have such swell pals and lovely profiles. We could not help but take a moment to feel for our less attractive brethren, who sit friendless and in need of a skin peel on this Valentine’s Day. And we thought, “why, there must be a holiday for the these people…a chance for us to give something back to nature!” Hence, “Have Sex With An Ugly Person Day” was born. Come April 5th, when for us the warmth of spring generates excitement for summer parties and flirtations, we must think of those less fortunate. And have sex with one of them.

I don’t get into Presidents Day at all. I don’t even have a driver’s license!

-xo

Love is in the air

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I hereby declare it officially spring. It doesn’t matter that it’s still freezing. From this day forward, I shall dress in the colors of the sherbert rainbow: lemon, lime, raspberry, and orange. Of course “raspberry” is controversial. In the sno-cone universe, it’s blue, but I am going to be a purist and interpret this as pink. Onward, it is time for ballet flats and hair ribbons! Moisturize as ye have never moisturized before!

We at Vomitola headquarters are fresh off a whirlwind St. Valentine’s Day. It is our new favorite holiday, and the table behind me is still strewn with pink petals and red tinsel hearts. Gentle Lambchop stirred up a fine new cocktail, the Kitty Dukakis. It tastes like a raspberry lemonade and smells of perfumed love letters and heaving bosoms. We have also come up with a plan of outreach, of tender ministry, so that all may enjoy a sip from the loving cup. I leave it to Lambchop to explain this proposition in a bit. Umbrellas aloft!

-xxoo

Look out Charlie Brown!

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It’s Friday the Thirteenth, and as you can see, Charlie Brown is about to get bollocked by a tribesman. I guess because it is also Black History Month.

We here at Vomitola like to reserve special days like these for taking stock. So here is a handy checklist on how we are doing:

Job: Lambchop (1) ; ClamShandy (0)

Marriages: Lambchop (1, failed); Clamshandy (1, still good)

Children: Lambchop (ha!); Clamshandy (hmmm…)

Friends: Tons, thanks!

Cocktails: The Maryann and Ginger for both of us please!

Chicken Sandwich: Lambchop (1); ClamShandy (still waiting on that info.)

-xo

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood

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I am still in my jammies, drinking cold coffee. It’s the little things. Last night I made “asian-style pasta.” You know, because peanut sauce is such a staple of Chinese and Japanese cuisine. Does Martha Stewart really need a charge of racism at this point? It was wicked good though.

Here’s how to make the sauce: combine equal parts peanut butter, honey, lite soy sauce, and rice vinegar, about 3 tbsps each works well. Add a few cloves of minced garlic, and 2 tbsps minced ginger. Whisk! Aggressively! You may alter the proportions to taste. I personally went a little lighter on the vinegar and added a smidge more honey.

This goes well with soba noodles (Martha said to use pappardelle, ew), steamed veggies (to serve 4: 1 eggplant, 2 red peppers, 2 big handfuls of snow pea pods), and your choice of sauteed chicken strips or firm tofu cubes (my addition, Martha was feeling leaner).

Ah, Vomitola. You never know what you’re going to get. As a palate cleanser, I’ve just been told there is a midget insta-marriage show on Fox. Er, a little people reality marriage show.

-xxoo

Reverie

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I was at the gym today, feeling the dark side of the force. Flexing anger through burning muscle. Although, there’s only so much posturing I can do when I carry a Hello Kitty discman. Anyway, I was at the part of the song that goes “tell me baby how does it feel/I know you like the roll of the limousine wheel”. Everytime I hear that my mind departs from the physical effort. I am dreaming of riding in a long, dark car, ensconced in soft fake white fur to which perfume still invitingly clings, in perfect makeup and glasses as shiny as the windows.

Well, its time for more pretense. Tonight was made for dancing!