Tuesday, November 29, 2005

My Life As A Dog

it's one thing when parents play favorites amongst siblings, but another thing altogether when you realize the family dog is higher up on the totem pole than you are. my granny has a little poodle type dog named Dolly. the world spins on it's axis merely because Dolly wishes it so. the sun rises and sets because Dolly wants it to. we all exist to serve Dolly. or so my granny thinks.

that dog lives better than most people i know. Dolly "doesn't like" regular kibble, so every week, my granny makes a chicken just for Dolly. and Dolly likes to go for car rides, but she is too short to see out the window, so Dolly has her own special doggie car seat that elevates her so she can see out the car.

one day i spent the whole afternoon at my granny's house cleaning her shower. she still gets around fairly well, but the shower needed some major elbow grease. i spent HOURS cleaning that shower. i was using a steam machine, Tilex and and some heavy duty grout cleaner. i am such a good granddaughter.

when i was done, i was sweaty, filthy, and a little high from the fumes. granny offered to make me lunch. she said, "i made a chicken for the dog and have some extra meat. i'll make you some chicken tacos."

i happily wolfed them down and then left her house. on the drive home, it occurred to me. i had gotten the dog's leftovers. and you wonder why i have low self esteem?

it's particularly disturbing to me when granny mixes up my name and the dog's name. it's really unsettling to hear her say, "i took Jelly to the groomer and they trimmed the hair out of her ears and squeezed her anal glands." let's not dwell on that mental image too long, ok?

i'm almost afraid that when granny dies and they read the will, granny will have mixed up our names again and the lawyer is going to say, "and to my beloved Dolly, i leave all my diamonds and the house." damn dog is going to make out like a bandit and i will probably inherit the doggie car seat and 3 chickens.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Now My Granny Thinks I Am A Whore

mom and granny went to a casino today and granny hit some good jackpots. i didn't even go with them, but granny sent me $50 from her winnings. i stayed home all day, in my jammies and knitted and watched dvds.

as she was telling me this over the phone she said, "i guess it was a pretty profitable day."

i MEANT to say that it was for me and i never even had to change my clothes or leave the house.

what i said was, "yeah, it was profitable me, too. and i didn't even have to take off my pajamas!"

now, not only does she think i am a whore, she probably thinks i am a cheap whore. not even one of those nice, high priced ones. that's me, always making my family proud.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

I Am SO Going to Hell Now

and this web site is the reason why

it's a full blown addiction. i can't stop.

*note to self*
pack sunscreen. it's hot in hell.





Monday, November 21, 2005

Alligator - The Other White Meat

generally, i am not what you would call an "adventerous eater." i know what i like and i tend to stick with the same foods day in and day out. frankly, i could eat nothing but mexican food everyday for the rest of my life and be quite happy. but every once in awhile, i will try new things.

seven years ago i was in beirut, lebanon for a business trip. before i left i made a vow to myself that i would try any new foods i was offered. within reason, of course. sauteed monkey brains were out of the question. luckily, beirut seems to be simian free, so i never had to refuse a steaming dish of monkey gray matter. but i did try loads of stuff and most of it i loved. shwarma was awesome and the crepes i had in beirut were the best i have ever had. it's really worth the trip to a war torn country just for the belgian chocolate, banana filled crepes. trust me on this one.

while there, i went to a fashion show and there was an amazing spread of food. i dived right in, didn't ask any questions and just sampled everything.

there were these golf ball sized brown pastry-looking things. it looked like some kind of dessert puff, so i popped one in my mouth, expecting chocolatey goodness. it was a breaded beef meatball. do you know how unsettling it is when your tongue is expecting chocolate and it's really beef?

further on down the buffet line, i saw these croissant looking rolls. i was expecting something very exotic and lebanese. feeling oh so proud of my found adventerous streak, i bit right into one. it was a pig in a blanket. i traveled halfway across the fucking world for pigs in a blanket. oooooo, i felt so continental.

flash forward to the present day. last night, i went to dinner with some friends. we went to what is supposed to be the best, most authentic cajun restaurant in los angeles. oh, it was authentic, all right. take a peek at the menu.

