We walked around this weekend. We saw a lot of things! We met some hooligans. It was fun. We did not take a shower that day, yet still went out to dinner. At dinner I saw a girl wearing a sweatshirt and red high-heeled Converse sneakers. I felt less bad about not bathing. If I had a camera phone, I could have snapped a pic to show my stylist. She simply does not believe me when I tell her these things.
Today Lambchop returns, and tomorrow we’re going to see The Man in the Pants.
-xxoo
Yesterday I got the haircut. That’s a start, right? I have 1/2 inch long bangs. I said “I feel suburban,” and my stylist rubbed her hands together with glee at the butchery that would take place. I like it. She asked if people really wear sweatshirts all the time out here, and I said “Oh, but they do!” and she had an involuntary spasm and cut off three inches of hair.
I am starting to see real muscle definition from my escapades at the gymnasium. This is incredibly exciting.
The man upstairs with the piano has enlisted a singing companion. Two days ago, this woman caterwauled “You make me feeeeeel like a natural….wooooomannnnn…..” for three hours straight. Further impetus to get a job that entails leaving the house, as this is no longer charming. I am updating my resume, right after my power nap. I have officially quit freelance and must simply wrap up what I already have going on.
-xxoo
Has anyone ever said “Get at me” or “Hit me up” to you? I believe it means “Please return my phone call or instant message as soon as you are able.” But one never knows. Please stop saying it if you employ such terminology; it grates.
Today I was dutifully trotting on the treadmill, and I noticed all the bizarre things other people do in the gym. One gentleman has a routine of pointing at himself in the mirror, with alternating hands, as he bestrides the elliptical machine. Another woman tries to access the internet with her Palm Pilot while she’s on the stepper. I can get a good look at this in the mirror in front of me, as she bobs up and down and deploys antennae and swears.
And what do I do? We-ell. I thought about pointing back at the man behind me, but mainly I like to keep a bemused, vacant look on my face, as if I just won an Academy Award. I don’t want to look too pleased at how my deltoids glisten in the mirror. I want to remember things, like thanking my husband and my manager. Mainly I totally space out.
I did a controlled experiment with the heart rate sensor too. When I think happy self-involved thoughts, say, about my hair, it’s just fine. When I think of getting a job it shoots right up! Out of the cardio zone!
I’ve been trying the boxing stuff too. Soon I will be wiry, yet thick-necked, like Secretariat or Geri Halliwell. I asked my trainer “Why am I not losing tons of weight?” And he replied that I should work on my diet, perhaps cut out that bottle of wine I drink every night. Good god. Luckily pills are still OK!
-xxoo
Due to popular demand from today’s troubled youth, we are launching a new publication: Teen Vomitola
Coming next month:
Lipgloss and You
Putting Out: Is It Ever a Bad Idea?
You Could Be a Bit Thinner!
Communicating With the Unpopular
No One Likes a Whiner
-xxoo
Last night I did a little stealth babysitting. That entailed speeding over to my brother-in-law’s house in a blizzard because the lady of the house had taken ill with appendicitis! She is just fine at this writing. So Monstro #2 (4-y.o. boy) and BattleKitty #1 (5-y.o. girl) and I chilled. We made mac n’ cheese, and I taught them how to cheat at cards.
The kids were pretty worried about their mom because they saw her get taken away in an ambulance, so I told them about when I went to the emergency room a few months ago, and how it was just fine. What’s that, they asked. I said it was the place where you go when you need to find out why you are feeling bad in a hurry, and Monstro piped in “Ohhhh, with the drink machines!” He’s been there before. These things make an impression.
And the apogee of the evening…. I was doing up some fine-looking pigtails, and Monstro hollered from the bathroom “I’m ready!” I opened the door to find him stark naked, doing a perfect downward dog, business end pointing right at me. So what else could I do? I wiped. I went for the Wet Ones, and he protested “We only use those when I’m all sticky!” Trust me, kid. If I hadn’t caught him red-handed, I might have thought a Great Dane had wandered by.
Later, I asked his dad about “bottoms up,” and his dad sighed and said “He doesn’t get wiping yet. He just crams paper up there and leaves it.” I am filing this all away for the first time he brings a date to a family event.
-xxoo
This just in… Although we slept too late to possibly appear in the commercial for continuing ed at a local university, sovaldi a concerned insider made sure to pull up Vomitola.com when they were filming people at desks. Ha. We are famoose. Like supermoodel.
Someone burned a croissant, and now the house smells terrible. Garçon!
-xxoo
My horoscope today says: “Avoid all over-indulgences and questionable areas of town.” That can only mean that I’ll be seeing Lambchop!
And now, YOU, dear reader, can say the same.
PRESENTING…. The First Annual Vomitola.com “Win a Date With Lambchop” Giveaway!