it just jumps right out at you, doesn't it? alligator. i kind of got the shivers when i saw it, and before i could make some smart assed comment, Todd ordered it. and he was serious. so, i tried some. and guess what? yup, it tastes like chicken. hell, i am just glad no one ordered the frog legs, because, seriously, i drawn the line at that shit. that's just nasty.

and in case you were wondering, this is what gator nuggets look like.

as you can see, Cathy was completely horrifed at the wanton gator consumption and wanted no part of it.

this place serves wine, but not in wine glasses. it comes in little mason jars.
i know you are supposed to drink red wine with beef and white wine with fish. having never heard the etiquette regarding what kind of wine to drink with gator, i opted for pinot grigio. three glasses of it, apparently. hey, if i am going to eat a fucking reptile, i am going to need to be just a little hammered.

towards the end of dinner, Damon went to the men's room, came right back out and grabbed my camera. knowing he has the exact same sense of humor as i do, i knew it had to be something good. and it was. in that bathroom was a painting i like to call "the gayest painting ever in the history of the whole wide world."

it's like a maplethorpe, but with football uniforms. and no whips up the ass, but very similar, don't you think?

ah yes, deep fried gator chunks and homoerotic sports paintings. just another saturday night in LA.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Why Drugs and Architecture Don't Mix

can we talk for a second about the assholes that designed my house? it was built in the 1970's and the drug culture was still alive and well. lots and lots of drugs and more drugs are the only explanation i can come up with for the reasoning behind some of the features in my home.

first, and most importantly, i have no light fixtures. the bathrooms and the kitchen have built in lighting and that's it. none in the bedrooms. none in the living room. none in the dining room. NONE. the people that built my house were tripping on so much acid and the imaginary colors they saw were so bright, they just figured the lighting situation was taken care of, i guess. as a result, i live a life of many, many lamps. many lamps.

and you have to walk deep into a room to get to the lamp, so i spend a lot of time stumbling around in the dark, stubbing my toes and swearing like a sailor.

i have only lived in this house for 4 years, which means for the last 30 years before that, none of the other owners ever thought to add in a light fixture. jesus h christ, why must i do everything? someone please pass me a quualude.

then there's the trees. the fucking trees. i hate my trees. hate them.

see, we have about 12 fruit trees. and before you get all excited and think, "oh wow! fruit trees! that's GREAT! fresh sqeezed orange juice in the mornings. fresh lemons for homemade lemonade. YUM!" you have to realize that none of my fruit trees bear fruit that i would ever eat.

let's start with the guava tree. do you have idea how badly a guava tree smells? DO? YOU? and lucky, lucky me, that tree is right outside my bedroom window. rock on.

then we have a few crab apple trees. who the hell eats crab apples? god almighty, no one needs 4592 crab apples every year. most useless little fucking fruits on the planet. even the squirrels won't eat them.

and let's not forget the 3 or 4 chinese grapefruit trees. yes, you read that correctly, chinese grapefruit. no one has even heard of this, let alone eaten it. the fruit is HUGE, like the size of my head huge. and each fruit weighs about 5 pounds. it is mostly rind and once you cut that away, you are rewarded with a fist sized hunk of really dry grapefruit. no, none for me, thanks.

the fig tree is appreciated by one person in my life, though. my granny LOVES my fig tree and she will go outside and just stand there eating those things as fast as she can pick them. she even inventories my tree. one time she came over and asked where "that really big fig" was. i was like, "what the fuck are you talking about? how the hell do i know? i don't eat those nasty ass things and i sure as hell don't keep track of them!" (well, i did say that, but without all the swearing and all the attitude. because she WILL hit me, ya know)

it seems a week earlier she had spotted a fig that was not quite ripe, but she knew it would be in a few days. so, she came looking for it and it was GONE! Detective Granny McSleuth was on the case. she examined the ground around the tree and started looking at the bottom of our shoes. apparently, there was a footprint on the ground that did not belong to any of us. that's when Detective Granny McSleuth surmised that people off the street were coming into my yard and stealing her precious figs. she strongly encouraged me to get a lock for my front gate, fire safety laws be damned! then she got her own crime show entiteld CSI: RESEDA.

and last, but not least, there is the persimmon tree. i personally do not eat persimmons and neither does my mother. usually, the fruit falls to the ground and rots, or gets eaten by squirrels. fine by me. i don't care.

but someone else DOES care. and now we have a "persimmon situation" at my house.


this is the scene at my house all day, every day. Daphne is hooked on the persimmons. like she needs a 12 step program kind of hooked. seriously, as soon as i get home and let the Asassins out of their kennel, she bolts right for the tree and starts eating the persimmons that have fallen on the ground. she doesn't even stop and beg me to pet her. nope, she makes a beeline right for the tree. her personal best was 4 in one day. and that's only because i finally stopped her. it's to the point where she gorges herself on fruit and then doesn't want to eat her dry food. well, at least i iknow she'll never get scurvy.

the downside to this is that persimmons only bear fruit a few weeks a year. in a bout 2 more weeks, that tree is going to be bare and i don't know how Daphne is going to handle this. how do you explain "seasons" to a dog?

so, in order to prepare her for a persimmon-less winter, i sat her down and told her they would be gone soon, but would be back next September. she was, of course, crushed.


so if anyone knows how to get persimmons year round, please let me know. otherwise the dog might not eat again until next year. and i have grown rather fond of her.

Monday, November 07, 2005

His License Plates Reads, "Hi, I'm An Asshole."


COWPOOH? what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is it a play on the word 'bullshit?' what kind of butt nugget wants to drive around every day with a license plate that says COWPOOH?

and how did this slip past the DMV? they are supposed to prohibit obscene personalized plates. if you think your personalized plate might be construed as obscene, you can explain the meaning, and if the DMV buys your story, they will send you the plate. so, what was his story? did he tell them that his family made their millions in the manure business and that this was his homage to his dearly departed grandfather? or did he tell them that his twin brother died in a tragic cow tipping accident when he slipped on cow pooh and the cow tipped over onto him, killing him instantly and this was how he wanted to honor his brother's memory? either way, someone at the DMV is a freakin' idiot. as if we didn't know that already.

i'm going to apply for a plate that says FUCKOFF and tell the DMV that it really means i had a friend named FUCKO and we were supposed to be FriendsForever (FUCKO FF) and he died in a freak blender accident and this is how i want to remember him. they will totally believe me, too.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Angry Jelly is BACK! And She is PISSED!

ok, to say i have been having a shitty week would be an understatment. on tuesday, i had to rip out 4 days worth of knitting because of some badly picked up stitches and i had food poisoning on thursday. those are just some of the highlights.

so, i figure today cannot possibly be any worse. well, fuck me running, i thought wrong.

The Coca Cola Co. announced today that they are discontinuing Diet Vannila Coke.

I know, it sounds preposterous! Oh God, look at me, I'm so upset, I am using actual CAPITAL letters. THAT'S how upset i am, people! rat bastard, sons of bitches, motherfucking, cocksucking ASSHOLES!

Diet Vanilla Coke is MY SOLE REASON FOR LIVING some days. and i am NOT being overly dramatic!! now i am going to have to become the crazy hoarding lady. i will spend this coming weekend going from store to store, buying ALL the DVC i can get my sweaty little hands on. i don't know where i am going to store it all, as my house is just tee tiny, but, as they say, necessity is the mother of invention. or some shit like that.

maybe i could stack the cases, shellac them together and build furniture. then, as i need the soda, i could just dismantle a chair or a futon. this could work.

between this and the food poisoning, that is now TWICE this week that i have been on my bathroom floor, in the fetal position, crying and begging for the release of sweet, sweet death.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Oh God, People Are Going To Start Calling Me "Stinky" Now, Aren't They?

yesterday, i was leaving work and got in the elevator. a co-worker got on and we made that banal, meaningless chit chat that you do. i mentioned that i had to stop at the gas station because i had basically fumed it into work that morning. she joked that i better not turn on my A/C and i should hope the whole trip was downhill. ha ha ho ho. end of gasoline talk.

we get off the elevator and walk across the lobby to the parking garage elevators. we had been alone up until then. at this point, more people join us. PEOPLE WHO WERE NOT PRIVVY TO THE GASOLINE DISCUSSION. her elevator comes and she gets on. right before the doors close, she looks at me and says, "Good luck with your gas!"


i could see the people around me looking at me out of the corner of their eyes. yes, me, the girl with the gas.


and i whispered, "gasoline. she meant gasoline. we were talking about gasoline."

i don't think they believed me, though.