That’s right, gentle swain, you could be a mere email away from a some-expense paid trip to see David Bowie, accompanied by Lambchop, me, and Mr. H.
How, you ask? It’s easy — just send an email to WIN@Vomitola.com with the following information:
• A 3/4 view photo (hint: you should be somewhat attractive)
• A gramatically flawless paragraph listing your favorite things about Lambchop
• A thoughtful run-down of your top five best qualities
• Pick one of the following: Andy Gibb or Jim Rockford
• Since I am doing the judging, preference will be given to supplementary material lauding Bea Arthur
No purchase necessary to enter. All entries must be received by May 1, 2004. All entries become the property of Vomitola.com and may be reproduced as we see fit, including forwarding around in email with the designation “Ha! HAHAHAHAHA!” Winner will be notified by email on or before May 15, 2004.
Actual cash value: One David Bowie ticket for the floor, section D, at the Verizon Wireless Arena in Manchester, NH on June 1, 2004. You must provide your own transportation, but if you are especially comely, we might give you a ride from, say, the Lowell Commuter Rail Station.
Of course one can not possibly put a cash value on the company of Lambchop for an evening, but it is safe to say that it is in excess of $19.95.
Please note also that in the event that you are selected but are not able to attend, you will not receive any actual cash. The ticket itself is not-transferable and becomes property of Vomitola.com if the winner is unable to use it, lest the winner gives it to an ugly person, and we actually have to sit next to him or her in public.
I really hope the Hellboy movie is fun. It’s got Nazis! And, um, Selma Blair. Odd.
***
Spalding Gray, ya bastard. Drowning has never been on my list personally. But I can understand the why. Sorry to hear it. It is hard to reach out from the midst of a black cloud. How do you call someone up and say “It hurts so bad, but I have no good reason. I don’t think I can do it anymore.” Either that person will feel put upon to be burdened thusly, or they will ignore it because it’s uncomfortable, and babble about the shoes they bought on sale. People frequently self-flagellate in the aftermath of a suicide, wondering why the person didn’t just call them up to talk. Sometimes death is preferable to saying another word. It’s not you, it’s them, like any breakup. Or is it? Ugh.
***
The baby shower. I saved the most horrifying thing for last! At one point some of the guests started to fight about who had the best mini van. Someone shut them down by saying “Well, mine rides like a Cadillac.” How can you top that, I dare you.
Then someone asked me what kind of cheese was in the goat cheese, raspberry, and pecan salad. So I told her, and she bellowed into the other room, “SEE, DAWN! I TOLD YOU it was FETA CHEESE!”
The low-carb dieters munched on meat and mayonnaise roll-ups. Many sports-themed outfits were received. And the “gift basket” was in full effect…instead of purchasing something actually useful, the individual fills a laundry basket with random crap from the dollar store. Oh look, novelty giant diaper pins. Frequently the cost will amount to that of one larger, useful item, but some feel quantity makes a better showing.
The worst part was that the whole event was a tacky extravaganza, from the plastic Farmer Baby favor bags to the overly be-ribboned floral arrangements. Yet everyone loved it, and complimented me on my good taste, saying how it “really shone through.” I am a mean, nasty person, because that only made me feel worse. When it’s my turn to be knocked up, I’m going to “elope” for the duration. I’ll just show up one day, bundle in tow. “Oh, this? Yeah, I found it. Someone left it on my car next to a gym flyer.”
-xxoo
Hulk hurt self bulk shopping. Hulk not lie to you. Ouch.
Also, I am morally outraged because it turns out that Netflix does not stock pornography! What the? I mean I just assumed that they would when I forked over $20. It’s not like it’s a number one hobby or anything, but this is America! If I want to settle in with some microwave popcorn for “Weapons of Ass Destruction,” who is Netflix to turn down my hard-earned unemployment dollars? I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t been looking for “Something About Mary.” This reminded me to always try Keyword: Bukkake. No dice. I am drafting an angry letter right now.
-xxoo
I am once again a germy mess! I should be quarantined, in one of those rooms with the built in black rubber gloves. That way, someone could reach in safely and apply cold compresses to my fevered brow. Luckily, the wireless access extends to the bedroom. Once I am well, I am still not leaving the bed.
Random observations:
– People’s Choice would be a great name for a Chinese restaurant.
– The hawks that live along the river bank have figured out that we have a cat to eat, and they inch closer to the deck every day. They are practically pressing their beaks against the storm door now.
– I’m hungry, why does no one bring me food? Just a little Kraft dinner? Bastards. I give and I give.
In other news, the baby shower for a relative is a week away. People are pestering me by asking what they can bring. So I thought of assigning things I need around the house anyway. “Um, you can bring trash bags and dish soap.” Or maybe “The baby needs a massage gift certificate, or a tasty bottle of rioja.”
-xxoo